The Clarks used four dolls, identical except for color, to test children’s racial perceptions. Their subjects, Black children between the ages of three and seven, were asked a series of questions and asked to identify both the race of the dolls and which color doll they preferred. They asked the children to choose between a white doll and—because, at the time, no brown dolls were available—a white doll painted brown. The children overwhelmingly preferred the white doll and assigned positive characteristics to it. From their research, the Clarks concluded that the effects of prejudice, discrimination, and segregation were insidious, creating feelings of inferiority among African American children and causing profound damage to their self-esteem.⁸²

Later researchers hypothesized and tested the significant impact of children not seeing positive images that look like them to determine whether Black children also have a bias toward whiteness. In 2010, renowned child psychologist Margaret Beale Spencer, a leading voice in the field of child development and a professor at the University of Chicago, was brought on board as a consultant by CNN. Her expertise proved invaluable. Spencer’s test aimed to recreate the landmark Doll Test from the 1940s, conducted by the Clarks.

In the new study, Spencer’s researchers asked the younger children a series of questions and had them answer by pointing to one of five cartoon pictures that varied in skin color from light to dark. The older children were asked the same questions using the same cartoon pictures, and were then asked a series of questions about a color bar chart that showed light to dark skin tones.

The tests unveiled a stark truth: white children, as a whole, showed a high degree of what researchers call “white bias.” They associated the color of their own skin with positive attributes and darker skin tones with negative ones, highlighting the pervasive nature of racial biases in our society. Spencer said even Black children, as a whole, have some bias toward whiteness, but far less than white children.⁸³

Even if we don’t fully understand what is happening around us, our brains process stimuli. When these stimuli don’t align with our self-image, it affects how we think about ourselves and our place in the world. It can have a profound effect on your identity at your very core, in the deepest recesses you didn’t even think existed. Not seeing ourselves reflected in the environments we inhabit leads to a disconnect from our existence, which creates an otherworldly experience, like being a stranger in town. We are always on the outskirts of conversations and societal relationships outside of our friends and loved ones, without the ability to catch up because to do so would take too long. The task appears insurmountable and evolves into a lifelong challenge that begins with the physical but, in its impact, affects the mental so much more.

The same homogenous archetypes of beauty, typically favoring Eurocentric features, have dominated the narrative of how Blackness is perceived within this construct. Black women have often been stereotyped as less attractive, less desirable, and less worthwhile in society’s hierarchy of beauty. In this system, the closer one’s physical features are to the construct of whiteness, the higher their perceived beauty. Conversely, Blackness has been unjustly placed at the bottom of this ladder, devalued, and dismissed. Blackness, seen as an invalid construct, is often placed at the very bottom of this beauty hierarchy, as if we’ve not even stepped onto the ladder’s first rung, its top disappearing into the stormy clouds above.

For American women of African ancestry, the enduring scars of American slavery add a complex layer to the societal burdens they bear, from systemic racism to economic inequities. Mainstream beauty industries have traditionally marginalized Black women’s attributes, often branding them as masculine or undesirable. For example, curvy body types and fuller lips, common among many Black women, were long overlooked until popularized by predominantly white celebrities, reflecting how European aesthetics are often considered the standard of beauty in America.⁸⁴ Even within the Black community, a bias toward lighter complexions can yield societal advantages. For instance, studies have shown that individuals with lighter skin often attain higher levels of educational and occupational success.⁸⁵ Black women’s hair is policed: Looser curls and straightened hair are celebrated,⁸⁶ whereas afros and traditionally Black hairstyles have resulted in academic and professional dismissals.

DC blogger Cashawn Thompson launched the empowering hashtag #BlackGirlMagic in response to a problematic Psychology Today article, sparking a nationwide movement that celebrates and affirms Black women’s beauty and achievements. The hashtag ignited a nationwide empowerment movement, providing a platform for the celebration and recognition of Black women’s achievements. It served as an uplifting counter-narrative to mainstream depictions, affirming the beauty of Black women in a world that often fails to do so.

An article from the International Journal of Women’s Dermatology discusses research into the #BlackGirlMagic movement. The study investigates the movement’s impact on Black women’s self-esteem. A survey was administered to 134 young Black women on Instagram. The majority of participants identified as having Fitzpatrick skin types IV or V and/or classified their hair texture type as 4C or 4B (kinky/coily curls).

Users were asked about the perceived impact of the hashtag on their self-esteem. 82 percent of participants reported experiencing discrimination because of their race. Many participants reported at one point wishing that they did not have features attributable to their race: 78 percent had thought this about their hair texture, 64 percent about their skin complexion, and 60 percent about their facial features (wishes for smaller lips and noses were a resounding response to this question). In addition, 82 percent believed that the #BlackGirlMagic social media movement had had an impact on their self-esteem, with 69 percent of those participants reporting improved self-esteem after hashtag interaction.

Psychology studies have confirmed the association between the internalization of social media beauty standards and unhappiness with one’s appearance.⁸⁷ Understanding the depth of this issue requires us to delve into its roots, complex as they may be. Unpacking the origins of these harmful beauty standards is crucial, as they deeply affect self-acceptance and self-esteem. It strikes at the heart of the ancestral cultural importance of notions of beauty and what they mean in relation to healthy self-acceptance and a correspondingly high level of self-esteem. First, we need to understand the origin of the false narrative: a lack of desirability. This narrative has distorted a rich history of reverence for attractiveness within the African diaspora.

The philosophy of beauty is an evolving discourse in African philosophy. This does not imply that there was no African conception of beauty. Rather, African philosophers are now beginning to earnestly have more than a passing and non-technical interest in the reality of the beautiful. In the context of African cultures, the concept of beauty is indeed unique. In many African cultures, beauty is often closely associated with femininity. Some of the male participants in a sociological field study by Arden Haselmann in Senegal associated beauty with women. African conceptualizations of beauty are in feminine terms, and perhaps every usage of the word “beauty” or “beautiful” is usually constructed to celebrate womanhood or feminine spirit.⁸⁸

In Africa, beauty connotes a celebration of worth, value, and quality; it’s not just about physical attractiveness, but also the essence of a person’s character and their societal contributions. Hence, the concept of beauty in Africa is quite broad and varies from one cultural community to another. However, as Vimbai Matiza rightly observes, the concept of beauty in Africa tends to speak of the external and internal qualities of a person or object. Moreover, the concept of beauty in Africa bears some moral intonations beyond teleos, which historians identify as the ancient Greek term for an end, fulfillment, completion, goal, or aim.

For example, Matiza notes that in the language of Shona in Zimbabwe, the word kunaka (beauty) denotes well-groomed character and physical attractiveness. In Annang of Nigeria, the word ntuen-akpo is used metaphorically to refer to a woman who only has physical attractiveness, but lacks good manners. Ntuen-akpo is a type of attractive pepper that can hurt the tongue when tasted or eaten. A woman described as ntuen-akpo might find that despite her physical attractiveness, her lack of good manners may hinder her from being fully valued or desired in her community.

Another defining characteristic of beauty in African philosophy is its functional aspect—beauty is not merely aesthetic but also has a role to play in society. Matiza confirms that in an African context, “beauty is not for the sake of being beautiful.” According to him, beauty has a social character; rather than being individualistic, it is communal. Matiza argues that “from an African perspective, the concept of beauty has to have a purpose, which it fulfills.”⁸⁹ Beauty must serve to communicate values, norms, morals, and purpose. Beauty must edify the community.

In his research on Sudanese beauty concepts, Baqie Muhammad concluded that “beauty encompasses ‘good behavior, skills, knowledge, and dress, in addition to physical features.’ ”⁹⁰ There cannot be beauty for its own sake; beauty must be intended to serve society.

Matiza argues that the notion of beauty cannot center solely on the individual. Without considering its effects on the community, it is un-African in nature. He maintains that beauty in an African context implies working together. In other words, beauty must be a reflection of the interconnectedness that characterizes African societies. It’s not just about individual aesthetics, but also about contributing positively to the community.⁹¹

Polycarp Ikuenobe argues that in African societies, the measure of beauty—whether it be in a person or an object—is how much it improves harmony and order within the community. The beauty of a person or thing should be participatory and interconnected rather than individualistic, and it should be meaningful only in the context of the acceptable standards of the community. Ikuenobe notes that if a person’s action is seen as “fostering or leading to disharmony in nature, community, and reality, then it is considered bad or ugly.”⁹²

The Ubuntu dictum states: I am because we are. What this means is that a person’s beauty should communicate universality. To this extent, the concept of beauty in Africa is objective in that it communicates a communal standard, but it is also subjective in that the standard of beauty is different from community to community. I am beautiful because my community members affirm my beauty as such, but outside my community, the affirmed beauty may be disavowed. What is considered beautiful is meaningful only to the people in that context.

The general concept for Afrocentric relational theory is “I am because we are.” This means people, objects, phenomena, and concepts do not exist alone, individuated, or isolated. Rather, they exist in relation to other people, objects, phenomena, and concepts. An Igbo proverb articulates this notion as Ife kwulu, ife akwudebeya, suggesting that no entity exists in isolation—when one thing stands, another stands alongside it, emphasizing interconnectedness.⁹³

Through this historically accurate lens, we can see that the stereotypical defeminization and further intentional masculinization of Black women is not an inherently ancestral practice, philosophy, or belief in the precolonial African diaspora. In African ancestral tradition, being a Black woman, being feminine, and being beautiful were considered positive qualities, especially when combined with qualities like strength, wisdom, or compassion. However, this standard of beauty was designed within the community, agreed upon therein, and varied greatly from community to community. And in terms of the views of outsiders in precolonial Africa, we see a very familiar construct, more similar to what we know of the stereotypes and archetypes we observe in contemporary Western culture that have proliferated since colonization both here and around the globe, even back to the African continent itself, in the “othering” depiction of Black bodies and Black beauty.

Sociology Professor Tom Meisenhelder from California State University points out that influential early discourse about the African other within the European cultural repertoire relied heavily on the writings of the ancient Greeks. These writings usually took the form of supposed travelers’ tales about Africa and Africans, as well as the writings of philosophers and poets. There can be no doubt that both of these forms are premised on the idea that Europe or Greece is at the center of the important world and Africa is a marginal and alien place. As a result, the Greek image of the African other stressed its strangeness relative to the familiarity of other “Europeans.”⁹⁴

However, since the time of the eighth-century-BCE Greek poet Homer, Greek descriptions have also included a more positive image of the African. The more positive images of Africans described Africa as a place very near the sun and especially dear to the gods. Greek descriptions of Africa include tales of human beings of great physical and cultural beauty.⁹⁵

Contemporary Nigerian-Finnish and Swedish author and social critic Minna Salami confirms Snowden’s research, conducted in 1970, with her recent assertion that Western history is also sprinkled with appreciation of the beauty of African women, particularly dark-skinned African women. There has always been a simultaneous awe of Black women’s ethereal beauty. In fact, in some of the oldest representations of African womanhood in the West—black at the time being the color of divinity, earth, and fertility—women of dark hue from the ancient kingdoms such as Küsh, Meroë, and Nubia, were valued as especially beautiful and feminine.

Favorable depictions of Black beauty can also be found in remnants of European culture, such as the Black Queen of Sheba portrayed at the monastery of Klosterneuburg in Austria, the Black Venus, or the shield of Kirchberg, which portrays a female Black deity holding a lily stalk. In the Historiated Bible in Dresden, Moses begs an African femme fatale to be his wife “in the Land of the Blacks.” Similarly, the Krumlov Compilation in Prague depicts the Black Bride of the Song of Songs, a gracious, elegant African woman who in the Bible says, “I am Black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon.” According to Salami, the Western world has for a long time tried to distort and demonize African womanhood. From depictions in historical art to the portrayal of modern-day icons like Serena Williams, it’s clear that the campaign to demean Black beauty is not only ongoing, but also far-reaching. ⁹⁶

Historically, narratives that undermine African womanhood have not always been intentionally destructive, but their outcomes often have been. The notion of dehumanizing Africans, particularly women of the African diaspora, was cultivated post-colonization. This is even more troubling given the fact that Blackness as a construct itself is relatively new in the history of the world and has no biological basis. Rather, it serves to weaponize racist philosophy with no scientific foundation to create a social hierarchy that marginalizes, excludes, and ultimately intends to destroy. The tools of unfamiliarity, folklore, and certain interpretations of Christian doctrine were weaponized in this dehumanization. And as we know, dehumanization in this sense requires indoctrination. The result is a degradation of not only the body, but also the mind and the soul.

Given the US’s history and ongoing struggle with racism, African American women confront numerous identity and beauty issues, from societal beauty standards to underrepresentation in the media. Since 1619, African American women and their beauty have been juxtaposed against White beauty standards, particularly pertaining to their skin color and hair. During slavery, Black women who were lighter-skinned and had features that were associated with mixed progeny (e.g., wavy or straight hair, white or European facial features) tended to be house slaves and those Black women with darker skin hues, kinky hair, and broader facial features tended to be field slaves.⁹⁷

The beauty standard that values whiteness over the various hues of melanin was established during precolonial and colonial times, perpetuated during slavery, and persists even after Emancipation and integration. This hierarchy places white women at the apex of beauty, rendering the aspiration to meet such standards not only unattainable for many, but also fundamentally unhealthy. Yet, it’s puzzling to see how much of the Western world, and even Africa itself, aspires to a beauty standard that essentially appropriates these very traits that are inherent to Black women. As I delved into my research on beauty standards, I realized something striking. Many physical traits often deemed undesirable when associated with Blackness—such as full lips, large hips, and a curvaceous figure—are, in fact, widely coveted. However, when white people adopt these same features—full lips, curvy figures, tanned skin, and particular hairstyles—they become desirable trends. So, the notion of these features being “unappealing” reveals how beauty standards have been weaponized to diminish the attractiveness of Black women.

However, during the era when cotton was king, those who propagated the Southern economy—built on human livestock—found it advantageous to create a narrative that painted enslaved African women not only as undesirable, but also as brutish and hypersexual. This additional archetype was created to justify the breeding farms, which were common in the antebellum South after the end of the Transatlantic slave trade. The average enslaved woman at this time gave birth to her first child at age nineteen. And women and girls were forcefully impregnated for profit. Being able to commodify the Black woman’s body has simultaneously created an archetype of both Jezebel as a sexual stereotype and the brute, or “Strong Black Woman,” as a producer and worker. These false narratives that are enforced all around us in literature, film, and movies create a dichotomy so contradictory that the question itself becomes the ultimate gaslight—If Black is beautiful, why don’t I see it reflected all around me? Why does it appear that Black women are not admired or valued in our true and authentic physical form?

Black feminist theory substantiates the claim that the devaluation of US Black women is rooted in the institution of American slavery. Black women’s bodies were routinely violated for others’ profit and pleasure without recourse or protection. During the era of American slavery, negative, controlling images of Black women emerged.⁹⁸ Black women were viewed as hypersexual Jezebels (or Sapphires) deserving of sexual exploitation, or as breeder women lawfully usable for populating owner’s plantations with new slave stock or for revenue generation.

In the past and still today, Black women’s bodies and beauty have largely been devalued and rejected by mainstream culture, which overvalues the European aesthetic and undervalues the aesthetic of other racial and ethnic groups, with the exception of exoticizing them.⁹⁹ The US puts a premium on “fair” white skin, blue eyes, and straight, long, blond hair. and considers these features the epitome of beauty. Features more akin to the African aesthetic are deemed ugly, undesirable, and less feminine. The notion that Black women are less attractive is a message that is transmitted daily by multiple external forces or social institutions (e.g., church, government, business industries, media, and family or peer groups).¹⁰⁰

But it’s important to understand that this is just that—a notion. It is a narrative that was created, much like racial hierarchy and colorism, to disempower and to plant the seed of self-hate and doubt that would advance European colonialism and imperialism. In the narrative of American beauty, Black women, adorned with historical scars, have often been overshadowed by Eurocentric ideals. Their intrinsic features, once marginalized, gained limelight ironically when mirrored in lighter shades. Within Black communities too, the painful echoes of preference for lighter hues linger. African tresses, tales of pride and strength, face critique if they defy the straight line of Western approval.

Africa’s philosophy of beauty is profound. Here, beauty isn’t a mere surface reflection; it intertwines with worth, character, and societal roles. In this realm, beauty carries moral depth, reminiscent of the ancient Greek term teleos. Zimbabwe’s kunaka and Nigeria’s ntuen-akpo illustrate beauty as the union of character and charm. Beauty in Africa is communal, harmonizing societal norms, values, and ethos. The African belief, rooted in Ubuntu—“I am because we are”—views beauty as collective yet individualistic, thriving in community.

Historically, the essence of African womanhood has faced undeserved disdain, intensified post-colonization. The concept of “Blackness,” created as a societal construct, further perpetuated this. In America, Black women have journeyed through the shadows of white-centric ideals since 1619. Their beauty, dissected by color and texture, was weighed against a foreign standard. Ironies abound: features shunned in Black women were celebrated in others. Historic tales painted Black women with conflicting images, both as overpowering and as overly sensual, often used to justify unspeakable horrors.

Literature and media have played into these narratives, further alienating Black women from their innate beauty. The mark of slavery, commodifying Black bodies, remains evident in contemporary culture. The question resonates: why isn’t Black beauty universally celebrated?

Historical toys serve as a poignant illustration. As discussed above, prior to the 1950s, dolls reflective of African American grace were scarce. Such skewed portrayals impacted young Black psyches. The 1940s “doll tests” by the Clarks revealed the deep-seated impact of segregation on Black children’s self-worth. Later, Margaret Beale Spencer’s study, though with different tools, drew similar conclusions: societal biases still cast their haunting shadows on young minds.

#BlackGirlMagic arose as a beacon, empowering many. Yet, as the digital age evolves, society’s beauty standards continue to challenge self-worth and acceptance. Understanding this dance with beauty is crucial, as it shapes self-perception, self-esteem, and the perpetual journey toward self-acceptance.

journaling questions

1.Reflecting on your childhood, how did the toys you played with and the media you consumed influence your perceptions of beauty, especially as it pertains to Black women?

2.Can you recall specific experiences where you encountered racial prejudice, and how did these incidents shape your self-perception and understanding of your place in the world?

3.How have prevailing societal views on Black beauty impacted your self-esteem throughout different stages of your life?

4.How has the #BlackGirlMagic movement influenced your perceptions of Black beauty and empowerment? Are there specific aspects of the movement that resonate with you deeply?

5.How familiar are you with the philosophical discourses on beauty within various African cultures? How might these perspectives provide alternative frameworks for understanding and embracing Black beauty?

6.In what ways have you observed the demonization or hypersexualization of African women in history and media? How do these portrayals contrast with your personal experiences and understandings of Black femininity?

7.How would you compare traditional African standards of beauty with contemporary global standards? How do you navigate and reconcile these potentially differing perspectives?

8.How have you seen the portrayal of Black women evolve in the media over the years? Are there changes that give you hope, or areas where you feel more progress is needed?

9.How do intersecting identities, such as sexuality, disability, or socioeconomic status, further complicate the narrative of Black beauty in society?

10.Considering the mixed messages from society and media about Black beauty, what messages or teachings would you want to pass on to younger Black women to ensure they grow up with a positive and empowered sense of self?

affirmations

1.I define my own standard of beauty, regardless of the limited representations in toys and media.