I admit it. I have brown-skinned privilege.
I recognize this as a privilege — not because I have won some prize but because of the challenges I have not faced. I have seen what my darker and lighter brothers and sisters have had to endure, and there were times when, from my perspective, it was quite awful.
I was never once teased about my skin color while others, both dark and light, were.
I never had to explain my Blackness. I never had to explain my hair type. No one questions my ethnicity or my parentage. My nose is broad. My lips are full. I am very clearly Black.
I would not pass the paper bag test, a process by which a person’s skin color is measured to determine if it is lighter or darker than a paper bag. I’m darker. I have many loved ones who would pass this test, but they have never treated me any differently.
While I have been able to enjoy a sense of neutrality, safe from the bitterness of colorism, I know and care for other people who do not share this privilege.
I have loved ones who are regularly asked to explain who they are. They are asked why their hair is the way it is or why they look one way, and their parents look another way. Having to explain themselves is a constant burden. Every new space brings new questions and new judgments.
To be honest, I have quite enjoyed this brown-skinned privilege of mine. It feels good to not be challenged in this area (though I am challenged in many other areas; people strongly believe I am short no matter how much I tell them otherwise). When it comes to my skin color, I get to sit out of the colorism fight.
Of course, it is disheartening to see people I care for being made fun of because of the skin they were born in.
I watched the documentaries, “Dark Girls” and “Light Girls.” I was enlightened. I learned the ways both groups have been mistreated. But when it was all said and done, I was still safely brown, and it was not my issue.
This realization brought me to check the other privileges I enjoy. I’m also right-handed. Left-handed people have told me about the methods they use to navigate a world that, in large part, was not designed with them in mind.
Are the feelings I have about my “brown-skinned privilege” the same as how some white people feel? You can see non-white people being mistreated. Maybe even feel badly for them. Maybe even speak up from time to time, join a march on their behalf, or write an editorial in a Black-owned newspaper. But from day to day, it’s not really affecting you so you live on, knowing you can quite comfortably skip this fight.
You can see others being unfairly judged, disadvantaged, left out, othered, ignored, harmed or even murdered. But this particular type of mistreatment will not happen to you, so you can sit the whole race thing out.
There are times when being in the majority race may not be an advantage. However, on the whole, the number of obstacles not faced because of skin color outweigh the ones that do exist.
There are many types of privilege.
Studies have proven time and again that more attractive people have an easier time getting hired and promoted. Taller people are more often seen as leaders. Able-bodied people do not have to wonder how they will enter and exit buildings or if there will be accommodation for them when they get inside. Charismatic people are seen as more likable than people who have a sullen nature. Heterosexual people do not have to worry about introducing their spouse. Cisgendered people are not required to explain how they identify.
For me, brown-skinned privilege is the one I felt surest of, never having to worry about where I stood within the Black community.
We all need to check our privilege and take a deeper look into the times we sit down when we, because of whichever privilege we hold, could be standing up for someone else.
Contact Editor-in-Chief Camike Jones at 317-762-7850 or [email protected].
