4 Heavy Problems of Light-Skinned People
Let me preface by saying Rob Schneider is a fucking moron. I have no problem going after dumb celebrities who don’t stay in their lane, but for all the well-earned backlash, there was a disturbingly common thread of criticism. In a particularly scathing Jezebel piece, Schneider is referred to as a “hyper-privileged, myopic white man”. It is well-documented that he is 25% Filipino. I’m not sure if the author overlooked this important factoid when writing her heated article or she actively chose to omit it. But being reductive of a person’s ethnic identity to suit your narrative can be incredibly harmful, particularly to mixed people who already have a difficult time navigating a world that is confusing, frustrating, and oftentimes fails to acknowledge our unique struggles.
If you think that being a quarter Filipino isn’t “ethnic” enough to be considered mixed, congratulations! This article is for you. Here are just a few issues that every light-skinned mixed person faces:
1. Having to explain ourselves. To everyone. All the time.
I’m a quarter Chamorro (native Pacific Islander) on my mother’s side. I was born and raised on Guam. You would have to be a psychic or a very talented geneticist to accurately guess exactly where I’m from and what my background is. It never stops complete strangers from trying. Being open to constant, unwanted scrutiny from those who are just too curious to help themselves (or observe basic etiquette) is par for the course.
If this doesn’t sound exhausting, imagine every person you meet inquiring after what exact mixture of white European you are. You may feel flattered the first few times, but imagine it happening every day. For your entire adult life. It’s the kind of thing that wears down on a person, no matter how proud of our heritage we are.
2. People think it’s okay to say racist shit around us.
When I tended bar on Guam at a popular spot for military servicemen, I would hear the most degrading language used to describe indigenous islanders. “Chamorons” or “salt water n — — -s” were terms that were not uncommon to hear from the mouths of young white men in uniform. The looks of mortification when they found out I was part Chamorro made me feel a kind of sick triumph. Like a “gotcha!” moment, but for ignorant racists.
It’s just another weird part of life as a white-passing person. The ease with which racists assert their horrible opinions on people they think will “get it” is incredible at times. It’s a surreal lens in which to experience bigotry because it gives us the option of calling it out or continuing to fly under the radar. I choose to call it out when I see it, but I often wonder if these conversations would even exist if my skin were darker, my features more exotic, or my accent more prominent. Would these same people speak so brazenly or would their poisonous ideas simmer quietly below the surface?
3. We experience identity erasure from an early age.
As a kid, I would go to rosaries and village fiestas with my grandmother. My Chamorro relatives would often refer to me and my siblings as haoles (white foreigners) because we were so pale in comparison to our full-blooded cousins. Looking back, I’m sure their intent was more comedic than malicious, but as a young child it was very isolating. I internalized much of those feelings, which had a rippling effect on my ability to engage in my own culture.
Despite my father’s encouragement to be proud of my islander identity, I did not feel the need to learn anything about my heritage. I purposely didn’t learn the Chamorro language, convincing myself that it wouldn’t benefit me at all. I was resistant to participating in traditional dance or celebrations. I didn’t pursue a deeper relationship with my Chamorro relatives because I felt their constant, vocal criticisms of the lightness of my skin.
It seems silly now, to deny myself like that. However, the otherness I felt so deeply wasn’t imagined. It was reinforced by a lifetime of being reduced to a color swatch by the people that I looked to for education and acceptance.
4. We unpack our privilege differently.
Yes, light-skinned mixed people do benefit from white privilege. We just unpack it differently, depending on how easily we pass. There are so many aspects of this to address, so many factors to account for. We stand at an interesting crossroads, where multiple sides of our identities must be reconciled in order to address systematic change.
Look, I’m excited for the time when we are all bald, caramel-skinned avatars of the future, driving around in hover cars, eating vegan bacon (that somehow tastes exactly like real bacon). A post-racial society is a fun thing to think about. But all we have is the weird and complicated now, so let’s try to dissect it with a little more insight than “white actor insults black civil rights icon”. I think we owe it to ourselves to dig a little deeper.