My first encounter with the African skin bleaching craze was as a 10-year-old. I had accompanied my aunts to a supermarket and wandered off to the beauty aisle, marveling at all the makeup and hair products.

A shop attendant came over to me and led me to the lotion display. I remember her bright friendly smile as she told me these creams would make me look very beautiful, like a ‘half-caste’, a Nigerian term used to describe biracial or multiracial people. I remember looking at the labels, illustrated with fair-skinned or white models, their pale skin, red lips, and confident smiles promising me a fantasy of a more beautiful life. I imagined buying the lotion and my life would completely change. I thought of Janette, the biracial girl in my school who everyone adored, teachers and students alike, and imagined how being light like her would also make me the apple of everyone’s eye.

I never bought the lotion, my aunties whisked me away as soon as they purchased what they came for, but that memory has been etched in my mind. As I’ve grown older, I realise now, looking back, it was the first time I had fantasised about having lighter skin.

Any one who is socially conscious can tell you bleaching is objectively wrong. Colourism is a well-explored topic in almost every space. Extensive research has shown how colourism influences prosecution, dating life, and even employment opportunities for darker-skinned people.

Bobrisky. Photo credit: Premium Times Nigeria

In Africa, skin lightening products is a multibillion-dollar industry. A staggering 77% of Nigerian Women, 59% in Togo, and 35% in South Africa regularly use bleaching products according to a WHO (World Health Organisation) report in 2011. In fact, research shows that it is the fourth most sought after item by African Women after milk, soap and tea.

On social media, celebrities like Bobrisky and Cameroon pop star Dencia amassed fame by completely transforming their skin complexion. They can be regularly seen promoting skin lightening or whitening products to their millions of followers, who flock to buy anything that promises them a lighter complexion, despite the well-known side effects.

In November 2019, a disturbing post went viral on Nigerian Twitter, showing an almost naked woman in a bathtub full of chemicals, literally having her dark skin scraped off. The video was met with general disgust and caused an uproar, as people commented on the hazardous health risks. However, to the surprise of no one, the IG followers of the business increased, and so did the customers, with people in the comments section, asking how they can purchase it, and scrambling to book appointments. The business page, houseofphreedahbodycare, boasts of over 55K followers on Instagram.

House of Phreedah home page. Credit Instagram

The disastrous effects of skin bleaching are very well known. Discolouration, severe sunburn, skin cancer, dermatitis, kidney disorder, skin ulcers and even mercury poisoning.

And the question everyone asks is why? Why would you risk your health to look lighter? Why do people ignore all the warnings from medical professionals and still buy bleaching products? What is it that makes people spend so much money trying to change their complexion? Why don’t we love the skin were in?

It’s so easy to shame people who use bleaching products. Everyone has their opinions on this. From pastors using such individuals as examples of people who don’t love themselves, thus defying how God created them, and inadvertently questioning God’s handiwork, to comedians making them the butt of all jokes.

Yet, bleaching is still a big thing in our society and skin lightening products fill up our stores. There’s a lot of judgement thrown at people who bleach their skin, and yet this collective shaming practice has done little to stop the epidemic across Africa.

Everyone is focused on fighting the symptoms, instead of focusing on the underlying disease colourism.

Image credit: Marieclaire.com

The truth is, it’s not easy to tell people to ‘love themselves’. It’s easier to love yourself when the world loves you too.

A lot of Africans still suffer from the effects of colonial brainwashing. The truth is, we could ban skin bleaching products today, and it still won’t solve anything. Why, because we have learnt that fair and lighter skinned people are more beautiful, pure and successful.

Thanks to colonialism and white supremacy, Women who pass the paper bag test are held in high esteem, put on a pedestal and idolised. Young girls grow up seeing features and skin tones that look nothing like theirs on TV and in adverts, yet we act surprised when they rush to beauty stores and pick up bottles of lotions labelled with images of Women they’ve seen the world worship and exalt as the ultimate standard of beauty.

Girls grow up seeing favouritism in action, when adults around them prefer lighter skinned children, who are shown more leniency and aren’t spanked or punished. How they are praised and favoured by everyone around them – adults and kids alike. They watched how the world treated the fairer ones while they were shunned and ignored and oftentimes bullied.

And now everyone is shocked when they slather these dangerous chemicals on themselves, hoping that maybe this way, they can achieve the beauty and the adoration they’ve seen others benefit from.

The truth is, it’s not easy to tell people to ‘love themselves’. It’s easier to love yourself when the world loves you too. Pushing dark girls out into a world and demanding that they love themselves as much as their lighter counterparts is unrealistic and downright cruel. Hearing people complain about the bleaching craze without talking about the cause of it grinds my gears.

For years, our society has created a hierarchy amongst Black people based on skin tone, with darker skinned people at the bottom. In my opinion, the solution to the bleaching epidemic is getting rid of the adoration for lighter skin. If we manage to get rid of this one powerful remnant of colonialism, and Women with darker skin tones begin to see their majesty, beauty and innocence, and resist the urge to compare or feel compelled to ‘take action’ to alter their hue, then we can begin to heal.

Written By: Princess Amesi – a writer and feminist. She writes about feminism, fashion, and socio-political topics. She lives in Port Harcourt, Nigeria. Follow her on Instagram

Header Image: Cameroonian pop singer Dencia, who launched the skin care line Whitenicious. Credit: Ebony