Shades of Beauty: How Colorism erodes Africans' identity and self-worth

Africans are a race blessed with a wide spectrum of skin colors, showcasing various shades of brown and black. However, like the majestic African elephants and black rhinos, these shades are increasingly becoming endangered, as more women and girls opt to lighten their skin, often risking their health. A significant driver of this trend is the unrealistic beauty standard that favors lighter skin, which is often equated with beauty and sexual appeal.

The harmful effects of skin bleaching, including skin cancer, dermatitis, and delayed wound healing, are well-known. Yet, the number of African women using skin-lightening products continues to grow; reports indicate that skin bleaching prevalence ranges from 25% in Mali to 77% in Nigeria. This raises an important question: Why are these numbers increasing?

The preference for lighter skin, particularly among women, has deep historical roots, intensified by colonialism. For instance, in Rwanda, the Belgian colonialists enforced ethnic divisions through ID cards, favoring the Tutsi minority over the Hutus, which contributed to the 1994 genocide that claimed over 500,000 Tutsi lives. Similarly, apartheid in South Africa categorized citizens into racial groups (blacks, whites, Indians and colored), perpetuating social disparities that persist to this day.

Colorism is pervasive in our communities, often ingrained through socialization. About six years ago, my friend continuously described her baby girl as “a light-skinned, beautiful girl.” She is dark skinned, so I wondered if this seemingly innocent comment suggests that beauty is tied to skin tone. In my upbringing, my paternal grandmother often favored my lighter-skinned brothers, showering them with love while my sister and I, being darker-skinned, were always insulted by her. Such experiences instill insecurities that can lead to an obsession with appearance, either to gain approval from the abuser or to prevent further hurt.

I also witnessed the societal bias against darker skin in everyday situations. For example, when my mother was out with my younger brother, people often asked where the baby’s mother was, implying she was a maid. When my father accompanied my sister and me, he had to introduce us as his daughters to avoid awkward questions, as he is very light-skinned.

In primary school, I took part in school plays; in fact, one of the plays titled, “Sweet Filth” made it to the National Theatre. When I joined high school, I hoped to continue with acting until I realized the bitter truth: lighter-skinned girls were preferred for lead roles in plays, ushering events, and even positions of authority. During my undergraduate years, ushering gigs surged, often dominated by lighter-skinned individuals. Though I wasn’t interested in this particular gig, I was acutely aware that my skin tone would preclude me from being scouted. On the other hand, my light-skinned cousins and friends were constantly approached by ushering scouts.

A Sudanese friend, Marwa, illustrated this bias during a podcast discussion. She was unaware of the privileges her lighter skin afforded her until she moved to Japan, where she found herself categorized as “dark-skinned.” This revelation highlighted the privileges she enjoyed back home, such as being greeted warmly and receiving quicker service while shopping. It is then that she started to empathize with her dark-skinned best friend who always complained about unfair treatment due to her skin tone.

Surprisingly, as it may seem, my Kenyan friend Naomi (identity withheld) has always felt like a misfit even though she is light-skinned, because she didn’t quite meet the beauty standards expected of those with her complexion. Being a tomboy for most of her life didn’t help matters either. As a playful child, she often got into trouble at school because her light skin made her easy to spot, even from a distance. Now, as an adult, issues like sunburn, easily scarring skin, and uneven skin tones from clothing make her wish she were many shades darker, if not to stand out, at least to have what she considers “normal skin.” As a result, she always opts for darker clothing, like navy blue and maroon, and prefers to sit at the back of any room to avoid drawing attention to herself.

Language also plays a crucial role in how different skin tones are perceived. A beautiful dark-skinned friend of mine named Maria shared that all her life she was referred to as waduga short for wadugala which means “you became dark” in Luganda. Among the Baganda of Uganda, a dark person is referred to as omudugavu, with okudugala sometimes meaning “dirty.” Similarly, in my mother tongue, Runyakitara, a dark-skinned person is called akwiragura, which also carries connotations of being dirty, in contrast to akwera, which implies cleanliness or whiteness.

To combat colorism and its harmful effects, especially regarding skin bleaching and associated biases, we must address this issue at a societal level. While we may not be able to change our languages, we can foster positive discourse in our homes about skin tone. My parents never emphasized skin color; they reassured us that our grandmother's hurtful words held no weight. Maria’s mother celebrated her dark skin, ensuring she never felt limited by her appearance. While Marwa’s mother constantly reminded her that if someone was going to be attracted to her because of only her skin tone, that person was not deserving of her.

Furthermore, advocating for diverse representation in arts and sciences is critical. The entertainment industry shapes societal norms; therefore, having dark-skinned women in lead roles—or positive portrayals beyond villainous or supporting characters—can provide young girls with diverse role models. In male-dominated fields like engineering, stereotypes persist that dark-skinned women are more suited for such “manly” professions. As an engineer, I find this troubling, as I believe these misconceptions are detrimental. However, mentoring from women of all skin tones in these fields could empower young girls and challenge societal norms.

Conclusion

They say “Black is beautiful,” but beauty shouldn’t be solely defined by one’s skin tone. Therefore, addressing colorism requires concerted efforts both at home and in the community. By instilling positive self-worth in our children, standing firmly against bullies, embracing diversity, and fostering representation, we can work towards breaking down these damaging stereotypes. What other solutions can we implement to further reduce the effects of colorism in our communities?

To hear more about Marwa and Maria’s stories, click here and here. Credit: Cover picture was generated by Deep AI