Valued at $603bil, the beauty industry is one of the most powerful enterprises globally. As society’s digitalised, the industry’s presence has only grown, but so have its flaws. With the resurgence of BLM and liberal ideals, the industry has increasingly been placed under a microscope, with areas like colourism coming into question. Why can’t the beauty industry seem to get it right with inclusivity? I’ll be investigating these issues and talking to those behind the scenes to understand why colourism still exists in beauty, and what changes consumers hope to see in the future.

 

     Colourism (the favouring of light skin) has forever remained a staple in the beauty industry. Even before colonialism, complexion represented social status and virtue. Whiteness reigned supreme above all else, with ties to religious purity and the eugenic theory acting as justification. This eurocentric ideology enabled the oppression of natives, defining them as savages and less than their white counterparts. Repeatedly throughout history society has endorsed White Supremacy as the standard of not only model citizens, but beauty.  This consistent cycle of oppression and inferiority has had adverse effects not only on BME communities, but on how modern society still views those communities today. Beauty’s colourism is simply a by-product of White Supremacy, and while western practices remain subtle, nowhere is colourism more obvious than in Asian. 

 

     The combination of globalisation, digitalisation and rapid economic growth has allowed eurocentric beauty standards to explode in Asia, particularly India and the Philippines. Across Asia, the media and the beauty industry bombard women with eurocentric messages, citing that their success and happiness depends on their skin’s fairness. As a result, one of the fastest-growing sectors in the beauty industry is skin lightening. Worth $8.6bil, the hazardous sector provides a quick fix to enable sociable mobility, drawing in 50% of Filipinos and 54% of Indians. Women’s futures rest heavily on the fairness of their skin - a statement that sounds extreme from a Western perspective. That is until you realise major Western brands feed into this segment of the industry. In 2019 Maybelline (owned by L’Oréal) only released 17/40 newly extended shades of the ‘Fit Me’ foundation in India, whilst a similar campaign saw Estēe Lauder lighten their Indian models. The excuse? Meeting market demand. Asia’s emphasis on fair skin and eurocentric beauty illustrates how colonial ideologies still linger within society, decades after the collapse of European empires. Even in the US and the UK, where colourism isn’t as blatant, brands are still unwilling to incorporate inclusivity within their business structure, acting as silent partners to White Supremacy. That is until Fenty Beauty made its debut.

 

     New York’s Fashion Week saw a major shakeup in 2017 when Rihanna launched her much anticipated makeup line: Fenty Beauty. In a world where makeup had previously prioritised white women, Fenty Beauty’s vast inclusivity turned heads fast. Straight out the gate women of colour stood strong at the forefront of Fenty’s campaign, showing off the 40 shades that catered to every consumer (something originally unheard of). Consumers were absolutely thrilled at the shade availability not only online but in-store, providing Rihanna with a healthy profit of $72mil in the first month alone. Unable to avoid the sheer momentum and attention Fenty Beauty garnered, beauty conglomerates sat-up, sensing financial incentives, marking the dawn of the ‘Fenty Effect’. Rihanna had proven the strength of black buying power that brands had previously ignored. Now those brands wanted in, suddenly ushering in a surge in shade ranges and black models. However, this interest in diversity stood far from genuine. Women of colour still are not being prioritised like white women, but instead are being drawn in by the manipulative marketing techniques of major cosmetic companies. As Prof. Tiffany Gill puts it, “Many brands are unwilling to cater to [WOC] in fears that it will damage their brand,” as darker black women commercially are rarely perceived as glamourous or beautiful. Alternatively, these brands are giving black consumers what social activist Florence Given calls ‘crumbs’: Minor gestures tossed to women with the expectation of gratitude in return. For example, expanding a shade range despite having few BME models in the ad campaign and not stocking these shades in-store. In fact on average, despite earning 39% less, black women spend 80% more on cosmetics compared to white women. This is due to numerous factors: inadequate products; shipping costs (remember, dark shades aren’t stocked in-store); luxury brand prices. So, when a brand consistently provides authentically inclusive and quality products, they earn the brand loyalty of their black consumers - which Rihanna instantly obtained.

 

     “Brands don’t have an excuse.” KaVozia “Kay” Glynn asserted. As an up-and-coming 20 year old independent photographer, Kay’s work shines a light onto black culture and beauty. “I always try to be more inclusive but it can be difficult at times. For bigger companies, a lot of them don’t have an excuse - they have  more options in terms of casting.” 

That’s true. L’Oréal (owning 39 brands) rarely includes more than a handful of black women in their ads, let alone darker women of colour. Resources certainly aren’t an issue for the $29.5bil company, and yet their campaign inclusivity is pitiful compared to Kay’s. Even in recent years, with the Fenty Effect in full swing, brands use lighter black models in an attempt to seem inclusive. “You can tell when it’s genuine and when it’s not,” Kay pointed out, “most brands are just doing it for the money; to get attention.” 

Stella Williams, an influencer and business owner, echoed Kay’s concerns: “I don’t know if there could be any other way to not feel it’s a cash grab. We need inclusivity; it’s a catch 22.” 

Beauty brand’s colourism is harder to ignore post-Fenty, leading influencers to question the authenticity of brands’ inclusivity. “Are we just a quota so you can say you’re inclusive?” Stella asked, revealing “I was lighter skin and perceived as ‘acceptable black’,” alluding to why brands favoured her over other BME influencers with a greater following but darker skin.

 

     The persistent presence of colourism in beauty has not only directed a message of inferiority towards BME communities, but has shaped the social exclusion BME women feel from wider society. Aika, a med student and avid beauty consumer, expressed her discontent with the lack of representation in the industry saying, “It made me feel so distanced from ‘British culture’ despite being born here. I felt completely discouraged from wearing makeup and that added to the separation I felt from peers in school.” 

The separation Aika endured is known as the Inferiority Complex: a sense of inadequacy developed from the belief of inferiority to others. Darker black women have consistently been told by the beauty industry that their value rests on the lightening of their skin, or the smoothness of their hair, or the size of their waste - all European standards. Constantly, they have been subconsciously degraded and gaslighted, and are only acknowledged when companies see fit. Women like Aika and Stella and Kay demand a change, but their hope for the future varies. 

 

     To understand why colourism still prevails, I investigated the powerful faces behind the world’s leading brands in beauty: Estēe Lauder Companies and L’Oreal. What I found was no surprise. Both companies are owned by multimillionaire European white men in their 60s. 50% of Estēe Lauder Companies board of directors are women (white), with only one BME member who's been on the board for 22 years. L'Oréal’s board of directors is no different, with 58% of the directors being women and absolutely no BME members. No one. The lack of executive representation is reflected in the racial scandals each brand has faced. In 2017 L’Oréal fired their first black transgender model for calling out white supremacy, whilst holding companies NYX and Maybelline limited their shade availability in India. In 2018 Too Faced founder Jarrod Blandino celebrated his birthday with a “Rich Lives Matter'' cake, and MAC severely appropriated Native American culture via their ‘Vibe Tribe’ collection in 2016 - both owned by Estēe Lauder.  Fabrizio Freda (Estēe Lauder CEO) and Jean-Paul Agon (L’Oréal CEO) have both approached colourism and inclusivity at different rates, emulated by their boards. Freda has taken the issue seriously, stating on the company site “We are deeply committed to doing more to facilitate [...] inclusion and belonging within our company [...] while acknowledging we can do more.” As part of their initiative to achieve racial equity, Estēe Lauder has pledged to donate $10mil to support racial injustice movements - 0.6% of their 2020 revenue. Agon has shared similar messages, reciting that “ ‘Beauty for All’ is our mission,” emphasising the diversity of L’Oréal’s teams - which the board of directors doesn’t seem to be a part of... 

 

     Despite the promises of the beauty industry’s giants, it isn’t enough for BME communities. “We need to stop relying on white establishments. We should take the time to educate ourselves and create our own things.,” KaVozia Glynn stated firmly. Rarely is progress ever achieved by waiting for the white establishment. Change has only occurred in recent years because black creators like Kay and Rihanna have taken it upon themselves to be the change they wanted to see. “I want to make stuff for myself, which in turn will help other black people who aren’t shown in the right light or even at all,” explained Kay. But, in order for people to be represented without colourism in wider society, one of the first and most fundamental steps needs to be having that representation reflected in the executive roles of company boards. “Most people subconsciously target people that resemble them,” Aika noted, hoping to see diversity among boards in the future. Stella Williams is also optimistic, believing power in numbers could really make a difference. 

 

     Post investigation, I’m still baffled by the stubborn persistence of colourism in the beauty industry. Brands who include black creators and models are seen as trendy, or inspiring - but not normal. Take British Vogue’s editor-in-chief Edward Enniful: His awareness around the importance of representation has led to Vogue embracing of black creators and models - not just the lightest ones. Enniful has made it normal, rather than admirable, which is what needs to happen in the future. Representation of cultures needs to be normalised both on executive boards and drugstore shelves. Currently, beauty and representation are measured by a white man’s gaze, and that measure only changes when the market demands it. Until consumers hold brands accountable for the subconscious endorsement of white supremacy via colourism, black women are still going to be left with the crumbs of the beauty industry. Nobody wants crumbs.

 

~Erin Botten