The "tan girl" problem

Having moved from Japan to the United States in the 2000s, when tanned skin was widely considered attractive, I often tried to tan my skin until it resembled my childhood favorite character, Kogepan. At times my skin even peeled. Still, I kept going.

At the time, it felt normal. Even rewarding.

But over time, I realized I was trying to navigate two very different ideas of beauty. In Japan, pale, fair skin had long been associated with femininity and refinement. In the United States, the ideal I saw around me was different, the “sun-kissed,” beachy look was celebrated.

As a young teenager, I didn’t question either. I simply tried to follow both.

In the U.S., I would lie in the sun for hours to deepen my tan. Compliments came easily, and I absorbed them without much thought. But when I returned to Japan, the reaction shifted almost immediately. Family members told me I had “ruined” my naturally fair skin. Some even said I looked like an elementary school student, a subtle but telling comment, as younger children in Japan are often darker from spending more time outdoors.

Looking back, what unsettled me wasn’t just the difference in preference—it was how quickly appearance became judgment.

This is something that Peach Girl captures with surprising clarity.

Peach Girl

At its core, Peach Girl follows Momo, a kind and earnest girl who is consistently misunderstood because of her tanned skin, something she has from swimming. Others assume she is “easy” or attention-seeking, despite her being the opposite.

What makes the story so compelling is that it doesn’t present this judgment as truth, it shows how unfair it is. Momo’s struggles are not the result of who she is, but how others choose to see her.

When I first read Peach Girl, I don’t think I fully understood that distinction. Like many readers, I absorbed the surface-level message: that appearance matters, and that being perceived a certain way can shape your social reality.

But revisiting it now, I see something more nuanced.

The story isn’t telling us what beauty should be. It’s revealing how easily beauty becomes a shorthand for character, and how damaging that can be.

In Japan, there’s a well-known saying: “fair skin hides seven flaws.” It reflects a long-standing cultural preference, one tied to history, class, and ideas of femininity. Within that context, Momo’s experience feels less like fiction and more like a reflection of real social bias.

And while the specifics may differ, the underlying pattern feels familiar even today.

We may not say, “tan skin means this” as directly, but we still make quick judgments based on appearance. Whether it’s through labels, aesthetics, or assumptions, the instinct to categorize people at a glance hasn’t really disappeared. It has simply evolved.

What stayed with me most, both from my own experience and from Peach Girl, is how powerful those early messages can be. How easily they can shape the way we see ourselves, even when they contradict each other.

And how long it can take to unlearn them.

If anything, Peach Girl made me realize not what beauty is supposed to look like, but how important it is to question where those ideas come from in the first place.