Indian origin actress Avantika Vandanapu (who stars in Mean Girls) recently spoke out about the topic in a magazine interview. “I have definitely always felt uglier in India than I have here,” she said. “The colourism situation is primarily one of the biggest reasons why.” Growing up, the media she watched failed to portray people who looked like her.

“As a woman, it is difficult to be heard. But when you are a black (dark-skinned) woman, you are invisible.” So said Kerala’s Chief Secretary Sarada Muraleedharan in response to a minister's jibe. Her statement proved again that India's long-standing obsession with fair skin is alive and thriving.

“I’m South Indian, and there’s this perception that North Indian women are more beautiful than South Indian women,” she said. “And the South Indian women who do reach insane levels of success in India are very light-skinned... some have become lighter skinned.”

This fascination with light skin is not new. It has been simmering away for centuries like a stubborn curry that refuses to come off the bottom of the pan.

It has driven social prejudices, fuelled a multi-billion-dollar beauty industry, and led to an extraordinary number of Bollywood songs rhyming ‘gori’ (fair) with newfangled words when the lyricist ran out of options. Despite modern awareness campaigns, this deep-rooted bias persists... lurking in matrimonial ads, workplace hiring decisions, and the despairing sighs of well-meaning aunties who lament, “She would be so much prettier if only she were a little fairer.”

The Roots of Colourism in India:

When the British finally packed up and left in 1947, one might have hoped that their departure would also end the colour bias. The damage was done, however. Whiteness had been firmly established as the aesthetic gold standard, and the desire for fair skin continued to flourish, thanks in no small part to a flourishing cosmetics industry.

The preference for light skin in India is a complex beast with many origins. Some trace it back to ancient texts, where gods were described as glowing and luminous (because nothing says divine power like good lighting). Others point to the various waves of invaders (Persians, Mughals, British) who were, on average, a few shades lighter than the native population. These groups (particularly the British) formalized the skin-tone hierarchy by keeping fairer Indians in positions of privilege while relegating darker-skinned folks to lesser roles. The British even divided their settlements into “White Towns” and “Black Towns.”

The Multi-Billion Dollar Beauty Business:

Fast forward to today, and the Indian skincare market is worth over $21 billion, with fairness creams taking up a significant portion of the pie. These creams promise the impossible: fairness in just seven days, as if melanin were a mere suggestion rather than a genetic reality. In a particularly brazen marketing move in the early 2000s, Unilever launched a commercial that explicitly linked fair skin to job success, confidence, and social acceptability.

The backlash was immediate, with women’s organizations calling out the campaign’s blatant racism. Unilever pulled the ad but not the message. The underlying narrative (that whiter is better) continued in more subtle ways.

Despite dermatologists warning of the harmful effects of some skin-lightening products (including everything from skin damage to potential mercury poisoning) demand remains high. It seems no price is too great in the pursuit of an artificial glow.

The global skin-whitening industry is projected to reach a staggering $31.2 billion in 2024, fueled by an unrelenting desire for fairness. Indian consumers, eager to lighten their complexions, contribute a hefty sum to this total.

Bollywood and the ‘Gori’ Complex:

If you need proof of India’s colour bias, look no further than Bollywood. Fair-skinned actors dominate the industry, their complexions enhanced by bright lighting and a liberal application of foundation three shades too light. The industry’s love affair with fairness is immortalized in its music, with songs that endlessly praise ‘gori’ girls. From Gori Gori (2004) to Chittiyaan Kalaiyaan (2015), the message remains unchanged: fair skin is desirable, while darker shades are best left in the shadows.

Similarly, in Udta Punjab, Alia Bhatt’s character was artificially darkened to portray a Bihari labourer. That an entire country brimming with diverse skin tones cannot find darker-skinned actors for such roles is laughable.

Even the industry’s casting decisions betray its bias. When Hrithik Roshan played the dark-skinned mathematician Anand Kumar in Super 30, he was slathered in bronzer rather than, say, hiring an actor who actually looked the part.

When Colourism Turns Deadly:

It would be tempting to dismiss all of this as mere superficiality, until you realize that colour bias has led to tragic consequences. In April 2024, a man in Vijayawada poisoned his own daughter because she was born with dark skin. In 2018, a woman in Maharashtra poisoned family members after years of relentless taunts about her complexion. In 2014, a woman in Gurgaon took her own life after her husband ridiculed her for her dark skin.

These are not isolated incidents. Colourism in India has real, life-altering consequences. From job opportunities to marriage prospects, a darker skin tone can be a significant disadvantage in a country still clinging to outdated beauty ideals.

Voices Against the Bias:

Fortunately, a growing number of celebrities are speaking out against this obsession. Priyanka Chopra, who once endorsed fairness creams, later admitted she regretted it, revealing that she was frequently “lightened up” for films through makeup and lighting tricks. Actor Mithun Chakraborty has spoken about the challenges he faced due to his darker complexion, with people telling him outright that he wouldn’t survive in Bollywood.

Despite these voices, change is slow. Skin-lightening creams still fly off the shelves. Matrimonial ads still seek “fair brides.” Television screens still beam a steady stream of unnaturally pale actors. The wheels of progress, it seems, move at the speed of a particularly sluggish bullock cart.

Made In Heaven star Kalki Koechlin has pointed out that skin colour, more than nepotism, determines the kind of roles actors get in the industry.

So, where does that leave us? The obsession with fair skin in India is deeply ingrained, shaped by history, colonialism, capitalism, and cultural conditioning. Challenging it requires more than just social media outrage. It requires a fundamental shift in how we view beauty, success, and self-worth. The problem is not with the colour of our skin but with the deeply entrenched belief that fairness is the ultimate standard of attractiveness.

Perhaps, one day, Bollywood will embrace a heroine who isn’t required to be ‘fair and lovely.’ Perhaps, matrimonial ads will stop demanding ‘wheatish’ brides. And Indian society will realize that beauty isn’t about complexion, it’s about confidence, character, and a good sense of humour. Until then, expect more fairness creams, more bad Bollywood lyrics, and more baffling societal expectations.

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