Fill up your child’s love tank at home, because the world will only try and knock him down. And when media talks to her about colour, she’ll be strong enough to know what’s true and what isn’t.

You find the headline strange? There’s a blog by that name, check it out. It’ll help. Apparently, we need pages to inform people about things as basic/critical as this. I have three children – two of them are pale, and one has colour – a beautiful, chocolatey brown.  But she didn’t always see it as a compliment.

When she was born, her older half-German cousin was already a two-month baby. Comparisons were inevitable. They ranged from the inane to the insane – “How come one baby is white and one baby is black?” and “don’t feel bad, baby’s colour will improve”. These were comments from random “friends” of the family. My husband responded, “Oh I hope not, because I love her colour as it is right now.” And I took on the empty-head with, “…because one baby’s parent is pink and the other’s is brown. Black is the colour of your hair. There is a difference.” And then I would seethe for days, weeks, months.

When my second girl was born pale (and maids around the house whispered “abbah” in relief), things changed. Our first born, then began to wish she was all things “fair”, and we HAD to talk about it. We replaced ‘fair’ with ‘pale’, and ‘dark’ with ‘chocolate’, ‘coffee’, ‘cinnamon’, ‘peanut butter’… shades, variety, beauty. 

What also helped was me dealing with my own issues on colour (which I didn’t know I had till then!). No wonder I was sensitive to things people said about my chocolate butterball! I forgave all the people who trained me to think it was a bad thing. Once this lifted, I no longer felt pain when anyone mentioned colour – hers, the neighbour’s, anyone’s. I could now address this, without anger. 

Shades of skin should be a non-issue. I would treat it that way. I realised that with casual words, I could pass on my own insecurities to my children. We began sticking to the advice I’d heard on TV – to compliment effort/achievement, and not personal features. So, ‘good painting’, ‘great handwriting’, ‘nice sharing’ and ‘sweet, singing voice’, it was. She’s eleven now and the compliments keep coming from everywhere. I haven’t heard her make reference to colour in any of her daily stories of life (and boy, do I hear a lot of the smallest, boring-est ones every day!).

Not to sound like a hero, but I do see a sharp contrast in a few friends of hers – depressed, struggling with school and social adjustment. These are children from loving homes; children, whom I know are treated like princesses at home. Why?  I’m tempted to think all those “you’re so pretty”, “everyone loves you”, “you’re the most stylish kid in school” comments, boost the wrong kind of confidence, maybe? Children walk out with an air of superiority, and walk into a class full of kids whose parents have told them the same thing. How crushing to find out that your ‘exclusivity’ is actually, common.

To recap: Step 1. Love yourself as you are. Stop fantasizing on the makeover. Focus on your child’s achievements. Pile on the praise for effort. Grit will take her far, not a handsome face. Redefine beauty in your home – she/he should know that what’s on the inside, matters.

An old lady I spoke to yesterday, said, “She’s dark, but beautiful.” And I said to her, “Do you realise you just said ‘but’? That means it’s a negative, but here’s something positive.” She gawked. I think some self-evaluation will follow. It must. Because dark IS beautiful. Don’t let your child think anything less, especially if they’re pale.

This column was first published in the Bangalore Mirror on 4 February 2014