Tag Archives: genetic makeup

The face of Colorism is not Red. But it might be yours.

Colorism, sometimes also referred to as shadeism, is discrimination based on a person’s skin colour.  This is usually tied up with racism, as in people hating entire races and/or nationalities of people and citing their skin colour as one of the things they are prejudiced against.  However the reason that colourism and racism are not the same thing is that skin colour does not always equate to a specific or entire race.  Therefore, whilst racism is unanimously deplored by all right-thinking people everywhere, Colourism still manages to sneak in under the door and get a good look in.

 

As a Caucasian man in a predominately Caucasian country, racism is something that has affected my life very little on a personal level.  I’ve occasionally been called a name by someone of a different race based on my own but its been an extremely rare occurrence.  I’ve experienced Nationality-based Discrimination somewhat more, which has usually taken the form of online comments from those who wish to arbitrarily dismiss my opinions under the guise of ‘you’re just an Aussie’.  Sometimes it has also taken the form of people not liking my accent and have expressed this in comments on my youtube channel.  But once again this is rare and has affected my life little.

 

But colorism – oh my, I cop that all the time!  And not because I’m white but because I’m RED.

I’m a nice guy – don’t judge me because of the colour of my skin.

Yes, I am red.  I have been red nearly my entire adult life.  And year in, year out people feel the need to inform me of my skin colour constantly.  Whether it’s in person or commenting on an online photo of me, people can’t help but point out how red I am.  Well guess what?

I FUCKING KNOW ALREADY!

Why the fuck does mocking people for having a red complexion get a pass eh? It’s not like I’ve got one on purpose!  I do wear sunscreen, I’m not an alcoholic and I don’t wear blush.  My skin colour is not an intentional decision I have taken alright!

The reason for my skin colour is simple: my genetic makeup and ancestral heritage combined with my lifestyle and world locality.

In other words I am someone who is bred to live in cloudy overcast countries and stay indoors a lot.  Not to live on a farm on a continent that is not only the driest but also one of the hottest and lead an outdoorsy lifestyle.

So yes, my pale and freckly skin would much prefer it if I lived in England and worked all day in an accountant’s office.  But unfortunately for it I live in Australia and spend as much time as possible outdoors pottering around the farm and playing with my kids.  And because I’ve spent decades outdoors, I’ve been sunburnt so many times with such regularity (despite habitually wearing hats and sunscreen) that from the neck up I am now permanently red.

An artists (my sons) impression of me. And yes I know you find it funny.

And what’s more I get redder.  If I eat super spicy food or hot sauce I go redder.  If I run until I’m exhausted I get redder.  If I choke on something I go redder.  And if I get angry I have a complexion which makes a beetroot look like it’s a baseball in a snowstorm.

Strangely people feel very comfortable informing me of this.  You wouldn’t go up to an Albino and say ‘My god you are white!’ or go up to an Indigenous Australian and say ‘My god you are black!’ would you?  So why is it ok for people to come up to me with regularity and say ‘My god you are red!’?

Guess what?  It’s not.  I’m fucking sick of it!  I fucking know I am red!  I know I should have been a Butcher or a Drill Sargent.  I know that if even the slightest shaft of weak sunlight gets reflected and hits my skin I get the complexion of a strawberry.  I know I look like I’ve just been caught masturbating and am blushing like a virgin bride.  I know you think I must be a Jeff Foxworthy fan because I have a red neck.  And I know that if I get angry you can land planes by the glow of my face.  I know, I know, I fucking KNOW!

‘Go ahead – tell me again I’ve got the complexion of a used tampon. Say it one more god damn time!’

So next time you feel like informing me, or someone else that is red that we are red, just don’t.  We know.  We don’t need to be told and we really don’t need you making fun of it.  Other red faced people like me will have heard every joke by now.  We didn’t really find them funny the first time we heard them, let alone the thousandth.  You think I have a face that would make bulls charge on sight?  Fine.  Think it.  But don’t type it and definitely don’t come up to me and say it.  I don’t want to hear it and frankly it makes me feel even more self-conscious about my colour than I already am.  I don’t like being red, I really genuinely don’t.  I’ve tried every cream and skin treatment there is for decades and they don’t work – I’m stuck this colour.  But it’s my lot in life and I do my best to get through day to day just like everyone else. So can you please stop telling me how red my skin is?  Even when you mean it as harmless fun it always makes me feel that little bit shit about myself – every single time.

 

Society condemns racism, homophobia, religious persecution, body shaming, gender inequality – most anything where you make people feel bad about or victimizes them for who they are.  I think it’s high time Colorism was added to this too.

 

Now if you will excuse me I’m hungry, and writing this has pissed me off so much I’m gonna go fry an egg on my forehead for lunch.