This post was originally published on our partner website India.com:
My family can be really open-minded about a lot of things. As Indian-immigrants living in the United States, they’re very “liberal” about most cultural issues and love the diversity of cultures and religions this country offers us.
Despite all this, there is one thing that, even in 2015, in the melting pot of the tri-state area, they cannot budge on—and that is their ingrained bias of fair skin. They’re not “racist,” but when it comes to describing someone’s beauty or comparing physical appearances, they discriminate—not based on preferences, but because fair equals beauty.
Growing up in the U.S. did not prevent me from this discrimination within my own family and my community. My mother and I were (and still are) darker than the rest of my family and I was always reminded of this difference. I remember my brothers teasing me saying, “Mom drank too much chai when you were in her belly, that’s why you’re kaali.” Or the story about how my grandmother was a little disappointed when I was born because I took my mother’s “color” rather than my father’s, as my brothers did.
My mom loved it when we played outside in the snow, but when summer came around, I was forbidden to go out because I would get too dark. One summer, my brother and I broke the rules and went swimming for hours. When I returned, I was 3 shades darker than my regular color; needless to say, I was not allowed to go out for the rest of the summer!
Although I grew up in 90s New Jersey, Indians were not everywhere in my school. The student body was diverse, so my color was not an issue—but my fellow students did hold stereotypes about Indians having bad hygiene, thick eyebrows, and overgrown mustaches. (Oh, the strife of young Indian girls and their upper lips! But I digress.)
The worst of it all, though, was my mom’s back-handed compliments; as a “dusky” woman herself, she too contributed to this bias. When describing a pretty, dark girl, she would say something like, “She’s dark, but her features are gorgeous.” Other family members who were not only my color—but even darker—joined in these biases.
Up until I was 10 years old, I really thought my brothers were just being brothers and teasing me about everything they possibly could. Then, I went to my cousin’s wedding in India. My extended family showered me with love, gifts, sweets—and bleach. My aunt had brought boxes of Fair & Lovely bleaching cream and Jolen to give to my mom, so I could begin using it. I vividly remember my (fair-skinned) aunt also making a turmeric paste to rub all over my face to lighten my tan.
Every time I went to India after that, I was sure to stop at a salon that had intensive “de-tanning” and bleaching treatments. To make things worse, my extended family and cousins in India were always disappointed that I did not get gori enough after living in the America all these years.
Indians are conditioned to value fair over dark and dusky. If you look at Indian media—both TV and movies—you will see countless examples of preference for fair skin. Even today, commercials of Fair & Lovely, Neutrogena, and Ponds bombard Indians on how to “lighten skin.” Disappointingly, Bollywood A-listers like Saif Ali Khan and Priyanka Chopra star in these commercials and continue to propagate this idea.
The above Ponds White Beauty ad, for example, tells a story of a woman needing attention from an ex—and getting it only after she gets lighter skin from using the product! Even duskier actresses, like Sonakshi Sinha and Deepika Padukone, have chosen to endorse these brands. More so, even King Khan has fallen a victim to Fair & Handsome.
Fortunately, living in the U.S. has helped me let go of this fair skin obsession. America’s obsession with tanning is nothing to be proud of either, however—it just reminds me that beauty is truly in the eye of the beholder. High school helped me accept my color and be proud of it, especially when everyone was complimenting on my “year-round tan.” I truly love the color of my skin, just as much as I love having hands and feet, and being able to see, hear, and talk—it is just another privilege I am grateful to have. This acceptance is the result of calling out my family and friends on their comments, looking up to dark-skinned beauties, and appreciating what I was given.
Thankfully, Indians have been calling each other out for some time now. Most recently, actress Kangana Ranaut rejected a fairness cream deal worth nearly two crores to bring light to the fairness obsession. Actress Nandita Das also campaigned for ‘Dark is Beautiful,’ and spoke out against subtle racism in the Indian society and film industry.
If we dig deeper into the reality the problem, skin lightening has taken it even further. Rumors of skin lightening have plagued superstars like Kajol, Rekha, Shilpa Shetty, Sridevi, Chopra, and even Aishwarya Rai for years now—none of which they admit to. While skin lightening is a personal choice that can be discussed at another time, these subtle and gradual changes in your favorite actresses make you wonder. Despite their fame, glory, and money—why do they still find it necessary?
Unfortunately, it is the mindset of Indian society that continues to behave in, and accept this, way of thinking. If we never change our perception of physical beauty, how can we move forward—especially when it comes to women’s issues? We can claim we face racism in other countries, but what about what we do back home?
Nadia Kadri is a freelance journalist and writer whose work ranges from profiles of tatted entrepreneurs and conversations on the South Asian diaspora to health and wellness recipes and podcast reviews. When she’s not writing, she’s running her family business, standing in downward dog too long, jamming at concerts, and trying not to get into an arranged marriage. Follow her rants and musings on Twitter.
“Confessions to a Moonless Sky” is a meditation on the new moon and guilt. I wrote it when I was living in Dallas and was driving back from a dusk prayer. The new moon terrified me on that drive. I was diseased by the knowledge that my partner, at the time, had seen the worst parts of me. There’s immense shame in this piece—it seized my self-image. If the moon could become brand new, then I could start over.
I often ponder on the moon’s reflective nature and pairs of eyes. I’m hyper-fixated on how I am seen by others. Unfortunately, the brilliance of seeing your reflection in another person leads to negativity. After all, those who are too keen on their own reflection are the same people who suffer from it. It is possible to use shame to fuel one’s retribution and personal growth, without becoming consumed by it.
We can look to Shah Rukh Khan succumbing to alcoholism in his own sorrow and then later imbibing his sadness in Chandramukhi. “Confessions to a Moonless Sky” is a lesson for us: Don’t be Shah Rukh Khan in Devdas, instead embody pre-incarnation Shah Rukh Khan in Om Shanti Om!
Sometimes when the moon abandons the sky, I wonder if I drove her away.
If she comes back, will she be the same? How I wish she would come back new, truly new! That way she’d have no memory of the sin I’ve confessed to her. You noxious insect. Sin-loving, ego-imbibing pest. You are no monster, for at least a monster has ideology, it sins with purpose. You sin just to chase ignominy.
But the moon won’t say that, she never does. She’ll just leave the sky and return days later, slowly. And I’ll wonder if she’s new, perhaps she won’t remember my past confessions. What does it matter? Were the moon replaced with one from a different god, I’d drive her away, too.
Social media has stretched a number of news headlines:
“Social media rots kids’ brains.”
“Social media is polarizing.”
Yet those most affected by social media ideals are the teenage users. Apps like Instagram and TikTok perpetuate an image of perfection that is captured in pictures and 30-second videos. As a result, many young women chase this expectation endlessly. “Her” personifies this perfection in an unattainable figure the narrator has always wished to be. These ideals deteriorate mental health, create body dysmorphia, promote a lack of self-esteem, and much more. Even so, social media is plagued by filters and editing—much of what we hope to achieve isn’t even real. Therefore, young women, much like the narrator of “Her,” strive for a reality that doesn’t even exist.
When she walked into my life
Her smile took up two pages of description
In a YA novel.
My arms could wrap around her waist twice
If she ever let anyone get that close
Her hair whipped winds with effortless beach waves
And a hint of natural coconut
Clothing brands were created around her
“One Size Fits All” one size to fit the girl who has it all
With comments swarning in hourglasses
But when sharp teeth nip at her collar,
She could bite back biting back
And simply smirked with juicy apple lips
Red hearts and sympathy masking condescension
“My body doesn’t take away from the beauty of yours”
“We are all equal, we are all beautiful”
Beauty
A sword she wields expertly
Snipping, changing,
Aphrodite in consistent perfection
Cutting remarks with sickly sweet syrup
And an innocent, lethal wink
When she walked into my life
She led my life.
My wardrobe winter trees
Barren, chopped in half
Unsuited for the holidays
Mirrors were refracted under in my gaze
Misaligned glass was the only explanation
For unsymmetrical features
And broken hands
Still I taped them fixed
Over and over
Poking, prodding
Hoping to mold stomach fat like wet clay
Defy gravity,
Move it upward
To chest
Instead of sagging beneath a belt on the last hole
In the spring
She would stir me awake at 2 AM
“You need to be me”
Lies spilled from her tongue but
Solidified, crystallized
Fabrication spelled dichotomy
And I drifted farther out to sea
When she walked out of my life,
I was drowning.
Reliance had me capsized
Others witnessed
Furrowed brows and glances away
Like spectators of a shark attack
They can watch but the damage is done
They clung to my mangled pieces
Gravestones spelled
“Stressed”
“Depressed”
But I was mourning too
Today I looked back at my mirror
But glass turned into prism
Broken pieces rainbow
Colors coating clothes
She didn’t pick
Aphrodite
Perception changing
She wasn’t perfect
Just lost at sea
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In celebration of Kirthana Ramisetthi’s second novel “Advika and the Hollywood Wives,” BGM literary editor Nimarta Narang is publishing this short story by the acclaimed author. This piece chronicles the evolution of a writer’s life through their ever-changing author’s bio. In the details, from the change in last name to the new address, we observe how Gigi grows into Genevieve and the life events that make her into the writer she becomes.
“My Picnic,” published in the Oakwood Elementary Storytime Scrapbook
Gigi Maguire loves strawberries, “Smurfs,” and being a first grader. Her favorite word is ‘hooray.’ This is her first short story.
“Sunshine Day,”published in Oakwood Elementary KidTale
Gigi Maguire is a fifth grader in Ms. Troll’s class. She loves writing stories more than anything in the whole world, except for peanut butter.
“What Rhymes with Witch?,” published in BeezKneez.com
Gigi Maguire is a high school junior living in the Bay Area. Her favorite writers are Sylvia Plath and J.K. Rowling. If she can’t attend Hogwarts, she’ll settle for Sarah Lawrence or NYU.
“On Her 21st Birthday,” published in LitEnds
Gigi Laurene Maguire is a writer and recent graduate from Sarah Lawrence College. Her favorite writers are Sylvia Plath, Alice Munro, and Mahatma Gandhi. She is making her big move to New York City in the fall.
“Valentine’s Day in a Can,” published in Writerly
Gigi Laurene Maguire is a freelance writer who loves the written word, Ireland in springtime, and “La Vie En Rose.” She lives in Hoboken, New Jersey.
“Unspoken Ballads of Literal Heartbreak,” published in Weau Dunque Review
Gigi Laurene Maguire is an assistant editor at ScienceLife.com. Her work has appeared in Writerly and is forthcoming in Pancake House and Schooner’s Weekly. She lives in Hoboken, New Jersey.
“The Mistress of Self-Loathing,” published in Story Day
Gigi L. Maguire is the editor-in-chief of Small Business Weekly. Her work has appeared Writerly, Story Day, Pancake House, and Schooner’s Weekly. She’s currently working on a novel about witches. She lives in Hoboken, New Jersey, with her tabby cat Sabrina.
“The Distance in Your Eyes,” published in The Canton Review
Gigi L. Maguire is a freelance writer and digital marketing specialist. Her work has appeared in Writerly, Story Day, and is forthcoming in Idaho Centennial. She’s working on a novel and a short story collection. She lives in Hoboken, New Jersey.
“Auspicious,” published in BookWorks
Genevieve L. Maguire’s work appears or will appear in The Canton Review, Mark’s End, Bishop Quarterly, and Idaho Centennial. A second runner-up for the Imelda Granteaux Award for Fiction, she is writing a novel and a memoir. Genevieve lives in Brooklyn.
“Meditate, Mediate,” published in Ripcord
Genevieve L. Maguire’s fiction appears or will appear in BookWorks, The Canton Review, Berkeley Standard, and elsewhere. A graduate of Sarah Lawrence College, she is an MFA candidate at New York University. She lives in Brooklyn with her boyfriend and their two cats.
“Chaat & Chew,” published in The Carnegie Review
Genevieve L. Maguire’s fiction appears in Ploughshares, Ripcord, The Cambridge Review, and elsewhere. She received her master’s in creative writing from New York University. Her short story “Meditate, Mediate” has been optioned by Academy Award nominee Janet De La Mer’s production company, Femme! Productions. She lives in Brooklyn with her fiancé, their three cats, and a non-singing canary.
“Urdhva Hastasana Under a Banyan Tree” published in The Paris Review
Genevieve Maguire-Mehta’s fiction has been hailed as “breathtakingly lyrical” by Margaret Atwood. She is the recipient of the Whiting Prize for Short Fiction and an Ivy Fellow. Her fiction has appeared in The Carnegie Review, Ploughshares, and elsewhere. She lives with her husband Manoj in Park Slope, Brooklyn.
“Reaching New (Jackson) Heights,” performed by Lana Del Rey on NPR’s “Shorts” series
Genevieve Maguire-Mehta’s fiction has been hailed as “effervescent” by Alice Munro and “breathtakingly lyrical” by Margaret Atwood. She is the recipient of the Whiting Prize for Short Fiction and an Ivy Fellow. Her work appears or has appeared in The Paris Review,Elle, The Carnegie Review, and elsewhere. She lives with her husband in Park Slope, Brooklyn with their feisty menagerie of animals.
“The Bhagavad Gina,” published in The New Yorker
Genevieve Maguire-Mehta is the recipient of the Whiting Prize of Short Fiction and is a McClennen Arts Colony scholar. Her work appears or has appeared in The Paris Review,Elle, and elsewhere. She is currently working on a novel. She lives with her husband and daughter in Park Slope, Brooklyn.
“When Two Becomes None,” published in American Quarterly
Genevieve Maguire’s writing has received dozens of accolades, most recently the Luciana Vowel Prize for Female Fiction. Praised by Alice Munro as “effervescent,” her work has appeared in more than twenty publications, including The New Yorker, and The Paris Review. She lives with her daughter Priyanka in Park Slope, Brooklyn.
“The Day We Learned Desire is a Winding Path,” published by Capricorn Rising Press
Genevieve Maguire is an award-winning writer whose work has appeared in more than thirty publications, including The New Yorker and The Paris Review. She lives with her daughter in a 100-year-old farmhouse in Woodstock, New York. “The Day We Learned Desire is a Winding Path” is her first novel. Visit her website at genevievemagauthor.com.
“Hairy Arms and Coconut Oil,” published in MotherReader
Genevieve MaguireDunblatt is a novelist, homeopath, and part-time yoga instructor. She has seen her critically-acclaimed short stories published in The New Yorker, The Paris Review, and elsewhere. She lives with her husband Benji and daughter Priyanka in Jacksonville, Florida.
“Priya Pinker’s Mother Gets a Life,” published by Capricorn Rising Press
Genevieve M.Dunblatt is the author of two novels, including “The Day We Learned Desire is a Winding Path.” An aura reader, faith healer, and yoga instructor, she has seen her critically-acclaimed short stories published in The New Yorker, The Paris Review, and elsewhere. She lives with her husband in Jacksonville, Florida. Visit genevieveauthormag.com to learn more about her writing, and genevieveauthormag.com/hearthappy for her wellness services.
“Comma, Coma,” published in Read-A-Day Journal
Genevieve Maguire is the author of “The Day We Learned Desire is a Winding Path” and “Priya Pinker’s Mother Gets a Life.” She has seen her critically-acclaimed short stories published in The New Yorker, The Paris Review, and elsewhere. Alice Munro has called her writing “effervescent.” She lives in Jacksonville, Florida.
“Next Stop New York,” published in The Lunar Reader
Genevieve Maguire is the author of “The Day We Learned Desire is a Winding Path” and “Priya Pinker’s Mother Gets a Life.” She lives in New Jersey.
Nadia Kadri is a freelance journalist and writer whose work ranges from profiles of tatted entrepreneurs and conversations on the South Asian diaspora to health and wellness recipes and podcast reviews. When she’s not writing, she’s running her family business, standing in downward dog too long, jamming at concerts, and trying not to get into an arranged marriage. Follow her rants and musings on Twitter. 
