Skin. At birth, our body’s largest organ envelops us like a shield, cradling our hearts, minds, and everything they control. Those layers of cells and tissues aren't political; they're biological. But its color — genetically predetermined by the amount of melanin our bodies produce — is often inextricably linked to the kind of life we can lead. More active melanocytes can factor into how much money we make, whether we’re deemed innocent or guilty, and, in some cases, whether we live or die. For those with darker skin, the skin that protects us can also be the biggest threat to our safety.
The Black Lives Matter movement — thrust, once again, into the global consciousness this summer after the deaths of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, and Breonna Taylor — not only shined a light on racial injustice and police brutality, it also sparked vital conversations about racism in many industries, including beauty. In countries across Africa, Asia, and the Middle East, it brought a discussion of colorism — the denigration of those with darker skin tones, often by those of their own race — to the forefront. "Colorism is the daughter of racism," says British-born Nigerian actor and producer Beverly Naya. "By understanding this, we can unlearn the Eurocentric beauty ideals that have been forced upon us. Black Lives Matter! As the Black race, learning to love, respect, and celebrate all of our various skin tones is part of this powerful conversation too."
Prejudice against darker skin has led to a thriving industry of whitening and lightening creams. The global skin-lightening industry is estimated to be worth $8.6 billion in 2020, and even taking into account the pandemic, it's expected to reach $12.3 billion by 2027, according to Global Industry Analysts.
"[As] the darkest kid in my neighborhood, I grew up being called 'blacky shadow' and 'dudu' (which means 'black' in Yoruba)," says Anita Benson, a Nigerian dermatologist and founder of the NGO Embrace Melanin Initiative. "I was constantly reminded that bleaching was an option. I'd go to the market and the traders would offer unsolicited advice about how I could fix my 'skin problem.'" Similar stories can be heard in countries like the Philippines, Ghana, and India.
Benson believes she didn't end up using these products because her family encouraged her to love her skin. But for every Anita Benson, there are many more who have been haggled by aunties to "tone" their skin.
The proliferation of lightening products has not only fed a cycle of unattainable beauty standards, it has also presented real physical dangers. In Benson's practice, she sees patients who’ve suffered from skin infections, body odor, and thinning of the skin from using bleaching creams. Such products can include mercury, which is known to cause kidney damage, according to the World Health Organization, or hydroquinone, another popular yet controversial lightening ingredient. In 2006, the FDA proposed a rule that would establish over-the-counter skin-lightening products as "not generally recognized as safe and effective," flagging them as potentially carcinogenic. Still, hydroquinone is considered by many dermatologists to be an effective agent in treating hyperpigmentation. The European Union, Canada, the Philippines, Ghana, Nigeria, and Uganda have banned cosmetics containing mercury. Rwanda, Japan, and Australia have banned skin-lightening products that contain hydroquinone. But in some of these countries, there is still a thriving black market where products containing these ingredients are easy to find.
Newer lightening options on the market are branded as "organic," tapping into consumers' desire for clean products. And innovations like IV drips of glutathione, a naturally occurring antioxidant that lightens skin by halting the tyrosinase enzyme that helps produce melanin, promise a "safer" way to get a lighter complexion. In 2018, however, the FDA administered a warning against injectable skin lighteners, including those that contain glutathione, stating that any products claiming to lighten skin were "potentially unsafe and ineffective, and might contain unknown harmful ingredients or contaminants" — so they aren’t a problem-free alternative.
The high demand for these creams, despite their possibly dangerous side effects, is rooted in a racial stratification that goes back to colonialism, when adjacency to white colonizers had real benefits. Lighter-skinned enslaved persons were more likely to work inside the home instead of out in the fields, and those with fair-enough skin could pass as white in a society where "colored" was a synonym for "inferior." These power dynamics have had long-term effects on who is considered beautiful and attractive by white people and people of color. In Benson’s experience, those who turn to skin-lightening products in Nigeria are often young children whose parents use creams on them to prevent future ridicule or bullying, and adults who have been turned away from jobs based on their skin color.
Sadly, this fear is rooted in facts. A 2018 study published in Plos One tracked the earnings of more than 4,000 subjects, taking into account their skin tone. The study found that those with the darkest skin were projected to earn over half a million dollars less in their lifetime than their fairest colleagues.
Some makers of skin-lightening products sell the message that fairer skin leads to a better life, even if the products are formulated to even skin tone, not necessarily whiten. "Fair & Lovely is notoriously known for ads where the dark girl is not getting a job or married, and then, all of a sudden, she uses the product and there she is with a career and husband and everything you could want," says Nina Davuluri, the first Indian American to win Miss America, in 2014, and producer and host of a documentary on colorism, COMPLEXion. Current ads are a little subtler, but they still show women smiling a few shades lighter after applying creams. "They’re selling this pervasive, toxic ideology that this is their golden ticket to [a better] life, which is not the case." In a statement to Allure, a spokesperson for Unilever (the maker of Fair & Lovely) said, "We know that there is a lot of historic advertising available on the internet. These ads are not aligned with the values of the brand today."
Enacting Change
"Black Lives Matter sparked this entire discussion of how we can be antiracist within our communities," says Davuluri. For many companies, that meant donating to organizations like the NAACP and writing letters of support. For Davuluri, that meant speaking out against whitening creams. "You can’t say that Black lives matter in one part of the world and actively promote a skin-whitening product in another part of the world," she says.
This summer, Davuluri launched a petition asking beauty companies like Unilever and Johnson & Johnson to stop making "whitening" products. She also wrote an open letter to the CEO of Unilever, Alan Jope, asking for an end to the production of Fair & Lovely. But the movement to get more potentially dangerous, skin-bleaching ingredients off the market has been going on for years. In late 2019, Amazon removed several skin lighteners from its site after activists at the Beautywell Project and the Sierra Club’s Gender, Equity & Environment Program delivered a petition with over 20,000 signatures. At the time, an Amazon spokesperson said the site would remove any products that didn’t follow its guidelines, which include a ban on creams containing mercury. In the Philippines, the EcoWaste Coalition acts as a watchdog on illegal distributors of mercury-laden products, which they say have seemed more prevalent online during the COVID-19 pandemic.
Public pressure appears to be working. In June, Johnson & Johnson announced it would discontinue two skin-whitening lines: the Neutrogena Fine Fairness line, sold in Asia and the Middle East, and the Clean & Clear Fairness collection, sold in India. "Conversations over the past few weeks highlighted that some product names or claims on our Neutrogena and Clean & Clear dark spot-reducer products represent fairness or white as better than your own unique skin tone," a Johnson & Johnson spokesperson told Allure. That same month, Unilever announced it would change the name of Fair & Lovely, a product marketed to promote skin lightening, sold primarily in Asia and Southeast Asia that is now called Glow & Lovely.
A Unilever spokesperson says the name change had already been in progress: “Since 2014, we have made changes to the brand’s advertising to focus on a message of women[’s] empowerment, and we have also made changes to the communication and packaging, including removing before-and-after impressions and shade guides.” Unilever says Fair & Lovely was never a skin-bleaching product, but "uses a combination of vitamin B3, glycerin, UVA, and UVB sunscreens." The company also plans to remove wording such as "fair," "white/whitening," and "light" from packaging and marketing. And likewise, a spokesperson for Beiersdorf AG, the maker of Nivea Fairness Cream, told Allure in a statement: "We have started an in-depth review process to determine recent implications for our product offering and marketing approach.” As a result, the company will no longer use words such as "whitening" and "fair."
Is It Enough?
Product changes are one thing, but the issue runs deeper. "You can quietly pull down products or change the name, but that does not change what’s happening in the homes of our youth and what they’re hearing from their parents and grandparents, who are indoctrinated to believe this crap," says Zoila Darton, the founder and creative director of WORD Agency. "The first step is to discuss history."
To help encourage customers to love the skin tone they were born with, Darton believes, brands should play an active role in contextualizing the harm of the skin-lightening industry. "Pedal back and be honest with your consumers about why these products came to market in the first place," she suggests. "I would love to see a comprehensive history of colorism presented by beauty companies." She also emphasizes that companies need to change from within and hire talent across social classes and life experiences to ensure their hiring practices and work culture aren't rooted in colorism.
Beauty journalist Vasudha Rai, based in Delhi, India, believes true change lies in answering this central question: How can we change people's aspiration for fair skin? For starters, she says, feature dark-skinned women in beauty campaigns. "Fairness cream advertisements always show the model going five to seven shades lighter. If they are serious about change, they need a dark-skinned model who doesn’t become fairer by using their cream." She also says brands should offer more products to enhance the beauty of darker skin. "Beautiful skin doesn’t mean a few shades lighter," says Rai. "It means more glow, clarity, elasticity."
Actor and producer Naya (who's collaborated with Nivea Nigeria and promotes the brand’s deodorants and lotions) agrees. Growing up, she remembers walking the aisles of beauty supply stores filled with lightening products. In 2014, she started the campaign #FiftyShadesOfBlack, which led to the making of her documentary, SKIN, on Netflix. “#FiftyShadesOfBlack was created to teach women about self-love," she says. "The documentary has created more awareness in Nigeria; people have become a lot more vocal, inquisitive, and honest about their battles with colorism and skin-lightening creams." Nivea sponsored the premiere of her documentary. She hopes partnerships like this will create real movement in the industry.
Ultimately, the path forward is to fight the systemic roots of colorism and racism. "The battle is far from won," says Benson. "To change the practice, one must first change the perception about Black skin. I'm hopeful that the wheels have now been set in motion."
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