Friday, March 8, 2019

The ‘blackness’ of cream #IWD2019

Today is March 8 – the day people around the world commemorate International Women’s Day. I’m not especially thrilled that WE need a day to recall our greatness and celebrate our femininity. But I suppose, we share a man’s world and it does take a visual exhibition (most times) to get noticed for stuff already due to us. Having recognised this, I’m saying: why bother! 

Dear woman -- be comfortable in your skin – literally, first.

Some months ago I was in Accra, the capital of Ghana, and I saw the most amazing hoarding on the walls of a market-place building. It said very simply: ‘Get back the skin you were born with’ – it is the nicest thing I have ever read. Can we even dream of a cosmetic corporate in India thinking-up a campaign like this, ever? I don’t think so. The ‘Dark and Lovely’ branding captured my attention, especially since I have had, and still continue to have questions put to me because my skin is too light for a ‘South Indian’. Usually, these clarifications come from curious adults (who should know better), but when I was asked by young children, it upset me. Is ‘fairness of one’s skin’ a discussion topic among the young school girls too!? 

I was in Madurai -- the famous temple town in TamilNadu, and we were shooting for a global documentary film on food security. The team was from Germany, and I was the stringer for the India part of the film – their location assistant -- helping out with location, translation, interpretation, etc. It was November, but the Sun was still sharp and I had on a bright red cap to keep the afternoon glare from hurting my eyes.

The Director of the film, the DoP (Director of Photography) and the Boom Operator climbed a ladder to the Corporation school terrace and were busy setting-up the drone for some exclusive shots. I could have climbed the precarious ladder to join the rest, but it would have turned out embarrassing if I developed last minute jitters while climbing down. Instead, I volunteered to remain near the van for any assistance the team might need.

It was a Saturday; the school was closed. The two-roomed building wore a festive look though -- Banana trees tied to each doorpost and decorative palm-mango leaves strung together running across the door mantel. Guests were dressed in glittering finery – all smiles, and straining to hear each other over the loudspeaker volume. The Tamil cinema song va va va, kanna va filled our heads -- the engagement function was happy, and there was a sumptuous lunch waiting.

A group of school-going girls, curious to find out what the firangs were up to on their school terrace building, walked up to me. Girls, the ages of 13 to 17 years, are usually gusty and enjoy the attention their actions receive – it is a wonderful age! I remember my teenage years fondly – bold, when I rebelled at almost everything. They asked the expected questions and in English: Who are these people? What they are doing? and so on. We got talking, and I spoke to them in Tamil, and they were surprised.

‘We thought you are from some other country or at least from North India’ – one girl says. ‘Why,’ I ask.

‘You are fair aka (elder sister),’ another responds, ‘you have reddish-colour skin; not like us.’ I’m translating the Tamil word literally here: they meant light-coloured skin.
I smile – ‘I am from Madurai; I was born here,’ I tell them.

Then a little girl – she was the youngest in the group, not more than 11 years -- says to me: ‘What soap do you use aka?’ The question threw me off-guard; no one had ever asked me that before.

‘Why do you want to know?’

‘I want to be fair like you, so I will buy the same soap,’ she responds without hesitation.  
Disappointed that a child would think that colour of one’s skin mattered so much, I explain: ‘I was born with this skin colour; it has nothing to do with the soap I use.’

She looked straight at me, and I could see she wasn’t buying my answer. So instead I tell her: ‘You look beautiful; what soap are you using?’

 She is shy, ‘Ordinary soap only.’
‘Don’t change that! Your skin is perfect.’

This couple-of-minutes exchange happened in 2013, but the relevance will always be important to me. As long as women do not appreciate themselves for who they are in the present, the little girls of the future will not be able to do that either.

‘I am Dark and Lovely’ is not a brand or a campaign; it is a feeling.  Congratulations on another March 8. 

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