The Fair Maiden
What is your identity? What does it mean to find yourself? How long can you cling on the identity that you were given before you learn to accept yourself?
The Beginning
I want you to picture this. A little girl on the playground, by herself, trying to enjoy. She looks over longingly toward a group of friends but doesn’t do anything about it. She wants to go talk to them, play with them but something is stopping her. That’s been me. Shy, wanting to make friends but too timid to approach anyone. If you met me now, you would think this statement is farthest from the truth. Today’s version of me is perceived as outgoing, extroverted, and able to work a room I walk into. It has become so second nature for me that I make it look effortless. Anyone who meets me thinks that I am personable and can make friends easily. In fact, they would think I have hundreds of friends at every corner.
I went from being super shy to being bold and independent because it had to be done. I did it to be successful. My shyness rears it’s head from time to time. But having done this multiple times, I can overcome it. But that was me for the longest amount of time. Shy. It was an integral part of my identity. But even for that little girl, I knew I didn’t like being shy. It is the reason I worked so hard to change that about myself. I had an identity crisis when I didn’t know what identity crisis even meant.
So, the first time I heard someone call me fair, I didn’t mind. For the anglicized Indian society that’s obsessed with fair skin, I was treated with appreciation. I was ‘that fair girl’ and I liked it. With all my smartness and intelligence, I never really understood that them calling me fair had nothing to do with me but everything to do with India’s bias for European beauty standards. For someone who wanted people to pay attention and didn’t know how to make friends, this adoration was welcome. I held that ‘fair-skin’ badge with pride for a long time.
Before There Was ME
I can recall a number of instances throughout my childhood where I was not only proud of this aspect of my being, but I was also stupid enough to accept it as a part of my identity. I wore covered toe shoes because I didn’t want tan lines on my feet. I, surely, did not understand how genetics worked and was against having ‘grey’ babies (rolling my eyes as I write this). I secretly enjoyed the being called a mean nickname that roughly translates to ‘white lizard.’ And these are just the funny anecdotes. There are others that are more embarrassing.
As a young, impressionable teenager who was struggling to find her own place in the world, I did not realize how much I was being objectified. I learned to value a physical feature over attributes that make me human; that make me, ME. Introductions were easier as ‘the fair girl’. Adorned with a smile that came naturally to me and my fair identity, I was received with warm welcome everywhere. Looking back, I am not sure whether being fair skinned played a huge part in me becoming sociable. It certainly looks like it did.
I have relied on this characteristic for as long as I can remember.
The Journey
When I began understanding the kind of human being I wanted to be, I realized I needed to value aspects of myself that were not physical; be it negative or positive. I have talked about my struggles with my appearance in a previous post and how hard it has been to look at myself in the mirror. But what I failed to mention back then is that though I did not look at my whole self in the mirror, I have always looked at my face. I enjoyed putting on makeup, even on my worst days. I loved styling my hair. I had a skincare routine. I really had no issues with the top half of my body. And it has everything to do with my identity as a fair girl.
I lived in this duality of loving my face and hating my body.
As harming as my body dysmorphia has been, my obsession with my fairness has also been equally harming. Self-care and self-love has been a long, hard journey for me. I cannot say I have come out triumphant every time, but I have learned to be okay. I say this today and it may not be true tomorrow, but I am okay with my inadequacies. I am okay not fulfilling a role. I am okay with not having a specific identity.
How could I have not seen that this attribute which I had no control over, hadn’t worked for, and didn’t provide me with anything, was never a part of identity? How could I not see that I was more than ‘the fair girl’ or ‘the fat girl’ or any other way that was only meant for objectifying me? How could I not see that people would have become friends with me because I cared about them? That I had compassion, love, and kindness to offer?
I wish I could go back and tell that little girl that being shy is okay, and with a little courage, she could open a world of new possibilities. I wish I could tell her that all parts of you are valued and deserve to be loved. I would also tell her that accepting yourself the way you are is okay. Validation doesn’t need to come from anyone else. You are you and that is enough. While you will battle parts of yourself, stay true to your conscience. Remember that you have a voice, and that is your identity. I had never let you down.
You will be okay.
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You should also check out this amazing writer Kern Carter
