Kelley’s Konundrum: The Skin We Wear

I grew up in Western Colorado in the 70s and 80s. All summer I went to the pool at Tiara Rado; I got swim-suited and oiled up every day, and proceeded to DESTROY MY SKIN. I get the heebs thinking about it now, and when I look at the spots on my 50-year-old chest or the furrows on my forehead, I just think WHAT THE HELL!?!? What the hell were you thinking with the baby oil and the hundreds of hours in the sun?

Then I read this Medium article by Libby Jane Charleston:

https://link.medium.com/Efnakcxwk9

Weird dichotomy huh! I wanted that all-over tan, and in Elizabethan times the whiter your skin was, that proved you were a couch potato and that, apparently, meant you never had to do manual labor. And that was considered a good thing? I guess.

One of my friends is a Filipina. Apparently the idea flagshipped by Queen Elizabeth still holds sway in Filipino culture and some other Asian cultures: brown skin means you had to work outside and whiter skin means you didn’t. My friend’s mom STILL sends her brightening creams in the mail to convince her to whiten her skin. Thank goodness my friend ignores her mom altogether, because her skin is a lovely cocoa — one I aspired to for so many years.

She does what it took me decades to do, which is love all her body’s organs, including her skin. And when you put it that way, why wouldn’t we all do that for ourselves and others? NOBODY walks down the street and looks at a stranger and thinks, “yeah, I’d maybe get to know that person, but…