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There are two types of people in the world who feel as though they’ve earned the right to say anything they want to people, no matter how it makes them feel. I would argue that those people include the elderly and anyone who uses “culture” as an excuse for the way they behave. And while our elders surely have earned the right to call us young whippersnappers and give us a piece of their mind, the other group of people mentioned are just mean and don’t realize it. Or maybe they do and don’t care. *shrugs*
I thought I should write about this after sharing a comment a future in-law made about my skin with my co-workers and realizing that quite a few of them had experiences with relatives who talked somewhat recklessly about their features.
While getting to know the aunt of my fiancé, who is in town from Nigeria, we did some shopping and chatted about who I am and the wedding. I thought we hit it off pretty well. We had our moments where it was obvious that she was probing me to ensure that I would be a good fit for her nephew. She asked me if I knew how to cook Nigerian food, if I could speak Yoruba, and if I could speak my own group’s language (yes, not really, and just the basic greetings). I wasn’t interested in trying to impress anybody, so I just kept it real and kept it cute. But I was taken aback a little bit when me, my fiancé and his aunt rode the subway together, and she asked me about my face.
“So what are you doing about your pimples for the wedding?” she asked.
I felt a little sting at the inquiry, the kind that lets you know your feelings are about to be hurt, but went on to giggle nervously before saying, “Oh, I’m just going to use a makeup artist.” What I really wanted to say was, “I’ve been using some strong products lately, and for me to be on my period this is actually a good day for my skin, thank you very much!” But you know, life doesn’t work out that way, and I didn’t want to be disrespectful.
I handled it the best way I could, which was to try and brush it off. But her “What are you going to do about this face?” question took me back to Nigeria. When I’d visited in past years with my sister, my parents, and heard relatives make all kinds of comments about my skin and my sister’s weight. Yes, I’ve had bad skin since I hit puberty. And yes, my sister’s weight has fluctuated over the years. But neither of us were expecting these family members we didn’t know all that well to say things like, “Look at you! You’re so fat!” and “You’re getting so fat! What’s going on?” Or in my case, to have my uncle ask, “You know you have pimples all over your face? Why is that?”
Before I could explain to him that being a teenager and eating crap probably contributed to my struggle, my older sister, who’d had just about enough of our relatives after a week and some change in town said, “Uncle ___, why would you ask her that?” It was at that moment that I realized he didn’t really know any other way to talk.
“I’m just asking her why she has so many pimples,” he said, genuinely confused.
“But you don’t think she knows that?” she shot back. “You guys probably don’t realize this, but in America, when you ask people questions about the way they look like that, it’s rude.”
“It is?” he asked before looking my way. “I’m sorry! I won’t ask you about your skin again. I’m not trying to make you feel bad.”
This straightforward, blunt way of saying things was just the common way my relatives, including my uncle, addressed people about obvious things that some might deem as imperfections, even though we here in the States wouldn’t dare try it (well, that is, unless we’re hiding behind computer screens). And this way of telling you things, either jokingly pointing out that you’ve gotten “fat” or saying it in a voice of sadness, is common in all kinds of cultures. Like my Guyanese co-worker whose aunt used to ask her “Why did you get so black? You need to have an umbrella out!” And the other aunt who said, “It’s so good that you shaved off the 25 pounds!” when she dropped just a few pounds. “Praise God that it’s gone!”
Yep. Too common. Guyanese, Nigerian, Vietnamese, and more, and your own family isn’t out here trying to mince words or look out for feelings. And while some would tell you to have a good comeback ready (i.e., “I’ve gained weight? Well, that makes two of us!”), it doesn’t make having family members who are supposed to embrace you but would rather damn near harass you about your looks feel any less sucky.
So, if you can relate to this struggle, how do you deal with these types of relatives and their frank comments about your appearance?
