Shades of Misunderstanding: Myth of the American Glow
My family owned two houses in my hometown. When our old house underwent reconstruction, we temporarily relocated to our second home until the renovations were finished. This move, however, came with its own set of domestic adjustments. Our longtime maid from the old house, declined to commute to our new house due to the distance. This led us to hire a new maid from the local area to manage our household chores.
The first few days with the new maid passed uneventfully. She arrived promptly at 9 am, efficiently completed her tasks, and left by 10 am. Being a habitual late riser, I hadn’t yet crossed paths with her, and days went by without much interaction.
Then, one day, we finally crossed paths while my mom was around. Unable to contain her curiosity any longer, the maid turned to my mom and asked, “Is he your son?”
“Yes, he’s my eldest. He lives in America and has recently moved back,” my mom replied, smiling warmly.
The maid’s eyes scrutinized me with a mix of confusion and curiosity. After a brief pause, she turned back to my mom and asked, “How long has he been living in America?”
“Ten years,” my mom replied patiently.
“Then why is he not white yet?” she asked, her bewilderment evident.
“You know, madam,” she continued earnestly, leaning in as if sharing a profound secret, “one of the houses I work in, their daughter moved to America after marriage. When she came back after three years, she was as white as milk! I’m not kidding! She was as black as coal when she left and came back white in just three years. Your son has been in America for ten years, but he’s still pale. What’s wrong?”
She looked so puzzled that I didn’t know whether to laugh or explain the complexities of genetics and melanin. Opting for a diplomatic exit, I flashed a smile and quietly excused myself, leaving my mom to handle the situation in her own classic Indian way.
