“  點解你甘黑？” . 

There was a reason why I avoided those family junctions. The way I perceived myself—the way they perceived me. There was never a happy ending in the tongue twisting conversations I’d have with them. 

“  點解你甘黑？” . It replays like a broken record in my head.

Why do you look so dark? My 嫲嫲 (grandma) always asked me. Everytime I was face to face with her short stature, she would ask the same question. I would constantly look in the mirror, picking and prodding at my skin, trying to peel something off to reveal a snowy complexion. No; I was stuck with the shame of my own brown skin. 

嫲嫲 always valued pale, transparent skin. It symbolised a comfortable life—a higher economic status––since dark, tan skin was a visualiser for working in the fields for a grating land owner. No one wanted to be known as the poor, overworked, tired farmer just scraping by a few coins for their family. Instead, they wanted to be associated with 旗袍 (qipaos, a traditional expensive dress made for women), or 唐裝 (tangzhuangs, dress made for men). 

Even growing up, all the Korean Drama shows I watched revolved around rich, calculated, and stubborn CEOs with silly interns who had their actors dress themselves in pale skin. I yearned for a fantasy where I was that handsome, rich CEO with kempt hair, or a stylish detective—any character where I looked not me.

I constantly scrubbed, scrubbed, and scrubbed, hoping that this dark tint would dissolve.

Please get this off of me.

 I stopped going outside so the sun didn’t paint my skin.

I would pray on my knees and wish that I was worth something, my 嫲嫲’s words spinning and spinning in my head. 

點解你甘黑？

These cultural beliefs were ingrained in my mind growing up. My own saint was my mother. Her words were gentle and like honey, wrapping me up in a blanket encased in her own warmth.

Looking dark is valued too. 

But I can’t stop looking at myself in the shattered mirror. 

Is it really? Then why is 嫲嫲 dissatisfied with me? 

Why do I not see people like me in those shows? 

Why am I living in the shame of my own complexion?

As my face matures, my hair grows, and my identity shifts, I look at myself one more time in that mirror of a puzzle piece.

Then I begin to glue the pieces back into place.

自我接纳. Self acceptance.