I could have worded this story differently but there is no right or wrong here. I’m a woman of color. In fact, for shits and giggles I refer to myself as an Anglo-Indian-American. It does a darn good job of confusing people. Anglo because I was born and brought up in England, Indian because that is the culture I was born into and American because it’s my home. I’m somewhat proud of all three countries I represent, which is more than I can say about the ways I get treated in them.
My youth allowed me to experiment with my origins. I was able to fit in wherever it suited me. I’ll explain; being on the fair side of olive skin gave me an advantage, I shared a family that was of mixed descent and so I camouflaged well. That doesn’t mean that I wasnt coerced into intimidation by bullies at school. I was so naive I didn’t even understand the names hurled at me. Children can be cruel, name calling became a norm. My parents never spoke about it but I saw it. They would ignore it and move along and I learned to do the same.
Even my trips to India at times resulted in distaste. I’ve been called a coconut, one that is brown on the outside and white on the inside. It stemmed from my mannerisms and the way in which I spoke and carried myself. Little things were noticeable such as ordering less spiced dishes or choosing English tea over masala chai. They recognized I was not from their country and so I was treated differently. It’s hard to explain and complicated and why it happens is still a mystery to me, but imagine that? Discrimination amongst your own race. Unjust is what I would name it.
In my adolescent years I moved to the US and resided in the ‘well diverse’ capital. I didn’t have issues fitting in, but then I lived in somewhat of a bubble. I was always aware and I could see and feel the prejudicial distinction some folks presented towards me. I experienced it in my business and at schools. Today I am residing amongst a different diverse crowd in another metropolitan city. For some reason my skin color has attracted a lot of attention. It could be that I’m more aware of it now, more perhaps, than I had ever been.
We all discriminate on some level sometimes unknowingly, it’s part of human nature. It could be because I myself, am a woman of color I tend not to discriminate and so I allow for the same treatment to be displayed towards me. Yet I am in awe at the amount of individuals who have yet to learn a few things about just being human. I fail to understand how you make it through life not comprehending basic concepts. People just assume, they judge the book by its cover, what they see is my brown skin and off they go analyzing my whereabouts. My so-called ‘tan’ must have an origin; I must belong to a country of color. The jaws drop when I speak. I speak the queen’s English, quite well in fact and that’s where the challenge ends.
We have all kinds of Acts and Rights against all kinds of discrimination these days yet the basics, that the color of our skin should not matter, has yet to be mastered. I joke with my friends, and my concerns are almost always invalidated but there is a small part of me that has valid apprehensions and wishes we could be equal. My friends don’t walk in my skin and so they can’t understand fully.
No matter who we are and where we go, we are segregated. In my lifetime I have been discriminated against color, origin, language, age, education, marital status and my gender. I have fallen victim to disparagement by my own people because I am a woman of a certain ethnic background and I was therefore expected to fit a certain mold. We fail to recognize the good and then fail to understand what is a normal human right. We even follow stereotypical behaviors and then discriminate when someone like me wanders off the beaten path. Society layed out a foundation and the crowds followed. I don’t want to bridge that gap, the actual foundation needs to be altered. Unfortunately it won’t be altered in my lifetime and I’m unsure if it ever will. My struggle of being brown is real, I feel it, I deal with it. Yes, it’s few and far apart but it’s still very much alive. There is no denouement here and I don’t expect everyone to understand, how could I? This is my story and I will continue to do as my parents did and move along, except now when I’m offended, I rise from the belittling. The gestures don’t deserve a response because you cannot reason with this form of illiteracy. But now, I’m definitely not intimidated, there is a lot I have overcome and it makes me the most proud, wearing my brown skin, being a woman of color.