A Sunday View From a Pew: Colorism: The Racism We Practice on Each Other

Allow me talk to somebody who knows what it feels like to be judged before you even open your mouth—judged not by strangers, not by enemies, but by your own people. We don’t like to talk about it, but colorism is still alive and well in the Black community. It’s that quiet storm that keeps brewing even when the sun is shining. It’s the whisper that says lighter is better, darker is too much, and somehow our shades determine our worth.

Some folks say, “Don’t bring it up, you’ll divide us.” But tell me—since when has ignoring a wound ever healed it? Since when has silence saved anybody? We can’t shout “Black Lives Matter” in the streets but refuse to confront the prejudices living rent-free in our own hearts. Unity built on denial is not unity. It’s a fragile truce waiting to break.

The truth is this: when the call is coming from inside the house, we must not waver. Accountability is not betrayal. Correction is not condemnation. And facing our own biases doesn’t weaken us—it strengthens us.

Our story is layered, just like we are. We can be oppressed in one area and privileged in another. Poor white folks struggle financially but still benefit from whiteness. Rich Black folks face racism but still hold economic privilege over our brothers and sisters in poverty. And yes, some light-skinned Black folks experience racism but still receive benefits that their darker-skinned kin do not.

And here’s a truth we don’t often say out loud: colorism even once permeated our Divine Nine organizations—those sacred, historic institutions built to uplift us. There was a time when certain sororities and fraternities had quiet, unspoken “preferences” for lighter skin, looser hair, or certain facial features. These were the echoes of trauma we inherited, not traditions rooted in love. Yet even in those spaces, we have seen growth, reflection, and transformation—proof that honest change is possible when we are willing to confront the truth.

But the moment you mention privilege, here comes the defensiveness. The folded arms. The “not me.” The “I’m just blessed.” Defensiveness shuts down dialogue, and dialogue is the only way we grow.

Colorism isn’t new. It’s an old demon with a new wardrobe.

It was born during slavery, raised during Jim Crow, and passed down like unwanted inheritance. We know the stories:
• House versus field.
• The brown paper bag test.
• The comb test.
• The doors we couldn’t walk through, even in our own institutions.

And today, it still shows up:
• In who gets hired.
• In who gets cast.
• In who gets arrested.
• In who gets loved.
• In who gets affirmed.

Dark-skinned children carrying wounds they never earned. Light-skinned children carrying guilt they didn’t ask for. Families still comparing babies in the delivery room. Adults still saying “she’s cute to be dark” and thinking it’s a compliment.

But hear me: this is not who we have to remain.

We can talk about this without tearing each other down. We can confront this without condemning one another. We can heal this without hiding.

So, here’s the truth:

We cannot afford to fight racism on the outside while nurturing colorism on the inside.

It’s hard enough fighting the world—we don’t need to be wounding each other.

Healing starts at home.
• It starts with honest conversations.
• It starts with challenging old sayings and outdated beliefs.
• It starts with affirming every shade—from the deepest mahogany to the lightest caramel.
• It starts with loving ourselves the way God made us, fearfully and wonderfully, purposefully and beautifully.

Because God didn’t make a mistake with a single shade of Blackness.

We are a tapestry, not a hierarchy.
A spectrum, not a ranking.
A masterpiece, not a competition.

And the sooner we confront the truth, the sooner we can walk in unity—not pretend unity, not cosmetic unity—but real, liberated, soul-deep unity.

My prayer is simple:
May we learn to see each other the way God sees us.
May we learn to love each other the way we say we love our people.
And may we stop dimming the lights on one another when God created us to shine—every shade, every hue, every beautiful inch.

Hopefully you can move forward knowing this truth:
Healing begins when honesty enters the room.

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