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How colourism shapes mate selection, dating and attraction in Nigeria

How colourism shapes mate selection, dating and attraction in Nigeria
Humans have a legitimate need to feel desirable and will go to extra lengths to achieve it. Colourism is an understated driver of mate selection in our society, contributing to social phenomenons like bleaching.
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In 2022, I caught the attention of a man who wanted me as his mate.

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While his presentation was shy, he soon became outspoken on our very first date. He spent time talking about himself and then landed on my desirability.

Without mincing words, he said, "you are light-skinned" and added, "that is the reason I became interested in you. I can't be with a woman who is not light-skinned."

You should have seen my face. Flushed is an understatement. Flattered? Maybe the ignorant me was.

When the conversation shifts to colourism, what is often highlighted is the representation in media (music videos, ads, fashion, movies): let's have more dark-skinned vixens and models; why are light-skinned actresses often cast as female leads?; and so on.

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These angles are all valid, but what about when it comes to matters of the heart? How much does colourism shape who we are attracted to, who we date, and ultimately, who we marry? The answer: more than we like to admit.

The roots of colourism in Nigeria

Colourism is not new. It stretches back to colonial times when fairer skin was associated with priviledge, class, and proximity to whiteness. Over time, those ideas seeped into Nigerian society, where lighter skin became equated with refinement and desirability.

Pop culture has only reinforced this bias. Meanwhile, the billion-naira skin-bleaching industry shows how deeply tied skin tone is to desirability politics. Behind every jar of whitening cream is the silent message: lighter is better, lighter is lovelier, lighter means more wanted.

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When attraction is not colour-blind

In Nigeria’s dating scene, colourism is a quiet yet powerful player. Attraction may feel like a personal, spontaneous spark, but in reality, it’s shaped by years of conditioning.

Light-skinned women often find themselves openly praised and considered more desirable, marriageable, or sophisticated. They are more likely to be described with words like “beautiful,” “fresh,” or “classy.” Dark-skinned women, on the other hand, sometimes face subtle exclusion. Comments like “She’s fine but too dark” slip out in conversations, reinforcing a hierarchy of attractiveness based on skin tone.

It's not the same for men. Dark-skinned men experience a different dynamic. They are often fetishized as “strong,” “masculine,” or “ruggedly handsome.” Meanwhile, lighter-skinned men sometimes get dismissed as “soft” or “pretty boys.” But desirability is more than just about admiration, it is also perception. A dark-skinned man may be considered attractive in a hypermasculine sense, while his lighter-skinned counterpart may be preferred for looking “approachable” or “gentle.”

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Family influence and the marriage market

Romantic attraction doesn’t happen in a vacuum. In Nigeria, families and communities play a major role in partner selection, and here, colourism finds another stronghold.

It’s not unusual to hear parents encouraging their children to “marry fair” so their future kids will be “fine.” In some matchmaking scenarios, skin tone becomes an unspoken criterion alongside family background, education, and financial stability. In-laws may quietly voice preferences for lighter-skinned brides, framing it as a matter of beauty and class.

Even proverbs and casual jokes carry the undertone. A woman may be praised as “oyinbo pepper” or teased about being “black like charcoal.” Over time, these phrases stop being jokes and begin shaping how people see themselves and others.

Victor Olaiya's 'Omo Pupa', a song about loving a light-skinned woman, rings true in this regard.

The emotional cost of colourism in love

The biases around skin tone do not only affect who gets chosen but also how people feel about themselves in the first place.

For dark-skinned women especially, the constant sidelining can erode self-esteem. Imagine being told directly or indirectly that your shade makes you less desirable, less likely to be loved, less likely to be chosen. Many women internalise these messages, leading some to skin-bleaching as a desperate attempt to “improve” their chances in love.

For men, colourism also creates emotional challenges. Dark-skinned men may be oversexualised or reduced to their bodies, while lighter-skinned men may feel pressured to prove their masculinity. Either way, skin tone becomes a cage, dictating how one’s attractiveness is perceived before personality, kindness, or compatibility even enters the conversation.

Pushing back: counter-narratives and change

The tide, remarkably, has been shifting. Across Nigeria, there’s a growing celebration of dark skin and melanin-rich beauty. Social media movements like #MelaninMagic and #BlackIsBeautiful have amplified the voices of those challenging long-held beauty standards.

Celebrities and creatives are also leading the charge. Actress Beverly Naya’s documentary “Skin” sparked national conversations about colourism, while models, influencers, and musicians are proudly embracing their dark skin without apology. Advertisers and filmmakers are slowly diversifying representation, showcasing women and men of all shades in romantic roles, not just as side characters.

Gen Z, especially, seems less willing to buy into old colourist ideals. Younger Nigerians are redefining beauty in their own terms, posting barefaced selfies, praising melanin, and calling out skin-lightening endorsements. The narrative is shifting: dark skin is acceptable, aspirational, powerful, and desirable.

Where do we go from here?

The truth is: romantic attraction and mate selection are heavily influenced by societal conditioning, media reinforcement, and family expectations. Who we find beautiful or marriageable often says more about culture than chemistry.

But there is hope. Awareness is growing, conversations are happening, and resistance is building. By acknowledging colourism in romance, we open the door to unlearning its harmful patterns.

In the end, the story of colourism and love in Nigeria is still being written. If we don't confront that truth, colourism will keep shaping who we choose, who we reject, and how we love.

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