When I was around 12, I started to bleach my skin and perm my hair out of self-hate. By the time I was 15 I was adamant that I was going to have my nose and lips reduced. And then, only then, would I be beautiful. At this point? I have said this multiple times on multiple platforms. From my Twitter and Instagram pages to the BBC and in a BAFTA-winning documentary about my life. When I first started, I remember being so angry. Why? Because back then very few people spoke about colourism and texturism and how someone, usually a dark-skinned Black woman would go to extreme measures to achieve what society deemed Eurocentric beauty standards. Because their choice of words was quite interesting, they spoke as if they had never met a victim, that could not be someone in the room or someone they cared about. But I was there. And I still am here.
Fast forward to today and still, people often speak about me and those like me. If it is not a Twitter thread, then it is an article. They take tweets as quotes or interview a handful of dark-skinned Black girls.” My sister is darker than me *insert a childhood memory that is an example of colourism* or “my best friend is dark-skinned, and she said…”. As much as I like seeing and knowing these conversations are occurring, it is rarely those who are on the receiving end leading or even partaking in these conversations, it is almost as if we are not being allowed to speak for ourselves.
Some months have passed since the last of the old tweets from influencers, creatives, and popular people on social media in the UK Black Twitter got dragged up. This is a recurring event, roughly every six months, and the usual happened. Some were shocked others were surprised. Some people were dragged, others were defended. Some people apologised and others defended their tweets. Some people did threads to explain away their tweets while others disappeared. You get the idea.
Cancel culture is a whole separate conversation in and of itself. If it is effective or not. Is it right to make people lose their livelihoods for what they said as they said when they were 15 or whatever age people collectively decide it too young to hold some to account for the trauma they inflicted? I find even here; the conversation does not consider the potential impact on who was on the receiving end and probably around the same age too.
A recent conversation with a few of my oldest and closest friends made me reminded how the journey to self-love is a hard and life long one. With another, she asked me if I had ever experienced colourism online. I did, by a guy who proudly and openly exclusively dated light-skinned girls. In high school. Another friend sent me a screenshot of a Facebook post which I had made over nine years ago. In the comments, that very same guy was there. What he said in the comments was not fuelled in colourism but in knowing who he was, what he liked, his comment was an invasion of my personal space, it was him letting me know, he did not like me. I felt myself choking up at the thought of how little he made me feel. I shared this with my friends. I confessed how to them some of my thoughts and feelings I had back then in high school. One of my friends commented on how I was not into boys, how even though I was energetic, funny, and goofy? I would tone it all the way if we were around a group of guys. I feared how Black boys would make me feel ugly and unworthy. Having gone to an all-girl school? Many of my peers had done that job years prior.
This got me thinking about Jemmar today. How I still see myself unworthy of attention from guys, how unconvinced I am when it comes to a guy even in the slightest being interested in me. Have you ever seen those posts on social media about ugly people winning people over with their personality? That is how I see me.
Now, in recent times, I found myself getting very frustrated with people. As I realised I still have a poor view of myself because of colourism and texurism. I have found people, mainly guys, are mad at me for it. I find this very strange. In telling them my experiences, they get so mad that I could have been so stupid to let that affect me. It makes me wonder how people truly consider the impact of colourism and texurism on the individual. It does not go away like those tweets on the TL. There is no refreshing on my mental TL or thoughts not found messages in the place of the words, tones, and feelings up into colourist rhetoric. I know it is hard to understand but them not being able to process it is not my job. To be dubbed undeserving of love, attention or even respect because of the colour of one’s skin is so ridiculous, but it does not make it less real.
People often DEMAND I love myself. Lol, sometimes I find this cute, but at other times? Utterly stupid. You cannot force someone to love themselves. If that were possible? I would have been madly in love with myself years ago. I go further to have people consider this; it was people’s words that broke me. I cannot rely on people’s words to build me back up because if they change their mind. I am screwed. I spoke to my therapist about all of this. She too, a dark-skinned woman. She advised me that I need to ensure the process of self-love is genuine. Arguably dark skin being praised now is a trend. Trends come and go. My skin? Will not.
I have done a lot of work around tackling colourism, my documentary is an educational resource being used across the UK to teach children about colourism and activism. But right now? I am at a low. I realised that the old tweets were still quite triggering. Mainly because people were justifying the harm that was done to people like me. To be dubbed undeserving of love, attention or even respect because the colour of one’s skin is so ridiculous, but it does not make it less real. To then see it be explained away by age, ignorance or humour is another blow I unfortunately bear. And so, the journey to self-hate continues. I hate to simplify the issue down to desirability politics but there is no other way to put it, colourism has mentally damaged me forever.
