I’d spend £200 a month bleaching my skin – my flesh peeled off in agony, I thought I’d get compliments if I was paler
LAYERING on bleaching creams and soaking his hands in whitening serums was part of a regular cosmetic routine for Daniel Murrell-Williamson.
The influencer, 27, had been slathering on the lotions since the age of 17 — and felt the lighter his skin, the more compliments he received.
Daniel says: “While many people start bleaching their skin due to ‘colourism’, I was introduced to it by the Caribbean-Jamaican community as a way of managing acne when I was 17, without realising what it actually meant.
“My friend handed me a tub without a label or any clues as to what was in it.
“I started to see results within a week, and people’s attitudes towards me instantly changed.
“Instead of being the ‘Oreo’ and a white man in a black body — I was called ‘Michael Jackson’ long before I started bleaching my skin, as I didn’t dress or sound like people expected — I was getting compliments.
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“Soon, in addition to the cream, I was layering whitening serums, body washes and lotions from beauty suppliers, spending upwards of £200 a month.
“I would soak my hands in serum for hours at a time to try to lighten my knuckles.”
Daniel appears on BBC Two’s Beauty And The Bleach, a documentary in which Tan France, host of Netflix hit Queer Eye, explores the dangerous world of skin lightening.
KEEPING SECRETS
Stylist Tan bleached his skin at the age of nine in a bid to stop racist bullying in his home town of Doncaster.
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He recalled: “It didn’t matter the cost, I prioritised buying the skin bleach above all else, even putting it before my bills and rent.
“I didn’t realise it at the time, but I was addicted to whitening my skin. After being bullied since the age of six, and struggling with my identity as a flamboyant, queer, black child, I was used to keeping secrets and hiding my true self.
“When people questioned me on whether I was using whitening products, I dodged the questions or lied.
“I couldn’t even notice the difference in my skin colour — despite it literally peeling off at some points.
“It’s only looking back now that I realise how much it had changed.”
In the documentary, Tan delves into colourism, where people are judged on the shade of their skin.
He speaks to Destiny’s Child singer Kelly Rowland, who says she was once compared to the colour of a brown paper bag by a boyfriend’s grandmother.
Tan looks at issues such as advertising pushing a beauty ideal and colonialism.
For Daniel, he felt that having lighter skin allowed him to be the person he wanted to be.
He explains: “A few months after I began bleaching my skin, I moved to Swindon to attend uni and set up an Instagram account under the name Phillip, @guhdehphillip, and started introducing myself as Phillip to people I met on nights out.
I didn’t realise it at the time, but I was addicted to whitening my skin. After being bullied since the age of six, and struggling with my identity as a flamboyant, queer, black child, I was used to keeping secrets and hiding my true self.
“Along with the lighter skin, it became an alter-ego — a way of being the man I had always been too afraid to show growing up, and it gave me a new-found confidence.
“But my skin still wasn’t light enough, so I was editing photos to make myself look lighter.”
Not all, but many skin-lightening products are illegal due to ingredients that are banned under EU safety regulations, including mercury and hydroquinone.
Regular and prolonged use of these ingredients is linked to skin damage, poisoning and liver and kidney malfunction.
They can also contain corticosteroids which are prescription-only drugs in the UK and have been linked to skin cancer.
When he started bleaching his skin, Daniel had no idea of the dangers.
He says: “As my follower count began to increase, I started posting videos on YouTube, and mentioned the products I was using on my skin.
“It was only then that I realised how bad they actually were. I had concerned people commenting and DM-ing me with articles and evidence on the damage they could be causing.
“It was the wake-up call I needed.
“Even though my family had previously told me how bad bleaching could be, I hid the worst from them and didn’t take them seriously.
As my follower count began to increase, I started posting videos on YouTube, and mentioned the products I was using on my skin. It was only then that I realised how bad they actually were.
“Ultimately, it was the people watching my videos who encouraged me to stop.
“I realised I didn’t want to have to spend the money or worry about hiding the habit any more.”
After a decade, Daniel has now stopped using skin-lightening products.
He says: “It’s been 18 months since I gave up and luckily I don’t have any permanent scars.
“My skin still isn’t quite as dark as it used to be but I think it will get there once I get a tan.
“Being able to accept who I am has helped heal my relationship with myself but also with other people in my life, like my mum.
“Not long after I posted my skin-bleaching video, I came out as gay on YouTube and that video trended at number nine in the UK.
“It’s nice to feel 100 per cent happy in my skin.”
‘A RELATIVE DIED FROM BLEACHING’
BEAUTY journalist Ateh Jewel regularly appears on This Morning and was a judge on BBC show Glow Up. She says:
“Growing up in the Eighties and Nineties, I got the message loud and clear about what the world thought of dark-black skin from my Nigerian and Trinidadian heritage.
Seeing is believing, and everyone who looked like me in movies and the media were slaves, maids, prostitutes and socially and economically depressed.
Nobody who looked like me was seen as powerful. Queens, CEOs, those in parliament and in power all had light skin.
Once you start to look, it’s hard to unsee that dark skin was often shorthand for the villain and the loser.
I remember watching Coming To America, a groundbreaking and empowering film from Eddie Murphy about reframing African-Americans as kings.
But even still, he chooses the lighter-skinned sister, not the darker-skinned, sexually aggressive and less desirable sister.
With all this negative noise wrapped up in centuries of colonialism, where people were actively taught their dark skin was dirty and inferior, it isn’t a shock that wanting to use dangerous and banned skin-lightening creams to make yourself look whiter was, and is still, a huge issue.
TOXIC CYCLE
Hydroquinone, the central ingredient in most of these creams, is banned in the UK, as it can lead to liver and nervous system damage.
These creams are often also laced with mercury and other carcinogenic ingredients which can permanently scar the skin and even cause death.
In fact, a close relative in Nigeria spent 30 years bleaching her skin, and ultimately died from the kidney failure it caused in her early sixties.
She literally died of shame, as she thought her skin, her melanin and the essence of who she was needed to be bleached away.
Even using “safe” ingred-ients, the continued messaging that pigmentation must be banished and being fairer is more aspirational is psycho-logically damaging.
This messaging was touted by major beauty brands such as Nivea as recently as 2017, with their Natural Fairness campaign showing Nigerian actor Omowunmi Akinnifesi applying their latest cream, in order to lighten the skin.
Although illegal, dangerous skin-lightening creams are still available in the UK under the counter.
London’s Southwark Council seized about 2,900 skin-whitening products, which had mostly been imported from Nigeria, in a single raid in 2018.
And just this year in the capital, Adetola Amao, the owner of New Hair London in Woolwich, was fined over £8,500 after she sold illegal skin-lightening cream to an undercover trading standards officer in the midst of lockdown.
You would think with education, social media and celebrities like (actresses) Viola Davis and Lupita Nyong’o talking openly about colourism and embracing their beautiful dark skin in recent years that younger generations would not be affected by the culture of skin lightening.
However, I was on set a few years ago discussing skincare with a young Nigerian assistant and they were complaining about their irritated skin.
When I investigated and asked what they were using, they showed me the regime given to them by their Nigerian mum.
It contained a banned skin-bleaching face wash and moisturiser – it broke my heart that their mother was continuing the toxic cycle.
I want to be the change I want to see when it comes to loving the skin you are in.
I’m launching a beauty range this year, Ateh Jewel Beauty, with 20 shades of foundation to honour and celebrate the skin tones that need more love and representation.
For me, it’s about treating your skin with respect and celebrating who you are, and your melanin.
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Until we see more people in positions of power with darker skin tones, people will continue to self-harm with skin lightening.”
- Watch Daniel’s story in Tan France’s documentary Beauty And The Bleach, now available on BBC iPlayer. Daniel is on Instagram as @GuhDehPhillip.