As I step out of my car after my 17-hour drive, I let the sun hit my skin and shake off the feathers of a temporary snowbird. I stretch my legs and take off my coat, basking in the light. This year, I join the seemingly thousands of other students making their annual pilgrimage to the South in search of warmth. For me, a week of worship of the sun is to follow, spending as many of the fleeting moments of Spring Break outside. And with me is my holy cross: my 30 SPF Sun Bum sunscreen.
My story — though hyperbolic and heavy on religious imagery — is not a unique one. Across campus, students are returning from a week spent primarily in the sun. Accompanying this blissful break comes the eternal question: Do they bear the burns of a zealous sun fanatic, or have they achieved the elusive Spring Break suntan?
As a society, we are more obsessed with our bodies than ever. We have more freedom now to control how we look — from bodily adornments, such as clothing and piercings, to more physical changes like makeup and even plastic surgery. Tanning is just one of the ways we alter our appearance. With recent trends toward “natural” looks, it’s no surprise that tanning plays such an important role in the way people spend their time in warm climates. The practice not only feels relaxing and stimulates vitamin D production, but also marks bodies in a socially significant way.
A tan carries quite a lot of baggage with it. On the surface, it simply means a darkening of one’s skin. You might imagine that in a society obsessed with whiteness, this would be discouraged — and for a while, it was. Tanning was seen as a byproduct of the time spent outside working by the lower class. The upper class avoided exposing their skin to the sun, wearing brimmed hats and using parasols to stay strikingly pale. Yet as history marched on and attitudes shifted, tanning became a vice of the affluent. It was once again a marker of class, but this time of the rich who could afford “luxuries” such as tanning beds and lotion or had the time and money to travel to warmer climates. The narrative shifted, celebrating exposure in the sun rather than demonizing it.
In culture that prioritizes whiteness, the emphasis on tanning marks an interesting areas of clash between normative racial and class standards. From a historical standpoint, it’s clear that at one point these disgusting standards were aligned: Tanning made skin darker, which, in a racist society that values lighter skin, was undesirable.
Yet the current reversal falls in trend with an exoticism of non-white cultures and skin tones, with white people striving to achieve darker skin tones. Naturally, this doesn’t tell the whole story, as people of any race can tan. But the obsession with darker skin plays into a fetishism of the foreign white people have held for generations. Whether intended or not, the search for a tan reinforces standards that are both classist and racist, in addition to dangerous.
To complete the trifecta, it’s only fair that we throw gender into the mix. Enter: beauty pageants. These culturally contentious competitions, as their name implies, display dominant societal discourses surrounding feminine beauty — and it’s clear that the “tanned” look is one of high status. Spray-tans are often a must for serious contestants, with contestants spending $60 to $80 to ensure they look adequate on stage. Naturally, (or rather, like some tans, very unnaturally) tanning obligations police women’s bodies much more than they do men’s. According to a study published in 2005, women were three times more likely to use a tanning bed than men, which is just the tip of the iceberg in gendered tanning differences. This gender dynamic leads to ill effects; suntanning and tanning beds can cause serious health risks like skin cancer and premature aging.
Knowing all of this, I still found myself lounging by the pool in a mildly uncomfortable chair I would never sit in normally. Am I just an apathetic follower who can’t help conforming to societal beauty standards? Maybe. But despite my awareness of the problematic trends associated with the practice, I couldn’t deny the instinct to revel in the natural joy the sun brings. I love the feeling of being warm, of not caring to think about any of my classes or stresses. It heals me to focus solely on a hedonistic sensation from my body that I can’t get in zero-degree weather. To be present, to feel, to sense; these are all gifts of life in and of themselves that stem from something more primordial than socially constructed beauty standards. For me, to deny them would be sacrilege.
What do we do when the natural and social world collide? How do we respond when we know the dangers — both personal and social — of certain practices, but remain unable to break away from them? Is there a way to reconcile personal practices and social responsibility? Clearly I don’t have answers to any of these questions, but I have a hunch it lies somewhere between intentions and actions. Plus, discussions and awareness. Maybe even education? I guess you can’t ever escape school — even on Spring Break.
The feeling of the sun on my skin is one of my greatest joys, and after months spent racing around Ann Arbor in my five layers of thermal clothing, I’m desperate for any kind of natural warmth. But as I think about tanning more, with the sun heating my cheeks, it feels indicative of the way in which beauty standards are forced upon us, regardless of our individual ethics. What are we truly searching for when we head towards the sun? Acceptance? Attraction? An antidote? I don’t know. Just put on more damn sunscreen.
Daily Arts Contributor Ian Gallmore can be reached at gallmore@umich.edu.
