Breaking Free from the Dark Shadows of Judgment

In a world where childhood is supposed to be innocent and carefree, I found myself under a shadow—the ever-present fear of what others thought. Whether in kindergarten or high school, the pressure to perform, to look a certain way, to fit in, weighed on me. As a child, I feared what people would think if I didn’t score well or if I lost a race. It was as though my worth was tied to their opinions.

This insecurity was fueled further by someone close to me. Teasing me for my dark skin tone became routine, leaving scars that took years to heal. In a society that glorified fairness, I was made to feel like dark meant ugly. In a time when talcum powder and “Fair & Lovely” ads dominated TV screens, I internalized the idea that only fair skin was desirable. Even my grandmother, with the best of intentions, suggested I apply turmeric paste to lighten my complexion, trying to shield me from a society that had been misled into believing fair skin equaled success.

High school was no better. I was uprooted to a new environment where judgment wasn’t limited to skin tone—it extended to caste and wealth. Classmates and even teachers showed blatant favoritism, and those who didn’t meet the “yardsticks” were left on the sidelines. Some teachers, the very people meant to guide and nurture, teased students based on appearance and background. The trauma they inflicted on students like me was hard to comprehend.

College brought on new challenges, but also a revelation. Teasing became more pointed, more intentional. My so-called friends would mock me, trying to chip away at my self-esteem. Dark skin, it seemed, wasn’t just unattractive; it made me invisible in the social scene. This rejection stung deeply and compounded my insecurities. But this was also when my insecurities transformed into courage.

Instead of letting the world define me, I started defending myself. Every insult, every jab about my appearance made me stronger. Slowly but surely, I began to love the parts of myself that others dismissed. This journey of self-love wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. I had to learn that I was more than my appearance and that my value came from within.

But the battle didn’t end with college. Even in the workplace, subtle biases persisted. “You’re not presentable,” they said, quietly replacing me with someone deemed more “attractive” to present our work to clients. It was another reminder that societal standards of beauty still had a grip on professional life. Yet by this point, I was no longer the boy seeking approval from others. I knew my worth went beyond my looks.

Even after becoming a parent, the cycle continued. Family members couldn’t resist commenting on my child’s skin tone, as if beauty and worth were passed down through complexion. But now, instead of shrinking in insecurity, I stand tall. I’ve learned to rise above the judgments, to reject the flawed standards society has imposed for so long.

Looking back, it’s clear how deeply ingrained these standards are in our society, how damaging they can be to a child’s self-esteem, and how wrong it is to define anyone based on something as superficial as skin tone. But I’ve learned to love myself, not in spite of, but because of who I am, dark skin and all.

And that, I believe, is the greatest victory.

This journey is a reflection of the harsh realities many face, but it’s also a testament to the power of self-love. Society will always try to mold us into its narrow standards, but it’s up to us to break free and define our worth.