On Fair Skin and Beauty

First read this–especially the comments. 

As Gaurav guesses correctly, I was just trying to provoke people with my comments. Unfortunately, when I actually write a serious post, no one reads it but my flippant comments usually provoke a lot of reaction (Sample Rajni post) which is a good pointer to where my talents(?) lie.

In thoughtful post, Gaurav examines some of the reasons behind the fascination with fairness. He perceptively observes that real problem is not so much the preference for fair skin but the humiliation meted out to the dark–especially women–as if they are lesser merely because of skin color. In other words, the obsession with fair skin is not the same as preference for broader forehead or aquiline noses. 

Now, I uphold the principle of beauty. From that it automatically follows that I recognize the role of distinguishing features to differentiate the beautiful from the ordinary. It is immaterial to me whether that feature is nose type, skin color, breast size, height or any other characteristic of human body. Neither do I think that a preference for skin color automatically signifies racism. (As FiTW believes who calls me politically correct–a first in my short blogging career.)  I certainly do think that Indians are racist against Blacks but not because they classify Blacks as ugly but because they extend it to make judgment about people they know little about. (See this post by Megan McArdle..it pretty much conveys my thoughts on this issue.)

Now let’s discuss my my conjecture. I posited that the fascination for fairness can be explained by British subjugation of India. Further, India may have thrown off the yoke of colonialism but it still carries the White man’s burden, ridiculing those whom the Whites found distasteful. I found it even more ridiculous because Indians are so quick to take offense to anything Westerners say–the reaction to George Bush’s comments are latest in series of such episodes which make me–as an Indian–cringe. Why? Because it appears to me that the relationship Indians share with the West is one of master and servant: Anything which wins approval of India’s former colonial masters is a cause for celebration. Conversely, even a minor rebuke which would be shrugged off by a confident society results in a huge uproar and is treated as an issue of national pride. A society which defines it self by what other societies may think of it is really a subjugated one–at least in the mind. 

I don’t argue that this is the only cause why fair skin is celebrated in India.  Indeed, it may be true that Indians have preferred fair skin since time immemorial though my reading of Mahabharta and Ramayana conveys no such impression. Admittedly, I am no expert on ancient Hindu text books and I would happily defer to those who have studied them in greater detail. 

But, that, by it self, doesn’t negate my argument. Going back to my original preface, a preference for fairness doesn’t automatically translate into a disdain for the dark. It requires a different social explanation beyond correlating skin color to hygiene or wealth. Because in the Indian society, fair skin doesn’t merely convey a sense of desirability but of superiority. 

Gaurav argues that it is a simplistic or at best a partial explanation which ignores the history of invasions India has been unfortunate enough to face in her history. He further argues that because Britishers were not absorbed in the society, unlike the Mughals, their preferences were unlikely to shape societal preferences. 

As an academic argument, I could point out that his point about lack of assimilation is not necessarily true at least in the earlier part of British occupation. In his book, White Mughals, William Dalrymple documents multiple episodes of intermarriages among Britishers and Indians and their assimilation of Indian cultural habits including such quirks as the Hookah. But I accept that Gaurav’s argument applies to the post 1857 phase of British India history. 

But I would argue that Britishers attempt to distinguish themselves from their Indian subjects and maintain a safe distance from them was far more likely to incentivize the colonized to seek the approval of his rulers by adopting his social biases. The British empire in India rested on the bedrock of Indians who did most of the routine administrative tasks. In a colonized society, is it unreasonable to assume that those Indians empowered by the British rule would justify their superiority vis-a-vis their fellow Indians in the same terms as their masters? Note, British rule in India was not merely justified as a colonial endeavour but, at least in British eyes, it was a civilizing influence on the native resting on the rejection of local customs, art, and ultimately moulding the society in alien terms. 

My argument can also be understood from the perch of acculturation which is defined as ”a process that entails contact between two cultural groups, which results in numerous cultural changes in both parties.” In his seminal contribution to the field of cultural anthropology, John Berry described four different types of acculturation: integration, assimilation, separation, and marginalization. Integrated individuals are defined as those who don’t want to keep their identity from their home culture, but would rather take on all of the characteristics of the new culture. British rule prized and rewarded the integrated individuals who rejected their home culture and accepted an alien one. 

Now let’s look at the role of English language in modern India. While arguments can be made on whether the fairness fetish was a British imposition or not, it is clear that the rise of English language in India is closely linked with British rule. If English has become the lingua franca of the Indian elite, its origins can be directly traced to adoption of English as the administrative language in British India. Distinguished social scientists argue many factors explain social divide in India: caste, region, religion, gender e.t.c. While none of these are untrue, I would argue, as I have done previously, that the most consistent predictor of social divide in India is knowledge of English language. 

Indubitably, English is essential for success in the knowledge economy. But the marginal benefit of English is not fully captured by its utilitarian benefits. It has an independent effect on social class: Much like in the case of skin color, those who know English are treated as superior while those unfortunate enough to have a poor command over English suffer from social contempt.

One can see that in different social interactions: the poor salesman struggling with his English in a departmental store but still insisting in speaking the language or my smirking co-passengers (unsurprisingly all Indians) when the announcer from Sahara Airlines made a few grammatical errors. Or that dude in the Cafe Coffee Day who irritated me to such an extent with his superior smile when I said something in Hindi to him that I carried out the rest of the conversation in Hindi until he gave up. As someone able to speak a little bit of English, I may find these games amusing, but  it is hard to imagine how someone who doesn’t know English could survive in this social milieu. 

Where does this sense of social superiority come from? After all, knowing English is not exactly rocket science! Is it distinguishable from the social norms which have placed fair skin on a pedestal? 

The answer to the English challenge is to ensure that every Indian has command over the English language.  Most humbly, I submit the day every kid in India is taught in English, most social divides would automatically disappear. The problem of fair skin is not, naturally, amenable to the same measure. 

It would require a confident society. A society which has finally discovered its voice after 1000 years of subjugation, humiliation and cultural imperialism. And that is why I object to the obsession with fair skin. It belies my belief that India has moved on. That Indian society has rediscovered it self and has regained its confidence. 

Sixty years after her independence, the Indian society is not quite there–yet.