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.
2.The prejudices I encounter do not define me. My worth is innate, and I stand tall in my truth.
3.Society’s narrow view of beauty cannot diminish the vastness of my worth and the richness of my Black heritage.
4.I am a manifestation of #BlackGirlMagic, a testament to the strength, resilience, and beauty of Black women throughout history.
5.I draw strength from the deep-rooted African philosophies of beauty, recognizing that my essence is timeless and profound.
6.I reject any narrative that seeks to demonize or hypersexualize me. I honor the fullness of my identity, unapologetically.
7.My beauty, in its unique Black expression, is a celebration of history, culture, and individuality.
8.I am the storyteller of my own narrative, reclaiming my image from the distortions of history and media.
9.Together with my sisters, I build a community that uplifts, celebrates, and redefines standards of beauty on our own terms.
10.I am the legacy of generations of Black women who stood firm in their beauty and power. Their strength flows through me, and I honor it daily.
