People often ask me how I keep my skin white. My answer: genetics, anemia, and overdressing. My mother is fair-skinned. I have a pretty low red blood cell count. Wearing black keeps the ultraviolet rays away, keeping my skin a little bit pasty-white. It is far departed from the tall-dark-and-handsome that defines perfection in males, but for women, it’s somewhat almost there.
How that reflects in the world, I do not know. In department stores, entire shelves and racks are filled with creams and soaps and lotions that promise fairer skin. Pills and peels abound, claiming everything from lowering melanin production to exfoliating damaged skin to reveal whiter skin. Billboards and TV commercials prominently feature glutathione; as if the whole philosophy of the body is towards cleansing.
Skin whitening, as a philosophy of life, lends itself well to dichotomies. Dark = bad, light = good. Dark = dirty, light = clean. Dark = exotic, light = necessary. Dark = dulled, light = renewed. Dark = diseased, light = healthy. From this black-and-white view of the world from lenses smeared with whitening cream, it’s fairly easy to understand where the philosophy of whitening comes from.


It’s not yet final, but for now, the new campaign slogan for the Department of Tourism is
After 15 years, Aung San Suu Kyi is finally free. For the longest time, she represented democracy in her country: looking out for Burma from her windows, her view framed by barbed wire and security forces from the military junta that ruled her people and put her house arrest. Today, Burma rejoices – the free world rejoices – not without pensive thoughts or scenarios, but Daw Suu Kyi is as free as any believer of democracy there is in the free world.