You’re so beautiful for a dark girl!” Cherith George, a 27-year-old student, would often hear from her extended family. This, or another staple, “Oh no, you’ve gotten so dark!”
Cherith’s experience is not uncommon, in fact, it is the norm for many children in India who grow up in families that value fair skin. From being told to stay out of the sun to being ostracised at family events, from a very young age, the shadow of colour discrimination looms over the shoulders of many.
Over a month ago, the murder of George Floyd started a global movement and re-sparked conversations on the deep, pervasive roots of racism that not only affect, but also destroy the lives of people of colour. A consequence of this international reckoning was that many celebrities, both international and Indian, came forward to denounce discrimination on the basis of race and colour. Priyanka Chopra called for change on Instagram, writing, “Wherever you live, whatever your circumstances, NO ONE deserves to die, especially at the hands of another because of their skin colour.” Closer home, however, many may remember Chopra as the face of a leading brand’s skin-lightening products. In fact, many celebrities who spoke up against discrimination in the wake of George Floyd’s death, had endorsed fairness creams in the past. Actresses like Sonam Kapoor, Disha Patani and Deepika Padukone did not comment as they drew flak on social media for silence on their endorsements.
The mighty industry
Sold in India since the mid-70s, skin-lightening creams have grown into a $500,000,000 industry, according to the World Health Organisation (WHO). Over half of all the skincare products sold in the country are skin-lightening products, some of which, alarmingly, contain mercury. Researchers who tested 23 fairness creams sold in the Indian market found that nearly half of them contained steroids and harmed the skin. Despite this, almost one in three people reported using fairness creams.
The use of these creams can start at a tender age, as is the case with Jasmin Faith Thevasagayam, a 25-year-old songwriter who was tempted to use these products when she was just 12 or 13. “I remember seeing a group of girls bleaching their skin. They were celebrated for doing that and were considered the most beautiful, desirable girls. When that happened, I was tempted to do the same but I was scared, so I didn’t do it.”
Lovely Sera Paul, a 25-year-old mechanical engineer, was tempted to use fairness creams as well throughout her childhood. “I have seen so many fairness creams’ advertisements since childhood, where some superstar would be using it. When I saw those ads, I would want to use these creams. I would buy and use them and see no change and then would feel really bad about myself.”
The Fair & Lovely brand has the lion share of the market, capturing nearly 70 per cent of the skin-whitening cream industry in India. It recently came under scrutiny for “rebranding” to Glow & Lovely. While some have applauded this move, in light of decades of the brand’s contribution to quashing women’s self-esteem, this name change does not even come close to being enough, particularly when the products continue to be aimed to lighten skin.
Deep-rooted prejudice
“I was just five or six years old, when I started to notice that some of my relatives would not give my brother and I the attention or love that my other fair-skinned cousins received. Other grandkids would be cuddled and we would be asked to sit in the corner. They never even called me by my name, but instead referred to me by my colour or my appearance,” said Sreepathi Gayathri, a 22-year-old customer service manager. Gayathri craved love and compliments as a young girl; “they did not even care about my personality...I lost complete confidence in myself,” she added. This prejudice is not limited to one family or community, it constitutes a common, traumatic experience that haunts many individuals, even as adults.
Hurtful comments come not only from older, distant relatives, but also from peers, friends, teachers and even employers. The ubiquity of such strong hatred for dark complexion is not just indicative of current social norms or beauty standards; it also highlights a long-standing culture of prejudice stemming from a history of colonialism and casteism.
Colonialism, colour and cleanliness
Under the British rule, historical records show that Indians who were light-skinned tended to receive preferential treatment from the ruling classes — entry to restaurants and educational institutions, even appointment to jobs favoured fairer-skinned Indians, while ‘black Indians’ were at a disadvantage. In addition, British rulers claimed to be ‘superior’ and ‘intelligent’ based on racial markers of light skin and European facial features. As a result, this created an association — linking white skin not just to power and social capital, but also to desirability and beauty.
A horrifying example of this power dynamic is evident in an advertisement that ran during colonial times for a soap, which viewed light skin as ‘clean’ and dark skin as ‘dirty’ and in need of cleaning. This notion of impurity shaped by colonial rule only exacerbated caste-based discrimination.
The colour of social mobility
This bias is rampant in the portrayal of people from Dalit communities, explained Ravali P, 27, a development professional. “Most leading actresses in Indian cinema are fair-skinned. However, when they are trying to depict a person from a lower class, their skin will be intentionally darkened.”
Many were disappointed to see this with Sayani Gupta in Article 15, a movie that is supposed to portray the evils of the caste system. “The darkened skin becomes a marker for the person’s caste. This portrayal of oppressed castes in mainstream media is very problematic, since it reinforces stereotypes and makes discrimination against darker-skinned people from lower castes even worse,” concluded Ravali.
In fact, in many parts of the country, caste names are used as invectives against people with dark skin. Aditya P, a 25-year-old lawyer based in New Delhi, faced this all too often in his childhood. “The correlation between caste and colour became more visible when my friend said people from the lower castes have fat lips and dark skin. Therefore, they should not wear white,” he said. “I was called kaage in school and other kids would chase me yelling kaa kaa,” said Suresh M, a software engineer.
This behaviour feeds off marketing and advertising by skin-lightening brands who often include an element of ‘empowerment’ or ‘mobility’ in their advertisements. One prominent example perhaps, is a fairness cream ad depicting a woman who gains the ‘acceptance’ of her father after becoming fairer and snagging a job as an air hostess.
Real world consequences
These biases not only have an impact on how the individual is viewed, but also have a corrosive effect on careers and self-worth. For instance, when a group of young tribal girls in Maharashtra underwent training to be flight crew through a government scholarship programme, the majority of them did not end up being employed as flight attendants due to their dark complexion. Of the 100 girls, only eight were hired, as ground crew working behind the scenes. What was meant to enable this group of girls to progress actually became a hindrance to their success and empowerment, due to colour prejudice.
Another consequence of this is that certain jobs, positions and professions become difficult to reach or are even unattainable. Sometimes, the deterrent doesn’t come from the outside world, but because of years of erosion of self-confidence, it comes from within. Cherith shared, “When I was only 12, right before a singing performance, I overheard a very hurtful comment about my skin colour. It absolutely broke my heart and I got so upset that I backed out of the performance. I lost all my confidence and rejected every opportunity that came my way in the years to come too.” This incident cost Cherith a lot; it built the foundation for the hurt, pain and bitterness towards herself that she had to work hard for years to overcome. “I am sure many people would have missed out on amazing opportunities in life just because of skin colour and the shame associated with darker skin.”
The marriage filter
Skin colour, sadly, continues to be the central focus of most discussions and follows you in every stage of your life, the crucial stage being marriage, of course. Recently, matrimonial websites were criticised roundly for including ‘fairness filters’ in their selection criteria. The recent hit Netflix series on Indian matchmaking too is a social commentary (intended or otherwise) on the inherent skin tone bias in the Indian society.
Beyond casting a shadow on these major milestones, ‘fairness’ also becomes an everyday problem. Ashwin Jagdish, a senior software engineer, talks about grappling with this every day. “Because of all the negative comments and names I was called as a child, I felt I never look presentable. Even now, when I go out, I feel like I have to groom myself for a long time; I spend a lot of time getting ready, but even then, I do not feel adequate.”
(Some names have been changed to protect their privacy)