Brown & Proud of It: Why I Stopped Caring About My Colour

Growing up with the tags of ‘kaali’ & ‘Madrasi’, and now as a grown woman, I’ve never let my skin colour define me.

A friend was recently talking about how horrified she was to see her daughter return from a school trip all tanned. “My fair daughter had turned dark and it took me days to scrub her skin back to its original colour,” said the worried mother. So what’s wrong with a tan? “Girls should be fair,” was the cryptic reply. I looked at my skin and wondered!

I come from pure Malayali stock. My father was a Tamilian Seshadri settled in Kozhikode in Kerala, and my mother from Kannur. But that’s about it. The fact that I was born and brought up in Delhi makes me a pseudo-Malayali, for most of my community in the city. I do not know how to read or write Malayalam and – as my own mother says – “When you speak the language it sounds as if you are throwing stones at the person in front of you.” I have relatives in Kerala but I am not a frequent visitor to my ‘naad’ (village).

Despite all this I am a south Indian. Perhaps, to be precise, a ‘Madrasi’, considering for the north Indians everyone from the south of the Vindhyas is a ‘Madrasi’.

And if there’s one thing this ‘Madrasi’ has inherited from her parents, it is the skin colour. It is neither dark nor wheatish; rather, somewhere in between – but for the ‘fair loving’ north Indians I was always ‘kaali’.

Why Neither ‘Kaali’ Nor ‘Madrasi Bahu’ Mattered

I grew up with that tag. I may not have had it called to my face but the sympathy was ever present. I would be lying if I said it did not bother me when I was in school. It did. But when I realised I made friends easily despite my colour, I learnt to ignore it. And it held me in good stead as I grew because by then it had become a cause of amusement for me.

I got married – and into a north Indian family. My mother-in-law’s initial hesitation about my ‘dark complexion’ was overruled by the other members of the family. But much to my chagrin, the day after the wedding I was introduced to friends and neighbours as “Meri badi bahu. Madrasi hai. (My elder daughter-in-law. She is a Madrasi.)”

My mother-in-law got her wish when her younger son married an American who was obviously ‘very fair’. But over the years she and I forged quite a strong bond – one that went beyond caste or colour.

Then my daughter was born and she – perhaps to the relief of my extended family – took my husband’s colouring. She was born fair; and everyone, especially the women from my in-law’s side of the family, thought she was very beautiful because “gori hai, apne papa par gayi hai (she is fair because she has taken after her father.)”

Dark is Beautiful

In the initial years of my marriage, I have had my husband’s relatives and friends visiting and giving me advice on how I could perhaps get fairer. I would give them a patient hearing and then, very gently ask – “So, are you trying to say that I don’t look good the way I am?” It was fun to watch them bluster and try to defend what they’d just said by going, “Oh no, not that. You know you’re ‘beautiful’, it is just that the fairness would have added to that beauty.”

Beautiful!? Now, that I thought was going a bit too far, but it was always fun to ruffle their feathers a bit.

Over the years, my darkness ceased to matter to anyone. Perhaps because I wasn’t so ‘young’ anymore.

So, to all of you out there who are brown like I am – be brown and proud. That smile looks the same on a brown or a fair face. Happy!

(Seema Kumar is a former journalist who now writes and provides editorial solutions at www.90caps.com)