Having grown up in my parents’ homeland and America—where I became acquainted with Fox News, CNN and C-SPAN—I’m grateful to be a globally-minded gal with an unwavering appreciation for the diversity of thought.

Dear Brethren,

First, I’m thankful you’re here. And second, before you peruse this platform, I need you to know three things about me.

One: I’m A Pseudo-Ph.D. Student

Having grown up in my parents’ homeland and America—where I became acquainted with Fox News, CNN and C-SPAN—I’m grateful to be a globally-minded gal with an unwavering appreciation for the diversity of thought.

However, residing in America has taught me that apparently, the darker skinned you are, the higher the likelihood you possess an “inferior” mind.

So, it doesn’t shock me that oftentimes, my perspectives aren’t taken seriously, unless a beige-skinned man backs me up. This is what I warmly refer to as Beige Boy Magic.

I’m also not shocked that I’ve often had to prove that I graduated from New York University (NYU) with a master’s degree, as my skin color isn’t synonymous with a studious mind.

Now, what I find bizarre is that, when I was a graduate student in the early 2010s, there were several beige-skinned professors at NYU (mostly men)—plus a professor of theology at Fordham University—who urged me to plug myself into a doctoral program.

(For the digital record, in academia, it is not the norm for beige-skinned professors—men or women—to tell a brown-skinned graduate student that she must pursue a Ph.D.)

I should note that in July 2021, a Yale associate overheard a conversation I was having with a stranger on the subject of skin tone bias and told me, “We could use someone with your mind at Yale.” However, I declined an invitation to meet with the head of their department that summer.

Furthermore, in 2023, I was introduced to a brown-skinned professor who, after listening to my briefer regarding the construct of race, as well as the constructs of racism and anti-Black racism, they believed I needed to pursue a Ph.D. at Yale or Harvard.

Being a darker-skinned woman in academia can be an emotionally and psychologically violent experience.

Having survived the hell that was NYU at the graduate level, at this stage of my precious and finite life, I’m unwilling to stomach another layer of animosity on steroids from certain Soul-empty classmates and professors of the beige hue who would gleefully attempt to undermine my intellect at the doctoral level.

Also, due to how “Brown Skin Stereotyping” works, I would inevitably meet beige-skinned professors who would project their views of Claudine Gay onto me, even though I’ve never plagiarized a body of work since I began writing letters around eight years old and essays at 13 years old.

(I’ve been writing for more than 30 years; every U.S.-based publication I’ve ever pitched to has either ignored or rejected my essays on skin tone bias. Unfortunately, I am not well-connected in the publishing world, so I eventually gave up on getting a byline. I figured if only 20 people are meant to see my writings in this lifetime, then that is my lot. And, if American publishing is divinely reserved for those born of a paler complexion, then who am I to challenge this skin-centric stance?)

It’s humbling to have five professors in your corner, but it’s vexing to have 10-plus professors who genuinely believe you’re subhuman, and as such, they will make it crystal clear through unethical tactics that you do not deserve to be a student at their “elite” institution.

For whatever reason, I was blessed to meet only a handful of professors who perceived me as intelligent, and believed my unorthodox views could crush the framework of racialization within this century.

Sadly, I don’t foresee my stories impacting any institution during my lifetime, so I’m not returning to academia; I would rather work in solitude, and trust that my written works will ascend to the mainstream when I’m dead, as a former flatmate predicted.

All this nonsense to say—excluding the conversations I’ve been privileged to have over the years with brown- and beige-skinned sociologists—my reflections on skin tone bias have rarely been understood or accepted by most beige-skinned humans I’ve conversed with.

So, if you’re a curious individual of the beige hue who suspects I have something of substance to offer based on my well-studied and avant-garde observations from having lived in America for 30-plus years, then I thank you for taking a chance on me, and my mind.

Two: I Don’t Self-Racialize

Something you’ll notice while reviewing my essays is that I don’t typically write (or speak) using race-centric terminology—a relatively new invention in human history.

There are a handful of reasons for this, and I’ll only bore you with two.

First, within an American context, not every brown-skinned individual self-racializes as “Black,” especially if they’re an immigrant who grew up in a brown-skinned country, as I did.

For context, please see this interview clip with Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and this interview clip with Helina Tesega from The Vitamin D Project.

(I’ll share more thoughts on this in a future post, along with the Deracialization Movement I’ve been monitoring in the United States since 2017, which has finally started taking shape in 2024.)

Second, most beige-skinned persons I’ve met in the United States are unaware that in certain parts of the world—including my homeland—the government does not classify its citizenry into an imaginary race.

Many countries with a brown-skinned population categorize or divide their body politic according to one’s (constructed) ethnic tribe, the faith one subscribes to, the language(s) one is fluent in and/or the complexion one was divinely dipped into at birth.

Three: I’m A (Boring) Loner

Lastly, from childhood to adulthood, I’ve never felt as though I belonged on Earth, which is a lonely and sometimes painful space to be in.

Several years ago, I engaged in a conversation with an aunt regarding my vocation, and at one point, she randomly noted, “You were very advanced as a child.”

My aunt was referencing the way I processed information and also, how I expressed myself through the written word in my native language—a language that’s considered difficult to master.

Although I’ve never been diagnosed, it has been suggested that I’m on the autism spectrum. So perhaps, that is why I’m “abstract” as one peer described me.

(It was only a few years ago I learned that I began speaking quite late as a child, and family members believed something was deeply wrong with me. When I eventually came around to talking, my mother launched my educational career by enrolling me in a Montessori school.)

For decades, I despised being different.

I have a mind that doesn’t operate like most people I know, so for quite some time, I felt cursed by my Creator.

Now, I’ve made peace with the reality that I will always see the world differently and think differently compared to most people I meet, regardless of their hue.

If after reading this introduction you sense that you can stomach my forward-looking perspectives on facial, hair and skin tone bias, then I warmly welcome you into my world.

Your bravery is appreciated,

Your highly melanated neighbor