<p>As I read the articles on and quotes of Sarada Muraleedharan, Kerala's Chief Secretary, on her dark complexion, my thoughts race to the days as a 30-year-old. My family wanted me to get married, and so persuaded by them, I would visit the marriage bureaus (<em>sic</em>) in search of my Mr Right.</p>.<p>It wasn’t the prospective grooms who spurned my efforts. It was the haughtiness of these marriage bureaus, who as I entered refused to entertain my resume and told me that boys wanted only fair, slim and tall girls. Not one to keep quiet, my question to these bureaus, “Is it okay for the boy to be dark, stout and short?” I never got an answer. Never mind, but their rejection of me did not depress me, thanks to my work-friends. Instead, it made me firm in my decision that I would marry when I wanted and whom I wanted to marry, much to my family’s anxiousness.</p>.<p>Yes, of course, I did meet my Mr Right, years later. But my colour story does not end there. I was shopping at a cosmetics store, when the salesgirl approached me. “Try this, it will make you look pretty.” She showed me a cream to make me fair. Our conversation went like this. “This makes you fair, not pretty,” I said. She rebutted, “Only if you look fair, will you look pretty.” I was aghast. The salesgirl, herself, was dark complexioned. Not wanting to belittle her, I commented, “I am proud of the colour of my complexion, which God has given me.” She persisted, “But all boys like fair girls.” I took this as a compliment for she thought that I was on the marriage market, and did not know that it was a decade since I had tied the knot. “Too bad for the boy, that’s his loss,” I told her as I walked out of the store, and never went back.</p>.<p>Another incident was when I was ten years old. We had some really ‘fair’ relatives visiting us. I can still visualise the embarrassment of the parents of these ‘fair’ kids, when they asked my very ‘fair’ younger sister if I was her maid as I was dark. Oops!</p>.<p>This is a deep-rooted myth that if you are dark or black or brown, you are not perfect. You cannot be on the same footing as your ‘fair’ brothers and sisters. I am dark-complexioned, but don’t need to apologise.</p>
<p>As I read the articles on and quotes of Sarada Muraleedharan, Kerala's Chief Secretary, on her dark complexion, my thoughts race to the days as a 30-year-old. My family wanted me to get married, and so persuaded by them, I would visit the marriage bureaus (<em>sic</em>) in search of my Mr Right.</p>.<p>It wasn’t the prospective grooms who spurned my efforts. It was the haughtiness of these marriage bureaus, who as I entered refused to entertain my resume and told me that boys wanted only fair, slim and tall girls. Not one to keep quiet, my question to these bureaus, “Is it okay for the boy to be dark, stout and short?” I never got an answer. Never mind, but their rejection of me did not depress me, thanks to my work-friends. Instead, it made me firm in my decision that I would marry when I wanted and whom I wanted to marry, much to my family’s anxiousness.</p>.<p>Yes, of course, I did meet my Mr Right, years later. But my colour story does not end there. I was shopping at a cosmetics store, when the salesgirl approached me. “Try this, it will make you look pretty.” She showed me a cream to make me fair. Our conversation went like this. “This makes you fair, not pretty,” I said. She rebutted, “Only if you look fair, will you look pretty.” I was aghast. The salesgirl, herself, was dark complexioned. Not wanting to belittle her, I commented, “I am proud of the colour of my complexion, which God has given me.” She persisted, “But all boys like fair girls.” I took this as a compliment for she thought that I was on the marriage market, and did not know that it was a decade since I had tied the knot. “Too bad for the boy, that’s his loss,” I told her as I walked out of the store, and never went back.</p>.<p>Another incident was when I was ten years old. We had some really ‘fair’ relatives visiting us. I can still visualise the embarrassment of the parents of these ‘fair’ kids, when they asked my very ‘fair’ younger sister if I was her maid as I was dark. Oops!</p>.<p>This is a deep-rooted myth that if you are dark or black or brown, you are not perfect. You cannot be on the same footing as your ‘fair’ brothers and sisters. I am dark-complexioned, but don’t need to apologise.</p>
