I'm a Black Woman and I Just Want a Damn BB Cream

Illustration for article titled I'm a Black Woman and I Just Want a Damn BB Cream

The term African-American irks me. Yes, I know my ancestors are from Africa, but supposedly, Becky, yours are too. My white friends aren’t referred to as Irish-American or Italian-American, so I’ve never quite understood why the politically correct word for black people is African-American.


My grandfather is Chinese, the last three generations of my paternal family originate from South America, my great great grandfather was half Jewish and half Jamaican and born in Nicaragua, and his wife was half Spanish and half Native-American. The term is confusing, and I think it leads a lot of consumer brands to oversimplify and mistakenly lump together the various shades and textures that black skin comes in.

This is especially problematic for the beauty industry.

I’m a person who buys into hype. If there’s a new product, song, restaurant or store I’m there to try it out and give my two cents. As someone who’s always been obsessed with beauty and beauty products, this naturally means that I hopped on the whole BB cream craze that started last year, and is continuing this year with CC cream.

But why do all of these creams — despite being offered by so many brands — come in only two to five shades? Let me tell you, none of these work for my black skin tone. Even my favorite mainstream brands for ethnic skins, like Bobbi Brown and MAC Cosmetics, don’t have a shade that matches my skin tone. I admit that I haven’t tried every single BB or CC cream out there, but I shouldn’t have to search high and low for a product that is offered by every brand.

Bobbi Brown’s darkest BB cream shade is called Medium to Dark. It’s not. I have friends who are darker than me, and can only imagine what this cream would do to them when it makes me look ashy.

I was so excited to buy this product that one day I went to three different department stores (Bloomingdale’s, Saks and Nordstrom), only to find out that they were sold out in all shades. When my mom was finally able to get her hands on one of these pricy little tubes, I was so excited to use the product that for a week I went around town ignoring how ridiculous the light shade made me look.

My mom finally set me straight — “Sade, that color is not working for you.” MAC’s BB creams come in three shades, the darkest being “Light Plus.” What the hell is that?!? Who is “Light Plus” for? Certainly not for me.


BB and CC creams are not the only culprit though. Yves Saint Laurent’s cult favoriteTouch Éclat concealer also does not come in my shade. It’s the chicest little wand, it’s touted in every major magazine and it’s one of the brand’s best selling products ever.

No matter how many times I tried it on in the store as a teenager, even in dreary of winter months, their darkest color would not match my skin tone. They finally added a Toffee shade, and most recently a Mocha. However, it still doesn’t quite work for my skin tone, and they have 10 shades for Caucasian women ranging from ivory to vanilla to peach! What about honey, brown and mahogany? Don’t those colors matter? Don’t I matter? Hello-o!


In the case of BB creams, most of them have some sort of SPF protection, and like most other skin products (foundations, primers and concealers), they have titanium dioxide in them. Titanium dioxide, also known as titanium white, can turn black skin a gray, ashy color when applied. This naturally occurring oxide of titanium is chemically processed to remove impurities, and what’s left is a white powder. See the problem?

Mainstream products are just not made for people with darker skin.

Look, as black women, we’re used to not being fairly represented in the media and other things. I’m used to Band-aids and mannequins that don’t match my skin, but can’t a girl get some BB cream?


I’m not saying I can never find a great concealer, foundation or tinted moisturizer. Like I said, Bobbi Brown and MAC are usually my go-to brands for skin products, and most recently NARS. In general, these companies stock a wide array of colors and I can usually find something (though not all of my friends can).

And yes, there are companies that cater specifically to black women, such as IMAN and black | Up cosmetics, but these brands aren’t carried everywhere and can be hard to find. Plus, they’re not regularly featured in mainstream magazines, and don’t usually make Allure’s Best of Beauty lists, so it’s hard to know when they have a new product out or what’s good.


Some brands that are carried in specialty beauty retailers like Sephora or ULTA that have a good selection of color are Make Up For Ever andsmashbox, but these stores aren’t in every city. For instance, neither chain has a store in Detroit, MI or Memphis, TN, both cities with large black populations.

And when brands like Giorgio Armani or Tom Ford do have a good hue selection for foundation, they usually fall short in other departments like powder or concealer. One dark color — or one broad term like “deep” — wedged on the end of a cosmetics tray does not apply to all black women.


Like the rest of America, and the world, we’re multi-cultural, and our skin comes in many shades. I’m not trying to be cheesy, but our skin tone really does vary. Don’t forget us when creating beauty products.

I’m not bitter. This really all started because I wanted some BB cream. However, while on my hunt, which failed miserably, I was reminded of all the other beauty products I wanted to use but couldn’t. Why does the beauty industry, and the BB community especially, ignore us black women?


I get that we may not, on the whole, have the same purchasing power as our Caucasian counterparts, and that we do make up a lot less of the population, but please expand your BB offerings. Let’s start there, and maybe the rest will follow.

This post originally appeared on xoJane. Republished with permission.



Oh black people in the Americas...honest question, why is everyone opposed to the idea of being called 'African'? Is this somehow related to that quote from Hotel Rwanda where the white colonel goes, " You're black. You're not even a nigger. You're an African." alluding to the idea that Africans are the lowest on the 'black totem pole'? Like, if African countries become richer/more economically influential in the next few years, will it be okay to be called an 'African- x' just as Asian descendants are called an 'Asian-x' etc? It's interesting- I've had American blacks and Jamaican Americans who eat similar foods as Nigerian me, listen to similar music as Nigerian me and hell even speak similarly to Nigerian me (patois sounds suspiciously like pidgin at times) which to me screams of our common African ancestry who vehemently disavow being called African like it's some sort of insult. Why is this? Especially given that in this case the author's name is Sade, a common Yoruba/Nigerian/African name...

Anywho, long discourse aside, may I suggest Fashion Fair make up from Macy's? It's brilliant and they have a wide array of shades for brown skinned people of African(?) descent.