The browning mentality …
ON January 11, there was a letter to the editor in the Observer to which I am compelled to make a response. The writer, WS Lofters, expressed how disappointed he was with a previous article written by a Paris Taylor, chastising a young woman for wearing a shirt with the words ‘Black Caucasian’ written on it.
He expressed his disapproval with the way Taylor chose to approach the topic as it relates to colour.
My understanding is that his grouse comes from Taylor’s belief that the young lady is ashamed of her race and refused to exhibit black pride.
Lofters lamented that he was “very disappointed that in the 21st century, we have not yet left the plantation and have some way to go towards emancipating ourselves from mental slavery”.
But as much as I would want to agree with Lofters, I have to say otherwise. Whether we want to accept it or not, what is true is that colour does play a part in one’s social class, though being rich can add a different spin on the issue. Whether home or abroad, people are treated differently because of their colour, and though Lofters rightly addresses the issue of emancipation, let me be the first to say that although it is written and we are expected to act accordingly, it will never happen.
Emancipation from mental slavery will continue to hold its place in books, but people’s minds will forever be allergic to the thought. Yes, it is the 21st century, but whoever told you that this will ever change man’s way of thinking? There will always be the black man and the white man, there will always be one to look down on the other. It is sad but true. Some years ago, Buju Banton released the Browning song, with lyrics as follows: ‘Mi love mi car, mi love mi bike, mi love mi money and ting, but most of all mi love mi browning’. When this song hit the airwaves, it had everyone singing.
And even as a child, I knew he wasn’t talking about the browning you add to you cake mix. I also knew that the song created havoc in the music industry as ladies of dark complexion attacked his anti-black lyrics. Soon after, he tried to redeem himself when he released Black Woman, and though I have to give Buju ratings for that comeback, he may have contributed to the end product of the original song, since the browning preference has gotten so much out of hand now, that it has already damaged the self-esteem of many Jamaican women.
They have taken care of their complexions all right. This explains the bleaching. And no amount of ridicule can stop it now, even after Flourgon introduced his Dem a Bleach song.
Many men are adamant that they are not interested in dark-skinned women at all. They utterly refuse to date one, much less marry. So today, as many women take it upon themselves to change the pigment of their skin, we have to admit, that nowadays, ‘if yu a no browning, yu nah sey nothin’. God bless the one or two men who may insist on sporting a black girl on their arm. And one out of 10 may be so caught up in this ‘I like only black women mentality’, that the poor thing eventually goes colour blind and can no longer differentiate a browning from a dark skinned girl. That, Lofters, is what you may appreciate as true emancipation from mental slavery.
Whether you want to admit it or not, there will always be what I prefer to classify as ‘colour social class differentiaton’. Because unless you are dark-skinned and have gone through the humiliating experience of walking into a store and they attend to the lighter-complexioned people before you, though you were first; unless you were watched like a hawk whenever you went into a store; unless you have had the experience of being thoroughly searched in an airport, and I mean thoroughly in the true sense of the word; then my friend, you will never understand why in this 21st century, and years after Bob Marley sang and asked us to ’emancipate (ourselves)’ we are still guilty of not doing that.
Already, the act of bleaching the skin is the in-thing. Women are no longer staying at home and rubbing a little here and there, now they are bleaching on the streets all decked out in socks to the knees, long- sleeved shirts and hats to protect themselves from the sun. Their skin is sometimes beaten and damaged beyond repair, yet they boast how satisfied they are with their new look. And if you so much as challenge them, they will not hesitate to gang you and beat the s. out of you!
There was a time when a lady mistakenly bounced into one in Downtown Kingston, on a street where non-bleachers are widely outnumbered. She was immediately reprimanded by the bleacher who told her, “why you nuh look whe yu a go?” That lady’s mistake was to respond, because when she turned and fired back, “a because yuh face bleach out why yuh caan see weh yuh a go”, the entire street of bleachers ganged her.
It would be easy for one to point fingers at the (bleaching) Jamaican women and say they have lost their self-esteem and their perception of wrong and right, but when we find the men doing it too, you must understand the enormity of this issue. Colour is just the tip of the iceberg. Even the statue outside Emancipation Park has had its fair share of mental slavery. Many were (and still are) unable to look beyond the two naked people standing in water, to try to interpret something more than the obvious, and accept the statue as a true work of art. So, as much as we want to believe that we are truly emancipated, it is sad to say, but the journey has yet to begin.
