I am yellow-face - brown face ad and the preetipls video.

I am yellow-face. That’s my colour. People say that it is a chicken’s colour. Well, I love chicken rice. Waters off duck’s or chicken’s back?

I used to be fairer, but the sun has a part to play in the change of colour. My regular exercise regime in the afternoon also contributed to it. I became darker, at least the exposed part of me; but my identity and character remain unchanged. I am still me - darker me, but michael me. 

Now, here’s the bigger picture. 

I live in a country of many colours. None of our skin colours are the same. It’s more like 50 shades of greyishness from lighter tone to darker tone. 

My next door neighbour are Indians. Their next door neighbour are Malays. Guess what, we come as different colour combinations. Different culture, different tincture. 

My neighbour’s skins are darker than mine, and that I will not pretend it is not so. But for the past twenty years, that has never been our issue. It has never crossed our minds that we are different (or divided) by skin colours. Or that we are defined by it.

All we saw in each other are things beyond colour, like the CNY’s goodies my wife and kids gave to them with ang pows because they have been on their own initiative giving us their own delicious cookies, steamy curry chicken and spicy chilli fishhead during every Hari Raya and Deepavali holiday.

In fact, the only issue we have till now and I believe beyond is the issue of how we have been living most peaceably with one another along one common corridor. Mind you, not every issue is about division. 

Alas, I have dealt with neighbourhood disputes before in my work between same races, that is, Chinese vs Chinese, or Malay vs Malay, and it was regrettable. There appears to be no end to their feud, which I suspect has more to do with their individual character than the colour of their skin. 

So, I thank God for such amiable and wonderful neighbours, and I am sure they too thank their Gods for the same blessing. And if there is anything in common about our religions, it is that we have been taught to love our neighbours rather than to judge them based on what is on the surface of things. 

I therefore return to the description I first started with, that is, I am yellow-skin. I am born with it. Maybe it is the sun, my genes, where my ancestors had lived before, or all of that in varying degree. 

But I can’t change that, unless of course I go for a vitiligo surgery. But why should I? Why should I do that when the only thing that changes is the pigmentation of my skin and not the transformation of my heart? 

I have learned that what ultimately unite us as neighbours, friends, working colleagues and citizens of a nation is not the yellowishness or brownness of our skin, but the character of our hearts. 

If it is dark, everything and every person we see is dark. But if it is light, then what we see, we see deeper and beyond the superficial to the growth potential of a soul, regardless of race, culture or religion. 

More importantly, we also see how a person can change for the better, and if we believe more in that than his or her colour, we will then experience the enduring communal purpose of what it means to love our neighbours more than ourselves.