Skin Lightening in Manila: Body Confidence Or Body Colonialism?
My mother, who worked as a commercial model for various Filipino beauty companies, often tells me this: “if you ever need to make quick money after college, come back to the Philippines and be an actor. They loooove Americans.” And it was true. In fact, Filipinos love America more than Americans love America — a Pew Research Center survey showed that 85% of Filipinos had a favorable view of America, making it the biggest “America-lover” in the world, beating out the United States by 1 percent (Santos 2014). So what’s the deal? Do Filipinos really love McDonald’s that much… or is my acting career waiting to start?
Manila, the political and entertainment capital of the Philippines, is paradoxical. Despite living among tan and darker-skinned neighbors, I noticed that “whiteness” was inescapable. Advertisements everywhere — billboards, magazines, television — usually feature lighter-skinned Filipinos, and in many cases, East Asian and white people. Same story for Filipino shows and movies. This outcome is simply not natural — how did all of the successful, famous Filipinos I see on TV have light skin, despite representing the olive and moreno masses? The answer is skin lighteners. Today, it is estimated that one half of Filipino women use skin lighteners (Mendoza 2014). Be it using lighteners to increase one’s confidence, or merely to conform with the models on TV, it is undeniable that conditions in Manila have made skin lightening socially advantageous. To arrive at the point where almost half of women use these products, there is a clear cultural hierarchy in Manila built upon racial forces. These forces are rooted in the colonial history of the Philippines.
Colonialism has created systemic inequities throughout Manila’s history that reinforced the recurring narrative that whiter equals better. Specifically, three hundred years of rule under the Spanish viceroyal system (which is more than five times longer than the Philippines’ existence as a recognized country) created a hierarchical system that worshipped light skin. Simply put, being white was like owning a fortune. This is because, during the utilization of forced labor, the “commodification of human beings” was inevitable (Rondilla 2012). Historians argued that white skin contained not only human value, but property value — allowing those with lighter skin to own land, participate politically, and overall to just receive humane treatment. This point is crucial, because even though Manila’s colonial period is long passed, these ideas have been implicitly ingrained within Manila’s cultural and economic practices ever since. Here, it is important to realize the influence that hard, formal powers (such as government policies) have on indirect forms of power (like cultural practices), and that these outcomes are long-lasting because they have become instilled within the general mindset. The story does not end with the Spanish, however.
The U.S. attempt to ‘civilize’ the Philippines created a mis-matching of the Filipino national identity, which contributes directly to favorability towards lighter skin in Filipino society. If Spanish rule in the Philippines were the roots of a tree, U.S. rule would be the bark; visible and connecting the roots to the present day. After acquiring the Philippines for strategic and military purposes from the Spanish, the U.S. too, ingrained itself into the pre-existing colonial system, even coming extremely close to admitting the Philippines as a U.S. state. The important part here is the domineering narrative of “civilizing” that was present in U.S. efforts, even referring to Filipinos as their “brown little brothers” (Lasco 2019). The mindset of “little brother” conveys the lopsided power dynamic established by U.S. occupancy — “these people are incapable of caring for themselves, so it is therefore my duty to properly do it for them.” In particular, Americans discouraged indigenous practices and promoted an obviously biased, eurocentric education to children in Manila, both hurting the transmission of traditional Filipino culture and confusing the next generation of Filipinos. Essentially, leaving one’s western lifestyle of speaking English and going to church was equated to abandoning civilization. This idea can help account for in part the Philippine’s strange obsession with America in the present day — overall confusion of national values and partial substitution of colonial ones (also explaining the popularity of Christianity and English). Importantly, U.S. occupation serves as the connecting piece to the present day in the “whiteness” narrative of the Filipino timeline.
Accordingly, the present-day consequence of three hundred years of institutionalized colorism in Manila is flourishing neoliberal capitalism that preys upon people’s personal insecurities. The “whiteness” hierarchy that existed formally in the past manifests itself through Filipino media and is reinforced by capitalism. The narrative of white equals better carries on through predatory marketing tactics employed by beauty companies. One analysis showed that 76% to 84% of Filipino consumers believed that the whiteners they use are safe, despite more than half of these consumers purchasing a skin whitener that is considered banned by the Philippine Food and Drug Administration due violation of safety guidelines (Mendoza 2014). Taking into account that around half of Filipino women use skin lightening agents, the concept that lighter skin holds property value in the Philippines is still alive and growing. Lighter skin is simply more profitable. Companies knowingly abuse the lack of centralized regulation to falsely market their products to vulnerable women, shoving the “whiteness” narrative down consumer’s throats through targeted media advertisements and promotions. I am not saying that every company in the Filipino beauty industry is corrupt and “out to get you;” rather I am critiquing the socioeconomic conditions themselves that have allowed for certain companies to continue these undercover practices. It’s a lose-lose situation under unregulated capitalism: consumers buy into this narrative from societal pressures and personal insecurities, and Filipino businesses will do anything they can to stay afloat in the third-world economy — even at the price of their own people.
By extension, while predatory capitalism is the sustaining force of colorism, the direct impact of colorism is on Filipino quality of life. Almost every facet of contemporary life in the Philippines is influenced by color. Take dating, for example. The concept of “cosmopolitan whiteness,” (Singson 2017) the idea that lighter skin is perceived as more fashionable and glamorous, dominates the dating culture and is especially prevalent in Filipino media. In the domestic sphere, some view marrying lighter skinned partners as a retainment of social capital (Rondilla 2012).
Even politics, to a certain extent, is influenced by colorism, with some believing that “skin color can be a source of leadership,” although thankfully people are working to break this stereotype now (Labor 2017). While this problem is not exclusive to Manila, the circumstances described are exacerbated by the Philippines’ unique history of Spanish-U.S. colonialism compared to other regions. As a major cultural and economic capital of Southeast Asia, beauty standards play an imperative role in finding social validation in contemporary life.
Conversely, this problem isn’t exclusive to Filipino women. Even though men use skin lighteners at lower rates than women (10% of Filipino men use lighteners) (Mendoza 2014), men are still abject to colorism. One can even argue that this problem results in even deeper social inequities among male circles because use of the stigma around using skin products — “[men] should not appear as too concerned with their skin. Otherwise they risk being suspected of being bakla (gay) or looking too feminine” (Lasco and Hardon 2019). However, this is quickly changing, with more and more Filipino men turning to skin lighteners as they become more socially mainstream. While I appear to be contradicting my earlier statement, what I am saying is that present concepts of masculinity in the Philippines are rapidly changing.
For instance, skin lighteners are becoming more pragmatically desirable among male circles as a tool to compete socioeconomically. In the globalizing, industrializing economy of Manila, skin is used implicitly as a filter for job desirability. For example, at elite Filipino colleges (this study refers to universities in Quezon City, at the outskirts of Metro Manila), students with lighter skin are often the first to get noticed by those in job-training programs and recruiting for internships. In the workforce, lighter skin makes one look richer and more successful, while darker skin is viewed as “dirtier” and is associated with manual labor, which critically influences competition to attain high-paying professional jobs (Lasco and Hardon 2019). Essentially, skin lighteners are becoming appealing among men because of the implicit belief that lighter skin can help them climb up a few income tax brackets. This is especially prevalent and localized within the industrializing economy of Metro Manila, where a professional job is highly coveted and is considered a ticket out of poverty.
So what is the solution? The Philippines have actually banned skin lightening products that contain harmful levels of chemicals — 1mg/kg trace levels of mercury, to be precise (Felongco, 2019). Skin lightening is not just a racial issue, but a matter of public health as well. But a sensible person wouldn’t willingly use a product that drastically harms their skin, right? Again, the issue stems from marketing and a lack of education — around sixty percent of skin lightener users weren’t even aware of the existence of Philippine FDA regulations, despite their rampant popularity (Mendoza 2014). And to the forty percent that did know, they obviously believed the health cost of using toxic lighteners were outweighed by the socioeconomic benefits. The Philippines is a jungle — both literally and metaphorically, that facilitates and protects shady company practices in marketing and distributing their products.
More specifically, stringent laws with lack of enforcement have spawned a reactionary, underground market for toxic skin lighteners. The Philippines is essentially committing “beauty suicide.” Smuggled internationally into the Philippines, the issue of toxic lighteners is particularly dangerous because most consumers can’t differentiate between the safe and toxic products that line the shelves in Filipino department store aisles. One test found a product with twenty-two thousand times (22,000x) more than the permitted amount of mercury, in a Filipino beauty store (Lachica 2020). With impostor products casually sitting on everyday shelves, decentralized regulation makes it difficult for authorities to crack down on these shady practices.
Corruption is a different story. Many government workers are specifically bribed to allow these beauty products into the Philippines. Smuggling has become such a central part of the culture among customs employees that there is even an ongoing competitive rate — “For a 20 by 40 foot container van, a customs official gets $150,000 pesos [about $2,800 USD] as a bribe to allow the release of these goods” (Lebsack 2019). Sadly enough, many customs employees see themselves as doing positive work for the Philippines — helping vulnerable women gain more confidence and become more beautiful.
So how does Manila save itself from “beauty suicide”? Obviously, one regulation is not enough. In today’s position, the two missing pieces are 1. Promoting awareness of these harmful, physical side effects of skin lighteners, and 2. Attacking the eurocentric beauty standards of the status quo. Manila has a particular set of challenges because it is only partially industrialized, and many of the population live below the poverty line. The solution will have to be long term — incorporating balanced education in our public schools. Although capitalism cannot be stopped through individual efforts, we as a collective can make marketing “whiteness” towards consumers less profitable for businesses. The second implication is a more complex and deep-rooted issue. However, there is hope — body positivity, for example, has become more popular in U.S. media in recent years. If the Philippines likes the U.S. that much, could they also adopt these concepts in Filipino media? It is also important to acknowledge the efforts of social activism groups in the Philippines that run campaigns promoting the beauty of darker skinned Filipinos. Change will not be immediate. But considering the Philippines has only been an independent country for sixty years, we can at least work and pursue the vision of a better, more beautiful Manila for the next three hundred years.
Works Cited
Felongco, Gilbert. “Skin-bleaching creams prompt health warning in Philippines.” Gulf News. 29 June 2019. gulfnews.com/world/asia/philippines/skin-bleaching-creams-prompt-health-warning-in-philippines-1.64923314
Labor, Jonalou. “FILIPINO COLLEGE STUDENTS’ VIEWS ON THE VALUE OF PHYSICAL APPEAL TO POLITICAL LEADERSHIP.” The South East Asian Journal of Management, vol. 11, no. 1, University of Indonesia, 2017, p. 25–.
Lachica, Lolita. “The dangers of trying to be fairest of them all in Philippines.” CNA. 15 April 2020. www.channelnewsasia.com/news/cnainsider/dangers-trying-be-fairest-of-them-all-philippines-skin-whitening-12642522
Lasco, Gideon. “The Dark Side of Skin Whitening.” Sapiens. 6 June 2019. www.sapiens.org/biology/skin-whitening/
Lasco, Gideon and Anita Hardon. “Keeping up with the times: skin-lightening practices among young men in the Philippines.” Culture, Health, and Sexuality. 29 Oct 2019.
Lebsack, Lexy. “Skin Bleaching Is Poisoning Women — But Business Is Booming.” Refinery 29. 28 May 2019. refinery29.com/en-us/2019/05/233409/skin-bleaching-lightening-products-safety-controversy
Mendoza, Roger. “The Skin Whitening Industry in the Philippines.” Journal of Public Health Policy, vol. 35, no. 2, Palgrave Macmillan, 2014, pp. 219–38, doi:10.1057/jphp.2013.50.
Rondilla, Joanne Laxamana. Colonial Faces: Beauty and Skin Color Hierarchy in the Philippines and the U.S. ProQuest Dissertations Publishing, 2012.
Santos, Matikas. “85% of Filipinos love US — survey.” Inquirer.net. 22 April 2014. globalnation.inquirer.net/102487/many-filipinos-love-us-survey
Singson, Francine. Colonialsim’s Role in the Success of the Filipino Skin Whitening Industry. VCU Scholars Compass, 2017.
