Who Gets to Be Called Naturally Beautiful?

Beauty is often presented as though it is universal and self-evident, yet underneath that façade lies a layered story of power, preference, and alteration. 

When one asks, “Who gets to be called naturally beautiful?”, the answer is far from simple. The term “naturally beautiful” is shaped by histories of colour preference, digital enhancements, and a narrow celebration of certain features over others. 

Across continents, skin-shade hierarchies, feature bias, and social-media filters all intersect to define who qualifies for beauty and whose beauty gets recognised. Unpacking this means looking at three intertwined forces: colourism, the rise of beauty filters, and the selective celebration of features.

Colourism refers to the preference for lighter skin tones within a racial or ethnic group, promoting lighter-toned people as more beautiful, more desirable, or more successful. 

This phenomenon was shaped by colonial legacies and continues to affect everyday life, from job opportunities to marriage prospects. For example, a recent dermatological study found that people who used skin-lightening agents were more likely to agree that lighter skin is more beautiful and boosts self-esteem.  

In Africa, Asia, and Latin America, the demand for skin-lightening creams stems directly from this preference for lighter complexions. Media and entertainment structures also embed this prioritisation: lighter skin tends to be more visible, featured, and celebrated. 

Beauty filters accelerate and intensify this process. For example, digital image tools on apps like Instagram, TikTok, and Snapchat regularly lighten skin, smooth texture, enlarge eyes, and narrow noses. 

These filters often normalise a narrower set of aesthetic features, and many studies argue they carry bias. For instance, one review found that filters tended to lighten skin tones and standardise beauty by pushing towards Eurocentric features.

Another research paper found that the same individual, when filtered, received higher ratings of attractiveness and trustworthiness. Filters thus shift the marker of what counts as “natural” beauty by digitally noising out difference, and by elevating one form of feature over many.

Selective celebration of features means that in many cultures, the traits that receive honour and recognition (lighter skin, narrow noses, straight hair, large eyes) are not equally distributed across people. The legacy of colonialism made these traits represent “civilization,” desirability, or status. 

A blog notes that beauty hierarchies placed narrower noses, thin lips, straight hair, and lighter skin as aspirational, while Afro-centric features were marginalised. Features that align more closely to white or Western traits are often labelled “beautiful”, whereas others are deemed less so, contributing to what we might call “featureism”.

When analysing the question of who gets to be “naturally beautiful”, we must trace the intersection of these forces in multiple settings. From everyday interactions to social-media presentation, from commercial advertising to algorithms: the answer is neither fixed nor fair.

In many parts of Africa, for example, lighter skin is still overtly associated with privilege. A report on Africa and colourism explains how colonial rule introduced ideals that associated European features and lighter skin with progress and beauty.  

The environment of skin-bleaching in regions of West Africa is directly linked to these ideals: not simply a vanity pursuit, but one entangled with beliefs about social mobility, attractiveness, and even safety. Meanwhile, in South and Southeast Asia, similar dynamics persist: multiple studies in Bangladesh show media portrayals privileging fair complexions. 

In East Asian media, the link is present though complicated: lighter or “fairer” skin is frequently depicted as desirable, as are larger eyes or a V-shaped chin. An essay examining South Korean and broader East Asian beauty trends remarks that on apps, a filter made the face look much lighter and sharper, and this influenced how young people saw themselves.  

Even in diasporic communities, the internalisation of these norms appears: young women compare themselves to these edited images or celebrity looks with BBL, Botox, and more, and feel they fall short unless they meet the “light-skin, narrow-feature, big-lips” standard.

The influence of beauty filters sharpens this further. On social media, many users, especially younger ones, regularly use filters that lighten their skin and blur their flaws. The BBC described how various apps in China and beyond offered “beautify” modes that smoothed faces and brightened skin, often aiming at a “more white-looking” result.  

Another analysis flagged that some filters malfunctioned or performed poorly on darker skin tones, which suggests a bias in the design of those algorithms themselves. The fact that filters are skewed like this means that the “natural” look being celebrated is often one that has been digitally lightened, narrowed, lit better, and aligned with majority-preferred standards.

Hence, “natural beauty” in many social frameworks becomes defined as beauty without visible flaws, but also beauty that aligns with a defined standard: lighter skin, thinner nose, larger eyes, straighter hair. Those whose skin is darker, whose hair curls tightly, whose features differ from those narrow ideals often do not get included in the category. 

The term “naturally beautiful” thus reflects an exclusion: if your features are outside the preferred set, you might still be beautiful, but you’re less likely to be labelled “naturally beautiful” in popular discourse.

This has consequences for identity, mental health, and social outcomes. Studies show that individuals with higher belief in lighter skin being more beautiful have higher colourism scores and lower satisfaction with their skin tone. For example, those using skin-lightening agents reported lower skin tone satisfaction levels.  

Children and adolescents exposed to media portraying lighter skin as more attractive are more likely to internalise the idea that their complexion is less desirable. This creates low self-esteem, a drive to conform by external means, and even medical risks, such as turning to chemical skin lightening with dangerous ingredients. 

In digital arenas, the amplified version of this shows up: presenters or influencers use filters and botch their bodies to enhance their appearance, skewing what others see as “real” or “normal.”

According to research, a filter that made the skin lighter and the facial features sharper had been used by tens of millions. Critics say that these filters “whitewash” natural features and make everyday users feel “abnormal” if they do not look like the filtered version. The very language of “natural beauty” in such spaces becomes toxic: it suggests that what you see on screen without heavy filters is still wrong unless it matches the narrow standard.

Because the concept of beauty is a social construction, when one group’s traits are elevated, the form of “natural” that gets celebrated becomes narrow. The result: People who fit the preferred set get described as pretty or beautiful effortlessly.

Others who do not may be beautiful, too, but have to work to be seen as such—through makeup, lightening creams, hair straighteners, or filters. That imbalance distinguishes between “naturally beautiful” and “beautiful” depending on the context and the standard.

Understanding this also means interrogating the language we use. When advertising uses phrases like “fair and lovely” or “brighten your skin”, the message is explicit: lighter is better. In 2020, the company Unilever announced it would remove the word “Fair” from its skin-lightening cream packaging because of the pressure about colourism. But removing a word is a start, not a transformation of how beauty is constructed. The underlying system remains.

So, how do we shift the question of “who gets called naturally beautiful?” We need multiple changes at different levels: personal, community, commercial, and digital. On a personal level, recognising that beauty is diverse, resisting the idea that one tone or set of features is superior, and valuing one’s own face and body as they are. 

On a community level, encouraging media voices and advertising campaigns that elevate all skin tones, all hair textures, and all features equally. On the commercial side, brands should stop reinforcing a single standard and instead promote inclusive definitions of beauty. On the digital side, filter creators and social-media platforms must recognise how their tools shape perception, and build more inclusive tools rather than ones that assume one acceptable standard.

For individuals living in environments where lighter skin is still privileged, the recognition of that bias helps. Girls and boys who grow up being told implicitly that lighter is better can learn how to challenge that notion. A guide from the Association of Black Psychologists emphasises teaching children that beauty is diverse: “A lily is no more beautiful than a rose; an oak tree no more beautiful than a palm tree.” The message: there is value in variety.

In the digital realm, we must be aware that what “natural” means is shifting. If your image has a filter, or if society rewards altered or lit, or modified images, the “natural” becomes the edited version. Users should be critical of how they use filters, what images they are comparing to, and how platforms might be reinforcing narrow ideals. Studies show that filters that lighten skin or assume lighter tones are more effective on those tones, which means darker-skinned users may be excluded or misrepresented. 

Beauty, at its root, is neither fixed nor universal. When we say “naturally beautiful,” we often mean “beautiful in the way that dominant culture expects without effort”. But if the dominant culture’s expectations are rooted in colourism, alteration, and selective features, then the phrase becomes exclusionary.

A wider definition of beauty recognises natural diversity: every skin tone, hair texture, and feature set. Every person can be naturally beautiful, provided that the standard shifts from inclusion of only some to acceptance of all.

So, answering the question “who gets to be called naturally beautiful?” involves recognising that current definitions often centre lighter skin tones and features aligned with those tones, aided by filters and media representations. The responsibility lies in questioning those definitions, opening up the space for wider recognition, and resisting the idea that one set of features defines beauty. Ultimately, the goal is to build a culture where all faces, all tones, all features are seen, affirmed, and celebrated, where “natural beauty” truly aligns with nature’s diversity rather than just one version of it.

With greater awareness and collective change, we can begin to shift the narrative: not only fewer people get to be called “naturally beautiful”, but everyone can be recognised for their natural beauty.

Photo: Instagram/succulentcreativestudio