Black is beautiful

As a white volunteer in rural Ghana, I attract a lot of attention. Usually it’s just marvel at my fair complexion and different hair. On some occasions, however, it’s something else.

“Nana Yaa, give me your hair.”

“I like your skin. I want mine to be light like you.”

“Your nose is small. It is good.”

To be honest, I find it really disheartening. Here are people in some of the poorest and most remote areas of the world, yet many still adhere to the Westernized ideal of beauty: to be light is beautiful and to be dark is less than.

I simply don’t see it that way. I have seen more natural beauty in Ghana than I have seen anywhere in the world. The beauty-obsessed women Los Angeles have nothing on the smooth, flawless skin, and confident posture that I see here every day.

Even more disheartening is the surge of skin bleaching sweeping Africa. In Nigeria, 77% of women use these products on a regular basis, and 59% in Togo, 35% in South Africa, and 25% in Mali. Some of the biggest celebrities throughout the continent are engaging in the practice, thereby increasing its desirability to citizens across Africa.

The Velasco material (clothing) billboards that line the streets of Accra and Kumasi generally feature women with lighter black complexions and more “anglo” features: small, pointy noses and oval-shaped faces.

Considering all this, I decided to lead a session at our recent Western Regional Girls Leading Our World (GLOW) camp reminding young women that to be black is beautiful.

When designing the program, I decided to confer with Sarah Watson, a black American Peace Corps volunteer here in Ghana. She mentioned that she has been taking portraits of young women around her community and is working with the district assembly’s office to post some of them on a billboard at the entrance of town. Young women in rural Ghana are often not used to seeing photos of themselves displayed and tend to shy away from exhibiting outward confidence about their appearance. Overall, I thought it was a compelling way to broach the subject of loving their ebony skin.

Her approach sparked an idea for my project as well – what if the girls could see themselves on a screen, directly related to a conversation about black being beautiful? The morning of my presentation, I went around the camp and took photos of each of the girls, never addressing why or when they would see them again. Most of them were happy to pose, despite their non-smiling appearances. (The typical Ghanaian does not smile for pictures then flashes their gorgeous pearly whites as soon as the camera snaps.)

When the session began, I asked the girls to tell me what they think is beautiful. Girls raised their hands and gave an array of answers that all fed into them already knowing that black women are beautiful.

“Madam, the buttocks is beautiful.”

“Hips are very nice.”

“When a person is calm, they are beautiful.”

I was impressed with their responses. Not a single girl mentioned light skin or small noses. Perhaps these girls didn’t need my help after all.

I decided to introduce the subject any way, particularly because there was one girl who had likely already engaged in mild skin bleaching (the products available on a wide scale are more harsh and often leave red marks on the cheeks and the edges of the face. Don't worry -- I approached it lightly to avoid embarrassing her). I asked the girls if they ever hear people say that lighter black skin is preferable to darker skin. They had.

Felicity Yaa Pomah (yes, Yaa Pomah is also my name) is a teacher, all around bright and empowered woman and excellent mentor for the girls. She told the story of how a man in her town told her she is too dark and should be lightening her skin in order to appear more beautiful. She responded that she will never bleach her skin, because she is beautiful as she is.

This sparked a lively conversation about how they have similar pressures, but do not want to submit. In some sectors of the culture, it is also an expression of wealth (and thereby success) to bleach one’s skin, thereby adding to the social adoption of the practice.

I also explained the dangers of skin cancer, which were non-existent prior to skin bleaching. They have been given the gift of dark skin to withstand the high sun. It should be celebrated, not scorned or marred.

I then commenced the slideshow of their portraits taken earlier in the day, which set off a roar of giggles. Like the girls in Sarah’s town, most had never seen their photo on a large scale, nor do I think many of them had associated themselves with being beautiful.

When asked whether they ever looked in the mirror and only saw bad things, most of the girls (and volunteers) raised their hands. This sparked a discussion about the importance of confidence and self-acceptance, as well as the love of our most important type of beauty – the one that comes from within.

I may not be the expert at being black, but I understand what it’s like to feel pressure to fit into a typecast of what is beautiful.

The typecast is outdated. It’s ethnocentric. It’s just plain dumb.

I hope this generation of young African women feel empowered to say so. I hope the girls in our GLOW Camp are part of this group.

Here are some of my favorite portraits from the slideshow.