"Ruqsana And The Sun" by Anam Ahmed

Born in 1954, now a mother of four children, Ruqsana was a force to be reckoned with. Raised in the heart of her village, in a sturdy, concrete home, with a section in the middle without a roof. Not due to any natural disaster, but rather made so that she could grow a plethora of plants. Her father appreciated her love for botany, gifting her with seeds every week when he came home from work.Their house was widely referred to as Poday wala Ghar, or “The Plant House.” The vines grew adjacent to her love for them, soaring to the sky. When she looked up, it seemed as though they could touch the bright red kites her brother and the neighborhood boys would be flying outside. 

Ruqsana drank up the sun. No, the sun focused on her. Highlighting her. Giving her the warmth and love she radiated onto others. Yet, on visits at her home for afternoon tea, the women of the village would scold her for spending so much time in the sun. ‘You’ll get darker,’ they’d say every time. Because nobody likes a ‘dark’ girl. Ruqsana was an enigma to most girls -- while they shielded themselves from the sun at all times, she let herself feel the warmth.Because how cold is it to base beauty off of such a small factor? 

This however did not rub off on her, not until she had children. The plants continued to grow, until she went off to college. Ruqsana always said, “Education is a birthright.” She did it all. She got married, fortunately to someone she loved - this was not very common, and she was ever grateful. She continued with her studies. She continued to drink up the sun. Nothing ever stopped her from working for what she wanted. 

But just because something does not stop you does not mean it will not follow you wherever you go. Although she was vexed by the comments she heard daily on the colour of her skin, and paid no attention to it whatsoever. Until she had children. 

It was 2009, and Ruqsana was braiding her daughter’s hair. All the women in the house wore their hair in braids. It reminded Ruqsana of the vines from when she was young. Every morning, her daughters and the housekeeper would sit at the end of the steps, while Ruqsana braided their hair, one by one. While braiding the younger daughter’s hair, she hummed the words ever so faintly, “Thank God none of my children are dark skinned.” It broke the youngest daughter’s heart. 

Ruqsana took all her daughters to tutoring. Unlike most parents, she stayed through the whole session, not uttering a single word, not making a movement. Rejecting every offer of a cup of chai. She rarely brought a book with her. I never saw such discipline before. When the last daughter came home from school, she would find her mother in the veranda, hair in a braid, soaking up in the sun. 

All her hard work paid off. Her children went to elite schools, studied and saw the world. And yet, when the time came for them to get married, women from the outside remarked on what, to them, was the most outstanding aspect of these girls - the colour of their skin. ‘By God, Ruqsana, what gorgeous skin they have. Clean. Gorgeous. White.’ 

Ruqsana put so much effort into her children, for it to be simplified into this one small factor. 

“Every commercial has to do with ‘skin-whitening agents’” Ruqsana said on the phone to one of her daughters, discussing new skin-whitening methods being introduced to the society. The daughter was currently working on a phD, and was the last one unmarried. She had golden, warm skin - the darkest of the bunch. And somehow that factor weighed more than her intelligence. Because an “eligible bachelorette” is one who has, above all, skin as white as snow. 

Although it is hard to view this matter as something that trumps other alarming aspects of Pakistan’s society, it should not be left untouched. Ruqsana and her daughters were lucky - an astonishing portion of Pakistani women are rarely given the chance to any kind of education, let alone higher education. Yet every woman is forced under this fixation to look “whiter,” which now seems to sound like a synonym for “better.” 

To the reader, “white” may seem repetitive to the point that it has lost its impact. For us, it never really has. 

This problem is not new, but it is still a problem.It has become a wedge between the women in our society and has tainted their paths whether it be a small or overwhelming amount. Why is colour trumping intelligence? Why is it a bigger factor than one’s ability to give love, and receive it? The colour of your skin should not subject people into decided whether you are worthy of being not just a good wife, but also a good mother. Women are more than the physical traits they give to their children.