I have always preferred natural over fake. Wood is nicer than plastic, greasy potato chips will win every time from their cardboardy ‘Lite’ second cousins and who ever came up with decaf? Jeans and t-shirts will win from suits every day and wearing mascara means I am on my way to a special occasion.
That makes Cairo life interesting to say the least. It took me a while to understand that one does not attend events like a wedding without visits to hairdressers and manicurists and long elaborate dresses are to be worn. Not to mention that my mascara principle does seriously not apply, wearing make up is a way of life in Cairo.
However, I found it goes further than that though. It is not just about what you wear, it is also very much about the color of your skin. Being a person of fair skin, doors open to me that remain closed to others. In the rigid social structure of Cairo, being white automatically means you are welcome in the highest levels of society. No matter what your background, level of education or financial status may be. As long as you do not marry their brothers of course.
We are all familiar with the greener grass on the other side of the fence, being different is automatically more attractive etc. Herds of pale faced Europeans descend on the shores of Egypt every year to fry themselves into a lobster-like tan, believing it makes them look more attractive and gives them a patina of wealth and indicates vast arrays of leisure time and travel habits. I remember well how much a proper sunburn hurts.
The opposite applies in my chosen home, the paler you are, the more exclusive you are perceived to be. One of my friends is stunningly beautiful. Her bone structure, the golden shade of her skin and the slight almond shape of her eyes make for an arresting face. All my friends agree, at least the foreign ones. My Egyptian friends think she is pretty, but not that special. Her features are of a classic homegrown beauty, and they are not very impressed. While we white folk stop in our tracks every time she passes by.
Funnily enough, this fascination with skin color seems to have become so normal in this society, that we can feast our eyes regularly on the commercials for skin lightening products. Not in the way I see their opposite equivalent in Europe though, where commercials are full of tanned people, on boats, skies or in exotic locations, indicating wealth and luxury while they are selling a new kind of soft drink.
Here we are treated to the feast of the pretty girl applying for a job and being rejected before she can even try out as a presenter based on her being too dark of skin. She happily takes it in her stride, of course she is not getting the job, the bronze tone of her skin automatically disqualifies her, what was she thinking?
Luckily there is a solution as her chipper voice informs us, she applies the cream and before you know it she is the coveted 4 shades lighter and gets the job, the admiration of the guy and is blissfully happy.
It never stops to amaze me how blatantly racist that commercial is. And how little it seems to bother people. To actively imply that success is not in reach if you are not pale would be considered offensive and punishable by law in most countries in the world. And no one seems to care.
I understand very well the dynamics of being different and rare being perceived as being better, it does have an aura of exclusivity. However, the seemingly passive acceptance of the notion that not being pale equals being less, in a country where most people are of one shade of brown or another, is something I struggle with.
And as a person of the pale variety I get offended. It marks the people of this country as not good enough, and it implies that people that resemble me hold more value than others. And that is a burden I resent. Especially considering accident of birth dictates our coloring.
Let’s face it, we white folk are often arrogant and superior enough all by ourselves. We really do not need to have a society confirm these beliefs in our day to day life.
All societies are made up of contrasts and the dilemmas they generate make them interesting places to live in. It allows us to question our beliefs and test our convictions and adjust them as we learn.
However, when values are decided on outward appearances, it stops being fun. Never judge a book by its cover and all that, ancient truths we are all familiar with and we apply many times over without even thinking about it. Or we would never have a full sandwich or helping of Kosheri again.
I find I can actually enjoy dressing up from time to time, it is enjoyable in the way it was when I played princess when I was a kid. And even if I am more comfortable without too much artificial enhancements, I can see the fun in being different for a special occasion.
In every day life though I rather be myself and be judged for who I am and not for what color my skin is. And if black-and-white needs to be part of the equation, I will gladly take your judgment on the words I put in front of you. At least they are in my control.
