Skin colors and how we don't really see them

I chose the colors of my skin when I was in the womb.
I looked at my father’s pale complexions, and chose my mother’s persian brown tones.
I thought that it will weather better the hot Mediterranean sun, I was about to be born into.

All my life, I thought of myself as a brown skinned woman.
Especially when I laid my naked body next to European boyfriends of the past.

On a recent trip to India, at a remote village in a forgotten part of the world, an old Indian woman in a colorful sari, run her wrinkly hands across my face and forearm, while speaking softly in incomprehensible hindi.

I raised a questioning eye to my driver; “She said you are so beautiful and white. As white as the sweet milk of a water buffalo.”

She did not see my skin, nor its colors- she saw a privileged woman who never toiled the fields under the hot sun.

She saw a privileged woman who did not have to carry water from a well in a clay pot on her head, and when she saw privilege- she saw white.



Comments:

Alina Bolano: "beautiful, the message goes directly to the heart.. There is so much to see.. we are sooo small and so far and also so near to the rest of the world.. beautiful thought!
I think that traveling opens your eyes and clear your fears.

"Suneal Varma":"beautiful stunning like your

Jane Myers: "Wow beautiful - thanks Tali

"Suneal Varma" :Tali this has a flavour of my poetry. I am honoured that I write like you.

"Ray Nielson" : Tali, these are views that few see and thoughts that few "privileged" think. We need to remember we are all Kindred spirits with one Father that sees us all equally