I walked into the GP’s
(General Practitioner) office today with a sense of frustration that I didn’t
fully anticipate. Over the years, I’ve learned to expect certain things as a
Black woman seeking healthcare dismissal, ignorance, or just a lack of
understanding about the unique needs of Black bodies. But today was a reminder
of just how deeply ingrained these issues are in a system that wasn’t designed
for us. And it was a wake-up call for me, yet again, about the daily exclusion
we experience, not just in terms of race but in how that exclusion plays out in
something as fundamental as our health.
I had been dealing with
soreness on my hyperpigmented skin for a while, the kind of irritation that
happens when the skin is inflamed or thinning. Hyperpigmentation is something
many Black people deal with whether it’s from acne, injury, or just natural
changes in the skin. But it’s rarely fully understood in medical spaces, and
even less so when it comes to the specific needs of Black skin.
I tried to explain to my GP
what was going on: how the skin around my cheekbones and eyes felt sore, how
the pigment had darkened, and how this wasn’t just cosmetic it was affecting my
confidence, my comfort, and my health. But her response wasn’t what I expected.
She suggested giving me muscle relaxers, completely missing the point of my
concern. When I tried to steer the conversation back to skin barriers and the thinning
of my skin, she brushed it aside. Instead, she said that I should see a dentist
for the soreness around my pigmented areas. No advice, no real understanding,
and certainly no acknowledgment of how Black skin responds differently to
certain treatments or products. I left the office feeling unheard and more
invisible than I had when I walked in.
This was a stark reminder of
how Black health concerns are often dismissed or misunderstood. My experience
is not unique. In fact, it’s an example of something much bigger: the
healthcare system’s failure to address the very real needs of Black people when
it comes to our skin, bodies, and overall health. This wasn’t just a poor
consultation it was a microcosm of a larger problem: systems built without us
in mind, systems that operate with such a lack of understanding that they
perpetuate a cycle of invisibility and marginalization.
It was a shock to me today,
not because I wasn’t expecting to be dismissed, but because of how normalized
this exclusion has become. As someone who has written about colourism, I’m used
to addressing the ways that lighter skin is often privileged and how darker
skin is treated as something less than, something that requires correction. But
today’s experience wasn’t just about colourism it was about healthcare, a space
where we should feel supported, but instead, too often feel invisible or
misunderstood.
For many Black people,
hyperpigmentation is a daily reality. We are more prone to dark spots and
uneven skin tones because of the way our skin reacts to inflammation and
injury. But when we go to the doctor to talk about it, we’re often met with
blank stares or misdiagnoses because our concerns don’t fit the standard
narrative of "healthy skin." Doctors, particularly those who have
never been trained to understand the unique properties of Black skin, often
fail to grasp the complexity of conditions like hyperpigmentation. And when
they do attempt to address them, the solutions provided are often ineffective
or irrelevant.
What frustrates me most is the
complete lack of understanding around the way Black skin works. It’s not just
about pigmentation; it’s about texture, response to treatments, and how
different ingredients and products interact with our skin. For example, many
products that are marketed as “universal” or “for all skin types” often fail to
address the specific needs of Black skin, especially when it comes to skin
barriers and moisture retention. Yet, when we voice these concerns, we’re often
met with indifference or suggestions that miss the mark completely.
This experience at the GP
today wasn’t just an isolated incident. It’s part of a larger systemic issue in
healthcare that goes beyond just race it’s about how Black bodies, Black
experiences, and Black concerns are often neglected or dismissed. It’s about a
healthcare system that continues to be built without the input of those who
need it most.
The healthcare industry is
notoriously white-dominated, and while that’s beginning to change, it’s still a
space where Black voices are underrepresented. The lack of diversity within the
field leads to gaps in understanding about how our bodies work, and it shows in
the way our health is treated. From misdiagnoses to misprescriptions, our
health issues are often seen as secondary, as though our bodies don’t require
the same level of care, attention, and respect as others.
This is a larger conversation
about access, representation, and education. We need more Black healthcare
providers, more representation in medical research, and more comprehensive
training on the unique health concerns of Black people. We need healthcare that
recognizes us as whole, complex beings and addresses our needs as such not as
afterthoughts or as something to be figured out along the way.
But we also need to stop
normalizing this kind of neglect. As Black people, we should never have to
educate our doctors about our skin or our health. Our needs should already be
understood, respected, and addressed with the same urgency as anyone else’s.
This is the true impact of exclusion: it forces us to constantly advocate for
our own health, often at the expense of our time, energy, and well-being.
Today, I was reminded of the
deeper implications of the systems we live within how they were never designed
for us, how they continue to fail us, and how much work we still have to do to
change that. I’m not complaining. I’m demanding better. Because we deserve to
be seen, heard, and treated with the respect and care that every human being is
entitled to.
In one of the chapters of my
forthcoming book, The Lived Experiences of Non-Academic Women in Higher Education,
set to be released in October 2025, I explore colourism as a form of systemic
exclusion. Today’s experience with the GP reminded me that this issue is not
confined to the university setting it extends into healthcare and affects every
system. The lack of understanding around Black skin and its specific needs is a
clear reflection of how colourism influences how Black people, especially
women, are treated, understood, and valued in society.. In one of the chapters,
I look at Colourism as a form of systemic exclusion. Today’s experience with
the GP reminded me that this issue extends beyond the university. It’s in
healthcare, it’s in every system, and it impacts how Black people especially
women are treated and valued.
When systems aren’t designed
with us in mind, it’s not just inconvenient; it’s a matter of life and
well-being. And it’s time we start holding those systems accountable. Our health, our bodies,
and our lived experiences matter. And it’s time for the world to start treating
them as such.
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