In a dermatology clinic in Abuja, Nigeria, 52-year-old Susan Anderson sits quietly, scrolling through her phone, reflecting on the long-lasting effects of her decision to use skin-lightening products. Dark patches surround her eyes and cheeks, remnants of a painful journey that began when she was just 12 years old.
Anderson’s experience with skin bleaching began innocently when her stepmother gave her a cream, not explaining its purpose. Over time, her skin lightened, and as a teenager, she transitioned to stronger products, including the popular Dermovate, a whitening lotion recommended by her high school friends. “Within one week, I started seeing changes,” she recalls, describing the initial euphoria as her skin became noticeably lighter, earning her newfound attention, particularly from boys who had previously ignored her. “I felt happy. I felt I was looking more beautiful.”
However, the excitement was short-lived. As years went by and the products became more potent, Anderson’s skin began to show signs of damage. Blotches, freckles, and darkened knuckles appeared, but she continued to use the creams, hoping they would improve her skin’s appearance. After undergoing surgery for skin issues caused by the whitening creams, Anderson’s health took a severe hit. “I almost died at that point,” she says, fighting back tears.
By her mid-20s, the consequences of long-term use became undeniable. Her skin had become fragile and blotchy, and despite using more creams recommended by friends, her condition worsened. “I was going crazy,” she says, “using so many creams that people said would make it better, but it never did.”
Dr. Vivian Oputa, an aesthetic dermatologist, warns that the dangers of skin bleaching are far-reaching. “The steroids in these products are absorbed into the bloodstream, damaging internal organs like the kidneys and liver,” she explains. “They also thin the skin, making blood vessels more visible.” This destructive practice is not only prevalent among adults but also among newborns, whose parents bleach their skin to avoid darker complexions.
Skin bleaching is a multi-billion-dollar global industry, with sales expected to reach $15.7 billion by 2030. In Nigeria, this practice is widespread, with over three-quarters of Nigerian women having used skin-whitening products, according to the World Health Organization. The demand for lighter skin tones is deeply rooted in colonial-era beauty standards, associating fairness with higher status and attractiveness.
Zainab Bashir Yau, a licensed medical esthetician and founder of a dermatology clinic, highlights the lack of regulation in the country, making skin bleaching products readily available without prescription. “Anyone can walk into a pharmacy and buy these products without any oversight,” she says. The lack of control has contributed to the widespread use of dangerous products, including potent steroids that lighten skin but come with significant health risks.
One dangerous practice, known as “mixing,” involves combining different skin whitening products to intensify their effects. “Two people can use the same product, but one may mix it with other creams, making it even more harmful,” Bashir Yau explains.
At Sabon Gari market in Kano, a major hub for skin-whitening products, 29-year-old cosmetologist Shafari Mansur explains how customers, both men and women, come to his stall seeking customized whitening solutions. “They mix creams, soaps, and even injectables to achieve the perfect skin tone,” he says, offering a variety of products that promise to whiten skin.
Mansur admits, however, that the results of these treatments are temporary. “If you stop using them, you turn back to Black,” he warns, emphasizing that no cream can permanently alter one’s natural skin tone.
After nearly four decades of using whitening products, Susan Anderson began her treatment at DermaRX clinic in February 2024, desperate for a solution. Her skin had become thin, cracked, and unbearably itchy. “It was so difficult to stop,” she admits. “When you stop, your skin becomes darker than it was before.” Though her skin tone gradually returned to its natural state, it remains uneven and fragile. However, after a year of treatment, Anderson is hopeful. “I’m so, so grateful. It’s still difficult, but at least I feel better in myself,” she says.
Anderson’s story reflects a broader, troubling trend: skin bleaching remains an incredibly popular but dangerous practice in Nigeria, with severe physical and emotional consequences. As awareness of its risks grows, experts like Dr. Oputa and Bashir Yau are working to educate the public on the dangers and to advocate for better regulation of these harmful products.
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