My Brown Revolution.

As I write down this article, I cannot help but wonder how this very trivial issue I am addressing in this essay has once shaken me to my core and made me hate my skin. Born fair-skinned, my mother used to joke that I am a ‘saayippinte kochu (white man’s daughter)’. But it didn’t take long for this white man’s daughter to get tanned by the typical South Indian sun. The moment I realized that I was darker than I was before and started getting discriminated for it, I found myself rubbing my face, knuckles, forearms and neck very hard with soap and powder, that like a snake, I would shed my brown skin.

I look in the mirror. I see my skin. It is not white. But does it matter, if it is white, black, brown or beige as long as it is healthy? It did, back then, when I used to equate white to beauty. Only B612 filters that made me look like a white washed wall made me feel pretty. Now, after years of futile attempts to make my skin look whiter, I am finally able to accept the colour of my skin and shift my focus away from it. It doesn’t bother me now if someone walks up to me and tells me I am wheatish brown. I look in the mirror and I am what I see.

The funny thing is that it is not counselling or words of assurance from others that pulled the root of the problem. I would argue it is Netflix. In the past few years, we have witnessed the growing representation of brown skin on all international platforms. I, as an Indian, stand proud that my skin is being represented, loved and above all, normalized internationally. When Mindy Kaling’s ‘Never Have I Ever’ was released in 2020, I was one of the first lockdown struck, socialization deprived individuals to watch it. I found that, strangely, I was able to relate to Devi Vishwakumar in aspects other than thirsting over hot guys.

Though not explicitly addressed, it was hard to ignore the strong, and empowering brown presence on screen. It was a relief for my eyes that grew so accustomed to watching and appreciating fair skin. For the first time, brown skin was associated with the symbol of persistence and courage instead of the usual comical portrayal by Hollywood. Before ‘Never Have I Ever’, every other Brown Asian character I have seen was a victim of bluntly offensive racist jokes. The message Devi Vishwakumar imparted to the audience, specifically brown teenagers like me, rewired some connection in our brains that formerly believed that lack of white skin meant imperfection. As Devi Vishwakumar grew through four seasons of ‘Never Have I Ever’, so did I with my vision on how my skin colour is the least important issue that I should ponder over and how it should never have been a factor that influenced my self-concept of appearance.

While ‘Never Have I Ever’ helped me be comfortable in my skin colour, I never assumed it was beautiful. I didn’t find fault with brown skin after that, but never imagined it can be beautiful until Bridgerton’s Season 2 was released with its beautiful, brown female lead. I am ashamed to say that it took me reviewing the trailer twice to comprehend the beauty of Simon Ashley.

The first time I watched the trailer, I felt so overstimulated that I couldn’t discern my opinion of her appearance. It took me two times to understand that what I was feeling was sheer admiration for brown skin’s beauty, that I was not used to. How conditioned my mind might have been if I couldn’t discern that I was admiring her beauty because it was never associated with brown skin in my head? Normalizing brown skin was one thing but finding beauty in it, was another pretty long journey of rewiring my mental conditioning. Her character marrying the most handsome, white Viscount convinced me that the show is re enforcing my initial analysis of her character.

Now, after four years of watching strong, brown characters on screen, I am finally open minded enough to tell myself and others that I am brown and brown is beautiful. Still, my mother hangs by her opinion that I am not brown or black, that I am white. Is it because she cannot accept her daughter’s skin? Or, is it because she is trying to protect her child’s self esteem that was once broken by relatives asking who am I to her because of differences in our skin colours? Little does she know that four years and weird rom-com addiction fixed her child’s self esteem in her skin colour, that she now thinks brown is pretty.