Ahhhh…it must be spring. It’s Holy Week. My allergies are going bananas at the beautiful blooming trees outside my windows, and the first idiot of the year has suggested I do something about getting a tan.
The issue of color seems to come up for me every spring amid ever shortening sleeves and pant legs. As the weather warms, and everyone else soaks up the sun, my pale skin becomes more obvious.
Yesterday I was sitting outside my office building during lunch in the shade. Someone from one of the other offices came out and informed me that if I sat about three feet over, I could sit in the sun. (I use a long white cane, and thus people sometimes assume I’m totally blind. He probably thought I wasn’t aware a sunny spot was so close.)
I politely thanked him and said that actually I prefer the shade. For most polite human beings, that would have been answer enough. But no.
I couldn’t see this person well enough to tell how old he was, but he started beating some type of ball around with his arms and legs, bouncing it from one body part to another. I’m guessing he was pretty young.
“You know,” he started, “Sunlight is healthy. It helps you process vitamin D. You should spend more time in the sun.”
Internally, I was annoyed that this guy was butting in, and not letting me get a few moments of peace to myself. But, always the walking billboard and public relations advocate for all things Hermansky-Pudlak Syndrome, albinism or blindness related, I explained to him that I had albinism. I explained that I don’t have working pigment in my skin, and so am very vulnerable to sunburn.
Now, typically whatever small segment of the population would have pushed the issue beyond the fact that I prefer the shade, would certainly back off at this revelation. But no.
He continued to play with his ball, jetting his arms and legs out in various contortions, as he continued. “You’d look so much better if you just got some sun. I burn easy too, but after one sunburn of the year I’ll start to tan.”
“Well, it doesn’t work that way for me,” I explained.
“You’ve just got to try it,” he countered.
I took a deep breath and contemplated how to explain the concept of pigment to a guy who plays ball with himself at lunch and is so rude as to tell me how I should look.
“It’s like, have you ever noticed about different colors of clothes,” he continued before I devised my answer, “The dark ones suck in the sunlight and get all hot, but the light ones stay cool.”
Before I could make the mental leap to undo the twisted logic he continued, “I guess I just think too much about stuff. People (exaggerated lunge for the ball) are always telling me I think too much about stuff.”
Oh yeah buddy, that’s definitely your problem, I thought. That brain cell is really getting a workout.
I was on deadline and decided this guy would take too much of my time to educate.
But I assure you it won’t be the last comment about my skin color this spring. Most are more subtle and sometimes not even directed at me – but they’re equally as rude and small minded.
Typically it’s a conversation in the break room. A few women will start moaning that their legs are too pale for the pair of shorts they want to wear to the lake. Someone else will announce their appointment at the tanning salon and comment something like, “I don’t want to be pale and ugly for such and such.” Or there are the commercials for the tanning salons designed to profit by making people feel that being light skinned is ugly or sickly.
What would happen if someone commented in the workplace that they needed to do such and such to keep from looking too black? Or if a company advertised a product saying, “You don’t want to look like one of those dark people. Use xyz.”
There’s no doubt my personality has changed since learning I have Hermansky-Pudlak Syndrome. For one thing, I have less patience with certain things. I quickly become irritated at people who are so presumptuous as to tell me how I should look. I’m sometimes irritated at a society that has generated a multi-billion dollar industry to remedy something that isn’t even a real problem i.e. what color your skin is in any given season or day.
Truth is, I’m jealous of people who have nothing more to worry about than the exact hue of their skin. I wish that they could have a greater appreciation of just how trivial a problem that is, or what it would be like to have something a little weightier to worry about.
The issue of color seems to come up for me every spring amid ever shortening sleeves and pant legs. As the weather warms, and everyone else soaks up the sun, my pale skin becomes more obvious.
Yesterday I was sitting outside my office building during lunch in the shade. Someone from one of the other offices came out and informed me that if I sat about three feet over, I could sit in the sun. (I use a long white cane, and thus people sometimes assume I’m totally blind. He probably thought I wasn’t aware a sunny spot was so close.)
I politely thanked him and said that actually I prefer the shade. For most polite human beings, that would have been answer enough. But no.
I couldn’t see this person well enough to tell how old he was, but he started beating some type of ball around with his arms and legs, bouncing it from one body part to another. I’m guessing he was pretty young.
“You know,” he started, “Sunlight is healthy. It helps you process vitamin D. You should spend more time in the sun.”
Internally, I was annoyed that this guy was butting in, and not letting me get a few moments of peace to myself. But, always the walking billboard and public relations advocate for all things Hermansky-Pudlak Syndrome, albinism or blindness related, I explained to him that I had albinism. I explained that I don’t have working pigment in my skin, and so am very vulnerable to sunburn.
Now, typically whatever small segment of the population would have pushed the issue beyond the fact that I prefer the shade, would certainly back off at this revelation. But no.
He continued to play with his ball, jetting his arms and legs out in various contortions, as he continued. “You’d look so much better if you just got some sun. I burn easy too, but after one sunburn of the year I’ll start to tan.”
“Well, it doesn’t work that way for me,” I explained.
“You’ve just got to try it,” he countered.
I took a deep breath and contemplated how to explain the concept of pigment to a guy who plays ball with himself at lunch and is so rude as to tell me how I should look.
“It’s like, have you ever noticed about different colors of clothes,” he continued before I devised my answer, “The dark ones suck in the sunlight and get all hot, but the light ones stay cool.”
Before I could make the mental leap to undo the twisted logic he continued, “I guess I just think too much about stuff. People (exaggerated lunge for the ball) are always telling me I think too much about stuff.”
Oh yeah buddy, that’s definitely your problem, I thought. That brain cell is really getting a workout.
I was on deadline and decided this guy would take too much of my time to educate.
But I assure you it won’t be the last comment about my skin color this spring. Most are more subtle and sometimes not even directed at me – but they’re equally as rude and small minded.
Typically it’s a conversation in the break room. A few women will start moaning that their legs are too pale for the pair of shorts they want to wear to the lake. Someone else will announce their appointment at the tanning salon and comment something like, “I don’t want to be pale and ugly for such and such.” Or there are the commercials for the tanning salons designed to profit by making people feel that being light skinned is ugly or sickly.
What would happen if someone commented in the workplace that they needed to do such and such to keep from looking too black? Or if a company advertised a product saying, “You don’t want to look like one of those dark people. Use xyz.”
There’s no doubt my personality has changed since learning I have Hermansky-Pudlak Syndrome. For one thing, I have less patience with certain things. I quickly become irritated at people who are so presumptuous as to tell me how I should look. I’m sometimes irritated at a society that has generated a multi-billion dollar industry to remedy something that isn’t even a real problem i.e. what color your skin is in any given season or day.
Truth is, I’m jealous of people who have nothing more to worry about than the exact hue of their skin. I wish that they could have a greater appreciation of just how trivial a problem that is, or what it would be like to have something a little weightier to worry about.
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