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Fair and Lovely
Every morning I unscrew the
pink and white tube
my grandmother stuffed inside
my suitcase as I left her home in Delhi.
Her words still ringing inside my ears,
“don’t forget to use your Fair & Lovely!
A girl of your age must take care of herself.”
Every morning I press the tube,
gently squeezing enough cream
To cover all the darkness
my sun scorched Indian skin.
“Don’t forget your neck and your ears!”
my mother yells
as she passes by my bedroom door.
Every morning I wear
the bleaching chemicals
on my waning skin,
itching, then burning
“this is how it works”
my sister says
slathering layers on her own face.
Every morning I look at the tube
and then at my skin
The dirty brown reflection
Muddied with a grayish tint
No longer brown and
Not nearly white
Never Fair & Lovely.
S V
SV is an educator by day and creative by night.