Chris Kemp

For some, the appearance of robins heralds the coming of spring. For others, it’s the fresh greenery.

I knew it was spring when I walked out the door in early April and saw the lawn between Chancellors and Oakridge scattered with already-bronzed young women sunning themselves in bikinis.

There’s nothing like a college campus to make us pale-skinned folks feel inferior. During most of the school year we can simply claim common sense as an excuse for not having a tan. Wisconsin winters are not conducive to getting any sun exposure at all, so a tan after, say, Halloween is bound to look fake.

But when the snow melts, we no longer have the Wisconsin excuse.

It used to be that pale skin was considered beautiful and aristocratic. Tanned skin was the mark of the lower classes, who had to work outdoors to make a living.

Now, the pop-culture powers that be tell us bronzed is beautiful. Getting a springtime tan has become almost as necessary, style-wise, as stowing away the parka and pulling out the shorts. And those of us with less-than-toasty skin are faced with a choice: fry for the sake of fashion or stay healthy but pasty white.

For most of my life, my relationship with my skin has been overprotective – and rightly so. Suffice it to say I come from a family where getting rebellious bits of epidermis removed is a matter of course.

When I was younger, my mother covered me in sunscreen before trips to the beach. I sought refuge under hats, long sleeves, sunglasses and large trees. I was actually less susceptible to the sun than my translucent little brother, next to whom I looked positively tawny.

Still, I got burned on a regular basis. Doctors estimate that one peeling sunburn in childhood doubles your chances of getting skin cancer. I can’t count how many I’ve had, nor would I want to.

According to the Skin Cancer Foundation, one in five Americans will be diagnosed with skin cancer at some point in their lives, and more than a million people will be diagnosed with skin cancer this year. And unlike some other cancers, skin cancer is not just for the old folks. One in four people who develop skin cancer is under the age of 40, and it is the most common form of cancer among young women ages 25 to 29.

Still, tanning remains a temptation. Wearing a skirt and feeling good about it is so much easier with a “healthy glow.” For some reason I don’t quite understand, a tan has the mysterious property of making the wearer look more fit and toned. The bright colors of the season’s clothes just don’t look right with a fair complexion. If summer is about taking life easy and going with the flow, then dodging the sun’s rays can make you feel like a real wet blanket.

Last summer I was ashamed to show off my skin. I worked indoors most of the time, and even when I ventured outside, I wore pants on all but the hottest days. I thought without a tan, it would not be proper or kind to expose my legs to public view.

There were even a few times I caved and spent a lazy afternoon on the grass with a book, a beach towel and a bikini. My goal was not to enjoy the warm weather, it was to darken the color of my skin.

With a genetic background like mine, tanning is not only unhealthy, it’s ineffective. Even if I spent all my days in the sun or a tanning bed, I would turn bright red, not bronze.

I’ve tried sunless tanning lotions and deemed them to be a lot of work for only a couple of days of orange skin. Some of my coworkers have gotten spray-tanned this spring, and while it doesn’t look that bad a shower later, I just don’t think I could pull it off.

So this summer, I’ve decided, I’m going to embrace my paleness. I’m going to slather on the sunscreen and go out in short skirts and off-the-shoulder tops – preferably in black to show the contrast. Tan lines are awfully inconvenient anyway, and far too permanent for my liking.

I’ll still spend time in the sun – it’s fun, natural and good for the soul. But I’ll do it to enjoy the limited nice weather we have in Wisconsin and to be active outdoors, not to modify my appearance. If I’m going to show some skin, I’ll flaunt what I’ve got.

If you don’t like it, you can always cruise the lawn behind Oakridge.

Koehler is a senior print journalism and English literature major and a news editor of The Spectator.