Why is your skin dark like that?

Roaming around in certain parts of the world, children’s curiosity about my skin color is always an opportunity to share culture.

In 2014, on a bus ride from Antananarivo, the bustling capital of Madagascar, to Antsirabe, another city, I shared a ride with my host family and another family who were all Malagasy. During the ride, I sat next to a little girl who chatted with me along the way. She asked me many questions about whether I liked this or that, while she shared some croquettes with me. After an hour or so, she looked tired and was about to doze off, but not before asking me: “Why is your skin dark like that?” The sweetest smile accompanied that question. I smiled back, unsure of what I could offer as a response. After a brief pause, during which she was still looking at me, I said, “Because I spend too much time under the sun.” She leaned on my arm and slowly drifted off.

On another, more recent trip to Argentina, I visited a longtime friend whom I had not seen for over a decade. After my friend picked me up from the bus station, we went together to pick up her 3-year-old little girl, whom I would meet for the first time, from daycare. On the way, she told me that her daughter had never been around a dark-skinned person, so she might stare or ask questions. I met the little girl; she said hello, gave me a hug, and told us all about her day. When we got back to the house, she led me to her room to show me her toys, and we chatted.

Children staring at my dark skin, touching my hair, or asking about it has happened across the Palestinian Territories, Jordan, and Italy, just to name a few places. They were curious, wanted to understand, got close, and caringly asked or simply stared in silence.

In all these examples, the common thread was the innocence of children who naturally learn to accept people regardless of who they are or what they look like. They can only think differently if they are told to do so. I learned to welcome these questions so that, when they are asked, it becomes an opportunity to share who we are as dark-skinned African or Afro communities abroad. It is a chance to show diversity and give them another view of other parts of the world. If there is no one to tell them to discriminate, children will grow up with that acceptance and carry it throughout their lives, making the world a more welcoming place.

This year, while planning a trip across Southeast Asia, where I would spend time with communities, I expected that this type of curiosity from gentle souls would come my way again. I wonder if my answer will still be related to the sun, or if I will find another reason. Either way, I’ll be able to use the moment as an opportunity to build cultural bridges. Children are the gateway to the world understanding that we aspire to; that understanding that will lead to the almost impossible world peace.

Deborah Melom Ndjerareou