Skin Nuba

In Benin, painful cutting and scarring of the skin leaves interesting patterns that signify adulthood. ➡ Subscribe: About National Geographic: National Geographic is the world's premium destination for science, exploration, and adventure. Through their world-class scientists, photographers, journalists, and filmmakers, Nat Geo gets you closer to the stories that matter and past the edge of what's possible. Get More National Geographic: Official Site: Facebook: Twitter: Instagram: Scarification National Geographic National Geographic.

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“Oprah is my idol.” Natalina Yacoub giggles when she talks, and her bursts of laughter are infectious. Stylish in her big hoop earrings and close-cropped blond hair, the 25-year-old exudes confidence — a confidence that has served her well in the seemingly impossible endeavor she’s taken on. Yacoub is a — named Sudan’s Miss Nuba Mountains in 2014 — and her triumph wasn’t merely over the 24 other contestants, but over something more profound: the deeply ingrained in Sudanese society. She is a dark-skinned woman challenging a culture that promotes light skin as the female standard of beauty. In some African countries, as many as of women regularly use skin-lightening products. These products — available in stores, without a prescription — typically contain mercury, an ingredient that can cause serious health effects ranging from skin rashes and discoloration to scarring and kidney damage.

Some skin-bleaching creams contain hydroquinone, a chemical found to have cancer-causing properties. Still, with a global market estimated at $10 billion, it is a rapidly growing segment of the beauty industry.

Natalina Yacoub speaks three languages, including Arabic, has launched a fashion line and is working on a master’s degree. Source It wasn’t always so. The popularity of skin-lightening products — found in countries as far-flung as Brazil, India, China and the U.S. — is a relatively recent phenomenon. Hala al-Karib, director at the Strategic Initiative for Women in the Horn of Africa, points to the 1980s, when globalization and sociopolitical change encouraged countries once proud of their diverse, tribal heritages to adopt a more homogeneous mindset. In Sudan, especially, the proximity to the Arabian Peninsula had a pronounced effect — shifting a country built on blended cultures toward one where diversity was seen as undesirable.

To al-Karib, the trend is alarming. “People want to be Arab-looking to imitate what they see on their TV screens. Women have abandoned our traditional Sudanese tobe [body wrap] and are wearing black Arabian abayas,” she says. “This is not us. Moving away from our Africanness brings with it a dangerous inauthenticity.

We have an identity crisis.”. Skin bleaching has become so common, Yacoub says, that she was even asked at the beauty pageant: “Why didn’t you change your skin color?” “At first I was cheeky and said to the judge, ‘Why didn’t YOU?’” Then she responded: “Because my.” A staggering number of Sudanese women are broadcasting a different message. In a 2016, 89 percent said they know the health dangers posed by skin lighteners, and 87 percent said they would still use them.

Their reasons? To attract men, to look pretty, to gain self-confidence. One-third of respondents said simply: “Because white skin is more attractive than black skin.” For meaningful change to happen, it must come from the grassroots, from the lower-class working women for whom bleaching is about survival more than just beauty. Hala al-Karib, director, Strategic Initiative for Women in the Horn of Africa Born to a family with 12 children, Yacoub moved to the capital, Khartoum, at an early age. At university, she studied management, played on the basketball team and delivered the commencement speech at graduation. “My late father,” she says, “always told me I was special, that I’d be someone important one day. I took that to heart.” Winning the pageant — she attended the annual Nuba cultural festival and entered on a whim — gave Yacoub instant visibility.