The Struggle of Having a Light-skinned Mother as a Darker-skinned Child
- SphiweC Mavhungu
- Sep 30, 2023
- 4 min read
Updated: Oct 26, 2023
Although colourism is something that a lot of South Africans do not want to talk about, it is prevalent in our communities. What we see on social media reflects that. Colourism is when there is a favour for those who are light-skinned and they are treated better than their dark counterparts. Oftentimes we see it when a baby is born and how people treat children with light skin compared to children with dark skin. Light skin is something that black people in South Africa fetishise and when you are lighter in complexion, you are automatically seen as attractive, therefore more privileges and better treatment. I learned this at an unfortunate young age when I witnessed how people spoke of my mother and how men would go out of their way to do kind gestures for her without her even asking.
Because my father is dark-skinned, some people thought he got with my mother because he wanted cute children. When I look at our baby photos, we were all light-skinned and then as toddlers, we got darker in complexion, and thus uglier. Every time I was out with my mother, I would notice how many people stared at her and how genuinely gorgeous she was. Even in death, people still remember her for her light skin and beauty. Sometimes, she would tell me stories and one that I vividly remember is when my mother’s oldest son was born, he was dark in complexion and the nurses could not believe that she, a light-skinned woman, gave birth to a dark-skinned baby. She went on to say that the nurses were gushing about how beautiful she was while they demonised my brother and how hushed their voices were when they spoke about how she gave birth to a hideous creature. “They kept saying it was impossible,” she said. I looked at her face to see if this bothered her and she just chuckled and shook her head in disbelief.
At around the age of eight, I had a best friend who was light in complexion. She got a lot of attention. Some people would say that she looked like she could be my mother’s daughter. This made me feel inadequate as my mother’s only daughter. Because no matter how rough I would scrub my skin or how much soap I used, I could not get any lighter. I did not feel worthy enough to be my mother’s daughter. How dare I come out of a beautiful and light-skinned mother and choose to be darker in complexion? How dare I not be light and beautiful? Although my mother would tell me I was beautiful after she had done my hair or when I wore new clothes, I still felt like I was not beautiful enough. As a result, I silently swore to be known as the smartest girl in our neighbourhood. I spent hours in the library teaching myself how to read and write in English in second grade. When my mother would sit and watch my younger brother and I do homework, I would always be proud to show her the sticker I earned because I got all the answers right and how I would join spelling competitions and always came first place. I felt somewhat adequate when I got attention from my teachers and when my mother acknowledged how smart I was. This was the beginning of my people-pleasing phase. I envied the attention my friend was getting and since she was known for being pretty, I learned to settle for being known as smart instead.
Now that I have grown up and have gotten lighter in complexion, I noticed an increase in compliments and I’ve had people try to stop me just to tell me I was beautiful. Whenever I would go and visit my mother’s side of the family, I was often told how I looked exactly like her and that one of my mother’s relatives felt the need to point out that I used to be ugly when I was younger and I looked more beautiful as time progressed. I could feel a sting in my chest when she said that because I had worked so hard to be known as smart and have other attributes and all she cared about was how I looked and the colour of my skin. There was even a time where I was going to the store to buy bread when an older man in a red Golf stopped me. He told me that I was extremely beautiful and that he recognised me. “I have asked you out before,” he looked at me like he knew me.
“I’ve never been stopped by a man in a car. I have never seen you in my whole life. I’m also just a child.” I told him. I wasn’t lying. I really hadn’t met him before.
“Whose child are you?” He looked so bamboozled and so was I. I revealed my mom’s childhood nickname and his eyes widened as though he had reached some realisation. “Oh, that’s who I asked out. She rejected me though.” This was awkward. He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I asked a mother and a child out.” I had to get him out of his deja vu. “She died.” With that, I left. I did not look back. I hated the fact that people saw me as her. It reminded me of the pain I experienced when I was younger and how often I was ignored.
Today, I am able to look at myself in the mirror and feel beautiful whether I have lost or gained complexion. I am able to look at pictures of my younger self and tell her that she was not ugly. My younger brother is darker than me in complexion and I have heard people tell him that his sister was better looking than he was. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of deja vu and would tell him how handsome he was and that he did not need to change anything about himself because he was enough. This is a mindset that we have to adopt as South Africans. We have to uplift our people and unlearn Eurocentric beauty standards. Your comments can make or break a person. Let’s not break each other’s spirits.
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