It’s 2017 and I’m still being referred to as a house n*****... by my own grandmother… jokingly, of course?

I am a 21 one-year-old African-American female with hazel eyes, blonde, curly hair (naturally sandy-red) and am usually considered “light-skinned” amongst the black community. I am the lightest person in my immediate, as well as the maternal, side of my family.

Being “light-skinned” is often accompanied by being called “boujee,” stuck up, and the infamous, “Oh, so you think you’re cute?”

Growing up, I was always told I was adopted because of how light I was in comparison to the other members of my household. I resented my mom. She was darker than I was, and I couldn’t understand why we were so different. People always told me how pretty I was and how much I looked like my father, who is “brown-skinned,” but never my mom.

“Mommy, you’re brown and I’m brown,” my three-year-old cousin told her mom.
“Krisalyn, who told you that?” Beverly, my older cousin said, then looked at me through the FaceTime camera. “Someone at daycare must have told her that; she did not learn that here!”

Being negatively introduced to the differences in skin color at such a young age can negatively affect a child. As told by Pinkston, the effects of colorism on African-Americans can affect their psychological well-being, affecting their perceived attractiveness and self-esteem as well as possibilities for depression and anxiety.

“You’re so pretty and red-boned,” my grandmother would say. “You could wear any color and it would look good on you!”

My grandmother always made remarks like this to me, even around other friends and family. She praised my complexion and frowned upon her own, it seemed. “I always had to put vaseline on my face to make sure the dark marks I had would go away. You, on the other hand, your skin is perfect and smooth and always will be,” said my grandmother.

My grandmother is a dark-skinned, middle-aged, African-American who curses like a sailor. If you’re ever in need of someone to curse you out or talk your ear off, she’s the one for you.

More often than not, dark-skinned women are viewed as being intelligent, strong-minded and independent, whereas light-skinned women are viewed as dependent, gold diggers and stupid.

Shows such as “Love & Hip-Hop,” “The Real Housewives,” and “Being Mary Jane” all contribute to these stereotypes of black women in America. When these depictions are all that the world has to base women of the black community off of, it’s no wonder we get viewed in such ways.

Labeling African-Americans by the color of their skin is a societal construct that has created an internal racial divide - colorism. Colorism is discrimination against an individual based on the color of their skin, giving one “shade” higher privilege over the other.

At a young age, I was being brainwashed by the construct of colorism. In my elementary school classes, I began to stay clear of people who didn’t look like me- I would flock towards the people whose complexion was similar to or even lighter than mine.

How, in a school of all black children, do you have a divide by the color of their skin?

In movies and commercials, we never saw people who looked like us, even the dolls we played with were usually white. If we were lucky enough to find the new “Black Barbie,” she was dark-skinned with “nappy” hair. I, for one, could not relate to her. I was not looking at a reflection of myself. I wanted to play with the white dolls because that’s what I saw on television, that’s who I most looked like in comparison to “Black Barbie.”

America has taught African-Americans to have disdain towards each other and themselves since they got off the boat nearly three-hundred years ago. By separating the slaves based on the color of their skin, a divide was placed on them not just physically but mentally as well.

“Dassie,” my grandmother calls me, “why don’t you go outside?”

“It’s too hot,” I said.

“I forgot, you’re a little house n*****. You don’t like to be out in the sun and get dark like me.”

Slaves who were of a lighter complexion were subjected to working in the house because they were “closer” to being white, while those who were darker in comparison were outside laboring all day. This created a physical divide, even after slavery was abolished.

“When looking at the ghetto and suburban areas in communities across the U.S., in relation to the African-American community, you begin to understand their mentality,” my dad always told my brother and me.

The “Slave Mentality” is believing the government is responsible for your misfortunes so they are the ones responsible to get you out of your situation, not making any effort on your own to work and better your own living conditions.

Growing up in D.C., on a military base, I observed the majority of people living in the ghetto, on the outskirts of the base, were mostly dark-skinned. It was rare to witness someone move out of the ghetto; the outside of their homes was always run down and yards unkempt. I promised myself at a young age I would never live in the ghetto because seeing this gave me the assumption that these people had no motivation and determination to do better for themselves.

When I moved to the suburbs, the majority of people living in these huge mansions and beautiful homes were light-skinned or brown-skinned African-Americans. The smiles on their faces and the gleam of success in their eyes seemed to come from the feelings of accomplishments they had from the jobs they had and the amount of work they did to allow them to live where they did.

I believe colorism, just like racism is a mental illness that many people suffer from, but grew up unconsciously learning. I have taught myself to stop judging others of my race based off of the complexion of their skin once I learned to love myself and being black. I no longer resent my mother because of the difference in our skin. I think she is one of the most beautiful and intelligent humans I have ever met. My grandmother often still makes “slave” comments towards me, but I don’t think much of it anymore. I take her jokes lightly and push them to the back of my mind.

Colorism is still alive and thriving amongst the African-American community today. With the media constantly providing us with light-skinned African-American men and woman to praise in the entertainment industry, they become the face of beauty. Defining beauty within the African-American community creates a divide amongst these young teenagers because of the stereotypes they see on television and in turn reenact in their daily lives.

It will take a lot of self-love and self-appreciation to stop the concept of colorism from spreading to younger generations. It starts with me, an individual to start the change, and it is my duty to spread this love and self-appreciation to others.