The motto of the island is “Out Of Many One“, but her skin colour places her within a small percentage of the population.
She was born there, but she was not from there. The island blood courses through her veins courtesy of her black mother, but she is neither black nor white, which is why she teeters on the edge of the race divide. Being classed as “mixed race” is by definition, a reality that feels like a “minority”.
The images of the mixed race people in history books were depicted as the babies of black slaves who had sexual relations with their white plantation master. The lighter hue of the child’s skin gave them preferential treatment and status within the household upon being born. Despite the end of slavery hundreds of years ago, this status quo still exists in the 21st Century and the socioeconomic differences are glaringly obvious. Being born “a browning” is an entitlement that will open doors to jobs that are not usually granted to the darker hue.
Being “a browning with pretty hair” is an accomplishment that will grant immediate access to the inner sanctum of the upper class realm, irrespective of which side of tracks one is born. As one woman put it, “when you black, nobody see you”.
The country coined the phrase “anything too black nuh good“. Which by their own demise, has assisted in fuelling the hatred for their own skin colour, and in turn, the trend of bleaching – the removal of skin pigmentation using chemicals to achieve a lighter skin tone – has become a viral phenomenon within the zinc lined alleyways of the ghettos. Driving through the towns, men and womens faces are lathered in white cream, their bodies fully covered from the intense sun, hoping to get one step closer to their idea of “perfection”.
This quest to be “brown” is the belief that it will better ones future. Unfortunately these men and women do not attain the colour they desire. Instead they accomplish horrific chemical burns and a ghastly appearance.
Being born “a browning” is a noose she has worn tightly around her neck as a constant reminder that she does not belong to the island she was born. It is a reminder that she is different. It is a reminder that she is supposedly privileged, and by extension, entitled. Being born mixed race feels like a curse instead of a birthright.
As a child growing up during the 80’s, in the height of racial changeover, she was stared at in awe and everyone wanted to touch her long curly hair. She was thought to be the “privileged brown child” amid the sea of black faces fighting for recognition. She was different and made to know it from a young age. She was the product of a white man and black woman and wore that stigmatism like a scarlet S on her chest. She felt uncomfortable in public areas and her mother never understood how she felt. How could she? Her mother’s skin was black. Her mother blended in and looked like everyone else. Her mother could never fully understand how her daughters skin colour was a burden at a young age. She called her daughter “shy”. Her daughter called herself “insignificant”.
This is an island of many faces fighting to fit in. Each one fighting to gain recognition. Each one trying to be accepted as more than just “insignificant”. Each one a minority, but only in their minds.
Feb 12th 2020 – creative writing prompt
Carry on Warriors 