Perspectives on Beauty

My mother peers through the pixelated Skype screen, asking why I'm still not tan, why my hair isn't as blonde as it was when I lived in Africa.

Meanwhile, my Vietnamese aunties and grandmothers click their tongues in disapproval each time I visit, my skin growing darker each week. They twirl my golden curls lovingly, and pull at the near-white hairs on my arms in awe, asking if we can trade.