The Racist Implications of Filtering

Introduction

Light skin. Small nose. Freckles. Full lips. Large, alluring eyes. Scroll through Instagram, Snapchat, or any other social media or photo editing app and you will find that there are literally thousands of ways to manipulate not just your looks, but seemingly, your biology itself. Unfortunately, the images given to us in the “beauty filter” on Tik Tok or the “Soft Filter” on Snapchat reflect standards of beauty that we see propagated all around us.

From skin lightening creams used by women worldwide to people with looser curls being told that they have “good hair,” it doesn’t take a race scholar to interpret the obvious: in our society, your proximity to whiteness determines your beauty. And while certainly we have seen a rise in desiring traits of ethnic women— those BBL memes are far more sinister than we think — these traits are still deemed more attractive by our white supremacist society when a white person has them.

Women of color have sported curves and thicker hips for centuries. But the moment white women such as Kylie Jenner or Kim Kardashian have them, they suddenly turn from a shameful part of many ethnic women’s bodies to a brand: one that should be capitalized, sold, and reflected all around us. Whether we would like to admit it or not, beauty isn’t for everyone. It’s for white people, and more specifically, white women.

And I use the word “beauty” intentionally. As author and sociologist Tressie McMillian Cottom notes in her book THICK: And Other Essays, while being “pretty” or “cute” are characteristics that are assigned to anyone, beauty— which she argues is a form of political and social capital— is a characteristic defined by whiteness. Cottom argues that the view of beauty as a so-called “democratic” trait— one that can be achieved by anyone— is a misnomer. There is power, as she writes, in blonde hair, blue eyes, and thigh gaps. And while certainly not all white women have these traits, Cottom makes it clear that beauty is centered in white standards of attractiveness, and that the rest of society must bend to these expectations. Thus, beauty isn’t a democracy. It’s a hierarchy, a caste system of control and power that shapes the world as we know it and informs our own expectations of what is or isn’t “beautiful.”

Who are Filters For?

I’ve been met with a lot of resistance when I say that women of color are excluded from beauty standards. “But Black girls are so beautiful! Women of color are so pretty!” Social media—though having exacerbated our often unconscious belief that whiter features are more appealing— has allowed people to see a broader range of people ranging in all shapes, sizes, and colors. We’d like to believe that we’re unbiased about beauty. However, it doesn’t take looking much further past dating app statistics about which demographics are most swiped on to realize the truth: most people view a proximity to whiteness as most desirable, even if our following lists and For You Pages suggest otherwise.

I firmly believe that filters— from flower crowns to presets— propagate beauty standards that center whiteness. While Cottom’s argument focuses on beauty in the physical world, her argument neglects how Euro-centrism in beauty standards has made its way into the virtual realm. By creating a technology that allows us to virtually switch our features with the swipe of a thumb, social media has tapped into the white-supremacist fueled insecurities that many of us would like to think we’ve conquered. And just like Cottom notes, the same democratic notions that apply to beauty in the real world cross over into the virtual world.

Though hypothetically filters can be used by anyone, a few scrolls through social media reveal that in fact, some filters are seemingly only made for white women. Take for instance the filter “Serenity Grain” on Snapchat. The filter is intended to give its users a sun kissed glow and pouty lips, all with a grainy layer over top of it that makes the photograph look like it was taken in another era. On white women, the filter looks quite normal. Pale skin looks tan and healthy, and thin lips become full and alluring. Add in the grainy layer, and you’ve achieved the perfect Polaroid-esque aesthetic that has become so desirable. On women of color such as myself, however, the results are disastrous. Though I can’t include a photo of how I look with this filter due to Counterculture’s bylines policy, I look like an orange nightmare who accidentally got too much lip filler. It is deeply ironic that though these filters operate using ethnic features like tanned skin and fuller lips, ethnic women are excluded from using them. Still other filters are milky white or bright to the point where dark skin takes on an ashen sheen, which is another difficult reminder that though white women are always at the center, beauty standards are forever shifting. Snapchat itself reports that over 200 million people use its filters every day. What effect does this have? What standards does this enforce? And most importantly, how many are excluded from taking part in this phenomenon that dictates what is or isn’t beautiful?

Filters make you “beautiful.” But they aren’t for everyone. Like beauty standards in the real world, online filtering isn’t democratic. Instead, it’s a means of propagating systems of colorism and other prejudices that emphasize white preferences over equitable access.

Filtering at Richmond

The issue of centering white features and beauty standards through filtering penetrates further into our lives than we think. The reason I was first inspired to write this article was because of a disturbing trend I noticed in none other than one of the University of Richmond’s oldest institutions: sororities belonging to the Panhellenic Council. During sorority rush week this past January, I observed that the visual similarities between the photos posted on the Panhellenic Council’s six Instagram accounts were not the result of perfect timing or careful photo selection, but rather, the use of filters. Though not all sororities implemented this tactic, some of the ones I observed implemented the use of bright, white filters that lightened everything in the photo. Don’t believe me? Go see it for yourself. Blue seas look even more icy blue. Bright shirts and dresses sparkle. And white skin becomes even whiter. Though the results are visually stunning, resulting in a perfectly coordinated grid, it brings up a darker question: Who do these filters exclude?

Though the Panhellenic Council and other Greek life organizations are known for their lack of diversity (see “UR Greek Life: Failed Reform and The Case for Abolition” on page 10 for further insight), it made me wonder how these photos would look if the members of these sororities were not in large part racially homogenous. Whose features would become lighter, and what implications does that have? Whose skin would look dull and washed out? In large part, these filters make a subtle statement about the aesthetic of who is allowed to participate in historically white Greek life and who isn’t. As referenced in “UR Greek Life: Failed Reform and the Case for Abolition,” there have been arguments made that historically white sororities and fraternities alike need to begin advertising themselves to more diverse students. But what happens when the moment you log into social media and are met with a look that you will never be able to achieve?

I am not saying that every social media manager in all six Panhellenic Council sororities has an agenda to center white beauty standards. But I would like to call on these sororities to deeply consider how these kinds of actions, though likely well-intentioned, point to a larger issue present within the virtual world. Filters say a lot about the beauty standards we appreciate and the social and political power they hold. In essence, filters themselves are powerful, and send messages about acceptance and belonging.

I urge members of the Panhellenic Council sororities reading this article to think more critically about how filtering can alienate darker-skinned prospective members. Organizations such as the Panhellenic Council need to ensure that filtering has no role in the sort of image they perpetuate to the public.

Conclusion

Filters play a key role in propagating white beauty standards that are harmful and exclude women of color. Though filters claim to play a democratic role in that they can make any and everyone look better, in reality, they serve a specific purpose: to push white women closer to the beauty standards that already center them. These issues hit closer to home than we think. As I demonstrated, sororities at the University of Richmond make use of these filters in what is likely a purposeful aesthetic decision, however, this simultaneously excludes women of color while sending a direct message about who is welcome in these organizations and who isn’t.

Hopefully, by recognizing the role filters play, we can begin to finally separate our beauty standards from white supremacy and truly make beauty a democracy.

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