Understanding how black women fit into the tight roles of Conventional Beauty.
Silly week, also known as syllabus week, is the first week of each semester and it’s essentially a week long party. During my freshman year of college, my friends and I decided to join the festivities and the word was that all the lit parties were on Greek row at the fraternities and sorority houses. Still new and unfamiliar to this strange new campus, my two girlfriends and I decided to take a cab to a frat house. When we arrived my first reaction was “I’m way too sober to be around this many people.” My friends could see my hesitation, but I wanted to make a good impression to my friends and the partygoers. I wanted to be the girl that everyone wanted. You see, when I walked through the frat house to get to the backyard, it seemed as though all I could feel were their eyes on me.
I had never felt so obviously black and plus size in my entire life. Secure with my own identity, I brushed it off and tried to focus on having a good time. After a few drinks with my friends, I started to loosen up and felt more comfortable mingling. But every time I tried to talk or dance with a guy, I felt a cold shoulder of rejection. I looked around for my two friends and saw that they were dancing with the cute guys who didn’t see me. It’s probably important to mention that the two friends I came with were a tall blonde and a petite brunette both of fair complexion. I remember this moment distinctively because this is a poignant example of the conversation about conventional beauty standards and when black self-hatred comes into play.
The night at the frat party wasn’t the first occasion where I’ve felt overlooked due to my race. However, it was the first time I consciously started to pay attention to conventional beauty standards. At first glance, it often seems as though most men in the United States are more receptive to fair skin, medium to long hair, and slim physics. I don’t particularly fit into this this mold and for the longest time I assumed this was a first world problem that I alone faced. I couldn’t be any more wrong. Since becoming accustomed to the campus, I have met more and more women from various backgrounds who I’ve personally found attractive, but not necessarily by the conventional standards we often refer to. You see, this frustration of feeling marginalized is not just something I have experienced and tried to put into words. There is actually quite a bit of research and academic thinking about the topic of beauty standards and how they affect the mental health and self-image of black women. In an article published by the Columbia University School of Social Work titled, “The Beauty Ideal: The Effects of European Standards of Beauty on Black Women” by Susan L. Bryant, the author speaks on several key components that I want to bring to my audience’s attention. In her piece, Bryant explores the black woman’s internalization of European beauty standards, the media, society, and the internalization on self-perception. In one particularly powerful anecdote, Bryant talks about Kenneth and Mamie Clark.
The Clarks were the publishers of one of the earliest studies about skin color and self-perception. This study from 1947 was famously known as the “Doll Test”. The study was conducted by taking black children ages three to seven and showing them two dolls - one black and one white. Then, the researchers asked the children which doll they liked more. In the study, two-thirds of the black children chose the white doll. The catch here is that the children overwhelmingly chose the white dolls despite the fact that the black doll resembled the children themselves the most. This study illustrated how young black children were negatively affected by European standards of beauty at an early age. These standards are categorized as attributes of lighter skin, straight hair, a thin nose, thin lips, and light-colored eyes as beautiful. While one might contend that this data is old and from a time in the United States where racial inequities were more widespread in society at large, the “Doll Test” study was recreated again in 2005.
This time, the conclusion remained the same. The detrimental effects of deeply ingrained standards of beauty still persist today, and while it’s been 14 years since the most recently published study, young black women are still deemed unattractive by societal standards and it’s damaging our self-esteem. I’m all too familiar with being seen for my blackness first before my real beauty, it happens all the time. I’ve had friends who are male tell me, directly, how they never really noticed how beautiful I am until they got to know me further. Every time I hear this, I am taken aback. This is not a compliment. I’m writing about this because I want to continue this conversation and if you made it this far on this blog post, thank you. Now learn and spread the woke message that black is beautiful.
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