Colorism in the Black community isn’t new, but it’s still raw, personal, and too often used as a weapon. That good ole’ saying comes to mind — “it be your own people” — because many of us carry real scars, not just memories, when it comes to this conversation.
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After a dark-skinned Black woman’s vulnerable storytime resonated with millions — where she expressed shock that a Black man found her attractive despite being “bald-headed and bad built” — it’s time we dig into the gritty reality of colorism towards Black women, and how its unfolded in our lives.
From awkward jokes made amongst family during the holidays to social media banter, all it takes is a few minutes and a couple scrolls to see how often simply being dark-skinned alone is treated like a punchline. And we’re calling it out.
Dark Skin is Not a Joke
Whew! First and foremost, it’s the nicknames, and this goes way back to the sandbox. “Blackie,” “tar baby,” “burnt,” “midnight” — words passed off as jokes but cut like knives — become a villain origin story for many darker-skinned Black folks. And not for nothing, these terms always came from people who look like us. We laughed — out of sheer embarrassment to be honest — but believe me when I say, we never forgot what that felt like, especially when it came from folks we considered friends.
These names linger long after the laughter dies, shaping how we see ourselves and how others see us. Come on, some of us know people who were nicknamed “Blackie” for so many years we didn’t even realize it was derogatory. It’s proof that the jokes we’re told as kids don’t always stay in the past — they sneak into the way we value ourselves and each other long into adulthood.
Keep Your Back-Handed Compliments
Hear us out. Those nicknames masquerading as compliments — “Chocolate,” “Caramel,” “Cocoa,” and every other edible descriptor you can think of. Sure, they might sound cute on the surface, but being reduced to a flavor or a shade of brown can be awkward and downright weird. Over time, those little “endearments” pile up, a constant reminder that your skin is something to be commented on, not just seen, or appreciated.
And our favorite back-handed comment? “You’re so pretty for a dark-skinned girl!” I’m telling you now — wrap it up. It’s a statement meant to pass as praise, but what it really says is, your beauty is an exception, not the rule. Every time we hear it, it shows that our worth is still measured against a lighter standard, turning a supposed compliment into another checkmark for colorism. Can you tell we’re tired?
Hurt People, Hurt People
Then there’s the harsher truth: hurt people hurt people. The colorism we live with didn’t just appear out of thin air — it’s tied to centuries of racism, from slavery and Jim Crow to the ways we were forced to be ranked and pitted against each other. Think of the “house Negro” versus the “field Negro,” all wrapped up in divisive language meant to separate us.
Mind you, the teasing became so heavily ingrained in our culture that we gave it a name and made it a genre. Roasting, flaming, ribbing — whatever you call it in your region — we’ve adapted that pain, and perhaps unintentionally, turned it on each other. Now, we know they did that to us, but why are we doing it to one another?
Perhaps this is how we’ve created a generation where millions of people resonate with a dark-skinned Black woman being shocked that a Black man actually found her attractive. In what reality would that actually be shocking, or gain millions of views? Unless, we’ve spiraled so deep into toxic behavior that we’ve started believing the lies about our own worth — and worse, letting them shape how we treat each other.
It’s time we reflect on how colorism really affects us, our self-worth, and the way we show up in the world. Acknowledging that history is the messy first step to understanding why the cycle keeps on repeating. Only then, can we start having the honest, uncomfortable conversations we’ve been avoiding for far too long.
Straight From 
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