An extract from 'Americanah' by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

This brings to mind an interesting issue: black beauty. In this day and age of skin lighteners and relaxers, the image of pale skinned Europeans has been drilled into our minds as being what black women should aspire to be. I noticed that the issue of race has been brought several times whilst I've been reading Americanah. I strongly recommend that you read this book. This extract mostly deals with the issue of racial identification and the controversial issue of race relations.

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To My Fellow Non-American Blacks: In America, You Are Black, Baby

Dear Non-American Black, when you make the choice to come to America, you become black. Stop arguing. Stop saying I'm Jamaican or I'm Ghanaian. America doesn't care. So what if you weren't "black" in your country? You're in America now. We all have our moments of initiation into the Society of Former Negroes. Mine was in a class in undergrad when I was asked to give the black perspective, only I had no idea what that was. So I just made something up. And admit it - you say, "I'm not black" only because you know black is at the bottom of America's race ladder. And you want none of that. Don't deny now. What if being black had all the privileges of being white? Would you still say "Don't call me black, I'm from Trinidad"? I don't think so. So you're black, baby. And here's the deal with becoming black: You must show that you are offended when such words as "watermelon" or "tar baby" are used in jokes, even if you don't know what the hell is being talked about -and since you are Non-American Black, the chances are that you won't know. (In undergrad a white classmate asks if I like watermelon, I say yes, and another classmate says, Oh my God that is so racist, and I'm confused. "Wait, how?") You must nod back when a black person nods at you in a heavily white area. It is called the black nod. It is a way for black people to say "You are not alone, I am here too." In describing black women you admire, always use the word "STRONG" because that is what black women are supposed to be in America. If you are a woman, please do not speak your mind as you are used to doing in your country. Because in America, strong-minded black women are SCARY. And if you are a man, be hyper-mellow, never get too excited, or somebody will worry that you're about to pull a gun. When you watch television and hear that a "racist slur" was used, you must immediately become offended. Even though you are thinking "But why won't they tell me exactly what was said?" Even though you would like to be able to decide for yourself how offended to be, or whether to be offended at all, you must nevertheless be very offended.

When a crime is reported, pray that it was not committed by a black person, and if it turns out to have been committed by a black person, stay well away from the crime area for weeks, or you might be stopped for fitting the profile. If a black cashier gives poor service to the non-black person in front of you, compliment that person's shoes or something, to make up for the bad service, because you're just as guilty for the cashier's crimes. If you are in an Ivy League college, and a Young Republican tells you that you got in only because of Affirmative Action, do not whip out your perfect grades from high school. Instead, gently point out that the biggest beneficiaries of Affirmative Action are white women. If you go to eat in a restaurant, please tip generously. Otherwise the next black person who comes in will get awful service, because waiters groan when they get a black table. You see, black people have a gene that makes them not tip, so please overpower that gene. If you're telling a non-black person about something racist that happened to you, make sure you are not bitter. Don't complain. Be forgiving. If possible make it funny. Most of all, do not be angry. Black people are not supposed to be angry about racism. Otherwise you get no sympathy. This applies only for white liberals, by the way. Don't even bother telling a white conservative about anything racist that happened to you. Because the conservative will tell you that YOU are the real racist and your mouth will hang open in confusion.

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-Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Notes from A Dark Skinned Girl

When I was younger, I was always comfortable in my own skin. As a child, I was happy and carefree; not concerned with matters of beauty and the like. I never looked at my mum and wondered why she was of a lighter skin tone than me. I never looked at her hair and wondered why it was a different color from mine. No. I was above such trivial things.

I preferred to content myself with crazy experiments I conducted in my grandparents's garage. I would empty old teabags into an old honey jar and add in all numbers of eclectic ingredients; lemon tree leaves; freshly-squeezed lemon juice; mud and leftovers. I remember the triumphant look I wore on my face when I stole a glossy brown egg from the pantry and added it to my mixture; then the ashen look I wore as I bowed my head under the heat of a heavy scolding. 

                          ***  

When I moved to Botswana to be with my mum, I had to start a new school. I had no friends and had just entered my adolescence. Everything was foreign to me. I had never seen a guy, save for my best friend's brother, and wasn't prepared for the onslaught of emotions that struck me when I first saw him. The frantic increase in heartbeats; the sweat dripping out of my pours and the obvious stutter in my words as I spoke to him; the widening of my eyes and the dilation of my pupils as I gazed upon him. All that crap. (/_\)

                          ***

And yet I felt inferior. It grew worse when I came to high school and it is still there; hanging over my head like a dark cloud of depression. I noticed it everywhere. Every guy wanted either a white girl or a yellow bone. All the guys I liked at least. That's how I grew to hate my skin tone even more. I know that people always say that black is beautiful and everything and that I should be thankful for my skin tone. I haven't woken up once in my teenage years and said, "Holy sh** I'm beautiful!" 

I haven't. Yet.

I'm still a teenager. There may still be time. Perhaps one day I will wake up and realize my full beauty and feel comfortable in my own skin for once in my life. But for now, I will remain in the dark, contemplating how much better people would treat me if I were lighter skinned.

                        ***

Sadly that is a very prevalent factor in my region of Africa; the whole of Africa in fact. Lighter skinned people are seen as superior and more attractive. That's why women aspire to appear more white in order to attract mates. They cake their skin with poisons that claim to lighten their skin but end up causing irreparable damage to themselves. I would never do that to myself: no matter how much I hate my skin tone.

Maybe. Someday.