Self Acceptance

I do not identify as white. Let the government label me if they choose, let people say I don’t look aboriginal, let my driver’s licence read fair skinned. These things do not bother me, because my culture is my own, I am proud to speak Secwepemc, I live by the 7 grandfather teachings, I attend pow wows and sweat lodges, my family is Saulteaux First Nations and I will always continue to learn indigenous knowledge and better my community. Now get ready for a twist; white and aboriginal means the same thing in Uganda. As long as you are a foreigner and not black, you will be called a muzungu.  So, being viewed as white, and not having the opportunity to explain that I am aboriginal, was quite difficult. I worried that some people in Uganda would view me as a colonizer, the descendant of a slave trader or worse, all of which I am not. I shared my worries with Yassein, my friend and bus driver. “Kirsten,” He said as he looked at me, “...are you proud of who you are?” I thought for minute, and then said yes. “Then it does not matter what others think,” He replied.  With those words he gave me the gift of self acceptance, regardless of my skin color.

I have heard two stories about having white skin in Uganda; please take these stories with a grain of salt, as two stories cannot represent the entire nation’s thoughts about white skin. The first story is a myth; that white people are missing a layer of skin, which is why they are not black. If they touch you, they will steal your layer of skin. Most people do not believe this story, but reserve it for naughty little children. “Careful or I’ll feed you to the muzungu,” warned a woman to her crying infant (obviously she did not think I would understand her Lugandan). On three occasions I have had older brothers or mothers hold up their small child to me, while the child released blood curdling screams and kicked their feet, terrified of me.

The second story is that white skin is superior, which strikes me as ridiculous. First of all, white skin makes us more prone to early wrinkling, sun damage, looks terrible in bright red, orange and yellow clothing and makes us glow in the moonlight like a lighthouse beacon. So while white skin is as nice a color as any, there is evidence to suggest it is of inferior quality. Even with this knowledge, many women comb the supermarket shelves looking for skin lightening cream.

It first caught my attention in the hair care aisle; a blonde haired white woman was on the label of a product for Ugandan women’s hair. This caught my attention because any hairstylist in Uganda will tell you that there is a textural difference between muzungu hair and the local women’s hair. There is a greater demand for deep conditioners, strong relaxers and holding cream that are often unnecessary for white women. Perplexed, I wondered why a white woman would be advertising a product aimed at the local women. Upon closer inspection I realized the woman had relaxed and dyed her hair blonde and was promoting a skin lightening cream. Women can’t possibly use this I thought and continued walking down the aisle, purposefully ignoring the 3 shelves of skin lightening merchandise and hoping that this product was only available because the city of Masaka had many random items in it, not due to supply and demand.  Unfortunately I saw it again in a small stall in Kyetume, peaking out between plastic cups and hair pins.

Still disbelieving women use this product I forgot about it. That is until today when I went into a market with my friend Carolyn. She is a sweet woman, round faced and 23 years old, she is a university graduate. Carolyn speaks English more fluently than anyone at the Uganda Rural Fund and has a relaxed face that seems stern and intimidates the students, but if you talk to her for only a minute, you will recognize that you are in the presence of an angel (consequently she has malaria at the moment and will take pills later in the afternoon, she will be fine by tomorrow). Sitting with Carolyn, waiting for supplies of bottled water and cabbage to be loaded into our van, she began to point out women. "That woman uses skin lightening cream," she said. I looked over, there was a woman in a beautiful Gomez (a traditional Ugandan dress made of silk), she was balancing a sack of rice on one hip and holding the hands of two young children, her face was slightly lighter than her arms. “Why didn’t she apply the lightening cream to the rest of her body?” I asked. “The face is beautiful, and brown is considered prettier than black,” Carolyn says. “What if someone were very obese, but had a pretty face I asked, would she be considered pretty?” Yes, says Carolyn, only the face matters. Does the lightening cream hurt i ask her. “The bleach?” she replies, “oh yes, it hurts.” Would you ever use it I ask. “No, “she says, “people are beautiful as they naturally are.” I thought about all the Canadian women that tan their bodies, trying to get their skin darker, while women in Uganda bleach theirs lighter, while I worry that my skin may say something about me I don’t want it to say. Self acceptance appears to be the most important thing for women across cultures, land and changing ideals of beauty to embrace.