In My Forefathers House

Before a verse in one of the kwaito songs which became fairly popular, they were widely known as the ‘peaches’. The smooth, soft-yellowish, immensely likable peaches. These African darlings were the preference to a number of African gentlemen. And by the sight of interweb mentions, it seems the yellow-boned are also a majority’s favourite.

When the popularity of the word yellow-bone (don’t worry my English conscious beings, I’ll dissect this frog for you’ll…later) landed on our black streets, we expressed our delights, as per usual, on social media platforms and once again Twitter took the texter’s choice award.

You see, long before we labeled our own blackness, there was only one kind of black…Black. As you can obviously understand, this was neither sufficient nor satisfactory to my fellow countrymen/women. Out of that almost negligible yet invariable lack, existed the bonds which intertwine curiosity and inquisitiveness, the perfect ingredient to a thrilling series of adventure.

As a result, today I’m glad to notify you that we have different shades of black and they all have different categories. So next time you find yourself in Africa, or for precision’s sake let me say in South Africa, you need to know a few very minor but highly important things.

South Africa, at the moment, is home to five specific shades of black. We have the two previously pure black but now Indian and Coloured blacks. Then we have the black-African blacks, this is divided into three categories. The dark-skinned blacks (also known as the black baby-jellies). Secondly, we have the vanilla-blacks (these would be known to white folks as the Albinos) and lastly, I really wish I had a drum-roll and a Johann Sebastian Bach prelude playing in the background for this one, the yellow-bones (these would be the subject of discussion here and everywhere).

The yellow-bone’s are at the peak of their existence. As it is with one who is at the peak of their career, they are the talk of the
twittersphere. And to no surprise, their fashionableness has kicked the ‘dark beauty’ and the ‘black is beautiful’ phrases right where is appropriate to render them irrelevant.

However, this whole phenomenon has only been true for ladies of this skin tone. Gentlemen on the other hand, if they by any chance happen to be in possession of this yellow-bone(ness), are most likely to be referred by the derogatory ‘f’ word often expressed towards gay people. On Twitter they are captioned with the hashtag ‘keeps losing’ text code.

I need to mention that long ago, before I learnt how not to shut my mouth, they said ‘black is beautiful’ and I’m not yet certain as to whether my native South Africans have decoded the underlying vision that moulded and brought forth this cultural notion.

Anyway, to accommodate our progression, we have a new, more relevant expression; I’m yellow and it gives me pride. This yellow denotes, in particular the lighter shaded kids of Africa, those whose skin colour resembles the shining sun at exactly midday in the African skies. It is a very favourable yellow even amongst the ladies whose skin tone screams ‘I am an African’ from afar. Hence the havoc in my forefathers house.

The longing for the soft, smooth yellow-bone skin tone has been in existence long before we could discover that nursing, teaching and social work are not the only disciplines available post standard ten. Our fore-mothers had their homemade traditional skin lightening mixtures which till this day continue to serve their purpose at utmost best in some parts of my land.

‘Yellowness’ is proving to be grade A prestige in my land for it is associated with the desirable amount of beauty; beauty which grants a lady adequate attention needed to make her feel lovely inside. That is why African women, for the longest time, have wanted (and still desire) a skin tone of this sort.

This is where the adventures of ‘chasing’ come into our black lives. ‘Chasing’, mind you it is not English but could be thought of as a simile to skin bleaching, except this method is likely to be the works of some cheap chemicals that guarantee the user a damaged skin, in the long run.

Chasing is also an exhausting process, it requires you to never for a moment neglect it, otherwise, darker days shall be all over you like an annoying mosquito in the summer nights of the moist KZN land. And to make it worse, you’ll be more darker than when you first started the process ‘yok-chaser’

Now the thing is, I’m dark and as if that is not enough, I battled the fight against resistant skin acne. So everywhere I went, as a teenager, I would find a stranger prescribing me some form of medication or ritual I needed to perform to overcome a seemingly endless war. As a result, I’ve swallowed pills which refused to go down the esophagus and tried ninety percent of the skin products on the market.

I really thought the prescription process was over, to my despair, I’ve recently been prescribed a skin lightening cream mixture which is to brighten my skin’s tone and make me look ‘beautiful’. I was flummoxed. I wasn’t sure whether to chuckle or burst out in tears. I was however very concerned.

My people are overly obsessed with running after the fair skin tone, in a world where the colour of your skin is ought not to define your beauty nor your altitude. I mean it could be, to a certain degree, understandable that my foremothers envied a skin colour of this sort. However, we are not bounded by those laws anymore.

Henceforth, why do we invest so much time in depreciating the things we have through processes which endanger our lives? Why do we constantly seek contentedness on catalysts that can completely rearrange (usually for the worst) our normal living conditions?

I’m well aware of the black stereotype that if your skin tone is darker, by default, you’re ugly. I learnt that as a kid. My own black people told me so through the nursery rhymes they sang as they delicately held me in their warm loving hands. It is deteriorating that when you’re a kid and dark skinned, ‘umubi’ [you’re ugly] is amongst the first words you learn to utter.

As a toddler, I knew black wasn’t beautiful or adequate. Somehow I feel as though I’m still stuck in the era where your skin tone is questioned by your own people. Your own people oppress you for the way you were created. They inflict words in your vocabulary that make you question the purpose of your appearance.

Moving forward, as you stare unto a mirror which presents to you your yellow-bone(ness) that is globally worthy of embrace, remember that really dark skin toned child who sits besides you, longing for you to instill in them confidence that will not be penetrated by the spiteful phrases of societal beliefs. It is a plea, make them feel as beautiful as you do.


6 thoughts on “In My Forefathers House

  1. Oh my…the similarities between your country and mine! The same prejudice has resided here for eons, but our dark-skinned lovelies have never failed to let it get them down. I can remember so many times my mother talked to me about how she was called ‘black’ by her peers – (really?-YUP), but her rebuttal would be ‘the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice’, and yes…we had ‘chasers’ here too back in the day, especially during the 70’s and 80’s, but as you said, their skin has gone through the ringer and it shows. Our people fail to realize that an individual who has an ample amount of melanin actually has a healthier skin and is less prone to wrinkle during the aging process. My mother died at the age of 73 with skin as smooth as a baby’s butt. I never saw a wrinkle OR blemish on her face. On the other hand, I grew up with severe acne and used everything on the market just as you did, but the problem was so much more visible because of my non-dark skin…needless to say, my teen years were miserable. There is another term used here which is ‘jet black’. This term is not so much an insult to the dark-skinned individual as it is merely the adjective chosen by our people. Nevertheless, I have always wondered what a black jet looked like because I have never seen one, but well, you know! I can also remember when my babies were born that people would ask, “What color did the baby come out to be?” My answer would be, “What the hell do you think? Black!” I cannot tell you how this burns me up or how imbecilic this question is but what’s even worse, the fact that my daughter is dark-skinned and my boys are not, I also had people to look at my family in amazement at the contrast which was never an issue for me as I was taught to not be ‘color struck’ because of the once again – imbecilic properties of this thought process. I can see that the differences between our homelands is that back in the day here, the lighter skinned guys were just as much admired as the females, but it seems that the tables have turned. If I could post a picture of my maternal ancestors (male and female) dating from the 1800’s to today, the color wheel would absolutely blow your mind with versatility, but in America today, dark is now IN for both sexes. However, gravitation towards the ‘yellow-bone’ (American term: red-bone) female has yet to subside and light-skinned men are not so much ‘in style’ as they used to be. I completely understand your feelings on this issue and I love the way you conveyed it. The fact that most Americans came from one country or another and were intermingled by other races proves that no one is completely or purely anything because of a mixed heritage over however long. The only question that I have for my black brothers and sisters both at home and abroad is…why??? Great job on this post my lovely friend! ❀


    • WoW! I appreciate the information. I guess we go through more or less the same encounters in this life of ours. The term ‘black’ is also used here and what amazes me is the fact that black people use it on one another – the sadness in our lives.

      The notion of ‘black is beautiful’ hasn’t sunk in yet in our lives.

      Thanks again for sharing extending your feelings about this subject. All I want is for kids to be seek as adequately beautiful, no matter what.


    • πŸ™‚ aren’t you just a lovely soul.

      its good that you can’t help sharing information, I really like that about you. you keep me informed and more knowledgeable. that’s what sisters do.

      keep sharing the love, passion, knowledge and your wholesomeness.

      Much Love


  2. I’ve always believed that everyone is beautiful if they have a beautiful kind soul. I was raised with prejudiced fears of anything that wasn’t white but managed to banish those false ideals and look now at each of us are part of the whole universe. All shades, just be kind And bring others up, not down:) I think it’s a great blog here, and I don’t like twerking either:) peace and love, and following back:)


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