Excerpt: Colorstruck [Shine, Coconut Moon]
About the book:
Seventeen-year-old Samar — a.k.a. Sam — has never known much about her Indian heritage. Her mom has deliberately kept Sam away from her old-fashioned family. It’s never bothered Sam, who is busy with school, friends, and a really cute but demanding boyfriend.
But things change after 9/11. A guy in a turban shows up at Sam’s house, and he turns out to be her uncle. He wants to reconcile the family and teach Sam about her Sikh heritage. Sam isn’t sure what to do, until a girl at school calls her a coconut — brown on the outside, white on the inside. That decides it: Why shouldn’t Sam get to know her family? What is her mom so afraid of? Then some boys attack her uncle, shouting, “Go back home, Osama!” and Sam realizes she could be in danger — and also discovers how dangerous ignorance can be. Sam will need all her smarts and savvy to try to bridge two worlds and make them both her own.
—
I soak up the images, the tidbits and soundbytes, as we go through the [photo] albums.
This was during the trip to Niagara Falls, Look how skinny your cousin Pradeep is here! That was my favorite birthday shirt. I see Mom at six, wearing loud prints and checkered brown and orange pants, smiling broadly at the camera with her piano teeth; at ten, smiling pleasantly in a Raggedy-Ann dress.
Then at thirteen, the smile becomes just a small fraction of the crescent it used to be; her braids hang limp on the sides of her face, and her hands are folded in front of her on her lap.
But the photos of a teenage Mom are what hold me riveted. Mom and Uncle Sandeep both grow quiet. There are no smiles in these photos, and the spark in Mom’s eyes is gone. She stands, hunched, or staring off in the distance, almost as if she doesn’t notice the camera. The teenager in these photos is nothing like the Mom I’ve known my whole life. Nothing like the Mom in the photos we have at home—mom with her fist raised at a Take Back the Night march, or smiling with two fingers held up at a peace rally. Mom, with her eyes crackling in dissent. My mom.
I stare in disbelief at the photos, then look at my mother, and back again. No matter how hard I try, I can’t see that bleak teenager in the woman sitting next to me.
She points to the last photo in the album. “This was the day before I shaved my head,” she says quietly. She turns the page, and a small photo falls to the floor. I pick it up and turn it over. There, smiling blissfully back at me, is Mom standing next to a man I know must be my dad.
I gasp and hear Mom’s sharp intake of breath next to me. The photo is slightly discolored and a little dog-eared, but it’s whole and complete. Mom and Dad on the day of their marriage.
The halls of the courthouse are blurred behind them, in stark contrast to the shimmering excitement in their eyes. Mom has on a lustrous, fitted, silver-gray mermaid dress that reaches just above her ankles. She wears a dazzling bindi on her forehead, and there are tiny rhinestones following the arch above her perfectly plucked brows. Her hair is carefully swept up on top of her head and fastened with fresh flowers. Her lips are a deep ruby color, and tiny pearl earrings dangle from her ears. She stands in his arms; one hand on his chest, the other around his waist, and smiles radiantly at the camera.
He stands next to her, both arms around her waist. He looks dapper and handsome; tall and velvety dark in his suit and tie. His hair is slicked back into a tight, shiny, black ponytail, and he has a ruby flower on his lapel, the same color as the flowers in Mom’s hair. He, too, beams joyfully at the camera.
I feel my throat beginning to close up as Mom takes the photo from my hand. She looks up at Naniji. “Why would you keep this?”
Naniji keeps her gaze level, sharp pain clearly evident in her eyes. “It was the last photo we ever received from you.”
“But…but I thought you hated him,” Mom says, just above a whisper.
“Han,” Naniji says softly, “but he is not the only one in the photo.”
Mom stares at the photo in her hand. “This was when it was good,” she says, her words packed with static.
“We tried very hard to warn you, Sharanjit… He didn’t have a stitch of ambition, and he was absolutely un—” Nanaji gives her a look, and Naniji stops herself before turning away.
Mom holds the photo for a moment longer between her thumb and forefinger, gently like a cracked raw egg. Then she places it back in the back of the album where it was. A brief silence follows. Uncle Sandeep delicately takes the album away from Mom and opens the next one.
“Ah…! Look at cousin Rimi!” he says, opening to a page from earlier years.
Mom’s still quiet, but manages a small smile. “That was one smart girl. She knew how to get us in and out of trouble so fast, it would make my head spin.”
Naniji turns back to look at the photo. “Yes,” she says, “Very smart girl—she went to Harvard, you know, married a very wealthy fellow.”
“Good for her,” Mom says tersely.
I’m still fighting the surge of tears that threaten to pour forth. That was the first photo I’ve ever seen of the man that fathered me. Seeing it here, after seeing all the other photos of Mom makes it hard to get enough air into my lungs. I take a deep breath to quell the feelings fighting forward. Mom covers my hand gently with hers before taking a deep breath herself.
“Never would have thought it of little Rimi,” Naniji continues with a chuckle. “But if you’re going to be dark, I suppose you have to be smart.”
Mom’s face goes taut and her eyes flare. “What do you mean, ‘if you’re going to be dark’?”
Nanaiji straightens up to her full height. “I mean that being dark is already an imperfection in our culture. You know that, Sharanjit. Right or wrong, that is the way it is.”
Mom snaps the album shut.
“Sharan,” Uncle Sandeep begins, but Mom is already standing up.
I drop my head into my hands, my whole body trembling uncontrollably.
“This is exactly why I didn’t want anything to do with you,” Mom says quietly. “It’s bad enough I had to go through my whole life listening to this garbage. But now I’ve walked my daughter straight into it too.”
Naniji looks at Mom in dismay. “What…?” she says, holding her hands out.
Nanaji gets up too. “There’s nothing wrong with being dark, Sharanjit, that’s not what your mother is saying.”
Mom explodes. “Then what, Papa? What is she saying? Please tell me, because maybe I’ve been wrong for thirty-seven years!”
Naniji folds her arms across her chest. “I did not make up the rules, Sharanjit. Indians all believe light skin is prettier than dark skin—and as much as you would like to, you cannot place that entire burden on me. It has been so since before I was born, and is still so.”
“That does not make it right,” Mom fires.
“Okay, let’s not bring up the past again. Let’s move on…” Uncle Sandeep puts his body between Mom and Naniji.
“No,” Mom says, walking brusquely to the closet, “We can not move on. This kind of nonsense is precisely why we haven’t been able to move on. This was the reason you thought Harpreet wasn’t good enough for me, this was the reason I never measured up to my beautiful, fair-skinned cousins!”
Naniji puts her hands on her hips. “Sharanjit, Harpreet showed his true colors shortly after your marriage, didn’t he? We warned you, but you were too headstrong, and then you found yourself in a mess.”
“But that’s not why you didn’t like him! No, Ma. You didn’t like him because he was too dark. And for you, being dark means something else…it means a lack of ambition, a flawed character, an imperfection, right?” Mom shoves her feet into her boots, grabs her coat, and charges out the door.
I follow numbly behind.
—An excerpt from Shine, Coconut Moon, by Neesha Meminger (Margaret K. McElderry Books, March/09, New York)
Carmen Van Kerckhove is co-founder and president of
Sobia wrote:
Oh that colour issue. I am always amazed at how much my fellow South Asians idolize fair skin. However, I more amazed at how much I, a girl born and raised in Canada, have internalized these colour issues. Even I have learned to associate fair skin with beauty and dark skin with unattractive. It’s something so inherent that I find myself having to consciously question my reactions to South Asian people of varying skin tones. It’s terrible how ingrained it is in our culture. If you watch any South Asian media at all, you are BOMBARDED with this message.
Posted 30 Apr 2009 at 9:14 am ¶
Abu Sinan wrote:
Sounds good. I think it is a similar story to many people from outside the US, particularly the Muslim world.
Before 9/11 it wasnt as common for young women to wear hijab, the head covering, now it is much more common.
Despite what the racist and Islamophobes say, here in the USA it is my experience that many Muslim women put on the hijab AGAINST the wishes of the male members of their family. Since 9/11 I have known 6 women wh0 started wearing hijab and had to fight male elements in their families to do so. The men didnt want them to wear it.
It makes me feel good about mankind when some good things can come out of a tragedy like 9/11, and people getting back in touch with their religion and background is certainly one of them.
Posted 30 Apr 2009 at 9:15 am ¶
Deaf Indian Muslim Anarchist! wrote:
I heard about this book a few months ago but I totally forgot about it. Thanks for reminding me, I’m going to pick up a copy this weekend.
aahh, coconuts. don’t we all love them.
Posted 30 Apr 2009 at 9:53 am ¶
Medusa wrote:
This looks like an interesting read. I don’t think I’ve ever read a novel with this kind of subject matter. Unfortunately, I live in a communist country so I won’t get a chance to read it until someone finds it in their heart to mail it to me.
Re: The color thing- For some reason, this is an insecurity I never picked up. I’m not South Asian, but I grew up in East Asia with my African parents. I don’t know how truthful my parents were being or if they were just trying to shelter me or what, but they told me that in our country that dark aned light doesnt matter that much and my mom is much darker than my dad. (I think usually when lighter is desirable it would be the other way around and the women are supposed to try to be light as possible.) I became more aware of it when I moved to America and now I’m back in Asia now where it is so important for women to be light to the point where they will go to great (uncomfortable) lengths to prevent themselves from tanning. I know the historical reasons for light being desirable (meaning you’re higher class, as well as colonial influence) but intellectually, it doesnt make any sense to me. I mean, skin color variations are found within the same family and its not usually like one sibling is a field worker while one is inside. Not to mention that people can be dark and not do any work outside….
Posted 30 Apr 2009 at 11:31 am ¶
Jaya wrote:
Our culture can be horrifying at times. I can’t handle the blatant racism and sexism and casteism of it all — not to mention the religious chauvinism and bitotry.
One (of the MANY) stories that sticks with me is the one my mother told me of an experience in grad school. She had a Nigerian friend, a fellow student, who was simply unable to get decent accommodation in Delhi. No one would let such a dark man stay in their hotel or eat in their restaurants. She remembers how embarrassed she was that Indians would treat a foreigner that way, simply because of the color of his skin.
Its hard to reconcile yourself with people like that, and its even harder to find pride in who you are when you know how many crimes were committed by people in your own community, and possibly in your own family. People you know well and can’t help but love, even if you know their views and watch how they treat others.
I think its for that reason alone I’m glad I was raised as an American, in a society where equality and egalitarianism is somewhat valued.. At least its more prevalent here than it is in India.
Posted 30 Apr 2009 at 12:24 pm ¶
ceecee wrote:
Adding this to my reading list for the summer. thanks latoya
Posted 30 Apr 2009 at 1:41 pm ¶
Kat wrote:
Looks good- will definitely check this book out.
Posted 30 Apr 2009 at 2:35 pm ¶
Heather wrote:
@Deaf Indian Muslim Anarchist!
“aahh, coconuts. don’t we all love them.”
I’m not quite sure what you meant by this. Can you elaborate a bit?
Posted 30 Apr 2009 at 5:48 pm ¶
Big Man wrote:
that book sounds really interesting. color issues and everything.
Posted 30 Apr 2009 at 6:28 pm ¶
Sulagna wrote:
@Heather: well, coconuts are pretty delicious
Posted 30 Apr 2009 at 9:01 pm ¶
Jess wrote:
Sobia– (and others)
I was thinking that the color thing probably had more to do with class and caste than race or ethnicity. In many countries that are not white fairer skin is often seen as desirable, but it makes sense when you think that working in the fields all day you’d be tanned, and wealthy people who didn’t have to work as much outside would be paler. And wouldn’t you want your daughter (or son) to marry into a family where that wasn’t something you had to do?
In Europe, pale skin was prized for that very reason – the tanning fetish is very recent — really a post WW II phenomenon.
I’m not endorsing this, jut saying that if I was a medieval peasant and my kid could marry into a family that was better off, I’d do it. In the modern world it means marrying the guy in med school — these kinds of cultural norms have a lot of inertia.
All this becomes even more problematic when you move it to the US or Canada, where it gets bound up with issues of ethnicity, beauty standards and the like. So the colorism gets to be even more unhealthy.
Posted 01 May 2009 at 7:33 am ¶
aimay wrote:
Very excited to read this!
Posted 01 May 2009 at 7:57 am ¶
Slush wrote:
Huh, I this blog has taught me a lot about all kinds of foods associated with people of other races who collide with whiteness. I guess coconuts and bananas are better than something more blatantly derogatory…
Posted 01 May 2009 at 8:22 am ¶
Solange wrote:
Ahh the color complex, this can be found in so many cultures and it really is unfortunate. I witness this in my own family. Jamaica is a diverse island (as most carribean Islands are) so I a have cousins with Spanish and Asain heritage. The older women in my family constantly compliment them on their skin color, going as far as to say things like “don’t stay in the sun, you’ll get dark and niggerish” (no really they do).
Someone commented that it is more of a class issue than a racist one, I have to agree. In many countries the affluent people are those that have a fairer skin, in Jamaica many of the businesses are owned by white, chineese, japaneese, people. Thus those at the bottom start to associate success with color of the skin. And this is confounded with racism. Without seeming to sing songy we have to realize that when we hold these negative views we perpetuate this ridiculous notion that lighter is better.
Posted 01 May 2009 at 9:13 am ¶
little mixed girl wrote:
sounds like a pretty interesting book!
Posted 01 May 2009 at 12:04 pm ¶
Anon. wrote:
From the passage, it reads a bit heavyhanded to me. Being south-asian myself and brought up entirely in the west I freely admit to being white-washed and a ‘coconut’. However, I’ve never been able to ‘connect’ at all to any of these books that have been coming out recently concerning what apparently -I- am meant to be feeling like, what I am apparently missing out on in life, how I am apparently not a whole person because I’ve grown up ‘white’ etc.
It’s not even a recent phenomenon, I’ve been hearing this stuff for at least the past 10 years and I would seriously love for a book to come out that didn’t end with the protagonist embracing the culture of their skin colour/genes. In my experience these books just reinforce the idea of the youth of today having lost their way and as somehow incomplete without the culture of their parents. And the books that attempt to deal with some kind of hybrid culture seem to fail quite comically.
However, that being said, I will probably pick up this book just to see if it does do anything differently.
If anyone has any suggestions about books that deal with the identity issue and -don’t- conclude with the message: embrace being Indian! I’d love to hear them.
Posted 01 May 2009 at 10:59 pm ¶
Kulvarnjit K. wrote:
@ Anon. I guess I have a different take on it. To me, there is so much in the rest of the western world that tells us NOT to embrace the culture of our skin colour/genes (and to embrace assimilation into mainstream white-North American culture) that books like these are critical. I grew up white-washed, too, and I’m not necessarily looking for books that reflect my own experience. If I wanted that, I’d write my experience in a journal and read that back. I want to read about others’ experiences and glean whatever truths I can from those experiences.
And the excerpt above has nothing to do with coconuts or being white-washed. It’s about South Asian biases around light and dark skin. A prickly subject among South Asians and other peoples of colour, obviously — judging from the comments — and one I’m glad is being addressed at all.
Based on the excerpt, I am definitely buying a copy of this book. And probably one for every one of my cousins and other young South Asians in my life.
Posted 02 May 2009 at 1:25 pm ¶
Sobia wrote:
@Kulvarnjit K.:
Co-sign.
I can also imagine a book that ends with “don’t embrace being Indian” could come across as “Being Indian is bad/inferior. It’s better to forget about that part of you.”
Though I’m sure it could be done in a non-ethnocentric/offensive way, it still strikes me as a risky conclusion to make.
And as Kulvarnjit K. has said we’re already bombarded with messages that tell us to assimilate and leave behind our South Asianness that those messages which state that one should embrace their South Asianness are actually refreshing.
Posted 02 May 2009 at 8:48 pm ¶
RCHOUDH wrote:
This book sounds quite interesting and (other than its dramatic post-9/11 backdrop) reminds me of other books about Indians born in the West who rediscover their South Asian cultural identities: “Born Confused” by Tenuja Desai Hidier and of course the now famous “The Namesake” by Jhumpa Lahiri.
Posted 03 May 2009 at 1:06 am ¶
Ishtar wrote:
Oh man…this brings back memories. I’m a Coloured South African (mixed Asian, African and European heritage) and I look very Indian. Of my five siblings, my eldest brother and I are the only two dark-skinned ones.
I clearly remember being teased as a child – by my own family – about my dark skin. I had to endure “jokes” about how they could only see my eyes and teeth if I smiled at night. And when I objected I was told to “stop being so sensitive, it’s only a joke”.
My brother (my dark-skinned sibling) sat me down when I was about 6 years old and explained to me that my dark skin was beautiful – “black is beautiful, he said – and I should be proud of my skin colour. That conversation stayed with me throught my life (I am 37 now) but those jokes still hurt me very much.
My light-skinned sisters were always considered more attractive than me and that hurt, even though I never admitted it.
Posted 04 May 2009 at 3:11 am ¶
Ishtar wrote:
That should be “throughout”, not “throught”. I don’t know what a throught is but I’m sure I don’t have it.
Posted 04 May 2009 at 3:21 am ¶
Kulvarnjit K. wrote:
Ishtar, LOL! (re “throught”). I can relate with your post, though. My brother is lighter skinned than me and he was always considered more beautiful. Tough for a girl when our looks are supposed to count as social currency. Thank god for your brother
.
Posted 04 May 2009 at 10:04 am ¶
Brothel Poet wrote:
Y’all sound like black folks. Whenever I look at a very dark Indian person, I am astounded by their beauty. But, hey, I’m black. I think I find myself gazing at dark skinned Indian people with a kind of reverence and awe. There is something about deeply black skin that I find so lovely. Not that my opinion counts for much. All that said, I am married to a white man, but this was after a few years working too hard in relationships with men to whom I was deeply physically attracted but who were not a fit personality wise. I had to let go of the chocolate overachiever future husband fantasy and find somebody who could help me laugh at myself. I am sure there are bruthas out there like this, but after being misguided (not dating my lightskinned friend who was also simply a nice guy because I did not feel that deep aesthetic attraction) I realized that I, like a lot of women, (and guys) need to let go of fantasy looks and see souls. But I digress. Anyway, y’all soundl ike where black folks have been and are hopefully moving away from. Anyway, there are studies that show that the more melanin one possesses the higher are certain cognitive and motor skill abilities. Melanin rich skin survives better and ages less intensely and like I said. Instead of pointing out the political incorrectness, the “meaness” of looking down on darker skin, why don’t we all just explore the fear of it. I often think people feel and contain and control darker skin people out of a deep seded feeling of inferiority, on the part of the lighter skinned people, rather than the other way around. Melatonin, is a component of melanin, if my understanding serves me correctly. Melatonin is a hormone responsible for deeper sleep, (which slows aging) more active dream life which can contribute to greater creativity. I think that one could flip the supremacist switch (for arguments sake) and say that the darker skinned people could have enhanced creativity, strength, and intelligence due to the hormonal components of an abundance of melanin. Not that reversing the racism is wise or just in any sense, but I think it can kind quell the sense of victimization that can occur when people fight the color caste system.
Posted 05 May 2009 at 11:17 am ¶
Brothel Poet wrote:
And just to clarify… sometimes I feel like, by not talking about the benefits of dark skin, by not fully investigating all the components of melanin, we do turn ourselves into victims. “You think I’m ugly” because this argument about subjective issues, and God knows you can’t regulate people’s aesthetics. You may tell them hating on dark skin is not fair, but that doesn’t mean they won’t do it.
There are a lot of posts on the internet talking about the “superiority” of melanin rich skin. Now, all in all, people are and have always been equally crappy to one another. IF you do the math, there are times when one group is advanced and another isn’t. All of our civilziations have engaged in some sort of cannabalizing activity. Maybe not necessarily”eating” one another. But enslaving and dominating activities. But let us understand that people BEGAN in Africa. And not only that, but Africa civilizaitons predated European ones. Egypt comes to mind. And Egyptians were darker and more negroid prior to Arab, Greek invasions. Cush was also an ancient civilzation which, acc. to various sources, was the staple population of Egypt. The first people on the planet were black, and the way the ozone layer is going, the last people on the planet will probably be black too.
Let us, as dark skinned people, move away from the simpering whining upset that somebody lightskinned disliked us and made all systems designed to reign us in. Let us focus on the fear of a “black planet.” Poweful, magnetic and deep people have always been targeted by fearful and angry “haters.” Why, beyond the degradation f fieldwork, is there such a fear of dark skin?
Like I said, black skin does not age as quickly as lighter skin. And black Americans survived the brutality of slavery to go on and achieve in every area to which they could gain access. What is responsible for this resiliency, this prowess? Lest I sound like a reverse supremacist, let me just state that I want to move darker skinned people away from this reactivity to racism toward a more compassionate understanding of those who practice it. Look, I am married to a white man and he has admitted being intimidated by people with dark skin. Not simply “oh that nigga’s gonna take my wallet” but feeling less than. I remember being in school with an African girl who was simply gorgeous, and feeling pale and sort of homely next to her. Sort of not there- and I am brown! I just want us to understand and stop internalizing this idea that the reason dark skinned people are hated is because we are even perceived as being lacking. I think that people should read Francis Cres Wesling (hopefully got her name spelled correctly). A lot of times lighter skinned people feel naked and ashamed in the face of melanin rich, beautiful, dark people.
Posted 05 May 2009 at 11:36 am ¶