6 Conversations about Colorism in the Outdoors
A few years ago, outdoor advertising looked a lot whiter than it does today. When outdoor DEI advocates made an attempt to hold outdoor brands accountable for their unwillingness to work with POC models, the response was often defensiveness. Brands would emphasize they did work with a (single) model of color, couldn’t we see? No we literally couldn’t. At the time, many brands thought their responsibility began and ended with hiring one white-passing outdoor model of color. And isn’t that we wanted? Surely they couldn’t be expected to do more than that?
As MBC writer Amath Diouf recently pointed out, if you think choosing to work exclusively with light skinned and white passing people of color is equivalent to supporting Black, Indigenous, Asian and Latinx people in the outdoors, you are sorely mistaken. That’s not anti racism. That’s colorism.
If you only work with outdoor models who have light skin, loose curl patterns or straight hair, you are supporting colorism. Hey stylists and creative directors, if you ask dark-skinned models to straighten their 4c hair for the shoot, you are racist. If you prefer working with non-Black POC and non-Indigenous POC athletes who don’t speak up against racism, you are perpetuating anti-Asian hate, anti-Blackness and anti-Indigeneity.
If you are a dark-skinned person in the outdoors wondering where your representation is at, we feel you. If you are a dark-skinned person in the outdoors who feels invisible even though you are hyper-visible in your predominantly white outdoor community. We see you and we feel your pain.
When brands default to colorism, the message they send is that our value is determined by our proximity to whiteness. They are comfortable with POC who look more like them—whom they see as less threatening, more attractive, more marketable, or a better ‘cultural fit’ than dark-skinned people of color. We’re not just talking about Black folks; if you are a dark-skinned person of Asian, Afro-Latinx, SWANA or Indigenous descent, you have surely felt the absence of representation and the effects of being stereotyped for your skin color.
“There is such thing as a more acceptable Black person. As a dark skinned Black woman who is also a hijabi, and also African, I am never that person.”
Black neuroscientist and climber Mélise Edwards has written at length about the privilege she possesses as a light-skinned Black woman and sponsored athlete in the climbing industry. And if you look at any given hashtag on Instagram, including #MelaninBaseCamp and #DiversifyOutdoors, the accounts with the highest numbers of followers are typically run by people with lighter skin. How do we break the cycle of colorism — which is harmful to both dark-skinned and light-skinned people of color? We don’t have all the answers, but talking about it is a good place to start.
Keep scrolling for six different conversations around colorism at home and in the outdoor community.
1. Mardi Fuller
Mardi Fuller is a Communications Director for a nonprofit in Boston. She enjoys hiking, backpacking, swimming, paddling, nordic skiing and ice climbing and identifies as Black American and West Indian. After initially growing up in a racially diverse area north of NYC, her family moved to a very white suburb where she was one of three Black people in her entire school. “It was at that point that I became super aware of my Blackness,” said Fuller.
“We—people of every race—have these deeply held, unconscious and unexamined beliefs that light or white is better...”
Her parents are Jamaican. “They grew up in a Black country and they didn’t know much about Black American history and culture,” Fuller added. “My Blackness was very Jamaican and not very American. It was all very confusing. It wasn’t until high school that I started to notice differences between how lighter-skinned black people and darker skinned black people were treated.”
As she grew older, she came to realize how much colorism influenced her life—even when it was difficult to parse from the racism she experienced as a Black woman. “Dark skinned people—especially women, are considered less attractive because of how we all have been socialized,” said Fuller. “We—people of every race—have these deeply held, unconscious and unexamined beliefs that light or white is better; straighter hair is more attractive; more European looking features, a narrower nose and smaller lips are more attractive. That became clear to me in college, that oh, I’m dark. This is going to go a little differently for me.”
Colorism and racism have also impacted her experience in the outdoors and in the backcountry. “I get questions about my preparedness, do you have a headlamp, do you know where you are?” explained Fuller. “However, if I’m with white friends, they validate me to other white people.”
At the same time, Fuller acknowledged, growing up in a white suburb privileged her in certain ways. “There are ways I can assimilate into white culture,” said Fuller. “It’s not exactly colorism but proximity to whiteness. I can code switch into their ways of talking and being and I think that relaxes white people.”
Up until the last couple of years, Fuller has always only been the only Black person she’s seen in the northeast hiking and paddling. That has also meant dealing with the lack of community on top of microaggressions and more deliberate racist acts. Unlike her white peers, spending time in the backcountry has typically involved a choice between spending time in the Black community or pursuing her passion in the outdoors. “There’s absolutely an opportunity cost,” Fuller explained. “I haven’t spent that time being nurtured by the Black community. It’s a little bit painful to think about that.”
That changed recently, after she began volunteering with Outdoor Afro, a nation-wide nonprofit for Black hikers and naturalists. Being around other people who look like her and who share her interests in the outdoors has been incredibly fulfilling. “We’re creating culture, self determining, doing it our own way,” said Fuller excitedly. “It’s given me vision for what can be. It’s a reminder to myself and others that we are as much a part of nature as any other person. My advice to other dark skinned people of color is to keep looking to find your joy and don’t be deterred.”
2. Vanessa Chavarriaga
Vanessa Chavarriaga identifies as a mixed race Colombiana with brown skin. She is an environmental sociologist and a graduate student at the University of Wyoming. Her favorite activities are downhill skiing, trail running and foraging for mushrooms. We spoke by phone briefly before she departed on a 3-wk backpacking trip in Utah.
“Colorism is so prevalent in Colombian culture that I grew up surrounded by it but never knew it was there,” said Chavarriaga, who recalled being referred to affectionately as La Negra growing up. Her brown skin was a focal point for many relatives who either fetishized her looks or warned her to stay out of the sun so that she wouldn’t get any darker.
“If I’m benefiting from a system because of my Latinx identity, it’s at the expense of someone else who is more marginalized. ”
“I didn’t realize that was colorism because I was taught to believe we didn’t have that problem,” said Chavarriaga. “I immigrated to the US when I was 8 years old and suddenly everyone wanted to know what I was. That’s when I realized I didn’t look the same as my white relatives.”
In the U.S., she lived in mostly white areas and attended predominantly white schools. She described the experience as both harmful to her identity but also a privilege to be in proximity to whiteness. The experience was also eye-opening. “I didn’t realize colorism was a problem in Latinx culture until I left it and assimilated into white culture and realized I wasn’t white,” Chavarriaga recalled.
After attending college in Mexico, she gained insight into how skin color is rewarded or punished economically. “I realized that those with power and privilege had lighter skin and those doing working class jobs with limited benefits had darker skin,” said Chavarriaga. She returned to the U.S., further resolved to speak out against a system that both privileges and discriminates against her. The more she researched, the more she realized that “our systems in Latin America and in the US are rooted in white supremacy and anti-blackness and anti-indigeneity.”
The hardest part has been talking to Latinx friends and family about colorism. “The Latinx identity has been a huge mess since its inception in the US,” she explained. “Everyone believes it to be very monolithic. White Latinx people become the spokespeople for the entire community which continues to erase the presence and existence of Black Latinx people who exist and aren’t being heard.”
Chavarriaga discussed the challenge of convincing White and non-Black Latinx—who face discrimination within the U.S.—that they are also contributing to the oppression of others through perpetuating colorism and anti-Blackness. “I think people are so situated in the identity of being an oppressed person,” she said. “They see that as being invalidated when someone calls them out for being an oppressor. However, these systems are capitalist in that there always has to be a winner and a loser. If I’m benefiting from a system because of my Latinx identity, it’s at the expense of someone else who is more marginalized.
The end result is a resistance to change. “People get really defensive,” she explained. “They think they can only be one thing and therefore feel as if I’m invalidating their lived experiences.” The truth is more complex. She identifies her own immigrant experience as both a source of trauma and a marker of privilege. “I don’t face any repercussions in terms of my safety for speaking up,” she added, unlike marginalized Black and Indigenous communities in Colombia.
She is invested in continuing to have difficult conversations about colorism with friends and family with a focus on empathy and active listening. “Anti-blackness hurts all of us,” said Chavarriaga. “Until Black people are liberated, nobody will be. I don’t blame people for not knowing about this, I blame them for inaction once they know.”
3. Dr. Swati Varshney
Dr. Swati Varshney is a competitive skydiver with a doctorate in materials science and engineering from MIT. She has 10 years in the sport and approximately 900 skydives. We spoke by phone about her experiences as a medium-skinned South Asian woman.
“I always grew up knowing that I was Indian and that I had brown skin,” said Dr. Varshney. “I remember an incident during recess in third grade. I wanted to join a group that was playing tag and one of the girls looked over at me and said, ‘we don’t play with Black people, you can’t play with us.’ I remember thinking that, ‘first of all I’m not Black, but also, that’s racist.’
Growing up as a brown-skinned South Asian also meant figuring out cultural norms and mixed messaging. “I do remember being generally told, ‘don’t spend too much time in the sun, you don’t want to get too dark,’” she recollected. At the same time, her family never pushed her to use skin lightening agents or to get lighter. “I know that does happen within the South Asian community, but it didn’t occur within my family,” said Dr. Varshney, who spent a lot of time outdoors participating in sports like cross-country during high school. “But you start to internalize what you see; watching Bollywood movies where all the actresses are super super light-skinned, with very few medium-skinned actresses and hardly any with dark skin—you do grow up thinking that lighter skin is the ideal.”
“ I remember thinking that, ‘first of all I’m not Black, but also, ‘that’s racist.’”
“Preserving your lightness or your fairness,” was a message she carried with her, even if she’s not sure how exactly it has impacted her sense of self. “I absolutely am aware that because of my skin color I stick out like a sore thumb within the skydiving community—based purely on what I look like—and how that changes the interactions that people may have with me,” said Dr. Varshney. She has navigated predominantly white spaces her entire life. “Growing up, I had the mindset of trying to blend in and minimize difference,” Dr. Varshney explained. “As I’ve gotten older, I really celebrate what makes me different; that includes taking aspects of my culture that I enjoy and carrying on with them.”
4. Aissatu Diop
Aissatu Diop is a college student at the University of Pennsylvania studying international studies and business. One of her favorite outdoor activities is modeling. Rowing is a close second. She identifies as a dark-skinned Senegalese woman, Muslimah, hijabi and the daughter of immigrants. “I experience colorism with all of my intersecting identities—with other Senegalese, with other Africans, within the immigrant community, within Muslim spaces and amongst other Black women,” said Diop.
Her earliest memory related to skin color occurred in second or third grade when a friend’s older sibling called Diop “dark and ugly.” “I remember how it made me feel,” she recalled. “When we’re young we go about life and we don’t really worry about how we look. I think that was the first time I began to formulate these questions about what does my skin color mean and how do other people perceive me?
Even though she doesn’t recall the experience as being particularly traumatic, things only got worse in middle school. Students made derogatory comments about her skin color that typically began with ‘Africans are so dark’ or ‘oh, you’re so dark.’ Diop associated the colorism she experienced with being bullied for being African, however, that changed after a trip to Senegal in 2015.
“Depending on the space, I may be experiencing racism or colorism or xenophobia—especially if other Black people are being treated normally—or Islamophobia—or any combination”
“Going to Africa and still hearing those comments, I realized this isn’t just about me being African,” said Diop. That summer she witnessed skin lightening for the first time and dealt with more jokes about her dark skin from relatives to include being explicitly told that she would be so much prettier if she were lighter-skinned.
“My cousins explained that here [in Senegal] people consider lighter skin to be prettier,” Diop recollected. “I was like, wow, this is a country full of Black people and somehow skin color is still relevant.” The experience was eye-opening. “In America when I experienced colorism, I had associated it with being bullied for being African,” she reasoned. “Going to Africa and still hearing those comments, I realized this wasn’t just about me being African.”
After returning home, Diop made colorism the focus of her senior research project. She realized that, although she had long associated colorism only with America’s history, it was also tied to colonization—which explained why, in French-speaking Senegal, “just like we see in America, lighter-skinned Black women are praised and darker-skinned people are seen as less civilized.” The more she researched, the more validated she felt. Being able to finally put a term to what she had experienced her entire life was freeing.
Colorism is still something she faces as a darker skinned black person in a predominantly white institution. Even amongst other Black students, Diop is hyper-visible. “There is such thing as a more acceptable Black person,” she explained. “As a dark skinned Black woman who is also a hijabi, and also African, I am never that person.”
The discrimination she faces as an individual with multiple marginalized identities can make it more difficult to fight back. “Depending on the space, I may be experiencing racism or colorism or xenophobia—especially if other Black people are being treated normally—or Islamophobia—or any combination,” Diop explained.
Her strategy for dealing with colorism is to seek out people and create community where she feels accepted. “I surround myself with people who don’t make me feel like I need to hide aspects of my identity,” said Diop. “I think there is so much value in finding safe spaces, in finding people you relate to who understand your identities or experiences.”
Safe spaces are often criticized—ironically, by those who have always had the privilege to be surrounded by people who look and think and act like them. However, Diop sees the value inherent in not having to put in a ton of energy to “sit and explain that racism or colorism is a thing I deal with and this is how it manifests.” It doesn’t mean she’s withdrawing from the world where she faces discrimination. It does mean she’s found ways to protect her mental and emotional health as she continues to educate people on the harm caused by colorism.
“Many of my core friends are dark-skinned African women,” Diop explained. “There's a lot of value in having your experience validated and feeling like you’re not alone. I can go to them and talk about what I’m experiencing freely, without being made to feel like I’m imagining things or that I’m the problem.”
5. Dr. Sarah Webb
Dr. Sarah Webb is an Assistant Professor of English & Modern Languages at the University of Illinois at Springfield. She’s also a well-known expert on the subject of colorism with over 12k followers on TikTok, where her videos on the subject are reaching a fast-growing audience. Her earliest memory related to colorism occurred during a visit with relatives. She remembers that her extended family was quick to compliment the physical appearance of her older sister, who is several shades lighter.
“I noticed they weren’t saying anything about me,’” Dr. Webb recalled. “[My mother] overheard me saying to myself, ‘that’s because she’s light skinned.’ To be able to articulate that at age 5 meant I must have been conscious of that pattern at a much younger age.” The pattern she’s referencing is the ingrained habit of rewarding or fetishizing light skin, “good hair” and Eurocentric features that is common in the African American community. It’s a form of mejorando la raza that has its origins in slavery, the rape of enslaved West African women and the preferential treatment that their enslaved offspring received.
“ If you acknowledge that you aren’t at the very bottom, you must also acknowledge that you are benefiting in some way from the social hierarchy—even if you still experience racism or discrimination.”
Her advocacy is driven by the desire to do for the world what she wishes someone had done for her at a young age. That means addressing internalized anti-blackness and helping others do the same. Despite growing up as a dark-skinned Black woman and dealing with everything from rude comments about her hair and skin color to more insidious forms of racism and colorism, the trigger for her was teaching high school. “I noticed my students were making comments expressing negative attitudes towards their own dark skin and other people’s dark skin,” Dr. Webb recalled. “I saw it wasn’t about me and my experiences, this issue was going to affect the next generation.”
She also speaks and writes about the challenges of talking to friends and family about colorism. Black people and non-Black people of color can face enormous pushback from those who are unwilling to admit that they benefit from light skin privilege and anti-Blackness. “Privilege is derived from proximity to whiteness,” Dr. Webb explained. “We’ve created a society where whiteness is at the top of the hierarchy. If you acknowledge that you aren’t at the very bottom, you must also acknowledge that you are benefiting in some way from the social hierarchy—even if you still experience racism or discrimination.”
Dr. Webb also believes that when people of color deny their own light skin privilege, they may be experiencing powerful feelings of guilt and shame. “You’re basically asking people to reconceive who they are in a sense,” said Dr. Webb. One way to prevent the conversation from stalling is to de-emphasize fault and to emphasize responsibility. “It’s not your fault that society is constructed the way it is, but it is your responsibility to do what you can once you come to that awareness,” Dr. Webb suggested.
You can find more resources at colorismhealing.com.
6. Nirvana Ortanez
Nirvana Ortanez is a Filipina marketing assistant for a large outdoor brand and a former professional snowboarder. She grew up in Southern California in Mission Beach, San Diego with her parents and brother. “I was pretty aware that I was born lighter than my brother,” said Ortanez who described her skin color as tan. “I never really understood what that meant until I was an adult.”
Growing up, comments about skin color came from the older generation and never from her parents. Relatives “would make remarks about how he was darker and there was an undertone that it was unfortunate,” said Ortanez. “There’s a big root of colorism within our culture.” Despite this, she grew up snowboarding, surfing and spending a lot of time outdoors—something her parents highly encouraged. “I remember my grandma asking me why I spent so much time in the sun and why was I so dark,” Ortanez recalled. It was a comment she easily shrugged off at the time.
“The whole stereotype of Asians being polite or keeping your head down—those are things I’ve done. I feel, especially with Soy Sauce Nation and snowboarding, it’s like, ‘no, I don’t want to be quiet about those things anymore.”
She and her brother attended mostly white schools in affluent neighborhoods where they were always one of a handful of Filipinx kids. In her friend group she was typically the only Filipina. “When I was younger, I didn’t realize I was different,” she recollected.
She was 15 or 16 and had just won a snowboarding competition when her dad told her point blank that sponsorships would be difficult for her to obtain because she wasn’t blonde or white. “I remember him saying that it would be really hard to get paid to do this professionally because I wasn’t considered to be marketable,” Ortanez recalled.
At that moment, her reaction was ‘no, you don’t know anything.’ She kept going, however, the conversation stuck with her. Looking back, she now understands that “he was warning me that it would be challenging,” said Ortanez. Much later, she experienced the discrimination he had alluded to while competing at a World Cup for the opportunity to represent the Phillipines in the 2014 Sochi Olympics. The experience was far from what she had expected. She remembers not being taken seriously by the other competitors. “They paint this sense of unity and camaraderie within sports that just wasn’t present,” said Ortanez.
At the time, her determination to become a professional snowboarder meant overlooking discrimination in a sport that is far from diverse. Things changed when she met Andrew “AK” Kelly at High Cascade Snowboarding Camp in Oregon. They locked eyes a half second after AK made a joke about being ‘the only Asian’ during staff introductions and soon afterwards a friendship was born. In 2012, they founded Soy Sauce Nation, an affinity group celebrating snowboarders of Asian descent.
“Meeting AK and realizing that there are people who look like us—and seeing them all together, was an awakening,” said Ortanez. For members, that has included swapping stories about being a transracial adoptee or the only Asian in their group of friends or the only Asian snowboarder. It caused her to realize that “unless you have parents or a friend introducing you to snowboarding—or other extreme sports, there are significant barriers to entry.”
In the past 10 years, Soy Sauce Nation has also been a public declaration of racial pride, friendship and community building around a shared identity—and while Asian pro-snowboarders like Chloe Kim, Hailey Langland and Miles Fallon have grabbed headlines and titles, recently, the sport remains very white with significant financial and cultural barriers.
Recent headlines of anti-Asian violence and hate crimes have also reinforced the need for safe spaces like Soy Sauce Nation. “Sometimes I feel super helpless,” Ortanez admitted. “The whole stereotype of Asians being polite or keeping your head down—those are things I’ve done. I feel, especially with Soy Sauce Nation and snowboarding, it’s like, ‘no,’ I don’t want to be quiet about those things anymore.’” Soy Sauce Nation is not only empowering, it has helped evolve her perspective as a minority within the sport. “I understand now that people need other people who look like them to think that they can succeed in a space,” said Ortanez.
Check out these colorism resources:
Colorism in the Black community
theguardian.com/membership/2019/nov/02/colourism-shades-of-black-series-race-issue
theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2019/apr/18/shades-of-black-how-readers-responded-colorism
Colorism & anti-blackness in the South Asian & Southeast Asian community
nbcnews.com/think/opinion/skin-lightening-south-asia-why-we-have-anti-blackness-problem-ncna1233549
bbc.com/future/article/20200818-colourism-in-india-the-people-fighting-light-skin-bias
colorlines.com/articles/south-asians-are-celebrating-their-melanin-unfairandlovely-and-its-beautiful
browngirlmagazine.com/2018/03/colorism/
nytimes.com/2020/06/28/world/asia/india-skin-color-unilever.html
vogue.com/article/skin-lightening-risks-asian-beauty-market
Colorism & anti-blackness in the East Asian community
voguebusiness.com/beauty/beauty-brands-in-asia-built-on-racist-stereotypes-what-now
phys.org/news/2020-03-skin-tone-scars-asian-americans.html
onourterms.barnard.edu/article/white-and-beautiful/
Colorism & mejorando la raza in the Latinx community
huffingtonpost.com/maria-alejandra-casalehardin-/mejorar-la-raza-an-exampl_b_7558892.html
washingtonpost.com/opinions/2020/07/28/latinos-can-be-racist-too-my-community-shows-how/
embracingdiversity.us/colorism-in-the-latino-community-impact/
Colorism & anti-blackness in Indigenous communities
journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/0002764218810751
umanitoba.ca/faculties/social_work/media/v4i1-07weaver.pdf
elle.com.au/amp/news/colourism-meaning-23690
Colorism & anti-blackness in South West Asia & North Africa (SWANA) communities
latimes.com/world-nation/story/2020-06-22/racism-in-middle-east-highlighted-after-george-floyd-death
goodmorningamerica.com/style/story/bleaching-syndrome-afro-arab-woman-explores-trauma-skin-72348920
en.vogue.me/culture/vogue-investigates-racism-middle-east/
mvslim.com/where-are-the-dark-skinned-models-is-there-anti-blackness-in-the-muslim-fashion-industry/
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