In a tiny open air bus this morning, a perfect stranger stroked my arm and praised the whiteness of my skin. It still feels very odd to me to live in a place where my paleness is so openly coveted. Back in North America, the media has been tempting me all my life to crave just the opposite look. No tanning beds here, every advertisement speaks of miracle formulas to whiten your face, arms, armpits. They seem mostly to be a mixture of bleach and sunscreen. It doesn't stop there. In the full heat of the sweltering sun, one can expect that most people commuting by motercycle will be wearing some sort of heavy sweater or jacket to protect themselves from the sun. The more image consious might go so far as to carry an umbrella with one hand and drive with the other and today I even saw a pair of mittens.
It's hard to know how to react to all of this. I know that I had no control over my skin colour or any other characteristic that I just so happened to be born with. Every day I strive to deepen my relationships with my Lao family and friends, push my interactions past appearances and stereotypes. But even as I learn to communicate more and more each day, I am also becoming very aware that I will always be white, I will always be a foreigner and no matter how much I strive to walk in solidarity with the people of Laos, I do not share their history and circumstance.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment