Diddly Drogba
Superstar
I'm A Rich-Skinned Black Woman From Toronto. Dating Here Was Nearly Impossible — Until I Went To Europe - ByBlacks.com | #1 online magazine for Black Canadians
Her story sparked a viral conversation about how colourism and anti-Blackness shape dating for Black women in supposedly "multicultural" cities.
byblacks.com
Her story sparked a viral conversation about how colourism and anti-Blackness shape dating for Black women in supposedly "multicultural" cities.
byblacks.com
"A summer abroad revealed what I already knew: colourism and anti-Blackness have made dating while rich-skinned in my own city an exercise in invisibility.
Growing up as a rich-skinned Black girl in Toronto, I learned early that dark-skin was often seen as undesirable. "I just don't date dark-skinned girls" became a refrain I heard too often. The light-skin versus dark-skin debates raged through high school hallways. In university, I watched Black men in my social circles mostly date non-Black women or lighter-skinned Black women.
I didn't date through middle school, high school, or university — not by choice, but because no one showed interest. As a dark-skinned girl, I knew the standard was different and we had to be ‘on-point’ in order to be seen or we were ridiculed. Like when we’d be subjected to unsolicited comments about our hair by being called “weave-head” or Black guys going as far as pulling our ponytails to try to remove our extensions, if we had some, while non-Black girls weren’t put through this same disrespect. But even with fresh braids and my best outfit, I remained unseen.
Making male friends came easily. I built close platonic relationships throughout my life. But I was always perceived as just “my good friend, Stella.” These same men would casually explain their preference for lighter-skinned women with curly hair. One guy my exact complexion, admitted he didn't want his kids "coming out looking like him."
I didn't realize how deeply I'd internalized this hatred projected onto dark-skinned Black women until I noticed how it shaped my dating reality.
When Online Dating Confirmed My Worst Fears
Last year, I finally joined Hinge after a close friend — who met her husband on the app — encouraged me for years. I resisted, fearing my in-person invisibility would translate online. But with carefully selected photos and witty prompts, I hoped someone might actually see me.
Six months later, I'd received barely any likes. Friends told me to keep trying, sharing their own success stories. But their experiences looked nothing like mine. My lighter-skinned and non-Black friends described sorting through countless likes and going on multiple dates to find their partners.
I couldn't even reach that starting point. The only date I'd secured ended with me sitting alone at a table for two, waiting for someone who never showed.
My fears had materialized. Online dating mirrored my offline experience exactly.
Everything Changed In Europe
This summer, I travelled to Lyon for an exchange program. My entire understanding of desirability shifted within days.
On a packed bus home after exploring the city, a man sat next to me. I caught him staring from the corner of my eye but dismissed it — surely he wasn't looking at me. Then he spoke: "C'est quoi tes origines?" (What's your background?) — a pickup line I'd hear repeatedly throughout my time abroad.
We chatted. He'd moved from a French African country for school and stayed. As my stop approached, he asked if he could show me around Lyon sometime.
Walking off that bus, my brain performed complicated mental gymnastics. Did he really just ask me out?
Throughout France, I was complimented for my "rich skin tone." Daily, men from various backgrounds approached me respectfully, called me beautiful, and asked me for a drink. Whether I wore my natural hair in short twists or extensions, dressed up or down, simply existing as myself proved enough.
