I am a Fil-Am. A Filipino American, who happens to live in a cold place. It's take me years to let go of my stubborn want to wear flip-flops in winter despite the below zero temperature. Maybe it's my neuroticism managed. Sunshine, sunscreen, and sand are some of my favorite “S” words. I've lived in Alaska for nearly 10 years, and despite the dark winters, I still slather sunscreen on my face to combat wrinkles and skin damage. In Alaska I've never had someone make me feel more or less than I am based on my skin color. If I do what I need to do, do my job, my role, fulfill my expectations, I'm OK. From the outside. But on the inside it can be lonely, but I am whoever I strive to be. But sometimes in the Philippines, around certain people, physical appearance is over-examined. Specific features on my face are pointed out before someone even asks my name. My nose shape, my eyebrows, and my skin tone are coveted. Beauty is seen as a sum of ones outside parts, which can make someone feel like a strange fish in a tank that doesn't know how to hide from people staring at it. I stumble over a “Thank you” when someone praises the bridge of my nose, so confused, remembering years ago in the 6th grade when a girl teased me for having a “flat nose.” To each their own. In the Philippines, if you're pale, you are admired, distinctly pointed out. This can be strange if you don't understand beauty in Asia. It's something that worries me, as the younger generation grows into this concept of what beauty should distinctly be. In the U.S., we are seeing more acceptance and celebration for women of all skin tones. Diversity and representation being fought for in a plethora of fields. Beauty is not just skin deep, and isn't representative of capability or competence. But we don't ignore someone who is attractive. We all hold a bias to people who are symmetrically more beautiful. It's a fascination that will never leave the public eye, but we at least see a need for more inclusivity of people all over the color spectrum, and of a diversity of cultures and backgrounds. In the Philippines, there is an inherent bias for people of lighter skin tones. When a women has darker skin, she is made fun of, and seen as the opposite of beautiful. She's familiar with the jokes. “Negra.” “Uling.” (Charcoal). “Lagum.” (Dark). There is something in Asian culture that highlights status and allure of white skin. It has been a symbol of money and prestige. Hardworking people who engage in manual labor have no reprieve from the sun. People with power and money stay inside, having the luxury of staying away from backbreaking work and the heat. Maybe, at least in particular with the Philippines, we hold on firmly to skin lightening products and a worship of light skin becomes it pays homage to our colonizers. As if, at the core of our being as a culture, we hold onto this self-hatred of who we are. That we are not good enough. Dark is not the opposite of beauty. Skin is skin. It protects, it tells a story, but no person is defined by the shade of their skin tone. It is not a symbol of success. It is genetics, biology, it is an organ that is above the judgement of human eyes. Filipinos: let's examine our bias towards what we accept as beautiful. Let's tell our daughters and sons to embrace and love their skin, despite the shade that is on the outside of their bodies. They are worth more than the shade society deems acceptable.