In fairness to one and all

I woke up this morning and thought about something that has not occurred to me in the last 24 years. It is the thought that comes uninvited to many Asian women, as they look at themselves or their daughters. It can strike at any time, morning day or night. It may be heard, said aloud by caring visitors, mostly women themselves, there to commiserate or gloat as the case may be. It is the question of fairness.

Now I do not mean the kind of fairness that makes me decide in favour of little Johnny with the harelip in a fight against Gorgeous George. I do not mean the fairness that says I have to give equal time to Indian cricket and Aussie rugby league on weekends. That I can stomach and even make jokes about. No, I mean the fairness that is highly prized by us brown skinned types as something more important than life itself in some cases.

When I was growing up, I do not remember anyone remarking on my complexion as something that would mark me down in any way. For that I guess I must be grateful to my parents. I knew what my skin colour was, darker than X, Y and Z, fairer than A and B. And I was happy to accept that. I did not hear a lot of praise for X, Y and Z regarding looks, intelligence or ability to do housework, which made me relax even more and continue to be happy with the particular shade of mocha I came with. Ahh, poor deluded me!

The first inkling I had of being somewhat not up to the grade was when it came to the marriage game. My aunt on my father’s side, Jethima, who had always been a vague pale blur on my consciousness suddenly seemed to be all over the place with advice on how to ‘brighten’ my looks.., my ‘ujjwal shyam borno’ as she said with a titter. Suddenly I started to notice her, finding out that she had been selected for her colour as my father had gone against all his family’s wishes and married a woman who was his equal in intellect before his brother could make a selection from the marital smorgasbord offered to him. Added to this was her ability to chew out her English in a very La Marts way as she told me with great pride. She who had been selected for her complexion spent hours each day sorting out the daily meals in the gloom of a prehistoric kitchen under my grandmother’s eagle eye. I have always felt sorry for people who stutter, because I saw how her stutter grew worse through the day as my Thakuma’s tongue grew sharper and more barbed. It was always worse on traditional fasting days, like Ekadashi, the eleventh day of the lunar cycle when Thakuma grudged all and sundry their meals.

Finally with me, she found a way of getting her own back on Thakuma and my mother. I was in college till about one o’clock each day. The minute I came home, she would hover around the place with a bowl of masoor dal bata, ground red lentils, or a bit of besan mixed with dudher shor, chick pea flour and cream. I would smile vaguely back before grabbing the bowl from her and disappearing into the bathroom. I occasionally put the evil goop on my face and came out to find her still waiting. Even on the days that I tipped the bowl down the sink, she swore she could see me growing fairer beyond all belief! I have to admit, it was quite nice to see her feel so happy for a while over something she was doing for someone else.

Around this time, I started going out with a doctor. I noticed him because he was rather good at French, the pronunciation, not the other, in my first week at Alliance. When he came to pick me up at home as we were going to expand our horizons over a foreign film or two, our maid, Sushmadidi noticed that he was fair…and declared the alliance to be ill fated and unlikely to last long. She was so right too! Just as I was starting to tire of his attempts to involve my father in being selected for an MD seat in Skin and Venereal diseases, his mother asked to see my photo. Once that had been done, the end was very near. I still remember the last time we talked, me slightly impatient and annoyed at the bus that was not early enough for me to escape, him, superior in his fairness, getting on the bus to  Kaikhali Mor! Even the bus bowed to his betterness!!

This brings me to why I have not thought of this issue for 24 years. I had a fair skinned baby girl on a day 24 years ago. And although her grandmother was quick to point out that a male first child would have been appropriate, given her status in life, the peaches and cream baby made her reluctantly concede that I had done well. I also had two sons after that, who took after me more than their sister. They were exempt from the need to be fair though, as someone pointed out kindly, ‘Heerer angtir abar bnaka aar shoja!’ A diamond ring is worth it even when bent out of shape!

Last night I was sent a link, not by someone who has been using the product I must add, to the latest assault on us ‘ujjwol shyam bornas’ He thought I would find it hilarious. Now I have to say, I don’t, because it is not. It is sad and indicative of how little some of the world has actually moved from the Middle Ages when it comes to giving women their rightful position in life. Hell, I take my position, I don’t even wait around to be asked. But I leave you with these links to have a look at. I told my daughter and she greeted the news with what my Jethima, my grandmother and her grandmother would have described as unladylike snorts of loud unfeminine laughter. And that too is fine and perfectly acceptable!

http://healthland.time.com/2012/04/17/skin-lightener-for-womens-private-parts-sparks-media-controversy-and-safety-concerns/

http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2012-06-26/beauty/32102691_1_fairness-creams-hydroquinone-mercury