The Impact of Colorism on Black Identity

I had no clue what my color was, until I began wearing makeup. I remember a few years back at a Goddess Retreat, one of the Priestesses was talking about bitstrips and how funny it is watching black women choose their character. She said based on the bitstrips, she could tell we all were very confused about our color.

"Triple, yo ass is too dark in that bitstrip. That is NOT your actual color or even close!"

I was like hush, I know I'm darker brown! I dismissed her point about me, but embraced her overall message.

Then this year I up and decided to buy foundation for the first time. I immediately, instinctively, reached for the darkest hue of makeup. And then I looked at it, in my hand against my actual complexion.... And the sister was right. In my mind, I am a lot darker skinned than I actually am.

This stems from a deep envy of my daddy and baby sisters dark hue. I remember sitting in the sun as a little girl, I always thought the darkest black folks were the most attractive. (Cuz my daddy was an ultra black skinned Maroon!)

My mamas mother was a creole woman, extra fair skinned and nearly looked white. She would pick at we who were dark skinned, in her old age, and all we brown skinned grand babies were treated like scum compared to the daughters who gave her bright and yellow grandbabies. She regarded me kinda funky, but she really was nasty with the darker cousins and my baby sister. I internalized that at a young age and began privileging dark skin, as opposed to despising it which so many end up doing.

Long before any white person ever performed racism against me; I had endured internalized racism and white supremacism from my family. All of this ended up impacting how I see myself.

Buying that little jar of Caramel foundation engaged me in a bit of Metanoia. I experienced dissonance, like the Brown v Board experiment with the dolls.... When the child ascribes all the negative qualities to the black doll, then when asked which doll looks like you? They wincingly point to the black doll. Except in my case, I ascribed all manner of positive things to darkness and thus dark skin. So to fall outside of that category was nearly painful. Like some how my black wasn't as real. I am brown skinned, not light. But I can imagine this dissonance is what light skinned sisters experience when they try and silence conversations on colorist notions.

This isn't to say that color is the only marker of blackness or Africanness. However I wanted to examine some of this and share my observations with you.

Who taught you how to view yourself? Do you know what color you are?

Who names makeup? Who the hell decided that black women's makeup should be named after foods?

That's another thing, my makeup color is caramel. I remember calling myself caramel as a teen and having a fair skinned girl tell me I couldn't be caramel Cuz I was dark and she was caramel. The messages we internalize, unknowing and unintentional, they are lasting. Unpacking them helps us heal.