I Used to Wish I Was White

As they looked into the stroller at my newborn sister who was sound asleep, the old ladies at my church exclaimed, “She’s so white! What a beauty!”

Skin color shouldn’t be a compliment because it’s something that people can’t change, however, in the Filipino culture, that’s not the case. Skin color is everything.

One thing I’ve noticed is that every single time a new baby is born, the first thing Filipinos comment on is the baby’s skin color, especially if the baby has a lighter complexion. If the baby comes out darker, no one says a word. If it comes out fair, everyone praises the baby as if it worked hard for that complexion.

This pattern has been so ingrained into my mind that it has become normal.

It has become normal for me to notice whether a baby is fair-skinned or not.

It has become normal for me to ask my mother to buy me skin whitening products.

It has become normal for me to hear Filipino adults poke fun at the darker-skinned Filipino kids and ask them if they’ve been out in the sun for too long because they look burnt.

Being dark, in the Filipino culture, is an insult.

I did not realize that these flippant remarks about darker skin and the incessant praise given to fairer skin were signs of racism. It had become so normalized that I thought nothing of it.

Growing up, I was never fair-skinned. I was always on the darker side, and for a long time, I was insecure about this.

While my siblings would be praised for their beautiful fair complexions, no one would focus on my features as much because they were nothing like the Western beauty standards that Filipinos wished their children could have.

I was always told to wear sunscreen, not because the sun was unhealthy for my skin, but because the sun would “burn me”. I tried whitening soap and whitening lotion, scrubbing and scrubbing my skin hoping that it would become even one shade lighter.

This was normal for me. It was what I was taught was beautiful. I used to wish I was white.

Changing Perspective

My eyes were only opened to the inherent racism within my own culture and even my own household when the Black Lives Matter movement boomed on social media amid George Floyd’s unjust and inhumane death.

At first, looking through all of the posts, I thought nothing of the movement. I would always tell myself, “It’s okay… You don’t have to worry. You’re not racist.”

However, this mindset was ignorant, and I did not start caring about racial injustice until I read a post about the glorification of white complexion in Asia. Everything clicked. Everything made sense. This post opened my eyes to how important it is to educate myself on the racial injustice within our country.

I read article after article, searched up several different statistics, and asked questions to my Black friends. At the end of the day, I was disgusted with myself. I was appalled at how much more my Black friends had to suffer through because of their skin color.

I was not alone. Just as I wished I were white because I felt ashamed for my skin color, my Black friends wished they were white for a different reason.

For me, being white meant being beautiful. For my Black friends, being white meant not having to live through the dangers of daily life.

Having Tough Conversations

Ultimately, people of color do not desire to be white; they desire to experience the inherent privilege and the basic human necessities that white people so easily experience.

Because it is so normal for people to strive for fairer skin in the Philippines, it is so hard for Filipinos to realize the inherent racism that they practice every single day. My father is a conservative, traditional Filipino pastor, which means that he, too, was surrounded by racism that was normalized in the Philippines.

When I became educated on the racism within my culture, I knew that I wanted to confront my parents about the racism that they’ve become so used to practicing as well.

The conversation definitely did not go well. It was filled with yelling, high tensions, tears, and close-minded misunderstandings.

We Filipinos tend to contribute to the problem not just actively but also passively. We become passive because we are scared to have uncomfortable conversations with our parents, whose eyes have been so accustomed to racism that they find it normal.

I told my dad about the Black Lives Matter movement, and all he said was, “All lives matter. We go through discrimination too and no one talks about it because we aren’t sensitive about it.”

I was appalled. I wanted to give up. I wanted to be passive. Uncomfortable conversations, especially with the people you care about, are painful.

I wanted to give up, but I didn’t. I know that a lot of my other Asian-American brothers and sisters want to give up, but I urge them not to. We are the “model minority”, the minority that the oppressors cite as a loophole to the obvious racial injustice that flows through the veins of our country.

We often hear people say, “Racism isn’t as bad as people say it is. Just look at Asians. They are good upstanding citizens who mean no harm and they have been able to achieve dreams and reach good socioeconomic standing.”

If we remain passive to this mindset, we, as people who are part of the model minority, perpetuate the problem of racism. We must take a stand and speak up to exposes the normalcy of the racism in our cultures, even if it means having those uncomfortable conversations with family members, friends, or other people we love dearly.

After days of trying to have the same conversation with my dad, he finally understood.

He finally understood that in order for all lives to matter, Black lives have to matter first.

He finally understood that any insensitive remarks made about skin color fall under the category of racism.

He finally understood that as an Asian-American, as a fellow minority who does not suffer for his skin color half as much as Black people do, he must use his voice and his platform in order to educate others as well.

Instead of being passive, instead of latching onto this privilege he has because he is part of the model minority, he, like all of us Asian-Americans, must educate our fellow Asian brothers and sisters.

Passing on the Message

That week, my dad preached a sermon, emphasizing the inherent racism within the Filipino culture and exposing the normalized discrimination within our culture.

Some people were not receptive; others were offended at being accused of being racist. However, most people’s eyes were opened. More people were educated, and as a result, more people were able to understand and empathize with our African-American brothers and sisters.

Without education, there can be no empathy, and without empathy, there can be no change.

I used to wish I was white.

I used to latch onto whatever privilege I had as a woman who is part of the model minority.

I believe that a lot of us Filipinos tend to latch onto this privilege and hope that someday, we can be able to become white and reach their level of privilege in this country.

At the end of the day, no matter what we do, we are also minorities. We will never be white. We will never be able to experience the white privilege that we, as Filipinos, strive to have.

Because we are the model minority, we have a job to do.

We must not use whatever privilege we’ve been given to try to achieve more privilege. Instead, we must use the privilege we Asians have been given in order to stand up for other minorities, especially the Black community, and the struggles that they face that we never will. It’s time to take a stand.

I used to wish I was white.

That shouldn’t be normal.