"Remember: don't stay out in the sun too long," a phrase that desi children are far too familiar with. And no, it has nothing to do with getting a sunburn (because hello, melanin), but instead with our community's antiquated, discriminatory standards of beauty.

For the majority of my life, the compliments I received from elders at family parties and reunions were sweet on the surface, with just a dash of colorism to stir up a chorus of awkward laughter from me. So-called praises like "you look so pretty, so fair!" were far too common, congratulating me on a feature that is both out of my control and the cause for criticism toward my brown friends and family.

Similarly, it is quite telling of the desi community's values that virtually every South Asian friend of mine has had some exposure to Fair and Lovely -- a supposed skin-lightening cream promoted heavily in India, often by the Bollywood actors and actresses that desis revere so much. Whether it be "advice" from family members to try it out or actually using it, almost every desi kid a normal, South Asian complexion has been told that their natural beauty is an imperfection -- a mentality that is not only toxic but divisive.

Despite being the recipients of their fair share of discrimination in the Western world, desis, and especially Indians, dish out that same racism to their own people through their colorist values. For instance, the stereotype that North Indians typically have lighter skin than their South Indian counterparts perpetuates a sense of superiority among North Indians over South Indians. It absolutely astonishes me that Indians complain of the racism they receive from the both sought-after-and-demonized West while simultaneously being racist toward their own.

Along with this, while it is natural for desi children to become more conscious of the issues within their community the older they grow (as I have throughout the series of weddings and Eid parties in life), even younger children feel the wrath of snarky, colorist comments.

It was not until recently when my five-year-old cousin told me during our weekly Jenga tournament that she no longer wants to be "dark brown," that I truly understood the toll that the desi community's internalized discrimination has on kids. Telling me that she wants to be "light brown" like the rest of our family, my heart truly broke; children are supposed to live happily, without insecurity our doubt in themselves, and that was stripped from her.

It is time that our community re-evaluates its priorities; it is time that we stop tearing each other down, and building each other up instead.