One day, as my friend and I are walking through Cochabamba’s main market, La Cancha, we passed a man with his face covered in what looked like thin, cheap cement giving a demonstration to a rapt audience of about 20. We slowed down to see what the fuss was about and then looked at each other in stunned disbelief: he was selling a face whitening cream.
It was hard to watch. He’d talk about how this cream would even out skin tones and lighten the general appearance of the face. As he smeared the stuff on the face of some dutiful 10-year old boy volunteer, he’d tell him how he would get a girlfriend the next day, he’d look so attractive. After a few minutes of rattling off some random chemicals, supposed ingredients, he’d wash away the goop from the boy’s face and proudly display it to the crowd. He’d hold up the boy’s hands, “Look at these hands, black as the bottom of the kettle. These don’t belong to a body with such a white face. Where did you get these hands? The Yungas [the region where the Afro-Bolivian population is mostly concentrated]?” A couple middle-aged women bought their own supply.
When we pressed, the vendor said the cream was merely an exfoliator that only revealed a cleaner, lighter skin underneath, but was not actually intended to change the pigmentation of the skin. Irregardless of the chemistry of a lighter skin, the fact that it not only persisted but was being touted so blatantly as a superior beauty trait was dumbfounding. We told the vendor and the small crowd this, and my (white) friend thankfully could add as support that her Bolivian boyfriend was indeed moreno, or dark.
A disclaimer as to why we said something. Both my friend and I have spent enough time abroad to know that you don't just barge in and criticize another culture's norms, especially if the standard you're using is that of your own culture. That being said, the nature of what was happening, the root issue that these people were being told their darker skin color was undesirable than a lighter one, was offensive in a way that went beyond culture. In short, we said something because it was simply impossible to allow and assent through silence to the idea being promoted.
The next week as I was walking through Plaza San Francisco, a little boy asked if he could shine my shoes. When I said no thank you (I was wearing tennis shoes), he said, “Please, just a few coins so I can clean myself up and make myself white [limpiar y blanquearme] for school.”
At a presentation of a Bolivian women’s group a couple weeks ago (‘feminist’ is as radical a term here as ‘anarchist’ is in the States), one of the women talked about how much work it was to convince so many morena women that their dark faces were beautiful, that whiter skin was not some sort of ideal as is purported in so much of the country, especially in the cities. Incidentally, she talked about how much it meant to have Evo, someone with their same skin color, be president. And it is quite striking, if you look at the lineup of Bolivian presidents, Evo is easily the darkest president, and the clearly first one without Euro-descended white heritage. She was especially proud when she heard certain people say they found Evo handsome. Then, of course, another friend was working with an older upper class man who said, “Evo’s pretty handsome, for an Indian.”
It was hard to watch. He’d talk about how this cream would even out skin tones and lighten the general appearance of the face. As he smeared the stuff on the face of some dutiful 10-year old boy volunteer, he’d tell him how he would get a girlfriend the next day, he’d look so attractive. After a few minutes of rattling off some random chemicals, supposed ingredients, he’d wash away the goop from the boy’s face and proudly display it to the crowd. He’d hold up the boy’s hands, “Look at these hands, black as the bottom of the kettle. These don’t belong to a body with such a white face. Where did you get these hands? The Yungas [the region where the Afro-Bolivian population is mostly concentrated]?” A couple middle-aged women bought their own supply.
When we pressed, the vendor said the cream was merely an exfoliator that only revealed a cleaner, lighter skin underneath, but was not actually intended to change the pigmentation of the skin. Irregardless of the chemistry of a lighter skin, the fact that it not only persisted but was being touted so blatantly as a superior beauty trait was dumbfounding. We told the vendor and the small crowd this, and my (white) friend thankfully could add as support that her Bolivian boyfriend was indeed moreno, or dark.
A disclaimer as to why we said something. Both my friend and I have spent enough time abroad to know that you don't just barge in and criticize another culture's norms, especially if the standard you're using is that of your own culture. That being said, the nature of what was happening, the root issue that these people were being told their darker skin color was undesirable than a lighter one, was offensive in a way that went beyond culture. In short, we said something because it was simply impossible to allow and assent through silence to the idea being promoted.
The next week as I was walking through Plaza San Francisco, a little boy asked if he could shine my shoes. When I said no thank you (I was wearing tennis shoes), he said, “Please, just a few coins so I can clean myself up and make myself white [limpiar y blanquearme] for school.”
At a presentation of a Bolivian women’s group a couple weeks ago (‘feminist’ is as radical a term here as ‘anarchist’ is in the States), one of the women talked about how much work it was to convince so many morena women that their dark faces were beautiful, that whiter skin was not some sort of ideal as is purported in so much of the country, especially in the cities. Incidentally, she talked about how much it meant to have Evo, someone with their same skin color, be president. And it is quite striking, if you look at the lineup of Bolivian presidents, Evo is easily the darkest president, and the clearly first one without Euro-descended white heritage. She was especially proud when she heard certain people say they found Evo handsome. Then, of course, another friend was working with an older upper class man who said, “Evo’s pretty handsome, for an Indian.”
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