Colorism: The Prejudice That Follows Us
By: Morgan Lewis
Baltimore, MD - "You’re pretty for a dark-skinned girl."
"Stop acting so light-skinned."
"You better stay out of the sun before you get too dark."
The words resonate like whispers in my memory, lingering in the space between compliments and insults, shaping my self-perception for as long as I can remember. My rich, deep, brown skin has been both my pride and my burden, celebrated and diminished depending on the speaker. These words are my introduction to colorism, a prejudice that runs deeper than the surface of skin.
Colorism is a concept that I couldn't grasp until I was mature enough to label the hurtful comments, the implicit biases, and the glances that communicated what words couldn't: in our society, there's a preference for lighter skin.
A group of girls of different shades, standing in a line.
When I was six years old, I vividly recall feeling conscious of my skin for the first time. It was a hot summer day, the sun casting a warm golden glow over everything. While my friends and I were playing outside, my mom called out to me, "Don’t stay out too long, or you’ll get too dark." Her words, spoken casually yet ringed with concern, caused me to look at my skin in a way I never did before. Why was being darker such a cause for concern?
I remember looking down at my skin, confused. I thought the sun felt good on me like it was giving me something—strength, energy. But at that moment, it felt like a thief, ready to take away some invisible quality I wasn’t even aware I had.
Me as a kid at an amusement park.
As I grew older, the whispers about the shades of skin didn’t stop. They became louder. Middle school was a battleground of identity, where I felt I was constantly at war with the standards set by others. I watched as the girls with lighter skin were called beautiful, chosen first, their skin glowing in a way that society seemed to worship. I wanted that glow. I wanted to feel the light that always seemed just out of reach.
During high school, more trends became popular like, “acting light-skinned or dark-skinned” or having a “dark-skinned attitude,” it felt like these stereotypes had to be a part of my DNA based on the color of my skin. I found myself questioning everything I did or said. When I got angry, was this because of my “dark-skinned black girl attitude”? Why was I expressing myself considered typical for a “dark-skinned girl?” I’ve never seen a society so obsessed with the different shades of blackness. I would still laugh along with the jokes, but inside, the dark cloud of colorism was growing longer, swallowing pieces of me I didn’t know how to protect.
I thought, at first, that colorism would end up being something I could escape. If I traveled and saw the world, things would be different. But colorism follows you. It is embedded into cultures far and wide, a thread of prejudice that runs through nations, industries, and economies.
I learned that in parts of Asia and Africa, skin-whitening products were not just common—they were an obsession. The shelves were lined with creams and lotions promising to “brighten,” to make people lighter and, therefore, better. In India, in the Philippines, in Thailand, the lighter you are, the more beautiful you are seen. I began to see how global this issue was, and how deeply it ran through histories shaped by colonialism and caste systems.
Infographic of The Global Impact of Colorism and Skin Lightening Products.
A World Health Organization survey found that nearly 40% of women polled in nations including China, Malaysia, the Philippines, and South Korea regularly use products to lighten their skin. Market intelligence firm Global industry analysts show that the demand for whiteners is rising, projected to reach $31.2 billion by the end of this year.
Millions of dollars are spent on products designed to erase melanin, to strip away the very thing that gives skin its depth, its richness. It made me question everything: How did we get here? How had we, as a society, decided that the closer to whiteness, the closer to perfection?
So, I started paying more attention to the media, noticing the faces that were allowed to be seen. I couldn’t help but see the bias. The actors in leading roles were always the same—light-skinned, racially ambiguous, passing for something that could check a diversity box without making anyone uncomfortable. The darker actresses? Regulated to side roles, if they were even cast at all.
Hollywood wasn’t alone though. Bollywood movies often cast the same light-skinned actors, while telenovelas in Latin America followed the same pattern. The media didn’t reflect me. It didn’t reflect people like me. And the more I noticed, the more invisible I felt.
Laela Jackson, a student at Morgan State University. A participant in the film "Shades of Us"
But as I’ve grown, I’ve come to see my skin for what it truly is—beautiful. It’s taken time. It’s taken learning, unlearning, and healing, but I’ve come to a place where I can look in the mirror and see the beauty, the history, the stories held within my skin. I’ve learned that my beauty doesn’t need to be validated by society’s narrow standards.
The “Dark is Beautiful” campaign was a turning point for me. Seeing others speak out, embrace their skin, and challenge the biases that I had internalized for so long gave me hope. It reminded me that I wasn’t alone—that the world was slowly, but surely, changing.
I’ve made peace with the sun. I no longer hide from it, afraid of getting darker. Instead, I stand in its warmth, feeling the light reflect off my skin, knowing that every shade of me is enough.
Colorism is a deep-rooted issue, and it’s going to take all of us to uproot it. But it starts small—within families, communities, and ourselves. It starts by recognizing the biases we’ve been taught and challenging them. It starts by having conversations, by sharing stories, and by standing up for ourselves and each other.
We must break the chains of colorism, not just for ourselves, but for the generations to come. We have to teach our children that beauty is not confined to shades of lightness, but is found in the full spectrum of human existence. We have to unlearn the prejudice that tells us otherwise.
Together, we can stand in the sun, knowing that we are more than enough, exactly as we are.
"Shades of Us" is a poetic documentary. Written by: Morgan Lewis
"Shades of Us"
I was six when I first heard it—
“Don’t stay out too long, you’ll get darker.”
Like it was something I should fear.
Like the sun, meant to warm me, would scorch my worth.
I scrubbed my skin, tried to wash away the brown,
But it clung to me like history—heavy, undeniable, and mine.
At ten, I was the punchline.
“You’re pretty for a dark-skinned girl,” they said.
Like beauty had conditions,
Like my reflection needed permission to shine.
And I stared into the mirror,
Searching for the flaws they saw,
Praying my skin would change,
Wondering why my melanin made me the enemy.
By fourteen, I learned to hide.
Under the layers of makeup,
In the back of the room,
Behind the shadow of lighter skin.
I thought if I dimmed myself,
Maybe I wouldn’t feel so out of place,
Maybe I wouldn’t be the target,
Maybe I could blend into the background of this color-coded world.
But by eighteen, I started to fight back.
Because I am not a shade to be erased,
Not a tone to be tamed.
I wear this skin, this radiant, brown skin,
With pride now,
Because I’ve realized it carries the stories of my ancestors,
The struggles of my people,
And the beauty that they tried to bury beneath whispers of inferiority.
They said I was too dark.
But I say I am just right.
This skin is not a curse; it’s my power,
A shield that glows under the sun,
Unashamed, unapologetic, and unafraid.
My hair twists and curls like my story,
My lips speak the truth they tried to silence,
My eyes reflect a future they said I wouldn’t have.
I’ve learned that I don’t need their approval,
Their permission to exist in this space,
To take up room in this world that wasn’t built for me,
But is mine to claim.
Because black is beautiful.
Dark is divine.
And I,
I am more than enough.
By: Morgan Lewis
Contributions:
Learning for Justice. "What's Colorism?" Learning for Justice, Fall 2015, www.learningforjustice.org/magazine/fall-2015/whats-colorism.
VOX ATL. "Here’s How We Leave Colorism in 2020." VOX ATL, 30 Dec. 2020, voxatl.org/heres-how-we-leave-colorism-in-2020/.
Merriam-Webster. "Colorism." Merriam-Webster Dictionary, www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/colorism. Accessed 20 Sept. 2024.
Nadra Kareem Nittle. "What Is Colorism?" ThoughtCo, 20 Jan. 2021, www.thoughtco.com/what-is-colorism-2834952.
Abdi Latif Dahir. "Ever Heard of the Blue Vein Society Which Admitted Only Mulattos to Improve Their Lot While Barring Entry for Dark Africans?" Face2Face Africa, 23 Aug. 2018, face2faceafrica.com/article/ever-heard-of-the-blue-vein-society-which-admitted-only-mulattos-to-improve-their-lot-while-barring-entry-for-dark-africans.
On Our Terms. "White and Beautiful?" Barnard College, onourterms.barnard.edu/article/white-and-beautiful/.
Jiajing Wu. "Where Does the Asian Obsession with White Skin Come From?" The Diplomat, 18 Dec. 2019, thediplomat.com/2019/12/where-does-the-asian-obsession-with-white-skin-come-from/.
Kelly Augustine. "Skin Bleaching Is Far More Complicated Than You Think." Byrdie, 20 Sept. 2023, www.byrdie.com/skin-bleaching.
Char Adams. "How Protests Led to a Critique of Bollywood’s Colorism Reckoning among South Asians." NBC News, 22 June 2020, www.nbcnews.com/news/asian-america/how-protests-led-critique-bollywood-s-colorism-reckoning-south-asians-n1231609.
Ghislaine Harvey. "Colorism and the Patriarchal Patterns of Desire in Telenovelas." Gender and Media Culture Blog, 29 June 2019, rtfgenderandmediaculture.wordpress.com/2019/06/29/colorism-and-the-patriarchal-patterns-of-desire-in-telenovelas/.
Dark Is Beautiful. "About Dark Is Beautiful." Dark Is Beautiful, www.darkisbeautiful.in/about/.
Video and Photography By: Morgan Lewis
MPPD 310
Author Biography: Morgan Lewis is a visual storyteller and Multiplatform production student at Morgan State University. Through her work in photography, writing, and videography, she explores culture, identity, and community, crafting narratives that inspire and empower.
