This Is Forty: I Bleach My Skin
I wasn’t surprised when just a couple of weeks ago it was revealed that Cameroonian-Nigerian singer, Dencia, — a high-voltage version of Nicki Minaj — announced on Twitter that her skincare line, Whitenicious (I swear I am not making this up!), had just sold out. She promptly promised that it would be back in stock very soon.
I have to give her some credit for not hiding behind the “fade cream” moniker that a lot of “legitimate” products like Ambi and Nadinola adopt. She is straight up gangster with it. She embraces the obvious truth by delivering goods that promise to transform willing participants into whitewashed Barbie dolls.
Skin bleaching has always been a competitive sport in Africa. According to recent reports based on research results from The World Health Organization, (WHO), Nigerian women are in the lead with 77% utilizing the “benefits” of skin-lightening products, compared to 59% in Togo and 27% in Senegal.
It has never been a secret that Nigerian men prefer their wives, light, bright, and voluptuous. Anytime a man picks his future wife, there is high praise if she happens to be lighter than him. I remember attending several weddings as a kid, and hearing the grown-ups relentlessly discuss how gorgeous the bride was with emphasis placed on her light skin. A bride with a darker complexion never gets the same amount of attention.
My youngest brother, who enjoys torturing me with his ridiculously outlandish statements, never hesitates to reiterate his desire for girls who are “exotically inclined.” The “regular” looking black girls are not good enough to show off to his hot-blooded posse. When I asked him if he would hang with a chick that looked like me, he paused, looked me directly in the eye and said, “No!” I playfully cursed him out, but inside I was devastated.
There was a period in my twenties when I did feel slightly inadequate because I was of a darker persuasion. Living in the Midwest during my college years didn’t help my fragile disposition. White guys were eager to explore me, but black guys weren’t quite sure how to handle me. They always made it clear that I was “pretty for a dark-skinned girl” and, even though they were wiling to lay with me, showing me off would have been venturing into uncharted territory.
I have always aspired to have beautiful even-toned skin, but like most women of color, I am plagued by uneven pigmentation. In order to remedy this side effect, I enlist the help of a skin lightening cream — Clear Essence, Skin Beautifying Milk, to be specific. My daily dosage contains about 2% Hydroquinone, which is the main ingredient in skin bleach because it stifles the production of melanin. Hydroquinone can be hazardous if taken in high doses because it has the ability to affect the skin’s elasticity, and the long-term effects can lead to surgical complications.
Deep down I wonder if my innocent dabbling is the gateway to full on bleaching. Why am I so dedicated to the eradication of my “dark spots?” Uneven pigmentation isn’t necessarily a life-threatening condition and my case isn’t particularly extreme. I’ve finally had to admit, however, that my motivation is instigated by my need to compete with my lighter counterparts. I’m not interested in relieving myself of my covering, but I want to at least ensure that my skin is as gorgeously brown as it can be in order to give myself a chance in the preliminaries.
Femi Kuti, the vocal son of Fela summed it up perfectly when he said, “Now it’s toning, I don’t bleach, they say, it’s I tone!” I guess you could say that I am engaged in a “toned down” version of skin bleaching. Femi called me out. Yes, toning is the politically correct way to achieve the glow your skin isn’t emanating naturally.
Don’t judge me. Still crippled at forty by menacing interludes of self-doubt and inadequacy, the one saving grace is that I am willing to accept full responsibility for my actions. I recognize that I’m a work in progress. My name is Ezinne Ukoha and I bleach my skin.
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