The fairness of fairness creams

There is nothing racist or discriminatory about using fairness creams or seeking a fair-skinned spouse. Those are personal choices.

Companies in the fairness cream business have clearly seen the writing on the wall. It started with a decision by Johnson & Johnson to end the marketing of these creams. Not to be left behind, Hindustan Unilever followed suit. Of course, the latter has not forsworn the manufacture of Fair & Lovely, they have decided to just change its name.

The worldwide revulsion caused by l’affaire George Floyd has led to the welcome ‘Black Lives Matter’ movement to fight a perverse dispensation that allows State forces to target people of colour. Activists took this fight further by identifying three reasons why fairness creams should be banned: The first is the obvious point that fairness creams smack of racial prejudice; the second is the discrimination argument; and the third is the notion of ‘colourism’.

It is estimated that last year, nearly 6,300 tonnes of skin lighteners were sold worldwide. Fairness creams enjoy such a large market because of the general notion in India and many other Asian and African countries that fair is beautiful. Note that this relates to fairness and not a white or Caucasian complexion. This preference is seen mostly at the time of marriage and is reflected in the matrimonial advertisements in India seeking fair-skinned partners.

Most people equate this preference with racism and hence ask for a ban on fairness creams. How logical is this? To ask for a fair spouse is not to denigrate all darker people but only to express a preference for what one believes constitutes beauty. Many matrimonial advertisements call for educated spouses or those having lucrative jobs. Should that be seen as discrimination against uneducated potential spouses or against those in low-paying jobs? The test for racism must rest on firmer grounds.

Racism involves a distinct bias against a particular skin colour on the basis that a person of that colour is inherently inferior. If you are selecting candidates for a high academic position and you overlook a dark person who boasts a better academic record than her fair-skinned competitor, you are being racist. If the police come down heavily on a dark person for some perceived misdemeanour but overlooks the same in a fair person, that is racism. The allegation against the Minneapolis police is that George Floyd would have been treated quite differently if he had been white.

Viewed in this background, do fairness creams fail the racism test? Most users of these creams would look on them as an aid to beauty in the same way that foundation cream or lipstick would be viewed. Others would insist that it is their right to choose whatever enhances their looks.

Do fairness creams result in discrimination? Here, too, it is difficult to prove the case. Discrimination would imply that someone gets preference over a more deserving candidate solely on the basis of some external consideration unrelated to the specified requirements. Thus, if the best candidate in a job interview is overlooked because she belongs to a lower caste, that is discrimination. The same thing would apply if the reason for the selection were based on colour or indeed on any extraneous consideration. But in a personal decision like choosing a marriage partner, how can we deny anyone the right to their own preferences?

What exactly does ‘colourism’ imply? If it means a system in which skin colour is placed in a hierarchy, with fair skin at the apex and tones of darker skin shades following in a descending order, then obviously it is indefensible. But here again, it does not appear that fairness creams encourage such ideas. All that they do is to recognise that the Indian concept of beauty involves fair skin. FMCGs then cater to that belief by producing fairness creams. It is true that they do not try to alter that belief, but in all fairness (no pun intended) that is not their job.

The only surefire method by which the popularity of fairness creams could be eliminated is if the concept of beauty itself were to change and Indians became convinced that fairness is not a necessary attribute of beauty. Fairness creams would then lose their USP. In fact, a movement called ‘Dark is Beautiful’ has already been started and if it is able to alter perceptions of beauty, the battle would be won. We would then not have to ban the production of these products because the demand for them would have disappeared.

The feeling against fairness creams has apparently got even the government to consider a ban on their advertisement. This is unlikely to reduce the demand for them. It will only lead to ignorance among users of the different brands on offer and, if the experience with the ban of advertisement of alcohol is any guide, result in a rush of surrogate advertising.

The real objection to such creams is the fact that they have no effect on skin colour and, therefore, buying them is a waste of money. Should this lead to a ban on their advertisement? I remember some years ago, the launch of a product that was guaranteed to cause huge growth spurts in children. The advertisement campaign for this product portrayed three giraffes, each taller than the one ahead of it, showing quite dramatically the growth potential induced by the product. The catchy slogan was ‘Goodness Growcious’. Doctors doubted if the product would accelerate growth, but anxious parents lapped it up in the hope that little Ashok would grow inches taller after taking it. Should we have banned its advertisement?

In the ultimate analysis, using fairness cream is a personal decision with no racial or discriminatory overtones. An indignant user in Hong Kong took to Twitter to express a simple sentiment: Her body, her choice. Since in India, fairness creams for men are also marketed, we could perhaps say, their bodies, their choice.

(The writer is a retired IAS officer)