“I look like charcoal. I’m so dark. It’s awful.” ~ Overhearing a Hispanic co-worker vent to a White co-worker about how it’s terrible that her tan made her the complexion of a U-Haul box.
I literally do not know where to begin. The entire situation was just such a Molotov cocktail of ignorance and self-hate. And the shittiest part was that I couldn’t say anything because it would be the first time in history someone was hella angry while holding a Cliff bar (my co-workers were in the common area kitchen and we have dope snacks). Also, I’m Black and have an afro, so unless I have a look on my face that connotes this:
People at work think I feel like this all the time:
But seriously, Blarians, I was livid and also saddened for this ethnic woman that resembling anything close to brown complexion is a nightmare that would ruin her day. That her lightly-colored skin had the audacity to get darker after she had spent the weekend tanning it was simply inexcusable to her. I mean, getting mad that the result of tanning is somewhat brown skin is like me being upset that after I, a lactose intolerant person, finish doubling down on extra cheesy pizza, I end up chanting like Angela Bassett in What’s Love Got to Do With It in hopes that will soothe my aching stomach (skip to 1:12):