Since time immemorial, black mothers and fathers have had the unpleasant task of warning sons and daughters of the day that a teacher, classmate or random stranger could single them out for ridicule based on the color of their skin. But some parents are so uptight about attacks from people of other races that they forget to safeguard against those in their own circle.
Too many African-Americans taunt one another about how light or dark their skin tones are — and because the weapons are wielded by others resembling us, the wounds cut more deeply and take twice as long to heal.
The terms are so ingrained that they can slip under the radar easily: “Redbone,” “Light-Bright,” “High Yella,” “Chocolate,” “Darkness,” “Charcoal,” “Black Coffee.” When black babies are born, the first characteristic that people discuss, after the sex, is the present or future skin tone, which can be determined by the hue seen at the tops of the ears or around their nail beds and knuckles if the baby isn’t already brown at birth.
You’d think they would just rejoice in having a new addition to the family, but some aunts, cousins or elders will immediately advise the parents to “find that baby some color somewhere” or “keep this one out of the sun,” introducing the infant’s first lesson in Colorism 101.
This form of discrimination can be traced back to the miscegenation of Europeans with American Indians and the Africans who were brought here as slaves. Many white men coupled with non-white women, and the resulting children’s lighter skin tones could make the difference between toiling in the fields and working in houses. And just as women can internalize the sexist scales they’re measured against to snipe at their own kind, many victims of colorism encouraged darker-hued relatives to bathe in bleach or disowned family members who dared to “darken the line” by procreating with darker-skinned blacks.
Whether it was Malcolm X’s mother favoring his darker siblings over him (because he reminded her of her mixed parentage) or my husband Calvin having multiple fights as a teen because darker peers resented his golden skin and hazel eyes, this tradition is another sort of bullying that doesn’t get as much press but is just as debilitating and cruel.
In the soon-to-be-released documentary Dark Girls, legendary actor and filmmaker Bill Duke shows us with heartbreaking honesty how centuries of colorism still plague the black community. Seeing someone relive the agony of being described as “pretty for a dark-skinned girl” or watching a preschooler refer to an image of a girl that’s her skin tone as being “ugly” or “dumb” can bring tears to the eyes.
When I spoke with Duke during the making of the film, he recounted an interview with a young man who said he liked to date “pretty girls.” Pressed for an explanation of what he meant by that, he said, “You know, lighter skin and flowing, long, straight hair.” When asked if he would date a darker-skinned woman, he said he wouldn’t, “because they’re ugly.”
Duke also struggled with his emotions as he spoke of an interview with a 34-year-old woman with darker skin: “We ask her, ‘Is there anything that you’ve done, in relation to your skin color, that you regret?’ She starts crying and says, ‘Well, when I was in labor with my baby, I prayed to God that it would not be dark like me.’
“Can you imagine?”
Being black is enough of a challenge no matter what shade you are. And the answer to this problem starts in the family.
If you don’t discuss your children’s other physical traits on a regular basis, why expound on their skin or their hair? Tell your kids that everyone is unique, that you love and accept them just as they are. And if your cousin or grandmother implies differently, don’t hesitate to check their ignorance. Otherwise, the “prejudiced folks” we’ve been telling our babies to watch out for are actually a lot closer to home.
