I Advise You To Change Your Skin Colour

Sometimes it’s hard to imagine a time when society didn’t treat skin colour as if it were meaningful. But as Robert Baird points out, until a few centuries ago, it wouldn’t have occurred to most people to define themselves by this almost totally arbitrary quality:

If you asked an Englishman in the early part of the 17th century what colour skin he had, he might very well have called it white. But the whiteness of his skin would have suggested no more suitable basis for a collective identity than the roundness of his nose or the baldness of his head.

If you asked him to situate himself within the rapidly expanding borders of the known world, he would probably identify himself, first and most naturally, as an Englishman. If that category proved too narrow – if, say, he needed to describe what it was he had in common with the French and the Dutch that he did not share with Ottomans or Africans – he would almost certainly call himself a Christian instead.

In my article, What If Black People Are Just Stupid?, I wrote about the categories we divide ourselves into. I asked why we treat skin colour so differently to the roundness of our noses or the potential baldness of our heads. I suggested there might be more meaningful ways to group ourselves.

Sarath reminded me that this problem isn’t limited to the West.

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Sarath:

Partway thorugh your piece you write.

"..... we run into a few problems. The first of which is what a black person even is."

i have a somewhat amusing story about this. i am of south asian descent, with a darkish brown skin colour. in many parts of the world. i'd be called black.

i was once on a work assignment in ghana and had to get a driving licence. I duly filled the standard application form and handed it to the official at the licensing authority. it was rejected based on my response to 'colour of skin' to which I had circled black (from the two options (black/white) available.

a debate (argument, if you prefer) ensued, during which the official insisted that i should change my selection to 'white". finally in exasperation, i rolled up my sleeves, placed my forearm next to his and demanded, 'are you colour blind?'

he responded coolly, 'my friend, if you want a licence to drive in ghana, i advice you to change your skin colour!'

... needless to say that i capitulated meekly.

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Steve QJ:

my friend, if you want a licence to drive in ghana, i advice you to change your skin colour!

😂 Thanks for this. I pray for the day when we're past treating this stupid characteristic as if it's important.

Also, hope you had fun driving the streets of Ghana. They do not mess around over there!

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Cultures all over the world divide people into “us” and “them.” And because the dominant culture in a particular region often shares the same skin colour, it’s a convenient way to tell the difference.

I was fascinated to note that a) the colour of a person’s skin was considered an important part of a driver’s licence application. Especially because, presumably, there’s a photo on it! And b) if they did consider it important, they didn’t give more options than “black” or “white.” 

From the way Sarath describes his skin, it seems likely that “black”/”white” was really being used as a proxy for “local”/”foreigner”. But then what would that make me? Would the official have considered me local because I’m black? Or a foreigner because I’m, well, a foreigner? 

The world is small enough in 2022 that even the notion of a foreigner is becoming antiquated. We’re connected by our interdependent economies, our competing industries, our rapidly dwindling resources. We have wars to prevent, an environment to save, and various energy crises to solve. The next few decades will likely decide the fate of our entire planet, not just of any one country.

Given all that, it’s hard to imagine that we still treat skin colour as if it's meaningful.