New York, New York. Present Day.
It is already dark, by the time I get to Iris' Harlem apartment. Her green hair flings violently as she turns to me, a light beige face powder pack in her hand.
“You know, this is the darkest shade of powder they make in Korea?”, she says, lifting the makeup up to her face. "Isn't that crazy?"
Colombo, Sri Lanka. 2002
I am six years old. The cool early morning breeze drifts through my open windows. I hear the howl of my neighbor’s rooster, the call of the Koha bird and the voice of my nanny.
“Mage lassana kiri patiyo”, she sings in Sinhala.
My beautiful milk baby.
I open my eyes.
New York, New York. Present Day.
“Speaking of dark shades,” Yoshi interrupts, turning away from her laptop, “When I was younger, I had this obsessive need to have lighter skin and pin-straight hair. You know, uphold a less “ethnic” ideal.”
She stands up and hands me a wine glass.
Iris passes me a bottle of cheap Chardonnay.
“Yeah, the whole being a brown person thing didn’t really affect me until pretty recently,” I say, taking a seat around the coffee table.
Colombo, Sri Lanka. 2006
In school, everyone thinks only the fair girls are pretty.
My friends call me “Snow White” because of the color of my skin. Teachers pinch my cheeks to make them rosy pink. I'm beautiful, they say.
"So fair."
Ashi tells me that we are best friends because opposites attract.
I ask her what she means.
“You’re white and I’m black”, she says.
I wonder if she thinks she isn't pretty.
Montreál, Canada. 2014
Ashi and I are getting ready for our night out. She's sitting at the end of the bed, a flat iron in her hand.
"Dude, I feel like all these French boys don't like me because I'm too dark."
I look at her, confused.
Her smooth terra-cotta skin is glowing in the lamplight.
She turns to look at me, her dark hair falling in her eyes, and smiles.
"Whatever."
New York, New York. Present Day.
“Yeah, I don’t know.” Iris continues. “I mean, It’s never been like a personal need of mine to be lighter but my country totally revolves around being pale.”
Her eyes glance at her makeup and then back at me.
"I mean, I guess, even I find myself doing my makeup in a more European style, to look less Asian."
Gwanju, Korea. 2014
It’s been seven years since Iris has seen her grandmother. Pulling away from an embrace, her grandma sweeps her hair away from her face.
"Nae seaggi, my baby, you've gotten dark."
Colombo, Sri Lanka. 2011
I’m leaving for New York tomorrow.
I am afraid to live this new life, completely different from the one I've known.
“Relax dude,” Harsh says. “You’re a suddha, a white person, you’ll fit right in.”
Long Island, New York. 2011
I’m an alien. At my high school, people don’t know where Sri Lanka is. They marvel at my accent and ask how I speak English so well. For the first time in my life, I am conscious of my blatant brownness. At 15 years old, I am ashamed of the color of my skin and the sound of my thickly-accented words.
My sister and I buy our first hair straightner.
We stay out of the sun.
New York, New York. Present Day.
“I mean, looking back at it, it’s really stupid. This whole thing, being unhappy in your own skin, is so stupid. But it's hard, when you're a little girl who just wants to fit in with her friends."
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 2007
Yoshi is sitting on the curb outside her school. It is a beautiful spring day. She is taken up by the smell of flowers and the sudden color that this new warmth brought with it.
"Oh my God, she is so dark", one of her friends says, pointing out a girl with kinky black curls.
Yoshi is embarassed, insecure. She looks down at her cool umber feet.
She chimes in.
"Yeah, I would hate to be that dark."
New York, New York. 2014
It is our first date.
He takes me to a little café on 79th. We both order light beers and begin asking each other the generic conversation starters: “Where are you from?”, “What do you major in?”, “What do you want to do with your life?”
He tells me that he’s fascinated that I’m from Sri Lanka. It makes me exotic, he says.
I laugh uncomfortably.
He raises his beer to his lips, a little drunk. “To tell you the truth, you’re the darkest I would go.”
It is our last date.
New York, New York. March 2015
I've just got back to Anderson Hall after Spring Break in South Carolina. I'm still unpacking when Taylor saunters into my dorm room.
"Woah, Nicole. You look so beautiful and brown!", he says. "Stay like this!"
Everyone looks around uncomfortably, unsure of how this "compliment" would make me feel.
I look down at my arms. The Carolina sun had warmed my olive skin into a familiar russet brown. I loved it.
"I know!", I say laughing. "I will!"
New York, New York. Present Day.
"It took a while," Yoshi says, "But I guess I was just finally like 'Fuck you, I'm black as fuck and bad as fuck."
"Yeah", I say laughing, "Me too. I think eventually you come to that realization."
Iris gets up and walks to the kitchen.
"Anyway, on to another equally important topic: do you guys want food?", she asks.
"No", I say standing up. "I have a 9 am tomorrow. I'll see you two later."
I step out into the chilly Autumn night and pull my beanie over my ears. I feel strangely liberated. The traffic light changes and cars speed past me as I stroll to the subway station. I think about Iris' makeup, Yoshi's middle school friends, Ashi's problem with French boys. I think about my life in Sri Lanka, my first day of high school in Long Island. I think about how far I've come.
The wind picks up but I don't feel cold. I continue down Broadway, feeling happy and beautiful and brown.
