Whenever I meet someone new in my village, the first thing that comes out of their mouth is almost always, “You are so beautiful!” Although I can’t help being a little flattered every time someone tells me this, it quickly became apparent to me that “beautiful” is synonymous with “white.” I have had many women hold their arms up next to mine, comparing their “black” skin to my “white” skin. Store shelves are stocked with skin whitening and bleaching products, and every reporter, celebrity, and personality on T.V. have much whiter skin than any Indonesians I have met so far.
This perception of white as beautiful comes from a historic reality that those of us with anglo-saxon descent used to also share. Paler people were paler often because they didn’t need to work outside in the sun. Being light-skinned was a sign of wealth and comfort, a life of ease and social status. I’m sure, of course, that one could make a colonial/post-colonial/western-expansion commentary about all of this, but for now I want to focus on what I have experienced specifically in my desa.
I have been told by individuals whom I have come to love and respect deeply that they are so happy to have white volunteers in their village, that only white people look “pure American,” and that I am not allowed to marry an Indonesian because I have to have white babies. It would be easy to be shocked by these comments and react according to my American sensibilities, but I have to always keep in mind that Indonesia doesn’t have the same history that the United States has. I have been raised in a culture where comments like these are clearly and absolutely unacceptable. But the people I know here in Indonesia don’t see the world through the lens of my upbringing. Although I think these perceptions of color are unfortunate and counter-productive, I can’t cast judgment on those who hold them as bigoted or hateful. More than anything, I believe that what is lacking is a healthy sense of self-worth and the beauty of diversity. Rather than anger me, it breaks my heart to see mothers telling their daughters that white is beautiful, thereby decreeing that they are not.
I often remind myself that in America many white people spend hundreds of dollars and many, many hours sunning themselves, frequenting tanning salons, and artificially darkening their skin. Even I like to lay out in the sun from time to time in order to acquire what I consider a “healthy glow.” We all seem to want what we can’t have, and I try to explain to the people I meet here that concepts of beauty vary by location. “In America,” I tell them, “everyone wants to be tan like you!” But I am dissatisfied with that reply, because it shows that we, too, are caught up in shallow and, often, unattainable ideals of beauty.
If I had to choose one message to get across while I am here it would be that the worth of a person is not tied to skin color any more than it is tied to physical beauty, wealth, or status. The discussion shouldn’t be about physical beauty at all! I see beauty all around me every day – I see it in the fresh youth and sparkling eyes of the neighborhood children. I see it in the deeply worn lines and missing teeth of the old women who pass me on the street. I hear it in the raucous laughter of the women next door. I feel it when I sit in a circle of incredibly hard working women during a PKK meeting (where all the village ibus gather to discuss the needs of their families). And I hope and pray that the beauty that others see in me isn’t only skin deep. I hope that I will be valuable in my community because of the love that I share and the work that I do, the compassion that I show and the lives that I inspire. I don’t want to just be the beautifully white bule who came and posed in pictures with everyone before going back to her imagined mansion and piles of money.
We all have so much more to offer one another than the colors of our skin and the accolades attached to our physical features! We have history, talent, personality, culture, community, individuality, presence, thought, humor – the list could go on and on. We can’t just stop at black and white because we are each shaded and colored by the things that bring us together and the things that make us unique. It is that diversity, rather than diversity in outward appearance, that we need to come to know and revel in as we learn from one another. As I continue to have these conversations, as I work with my counterpart teachers, and as I teach my students, I want this “internal diversity” to be the central meeting point in our shared experience.
Worth a Journey 