Yes, Colourism Does Exist in the Caribbean…
Photo by Jurien Huggins on Unsplash
I remember the feeling of utter disappointment when I realised that colourism does in fact exist throughout the Caribbean.
"Colourism is the benefiting of privilege due to one's lighter skin tone (Charles, 2011, p. 121). This ideology originated during slavery when slave owners deemed mulattos and lighter skinned slaves as superior, sexier, more attractive, purer, and healthier (Charles, 2011, p. 375). Thus, they had the “privilege” of working in the house and performing less strenuous tasks (Uzogara, 2014; Glenn, 2008, p. 286). It is important to note that colourism, just like racism, classism, and sexism is complex, multifaceted and engrained in the structures of many societies, even ones that do not have a colonial past (Matthews, 2015, p. 273).
Sourced from “What is Colorism?” by Tasker (2018)
I grew up in Saint Lucia — a former British colony — where I was (and probably still am) referred to as “the dark-skinned sister”, since my sisters are of a lighter complexion. Random strangers would always assume that I was either a distant cousin or friend when we hung out together. Needless to say, I was used to sticking out like a sore thumb.
Therefore, it came as quite a shock when I moved to Barbados for my undergraduate degree and was suddenly seen as light skinned and somewhat desirable. Curious Bajans would ask me: “What's your mix?” (i.e. Which one of your parents is white?), while other students would assume that I was from a well-off family as a result of my lighter complexion.
I distinctly remember having a conversation with some Jamaican students in which they pointed out that most people back home would automatically assume that I lived in an upper-class neighbourhood based off my appearance alone.
I was quite shocked by this because I had never ever thought of myself as light skinned while growing up in Saint Lucia. However, all of a sudden, I was viewed as light skinned in Barbados!
Barbados, albeit only 35 minutes away from Saint Lucia by plane, is less racially diverse. In other words, it is not common to come across a light-skinned Bajan. Something which Rihanna has pointed out on several occasions during interviews about her childhood.
During her Allure Photo Shoot in 2008, Rihanna stated that she was teased — to the point of fist fights — for having paler skin: “I was cultured in a very 'black' way. But when I got to school I'm being called 'white'...they would look at me, and they would curse me out. I didn't understand."
On the other hand, in Saint Lucia, one’s lighter skin doesn’t automatically equate to being biracial — i.e. on the most privileged side of the spectrum. To be considered as truly mixed, you would have to check several of these boxes:
one white/white-passing parent
loose curls or straight hair
white-passing skin
reside in one of the upper middle-class neighbourhoods
take family vacations abroad to either The USA, Canada or Europe
throw extravagant birthday parties and mostly invite others who ticked many of these same boxes.
Needless to say, I did not think that it was possible for someone who looked like me, or even my sisters, to be considered as half white. Thus, I would often scoff back: “I'm 100% black”, to classmates and random strangers who questioned my blackness.
From Oblivion to Awareness
I can’t exactly recall where I was and with whom I was speaking, but I do remember that there were a few students having a discussion about some profound and not-so-profound things (as we usually did on campus) when one guy asked if “colourism is a thing in Saint Lucia”.
I was quick to offer up a “no”, when my dark-skinned Saint Lucian friend cut me off with a “yes”. I looked at her bewildered while she continued to shake her head and explain that while growing up family members, friends and strangers would tease her (I'm using the word ‘tease’ lightly here) using a number of colourist terms.
When she started listing examples, it slowly started to sink in that I had heard a number of these terms before at school and in public but never realised that these quips were colourist, psychologically harmful, discriminatory, and plain ole disgusting.
How could I have lived on an island for 21 years and never realise that it is not okay to refer to individuals as “tar baby” and “vyé nèg” (English translation of Kwéyòl: “old/bad negro”) or have men (of varying skin tones) shout out “after she black, she ugly again” to darker-skinned women who ignored their crude sexual advances?
Furthermore, it still bothers me to think about how much I benefited from light-skinned privilege without even realising it because I just assumed that my experiences as a black woman were the same as my darker-skinned friends, just because I was referred to as “the dark-skinned sister” by strangers. Clearly, our experiences were in no way similar!
After coming to this realisation, I spoke to my mixed-race friend who explained that she too was starting to understand her privilege and how sickening it was to know that men only thought of her as attractive based on her skin colour and not because of her intelligence, personality or charisma.
Hearing her say this actually made me feel quite hopeless because it became quite clear that no matter where you fall on the colour spectrum, as a person of colour, you will always be psychologically scarred by the effects of colourism. To this day, I am still deeply hurt when I think about a guy who flat out told me: “You're the darkest girl I would go for.”
So, where do we go from here?
However, those of us who benefit from light-skinned privilege are still obliged to speak up and challenge the structures that try to uphold these discriminatory practices. Because, even though we may be traumatised by this behaviour, we cannot pretend that we are receiving the short end of the stick. It would be naïve of me to ignore the fact that there are still so many individuals who spend loads of money on skin-lightening creams throughout the Caribbean region.
I once watched a VICE documentary about the use of skin-bleaching creams in Jamaica. I thought it was so sad that people from arguably the most well-known Caribbean island would resort to such harmful products in order to subscribe to the European standards of beauty forced upon us during slavery, especially since Jamaicans are quite outspoken when it comes to defending and preserving their cultural and racial identities.
However, while roaming around a popular beauty store back home, I came across a wide range of skin-lightening products. I was so disturbed by this that I just stood there for a few seconds trying to figure out whether or not I should bring it to the saleslady’s attention, before finally coming to the conclusion that she does work there, thus was quite aware that these products were being sold.
Coming across these items forced me to realise that we cannot afford to ignore the harmful psychological effects that colourism has on the Caribbean. We have to continue openly addressing it so that future generations won’t have to suffer in the same ways that many of us still are.
Sources:
Charles, C. (2011). Skin bleaching and the prestige complexion of sexual attraction. Sexuality & Culture, 15(4), 375-390. doi:10.1007/s12119-011-9107-0
Glenn, E. N. (2008). Yearning for Lightness: Transnational circuits in the marketing and consumption of skin lighteners. Gender & Society, 22(3), 281-302.
Tasker, Teal L., "What is Colorism?" (2018). Student Publications. 682. https://cupola.gettysburg.edu/student_scholarship/682
Uzogara, E. E., Lee, H., Abdou, C. M., & Jackson, J. S. (2014). A comparison of skin tone discrimination among African-American men: 1995 and 2003. Psychology of Men & Masculinity, 15(2), 201-212. doi:10.1037/a0033479