Colors

Since I have arrived I have been confronted with my looks. Even though here it is not a big deal calling someone “La Blanche” it does make me think- because it accompanies me every day. I was asked by a colleague if there is a lot of racism in Europe.

“Are white people racist?” What a question to ask. What a book to write. “There is nothing you can say about all Europeans”. Instead of going on about how I am only with people who are not and so in my direct surroundings there is no space for racism, I asked:

“Are Africans racist?” They laughed loudly. “How can black people be racist?”, they asked.

“Isn’t racism anything that treats people differently because of the color of their skin? If it is black or white or blue for that matter? If people call me ‘la blanche’ on the road every day, touch my skin and ask for higher prices for taxi rides? Isn’t that being treated differently?”

“But they only say it because your skin is pretty. And they only ask for the prices because you have money. It is not about the color, it is about the privileges that come with it”

I thought about this a lot. My first reaction was: “Of course that is racism- just not the one you may think of. If you compare it, being called la blanche here as a European woman, is like being called le noir in Europe. Unimaginable.”

But the thing is. Do they have a bit of truth in what they were saying? I am the last person to wish for looks to play such a role, but if you think about where the “classic” racism came from, white people thought they were worth more and better. Here it is different. The people here don’t look down on me because of what I look like. But they do treat me differently. Maybe this is because I am foreign. Not only because I look different? This leads to the question of what racism actually is. To me it always was the definition I mentioned above. But is it? I always thought it is fair if everyone was treated the exact same way. But is it really fair that everyone has to pay the same price if for one the price is peanuts and for the other it is a fortune. Then again the people who take this money may want to exploit this way of thinking and charge horrendous prices. I realize these are questions reaching far into the depths of society and very hard to answer- or not at all.

On the other hand I wonder if many things I experience here may be only- and really only- because of my looks. Not because of where I come from. Are albinos called “les blanches” also? Yes. Are they touched on the streets? Sometimes. Are they asked for higher prices? No.

Difficult questions.

I saw a play here. One quote I really adored in this context was: “What if white is not another color. It is simply the absence of any color”

I love it- because it is so true. In a simple, medical way. The reason I look like this is my little melanin. Almost like albinos. It is simply the absence of something that makes my skin dark. To me that is beautiful because then it is not black or white, it is something so completely different- not even comparable.

But it does feel weird. I sit here on my porch writing. While the house guard family works in our yard. And there’s this little boy. He is maybe three years old, who likes to look at me and then hide. It’s a little thing we do. But the catch is. I always look at him through a fence. Yes, our porch is fenced. In moments like this I often wonder if skin color really does not matter, albeit the house we live in does not discriminate against any skin color as one of my roommates is Cameroonian.

And then again I wish I did not spend so much time thinking about the color of our skin as we all look the same beneath.