… you damn near white.”

“Aren’t you related to Casper?” (As in Casper, the friendly ghost)

“Hey, white girl!” (Fightin’ words. DEFCON 5/Thunder Dome status)

“Sorry, I didn’t see you. You’re so pale you blended right in with the scenery.”

Dear Black People: Stop telling me the same light-skinned jokes. I love to laugh. At myself. Period. But I can’t laugh at the same jokes over and over and over again.

My friends, and I mean my true friends, never make jokes about my skin color. In fact, some of them react, on my behalf, before I have a chance to defend myself against skin-color-related challenges.

I’ve been in this light skin for 33 (going on 34) years now, and I’m not getting any darker. So please quit acting agitated and stunned when I don’t laugh along with you and the crowd that may have gathered after you’ve made a joke based on my complexion. And following up the joke by saying, “I’m just kidding/joking/playing,” etc., does not soften the sting. Singling me out doesn’t make you any blacker. It makes you a jerk.

I don’t sunbathe on a regular basis anymore. Skin cancer kills. And I had a skin-cancer scare 5 years ago.

I’ve been the punch line of more jokes than I can remember. So the next time you decide to test out your comedic skills at my expense, think about the last time you were the butt of a joke. It sucked, right?

P.S.
Dear Black Women: To all of the eye-rolling, tongue-sucking, mouth-crinkling, glaring women who’ve made disparaging comments about me or my light skin before you took the time to get to know me or anything about me, thank you for teaching me to choose my words carefully. Your bad attitudes and insults have reminded me of what I never want to become: a bitter black woman.