There is a substantial historical basis for the argument that European colonialism, slavery, and racial hierarchy helped create and institutionalize color-based distinctions among people of African descent. At the same time, the history is more complicated than saying that one group simply invented every instance of prejudice between Black people.
“Colorism” is indeed a relatively modern term for a much older phenomenon: differential treatment based on skin tone or other perceived physical characteristics. Black writer and activist Alice Walker popularized the term in the United States, particularly in her 1982 essay collection In Search of Our Mothers’ Gardens.
What makes the history particularly important is the connection between racial classification and power. During European colonialism and American slavery, systems of racial hierarchy assigned social, legal, and economic meaning to ancestry and physical appearance. In the United States, distinctions involving skin tone developed within slavery and continued afterward through institutions and social practices. Scholars have documented associations between skin tone and status, opportunity, and social treatment within Black communities.
But Black people did not simply wake up one day and decide to dislike one another. People were living inside systems that attached advantages and disadvantages to proximity to whiteness. Those systems could influence perceptions of beauty, intelligence, respectability, employment, marriage, and social status. Over generations, external hierarchies can become internalized and reproduced within the communities subjected to them.
Beauty does not exist in a vacuum. What societies call beautiful is shaped by history, culture, power, economics, media, family, religion, geography, and social experience. People are often taught what beauty supposedly looks like before they are old enough to question where those ideas came from. For Black people, particularly in societies shaped by European colonialism and racial hierarchy, ideas about beauty have often been connected to a much larger history of racial classification. What may appear to be an individual preference can sometimes carry the remnants of a social system that existed long before the individual was born.
The phrase “beauty hierarchy” describes more than someone’s personal attraction to one physical feature over another. A hierarchy exists when certain characteristics become socially elevated while others are diminished. Historically, European standards of beauty have often occupied privileged positions in Western societies, influencing perceptions of skin complexion, hair texture, facial features, body types, and other physical characteristics. The consequences were not merely aesthetic. Physical appearance could become associated with social status, respectability, opportunity, and perceived worth.
The history of racial hierarchy is essential to understanding how these ideas developed. European colonialism and the institution of slavery created systems in which race and physical characteristics could be used to categorize human beings and justify unequal treatment. Over generations, those systems did not remain exclusively in laws and institutions. They could influence cultural attitudes, social relationships, family expectations, and perceptions of attractiveness. Scholars examining colorism have documented connections between skin color, race, inequality, and social status across different societies. (Dixon & Telles, 2017).
This does not mean that every preference for a particular physical characteristic can be traced directly to racism. Human beings have always possessed individual preferences, and standards of beauty vary across cultures and historical periods. The more significant question is what happens when one set of characteristics becomes associated with greater social value while another becomes associated with inferiority. At that point, beauty becomes connected to power. The issue is no longer simply who someone finds attractive; it becomes a question of which bodies society teaches people to admire, reward, protect, or imitate.
Black people inherited these contradictions through generations of racialized social experience. A person could be born into a world in which Blackness was simultaneously an identity to be lived and a category that society had historically devalued. Children could encounter messages about appearance through family conversations, toys, advertisements, television, school environments, magazines, relationships, and everyday interactions. These messages did not necessarily have to be explicitly racist to influence perceptions. Repetition alone can teach people what society appears to consider desirable.
Skin tone became one particularly visible component of this hierarchy. Research by Verna Keith and Cedric Herring found that skin-tone variation among Black Americans was associated with differences in stratification outcomes, including education, occupation, and income, using data from the National Survey of Black Americans. Their findings suggested that darker-skinned Black Americans experienced disadvantages that could not be explained simply by family socioeconomic background or other demographic characteristics.
The existence of such patterns demonstrates why the discussion cannot be reduced to the question of whether one person prefers lighter or darker skin. Individual preference operates within social environments. If a society repeatedly attaches greater status to particular appearances, people grow up encountering those associations. They may accept them, reject them, negotiate them, or reproduce them without consciously understanding their historical origins. In this way, social hierarchies can outlive the institutions that originally helped construct them.
Beauty industries have also participated in this history. Cosmetics, hair products, fashion, photography, and advertising have never simply reflected society; they have also helped shape what consumers are encouraged to desire. Research on Black women and the cosmetics industry demonstrates how the rise of the “Black is Beautiful” movement challenged Eurocentric standards while simultaneously creating new commercial opportunities for companies seeking Black consumers. Beauty can therefore become both a site of resistance and a marketplace.
The Black is Beautiful movement represented a significant cultural challenge to inherited assumptions about Black appearance. During the late 1960s and afterward, Black activists, artists, intellectuals, photographers, musicians, and ordinary people increasingly celebrated dark skin, natural hair, African features, and Black cultural identity. The movement did not simply tell Black people to feel better about themselves. It challenged the underlying assumption that proximity to whiteness was necessary for beauty, dignity, or social legitimacy.
Yet liberation itself can become complicated when people begin searching for a replacement hierarchy. If society once declared lighter skin superior, liberation should not require declaring darker skin superior. If straight hair was once presented as the only acceptable standard, natural hair should not become another compulsory standard. If one facial feature was historically criticized, another should not become mandatory evidence of Black beauty. The goal should not be to reverse the hierarchy. The goal should be to dismantle the idea that human beauty requires a hierarchy in the first place.
This distinction matters because Black people are extraordinarily diverse. Africa is not a single physical type, and the African diaspora does not produce one uniform appearance. Black people possess countless combinations of skin tones, facial structures, hair textures, heights, body types, and other characteristics. Attempting to establish one “correct” Black appearance simply creates another limitation. Black beauty becomes more powerful when its diversity is understood as a defining characteristic rather than a problem that needs to be organized.
Hair offers an especially revealing example. Black hair has historically been subjected to social judgments involving professionalism, attractiveness, respectability, and conformity. Yet Black hair itself encompasses extraordinary creativity and variation. Braids, locs, afros, twists, curls, coils, pressed styles, wigs, extensions, and countless other forms of expression exist within Black communities. The question should not be which style is the most authentically Black. The more meaningful question is whether Black people have the freedom to determine their own presentation without being treated as less respectable because of it.
The same principle applies to facial features. The Black face has frequently been compared against standards that were never designed to represent the full range of African-descended populations. But there is no single Black nose, Black lip shape, Black eye shape, or Black facial structure. Individual faces contain unique combinations of inherited characteristics. Some faces are symmetrical; others are distinctive precisely because of characteristics that do not conform to conventional ideals. Beauty does not require genetic uniformity.
Colorism, then, can be understood as part of a larger story rather than the entire story. The term gives scholars and communities language for discussing differential treatment associated with skin tone, but the historical forces behind such attitudes are older than the terminology itself. Research demonstrates that skin color can intersect with racial inequality and social stratification, while comparative scholarship shows that colorism exists in multiple societies and has developed through different historical pathways. The language may change, but the human consequences of socially ranking appearance deserve continued examination.
There is also a psychological dimension to inherited beauty standards. People develop perceptions of themselves partly through social interaction and cultural feedback. A child who repeatedly sees people who look like her represented as beautiful, intelligent, successful, and worthy receives one kind of message. A child who rarely sees herself represented positively receives another. This does not mean representation determines identity completely, but it can contribute to the environment in which identity develops.
For Black women in particular, beauty can become complicated by the intersection of race and gender. Black women have historically been subjected simultaneously to racial stereotypes and gendered expectations. Contemporary scholarship examining Black women’s body image emphasizes the importance of understanding these experiences within their broader sociocultural context rather than treating them as isolated concerns about appearance. The pressure is therefore not simply to be beautiful, but sometimes to negotiate conflicting expectations about what a Black woman is supposed to look like.
Breaking an inherited hierarchy does not require rejecting beauty. It requires redefining the relationship between beauty and worth. A woman can enjoy makeup without believing that her natural face is inadequate. She can straighten her hair without believing that her natural texture is inferior. She can wear extensions without believing that long hair makes her more feminine. She can appreciate her dark complexion without believing that lighter skin is inherently less beautiful. Freedom exists when aesthetic choices become choices rather than requirements.
Perhaps the most important generation to consider is the next one. Children should not inherit the burden of spending their formative years ranking themselves against one another. A dark-skinned child should not grow up believing that her complexion is something to overcome. A child with tightly coiled hair should not learn that beauty requires changing its texture. A child with features that differ from current trends should not be taught that uniqueness is a defect. The responsibility of adults is not to manufacture a new standard but to give children room to recognize beauty in human diversity.
There is tremendous power in understanding where an idea came from. Once people recognize that certain beauty standards have histories, those standards become easier to question. What once appeared natural can be revealed as cultural. What seemed universal can be recognized as historical. What seemed inevitable can become optional. Education does not require people to reject every conventional beauty preference. It simply gives them the opportunity to determine which preferences genuinely belong to them and which ones they may have inherited without examination.
The inheritance of a beauty hierarchy does not mean that Black people are permanently trapped inside it. Every generation has the opportunity to decide what it will preserve and what it will discard. Cultural inheritance is not a prison. It can be examined, challenged, transformed, and reimagined. Black communities have already demonstrated this through artistic movements, natural-hair movements, literature, photography, fashion, music, scholarship, and countless everyday acts of self-definition.
Perhaps the ultimate goal is not to prove that Black beauty is superior to anyone else’s beauty. That would simply reproduce the logic of ranking human beings according to appearance. The deeper liberation is realizing that Black beauty does not need to defeat another group in order to exist. It does not need comparison to establish its value. It does not need permission from European standards, commercial industries, social media, or anyone else. It can simply be recognized on its own terms.
The inheritance can therefore change. What one generation received as a hierarchy, another can transform into a landscape of possibility. Instead of teaching children that one complexion is more beautiful, teach them that complexion is one part of their identity. Instead of teaching them that one hair texture is superior, teach them that hair can be expressed in many ways. Instead of teaching them that one facial structure represents beauty, teach them to appreciate individuality. Instead of teaching them to rank one another, teach them to recognize one another.
The most profound challenge to a beauty hierarchy may ultimately be very simple: stop measuring human beings against a single standard. Black beauty does not need to be reconstructed from the ground up because it was never absent. What needs reconstruction is the framework through which beauty has been judged. Once that framework becomes broader, more historically conscious, and less dependent upon hierarchy, Black people can inherit something far more valuable than another standard of beauty. They can inherit the freedom to see themselves without asking someone else’s definition to tell them what they are worth.
References
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