Internalized Oppression Among Young Women of Colour in Norway: Exploring the Racialized Self

Abstract

This article explores the impact of internalized oppression on young women of colour in Norway, focusing on how it unfolds across individual life trajectories. Drawing on a qualitative methodology, the study is based on narrative in-depth interviews with thirteen participants aged 18 to 35. The findings reveal that internalized oppression, particularly related to physical appearance, emerges early in life and is often reinforced through social interactions such as bullying, exclusion, and racialized commentary. These experiences frequently convey implicit preferences for whiteness, leading to marginalization and insecurity during adolescence. In response, several participants engaged in practices of assimilation, altering their physical appearance in attempts to embody features aligned with dominant white norms. In adulthood, many of these women have developed a critical awareness of internalized oppression and are engaged in processes of decolonizing their self-perceptions through solidarity with other women of colour. Nevertheless, they continue to grapple with lingering internalized biases. This study highlights the need for further research into the life narratives and everyday experiences of racialized individuals to better understand how they navigate, resist, and unlearn internalized oppression—while also considering the gendered dimension of how such oppression works.

1. Introduction

“I just remember, I was so busy removing and straightening my hair, I killed my hair every day.”

(Ana, 23)

Ana’s words capture a recurring theme among the young women of colour interviewed in this study: the daily, often painful negotiation between self-acceptance and the internalized pressure to conform to Eurocentric beauty ideals. From chemically straightening their curls to other modifications in appearance in hopes of appearing “less different,” these practices were not only cosmetic, they reflected deeper, often unspoken attempts to achieve a sense of belonging in a society where race functions as both a visible and invisible marker of difference.

This article draws on qualitative interviews with 13 young women of colour in Norway to explore how internalized racism, understood within broader racialized power structures, manifests through beauty practices, identity struggles, and experiences of marginalization. The analysis builds on Stuart Hall’s (2021) conceptualization of race as a “floating signifier”, a socially constructed category whose meaning is not fixed, but constantly shifting across historical and cultural contexts (Hall 2021). The study traces the trajectory of internalized racism from childhood through adolescence into young adulthood, focusing on how the participants navigate self-perception, belonging, and their relationship with dominant ideals of beauty and social acceptance. Their personal narratives highlight how historical structures of racial hierarchy, rooted in colonialism and maintained through cultural and social institutions, continue to shape perceptions of self-worth, femininity, and value. The legacy of colonialism and the hierarchical categorization of humans based on race and phenotype established a global structure of privilege and inequality (Bull 2015; Chavez-Dueñas et al. 2014). Whiteness was positioned at the top, creating a standard that continues to influence how beauty, innocence, and value are understood. For women of colour, the internalization of these ideals leads to what Pyke (2010) describes as internalized racism: a psychological condition in which individuals absorb the values and prejudices of the dominant group, often at the expense of their own identity.

Anchored in postcolonial theory and framed by the work of thinkers such as Frantz Fanon (1963), Albert Memmi (1965), and Paulo Freire (2018), this article situates the lived experiences of these women within broader structures of power and resistance. It contributes to the literature on internalized racism by offering a nuanced, contextualized view of how young women of colour in Norway navigate identity, belonging, and self-image in a society where race continues to operate as a powerful, but unstable, signifier of difference and social value.

Although the concept of internalized racism is rarely used explicitly in Norwegian research, the mechanisms behind it are clearly present in the lived experiences of many women of colour. This study contributes to showing how internalized racism manifests among young women of colour in Norway—through language, the body, beauty ideals, and belonging.

2. Previous Research

A growing body of research highlights how racism, including its subtle and everyday manifestations, has a significant impact on both the physical and mental health of those subjected to it (Hessaa-Szwinto 2023; Harris et al. 2006; Straiton et al. 2019; Williams et al. 2019). One of the earliest documented studies on internalized racism is the classic “Doll Test” conducted by psychologists Kenneth and Mamie Clark in 1947. Their study demonstrated that a majority of Black children preferred white dolls over black ones, revealing the early internalization of racial inferiority, rooted in dominant white beauty standards (Bryant 2013, pp. 80–81). A recreation of this study in 2005 by high school student Kiri Davis yielded similar results, suggesting that these perceptions have remained largely unchanged, and that the internalization of racialized ideals continues to affect Black children’s self-image (Robinsons-Moore 2008, in Bryant 2013, p. 82). While the classic “Doll Test” by Kenneth and Mamie Clark (in Bryant 2013, p. 80) and its later recreation by Davis (Bryant 2013, p. 81) demonstrated a preference for white dolls among many Black children, suggesting early internalization of racialized beauty standards, it is important to consider the complex context behind these findings. Factors such as advertising influence, cultural environment, and educational efforts contribute to the shape of perceptions.

In an academic Norwegian context, internalized oppression is rarely addressed explicitly, but several studies indirectly illustrate its manifestations. Hetlelid’s (2022) qualitative study on hair perceptions in Norway, found that all coloured participants had used chemical relaxers at some point to straighten their natural hair texture, sometimes starting as young as eight years old. This decision was often linked to societal pressure and the perceived need to conform to dominant Eurocentric beauty ideals.

Research into discrimination in the Norwegian labor market consistently documents how individuals with non-Norwegian names face systemic barriers to employment (Midtbøen and Quillian 2021; Midtbøen 2021). A recent study further reveals ethnic hierarchies, as minority applicants, even those born in Norway or who migrated as children, face a 32 percent lower chance of being invited to job interviews compared to equally qualified majority applicants (Larsen and Midtbøen 2024). Media reports have further emphasized this issue, revealing that many individuals with minority backgrounds adapt their names or downplay their ethnic identity to increase their chances of being invited to job interviews (NRK; VG; Thiyagarajah and Orupabo 2023). These acts of assimilation reflect broader societal dynamics where ethnic minorities are pressured to conceal their cultural identity in order to gain acceptance. This process echoes Freire’s (2018) concept of internalized oppression, wherein marginalized groups gradually adopt dominant norms at the cost of their own cultural expression.

3. Theoretical Framework

Postcolonial theories of identity offer a valuable lens for understanding the processes through which colonized subjects are denied independent subjectivity and instead positioned within hierarchies of racialized value. While these theories emerged from specific colonial settings such as Algeria (Fanon 1986), Tunisia (Memmi 1965), and Brazil (Freire 2018), their relevance extends to postcolonial Europe, where racial hierarchies continue to shape social realities. In the Nordic context, histories of colonial complicity, including participation in the transatlantic slave trade (Weiss 2024) and policies of assimilation toward the Sámi people (Minde 2005), contribute to contemporary structures of exclusion. Frantz Fanon’s (1986) reflections on colonial violence and cultural alienation are central to this article’s theoretical approach, particularly his analysis of the psychological consequences of racialized exclusion. Fanon argues that colonialism embedded in the colonized a desire to be white, while simultaneously making whiteness permanently inaccessible. In Black Skin, White Masks, he identifies a split between those who forget where they come from and seek assimilation, and those who resist this forgetting (Fanon 1986, p. 37). The first group often tries to get closer to whiteness by adopting the colonizer’s cultural norms, like language or clothing, but still stands out because of visible traits such as skin colour and hair. This contradiction, between the internalization of colonial values and the impossibility of full inclusion, results in what Fanon (1986) describes as identity confusion and self-alienation. The colonized individual, he argues, becomes a “divided subject,” never fully accepted by the dominant culture and increasingly distanced from their own. Albert Memmi’s (1965) work complements this in tracing how colonized individuals come to accept, and even believe in, their imposed inferiority He argues that colonization functions through a persistent process of dehumanization, ultimately reducing the colonized to objects that exist solely to fulfill the needs of the colonizer. Over time, this imposed image becomes internalized, turning colonial oppression into self-perception. The colonized do not only live under domination, but they also come to see themselves through the eyes of their oppressor.

This process of internalization is further explored in Paulo Freire’s (2018) theory of oppression. Freire introduces the concept of the “sub-oppressor,” suggesting that the oppressed internalize the values and norms of the oppressor and thus contribute to their own oppression (Freire 2018, p. 45). This dynamic is crucial in understanding how racism and colonialism are reproduced, not only through external structures but also within the consciousness of the oppressed. Like Fanon, Freire identifies a kind of existential contradiction: the oppressed yearn for freedom, yet have also learned to fear it (Freire 2018, p. 48). Liberation, in this framework, cannot be granted from above but must be enacted by the oppressed themselves, through critical consciousness, solidarity, and the rejection of hierarchical power altogether (Freire 2018, p. 56).

Although Fanon’s work is foundational in postcolonial theory, it has been widely criticized for its lack of attention to gender. In Black Skin, White Masks, Fanon initially suggests that Black men and women experience racism in similar ways (Wahl 2021, p. 43). However, his analysis largely centers around the relationship between Black men and white women, leaving the experiences of Black women underexplored. When Fanon discusses the case of Mayotte Capecia, for instance, he fails to examine the gendered pressure she faced from her Black father to seek a white partner. Instead of acknowledging the layer of sexism, Fanon blames Capecia for internalizing colonial ideals, implying that she chose her own oppression (Wahl 2021, p. 47). This absence of a gendered lens is relevant to the study, which places the experiences of young women of colour at the center—particularly in relation to the body, beauty norms, and sexualization. While Fanon touches on the psychological effects of colonialism, his framework does not fully capture how racism intersects with gendered power. Therefore, it has been necessary to supplement the theoretical foundation with intersectional perspectives that account for how racial and gendered oppressions are lived simultaneously (Crenshaw 1991).

Together, the works of Fanon, Memmi, and Freire provide a foundation for analyzing how identity is negotiated in contexts marked by colonial and racialized histories. Their theories point to the emotional, psychological, and political costs of assimilation, and the forms of resistance that arise when individuals choose to remember rather than forget. These insights will be central in examining how participants in this study navigate tensions between cultural erasure and self-assertion in their everyday lives.

4. Methods

This study adopted a qualitative methodological approach, with a narrative and thematic focus, to explore the lived experiences of women of colour within their natural settings (Creswell and Creswell 2018). Through in-depth, semi-structured interviews, the research sought to center participants’ own voices, allowing them to share personal stories that reflect how race, gender, and social expectations shape their everyday realities. Narrative interviews were chosen as a tool to access how participants make sense of their experiences over time, tracing their reflections from childhood into adulthood. Such narrative approaches are particularly useful in qualitative research because they can help researchers to better understand people’s experiences and behaviors (Anderson and Kirkpatrick 2015). The sample comprised 13 women aged 18 to 35, all of whom identified as women of colour. To explore the relationship between political engagement and the navigation of racial experiences, participants with varying levels of political involvement were included. This variety enriched the analysis, shedding light on the complexities of how racialized individuals construct their identities within a broader socio-political context. The participants’ ancestries span south America, northeast Asia, and west and north Africa, and they had diverse migration histories, either being born and raised in Norway or migrating at a later age. Most participants were employed in sectors with a high representation of women, such as healthcare, arts, and business. Eight out of the thirteen held or were pursuing higher educational qualifications. This diversity in professional and educational backgrounds added depth to the analysis of how their experiences of racialization intersected with their work and social lives.

The narratives this article are based upon reflect how the women interpret their childhood and youth at the point when the interviews took place. Their stories of the past are thus imbued with the conceptual frameworks they have access to at that point and their interpretations would have been different if they were told at the time when the events happened. In line with a narrative approach, the researchers aimed to analyze women’s own interpretations of their stories.

The data for this study were gathered as part of a master’s thesis conducted in the autumn of 2021 and spring of 2022 (THESIS). Participants were contacted via social media and the snowball method, receiving both oral and written information about the study. Consent was obtained, with the understanding that the data would remain anonymized for future publications. The study received ethical approval from the Norwegian Centre for Research Data (NSD, now called SIKT).

Thematic analysis was utilized to explore key topics and identify common themes across the participants’ narratives, providing a deeper understanding of their lived experiences (Braun and Clarke 2012). Acknowledging the potential influence of researcher positionality on data interpretation, Author one, a woman of Chilean descent, was considered an insider to the target group (Thagaard 2018). Author two identifies as a white Norwegian woman and positions herself as an outsider, and author three, a Black Norwegian Venezuelan man, is normally perceived as an insider based on physical appearance.

5. Childhood Encounters with Internalized Oppression

Internalized oppression can begin early in childhood, as children are often exposed to messages of inferiority passed down by parents and family members—messages that have been transmitted across generations (David and Derthick 2014). Even when conveyed with good intentions, parents who have themselves internalized stereotypes may feel compelled to warn their children about how they will be perceived by society.

Ana (23) moved to Norway at the age of four and grew up in a small town predominantly populated by white Norwegians. Her parents, however, were South American. In her late adolescence, she relocated to a larger city and joined an activist group that consisted mostly of women of colour, where she found solidarity and connection with others who had similar life experiences. She recounted how her mother associated sex with danger and shame. Ana (23) expressed how she internalized the belief that if she explored her sexuality, she would be perceived as promiscuous in contrast to her white Norwegian peers. Her mother appeared acutely aware of the stereotypes often imposed on Latinas, especially the sexualized and exoticized narratives (Törngren 2022; Lundström 2006). Although the participant now acknowledges her mother’s warnings as realistic, the early exposure to these ideas contributed to a complex and fraught relationship with her sexuality. Highlighting this dynamic is not intended to place blame on parents for their children’s internalized oppression. Rather, it aligns with Fanon’s (1963) argument that the psychological effects of colonization, and the ideologies instilled in formerly colonized peoples, have enduring consequences. He contends that it can take years to recover from such repression and that ideas of inferiority can be passed down generationally.

Two participants in this study shared personal experiences in which their parents warned them about how they, as women of colour, would be perceived in Norwegian society, particularly in terms of sexuality.

Zahra (27): My parents were always strict about me covering up, and I once asked my mother, ‘You have big a bottom too, so it’s not just me.’ She responded, ‘But you have a bit more,’ implying that it would make men notice me more, especially because of our racial background. According to her, ‘Our type of women’ naturally attracts more attention, whether we want it or not, so we must cover up to avoid that gaze. As a child, I wasn’t sure if this stemmed from religious or racial reasons. My religious beliefs told me I needed to cover up as a woman, but my race seemed to dictate that I had to do so because men would notice me regardless. My curves made me appear more adult-like, and that drew attention in ways I didn’t fully understand.

Zahra (27) was born in South Africa and moved to a large Norwegian city at age nine, where she was surrounded by others from similar north African backgrounds. From an early age, she received messages about her body and visibility. Her mother’s framing, “our type of women”, illustrates how racialized femininity is seen as inherently sexualized, regardless of the individual’s behavior or intentions. Zahra’s (27) account reflects a childhood confusion around whether these expectations stemmed from religion or racialized perceptions. Her experience resonates with broader patterns of racialized sexualization that begin in childhood and intersect with gender, race, and religion.

This oversexualization of racialized girls is well-documented. For instance, Epstein et al. (2017) show that Black girls are often perceived as less innocent and more adult-like than their white peers, a phenomenon known as the “adultification” of Black girls. Zahra’s (27) experiences speak to this, where her body was read through racialized lenses as inherently more sexual, even in childhood. Although Zahra (27) could not confirm a racial motive, the incident reflects the compounded vulnerability of racialized girls, who are often viewed as older, more mature, and more sexually available than they are. Other participants shared similar experiences. Sora (26), for example, recalled being mistaken for her white Norwegian father’s wife while dining with him as a child, an incident that underlines how early and deeply sexualized these perceptions can be. It illustrates just how severe the effects of sexualized racism can be for women of Asian descent, and how these perceptions shape broader societal views about them (Hessaa-Szwinto 2023). The fact that a child could be misread as a sexual partner point to the ingrained stereotypes about Asian femininity, which have historically been linked to exoticism, submission, and sexualization in Western imaginations (Hessaa-Szwinto 2023).

This pattern is not incidental. Harris (2003) argues that women of colour have long been portrayed in Western art and literature as figures of nature, unrestrained desire, and promiscuity, images that continue to shape cultural narratives. The early sexualization of girls of colour is thus not just interpersonal but structural, embedded in historical and institutional frameworks that racialize and adultify their bodies.

The participants’ stories illustrate how internalized oppression is seeded early through familial warnings, social experiences, and media messages. These narratives do not simply influence how others see them; they shape how they come to see themselves. They learn to monitor, manage, and sometimes fear their bodies. What begins as familial concern can evolve into an internalized sense of danger and shame, particularly around sexuality and visibility. In this way, internalized oppression is not only inherited—it is continuously reinforced.

6. Navigating Beauty and Assimilation

Several participants described being consistently exposed to messages that reinforced a societal preference for whiteness. This ideal was not limited to beauty standards but also shaped their sense of self-worth and affected various aspects of their lives, including access to housing, employment (Midtbøen 2015; Midtbøen and Kitterød 2019), and social belonging (Lindheim 2022).

“I remember in first grade, we had to make pottery masks. I gave mine afro hair, but I still chose white skin and blue eyes,” Maya (29) recalled. Maya, of West African and Norwegian descent, grew up in a diverse urban environment but was surrounded by a largely white family on her mother’s side. She now interprets this early choice through a postcolonial lens, as a reflection of how she had unconsciously internalized societal ideals of white beauty. Although she recognized that children often want to resemble their mothers, she emphasized that her brown skin made her feel “less beautiful” in comparison to her white peers—an idea shaped by broader cultural messages rather than actual appearance.

Camila (25), a woman of South American and Norwegian background, shared a similar memory: “I remember wanting to have blonde hair and blue eyes, like my mom.” Although she expressed no current dissatisfaction with her appearance, her childhood desire to resemble her white Norwegian mother echoed Maya’s experience. Out of the three participants with white mothers, two directly voiced a past desire to look like them, and the third had straightened and lightened her hair, suggesting a similar internalization of white norms. Chavez-Dueñas et al. (2014) also note that Latino communities often express racial hierarchies through language, including phrases like “Your daughter is so pretty, so beautifully white,” or advice to avoid tanning. Such seemingly innocuous statements reinforce racialized ideals and preferences from an early age.

Maya (29) further explained that she had internalized the belief that white peers were inherently more beautiful than her, not based on actual physical traits but solely on skin colour. This perception aligns with the sentiment captured by a Japanese proverb: “色の白いは七難隠す” (‘iro no shiroi wa shichinan kakusu’), which translates to “white skin hides seven flaws” (Ushijima 2013, as cited in Soliño 2020, p. 80). The proverb suggests that having white skin can conceal or distract from a person’s flaws, making imperfections less noticeable and, in some cases, even socially acceptable or overlooked. In a similar vein, Bell Hooks (1992) argues that white supremacy is perpetuated not only by the media but also by individuals within the Black community who internalize and replicate these dominant narratives. She explains that representations of Black people in media, often created by white producers, reinforce white ideals and contribute to the marginalization of Black identity. hooks cites filmmaker Pratibha Parmar, noting that images in media do not merely shape perceptions of others, but also profoundly influence how individuals view themselves (Hooks 1992, p. 5). White supremacy is not simply overt racism, but is a structurally advantaged and privileged place from which white people look at ourselves, at others, and at society’” (Frankenberg 1993). This understanding aligns with the definition of racism presented in earlier work (see Fylkesnes et al. 2025, p. 2), where racism is emphasized as a system of power that operates both structurally and interpersonally. Building on this perspective, we argue that white supremacy functions as an enduring framework that shapes both dominant representations and internalized perceptions of identity.

Moreover, several participants reported feeling “ugly” in comparison to their white peers during childhood. Some were subjected to bullying and negative comments about their appearance, while others described a persistent sense of not being “chosen”, whether in romantic contexts or for friendships. Several participants shared feelings of exclusion, and some reported that their first meaningful friendships occurred only after finding peers with a similar racial background. Zaynab (24) from West Africa, moved to a large Norwegian city at age 14 through family reunification. She recounted struggling to make friends at school, observing that Norwegian students often gravitated toward each other and excluded newcomers. Her experience is reminiscent of an example discussed by Harlap (2022), who cites a participant named Akemi. Despite being in a classroom full of strangers, Akemi noticed that white Norwegian students chose to sit with one another, while no one sat near him. As Harlap points out, microaggressions often evoke ambiguity, prompting questions such as “Am I imagining this?”—which makes them difficult to identify and address.

Although Zaynab (24) initially lacked close friends of colour, she eventually became part of a vibrant West African community celebrating cultural traditions together. Her social connections grew stronger in high school, where she found herself surrounded by other students of colour, many of whom later became her close friends. Today, she is deeply engaged in discussions about racism and its impact on society. She also shared thoughts on dating and romantic relationships:

Zaynab (24): I feel like I am always the last choice. I am never picked first. I see it in Norway… I am not the dating type, or I am not the type people look for in Norway, if you understand… Everybody has an image of their ‘dream girl,’ and I am far from the dream girl that a (white) Norwegian might envision.

Interpreting the narratives, it is important to mention that the participants did not express that they thought of themselves as “uglier” than white women. Rather, they expressed the feeling of just “knowing” that whiteness is the highest ideal, either for beauty, affecting their romantic relationships, or that whiteness is preferred in general.

The white standard in society has been seen throughout history since colonization in different ways, such as through art and propaganda. Harris (2003) shows how in the 19th and 20th centuries, the idealized female in art history was white, slender, girlish, young, innocent, and submissive. The Black women on the other hand were often represented as older and aggressive, which were seen as masculine characteristics. He claims that the images do their work silently at some level, as art is a form of propaganda, an aesthetic, and an approach to life. Visual representations have consequently created and documented racial definitions and boundaries—but also maintained them. With this form of representation, women of colour can start believing some of the images that have been imposed on them. As Memmi (1965) predicted, one can start recognizing it as one would a detested nickname, nonetheless pass it down to new generations (Fanon 1963). Believing what other people think about them, and being treated differently due to appearance, can result in insecurity.

7. Killing Their Hair, and Losing Their Identity

Several of the young women of colour shared stories of how they became insecure during their youth and adolescence years, expressing a desire to change their appearance in response to the white beauty standard imposed upon them. Ana (23) described this vividly:

Ana (23): Growing up, I felt I had to do anything to make myself fit in more. I grew up with a lot of racism in a small town, and I was treated differently simply because of how I looked. I remember trying to become whiter. It was worst in secondary school, when I was 14 years old. I have very curly hair and I’m hairy. I remember being obsessed with removing my body hair and straightening my hair every single day—I was killing my hair every day.”

This quote illustrates Ana’s intense internal struggle with racialized beauty norms in a predominantly white Norwegian town. Despite arriving in Norway at age four and being fluent in Norwegian, Ana felt excluded and pressured to conform to whiteness through daily hair straightening. This practice, which she referred to as “killing” her hair, not only damaged her hair physically but symbolized a deeper psychological submission to white beauty standards. Drawing on Fanon’s (1986) psychoanalytic framework, this act can also be understood as evidence of an internalized white superego, a psychological authority that silently governs behavior, beauty norms, and belonging according to white standards. Freud’s (1989) theory of superego formation helps explain how such internalized norms become part of the self. In racialized contexts, this superego may reflect dominant white ideals, making Ana’s (23) hair-straightening ritual both a literal and psychic submission to whiteness.

Several of the participants in this study altered their hair as part of their attempts to fit in and reflect critically on those choices as grown-ups. Ana (23), who had naturally light, curly dark brown hair, spoke about straightening her hair throughout her adolescence years to feel more accepted. Today, she views those choices as part of a struggle with internalized beauty norms and has since embraced her natural texture. Two other participants traced their ancestry to Southeast Asia, one was adopted and raised in Norway, while the other had a mixed background, with one parent of European descent. Both had naturally straight, dark brown hair and had attempted to bleach it blonde during their adolescence years, aiming to align with dominant beauty standards.

As adults, they interpret their relationship with their appearance and identity as how those earlier choices were shaped by a desire to belong in a society where whiteness is often idealized. While no participant in this study with Afro-textured hair reported experiences with hair bleaching, other studies show that drastic measures such as the use of harsh chemicals or heat tools to straighten hair are common among Black women (Rosette and Dumas 2007). Furthermore, Hetlelid’s (2022) study on hair practices among Black women in Norway revealed that all participants had used chemical relaxers. Although the term “African hair” is often used in such studies, it is important to recognize that this label can obscure the diversity of hair textures and cultural meanings across African and Afro-diasporic communities. As Mbembe (2017) cautions, categorizations such as ‘Black’ should not be treated as fixed or singular, as they are often assigned identities rooted in objectification, and historical power structures rather than authentic self-definition.

Altering physical features is not uncommon among women of colour who attempt to conform to a society that upholds whiteness as the ideal. Although participants in this study primarily mentioned changing their hair, research shows that many women have gone even further. In Dasol Kim’s study, for instance, it is noted that social stigma and the stereotyping of physical features have led some Asian American women to undergo plastic surgery (Brady et al. 2017, in Kim 2021, p. 3). One common practice related to beauty standards is skin lightening. The brand formerly known as Fair and Lovely, developed in 1975, is a whitening cream widely available across countries in Asia, Africa, and the Middle East. The brand has been heavily criticized by social activists for promoting racist and colourist beauty ideals. In its advertisements, dark-skinned, unhappy girls are shown becoming confident and pale-skinned after using the product (Khan and Khan 2012). Following the Black Lives Matter movement, the product faced increased backlash for reinforcing colourist beauty standards. Although it has since been rebranded as Glow and Lovely, the underlying message and product positioning remain largely unchanged (Sharma 2020). It is important to note that critiques of such products come from diverse voices, including local activists within affected communities, reflecting a complex and multifaceted debate.

These practices of altering physical appearance can be understood as strategies to manage stigma, resonating with Goffman’s (1963) concept of “covering,” where individuals downplay visible markers of difference to avoid negative social judgment. In majority-white societies, changes to hair, skin tone, or other features become ways to navigate the discomfort of being visibly racialized (Valenta 2009). Freire (2018) further argues that the internalized inferiority linked to oppressed identities often leads individuals to reject their authentic selves in favour of adopting the oppressor’s identity, which is perceived as superior (David and Derthick 2014, p. 8). This creates a profound internal conflict, especially for people of colour, who face the difficult choice between embracing their whole selves, including natural features like curly or dark brown hair, or conforming to societal expectations at the cost of alienation. Fanon (1986) elaborates that even efforts to assimilate by altering appearance do not guarantee full acceptance in white society, as physical traits such as skin colour continue to mark individuals as outsiders. This ongoing rejection can result in identity confusion and deep feelings of self-doubt. Together, these theories highlight how appearance modifications among women of colour are not merely aesthetic choices, but complex acts shaped by social power dynamics, internalized oppression, and the persistent struggle for belonging.

8. Reclaiming Identity Through Decolonization

Andersson (2022) asserts that the self-perception of people of colour often evolves from childhood to adulthood, with significant changes occurring during their twenties. This period is frequently characterized by a growing identification with other people of colour. Moreover, research indicates that individuals may retrospectively feel ashamed of their earlier ignorance or indifference toward racism—both that directed at themselves and others (Andersson 2022). In the Norwegian context, childhood and adolescence are typically marked by a strong desire to assimilate and be recognized as Norwegian. Adulthood, by contrast, often entails a moral and emotional reckoning with past internalized beliefs, alongside a developing solidarity with those who have undergone similar experiences of racialization and exclusion. While Andersson’s approach provides valuable insights into the internal and psychological dimensions of racial identity development, it remains limited. Hall (2021) conceptualization of race as a “floating signifier,” implies that race does not come from any inherent biological reality but from the relationships and differences between social groups. This meaning is always in flux; old meanings fade away while new ones emerge, and there is always something left unsaid or unresolved about race (p. 366). Therefore, racism must be understood not only as internalized attitudes but also as attitudes embedded in social structures and practices that maintain an unequal “us versus them” dynamic, where whiteness is constructed as the norm and superior. The participants’ experiences reflect this complexity: they navigate both internalized beliefs about race and external systemic barriers, which continually reproduce their status as outsiders within shifting social meanings.

Ana (23) articulated a deep awareness of how internalized oppression has influenced her identity formation. During the interview, she expressed a conscious effort to decolonize her knowledge. According to Bucher (2020), decolonization involves critically examining and challenging the dominance of Western, Eurocentric paradigms, and contesting the hegemony of the white man in defining what constitutes valid knowledge.

Ana (23): I’ve been going through a really open and ongoing process of decolonizing my mind. It is work that never really ends, because the more I reflect, the more I notice all the things I’ve internalized and just accepted as normal. I start to realize, wait, this isn’t what I believe, this is something I have been told to believe, either directly or in more subtle ways. When I moved to the city, it pushed me to start breaking out of those boxes that had been placed on me.

Her process of critical reflection began when she moved away from the small town in which she had grown up, an environment dominated by white Norwegians. Upon relocating to a larger city with greater ethnic diversity, she found a community of friends who shared similar life experiences. This change in environment appears to have been pivotal in both her external and internalized oppression. Although she is now acutely aware of how past societal pressures shaped her self-image, the consequences of that history continue to affect her mental health. She described her current body image as persistently negative and revealed that she continues to struggle with an eating disorder developed in response to societal ideals. Even after years of therapy, she stated that the disorder remains “in the back of her mind,” underscoring the lingering impact of the white aesthetic standard. As Hooks (1992) explains, whiteness is often positioned as a marker of worth and value in dominant cultural narratives.

While many participants now express contentment with their appearance and feel less compulsion to conform to whiteness for validation, internalized oppression can persist in subtle and unconscious ways (David and Derthick 2014). Maya (29) described how she continues to experience unconscious impulses that reflect internalized biases. In one instance, she recounted looking at her reflection and contemplating whether to hide her afro-textured hair, worrying that she might appear “too African.” Ultimately, she chose to let her hair remain as it was, out of a commitment to authenticity and resistance. She emphasized that she did not want to diminish her distinctiveness to avoid unequal treatment or microaggressions. However, toward the end of the interview, Maya (29) got emotional as she reflected on this moment. Despite being an adult, an activist, and intellectually aware of these dynamics, she found it disheartening that such thoughts still emerged. Freire (2018) argues that the oppressed are often forced to choose between aligning with human solidarity or facing alienation. This tension reflects a deeper dilemma: whether to adapt to a white-dominated society or to embrace and assert one’s difference. Both paths carry consequences.

Some participants, despite not altering their physical appearance, were still mocked or bullied for their racialized traits. Others, who took active steps to straighten or chemically alter their hair, continue to struggle with body image and self-worth. Thus, they are caught in what Fanon (1986) describes as an impossible bind. Even if, for instance, Maya (29) had chosen to conceal her afro-textured hair, full inclusion within the dominant white culture would remain unattainable due to immutable features such as skin colour. As discussed by Erdal (2022), there are persistent norms considering how to look Norwegian. This tension encapsulates the enduring complexities of racial identity, self-perception, and belonging.

9. Discussion

The findings of this study demonstrate that internalized oppression has shaped the participants’ perceptions of self and identity in persistent and, as seen in hindsight, often unconscious ways. Throughout their narratives, the women actively reflect on and reinterpret their own experiences, revealing how internalized ideologies are not static but evolve over time. Their stories highlight a continuous process of negotiating, resisting, and sometimes reproducing dominant norms. It is important to distinguish between the experience of racism as an external act, whether intentional or unintentional, and the internalization of racist ideologies, which often occurs unconsciously and is shaped over time through repeated exposure to dominant norms. Although both can have similarly damaging effects, internalization refers to how individuals absorb and reproduce societal hierarchies within themselves. Understanding this distinction is essential when interpreting the participants’ narratives. While several participants have actively engaged in a process of decolonizing their minds, they describe how impulses rooted in internalized bias continue to resurface. This supports Fanon’s (1963) argument that internalized inferiority is deeply embedded and resistant to conscious efforts of resistance. The theories of Memmi, Fanon, and Freire offer valuable frameworks for understanding the enduring nature of these experiences.

The participants’ narratives show that internalized oppression is not a fixed condition but a dynamic one, changing in response to their environment, relationships, and access to anti-racist discourses. Some women described early internalization occurring within the family, where they were warned by parents about how their bodies would be perceived due to their racialized gendered identities. This intergenerational transmission of internalized messages aligns with Harris’s (2003) analysis of how historical images of women of colour continue to shape contemporary femininity, and with Epstein et al.’s (2017) findings about the adultification of Black girls. The participants recalled these moments not just as stories, but as turning points in how they began to view themselves, showing an active engagement with their past and a re-reading of those early messages.

A recurring theme in the participants’ stories was the pressure to conform to Eurocentric beauty ideals, particularly during adolescence. They recounted decisions to modify their hair and appearance, driven by a desire to fit in. Yet these choices were later revisited and reinterpreted. What once felt like simple adaptation was later understood as shaped by internalized racism and the need for belonging. It is important, however, to recognize that changes in hairstyles, clothing, names, and other identity expressions are not solely the result of internalized racism. These adaptations often reflect a complex mix of motivations, including social belonging, professional opportunities, and fashion trends. For many, modifying appearance or behavior can be a strategic or empowering response to navigate dominant norms and societal expectations.

While many participants described pressure to align with dominant beauty ideals, it is also important to acknowledge the presence of opposite trends. In recent years, traditionally “African” hairstyles, such as braids and dreadlocks, have been increasingly adopted by white individuals, particularly within global popular culture. While these styles are often rebranded and celebrated in mainstream spaces when worn by white people, Black women and girls frequently face consequences such as job loss or societal stigma for the same expressions. As Turner and Young (2022) argue, this contrast highlights how aesthetic practices are not judged equally but are deeply embedded in racialized hierarchies. This uneven value ascribed to racialized traits depending on who performs them underscores the need to interpret expressions of identity through appearance within larger power structures—where some differences are commodified and celebrated, while others are policed and marginalized. This dynamic is further complicated by the environments in which many participants were raised.

Several participants described a shift that occurred in early adulthood. Relationships with others who shared similar racialized experiences, friends or romantic partners, became turning points. Through these new connections, many re-evaluated their self-image and began to challenge previously internalized beliefs. Andersson (2022) notes that this form of solidarity is common among racialized individuals, who often seek assimilation in adolescence but later find strength in shared identity with other coloured people. The women’s narratives reflect this movement, a process in which they actively reconstruct their personal histories and renegotiate their sense of self.

The women’s stories also unfolded against the backdrop of broader societal changes. Exposure to anti-racist and decolonial discourses, particularly after movements like #MeToo and Black Lives Matter, provided new interpretive tools. Some participants explicitly connected these shifts to their own development, explaining how such movements helped them articulate experiences they had previously left unnamed. Again, this points to their active role in making meaning of their experiences, and the importance of a sociohistorical context in shaping those interpretations. These personal experiences must, thus, also be situated within a broader historical context. In the Nordic countries, structures of exclusion cannot be separated from the region’s colonial entanglements, including participation in the transatlantic slave trade and the assimilationist policies toward the Sámi people (Weiss 2024; Minde 2005). Although often overlooked in dominant national narratives, these histories continue to shape racialized understandings of identity, beauty, and belonging. As such, internalized oppression cannot be reduced to individual psychology alone but must be understood as a product of how deeply rooted colonial and racial legacies are present today.

At the same time, the participants’ accounts revealed the continued presence of internalized oppression despite efforts toward resistance. Several women shared experiences of growing up in predominantly white environments or with white Norwegian parents, which intensified the pressure to assimilate. Their decisions to adjust language, appearance, or even names reflected attempts to manage stigma, as described by Goffman (1963) and Valenta (2009). These efforts were later revisited with a critical eye. The women did not simply recount these choices, they analyzed them, often with a sense of ambivalence, shame, or pride, depending on the context and outcomes. Their stories show how internalized oppression is not only experienced but also actively negotiated.

This study illustrates that internalized oppression is not merely a personal issue but one shaped by and sustained through broader societal and institutional mechanisms. As Freire (2018) argues, liberation requires the development of a critical consciousness, an awareness of both external oppression and how it manifests internally. Addressing internalized racism, therefore, must involve not only individual reflection but also systemic transformation, including educational efforts and diverse representations that challenge Eurocentric standards and dominant cultural narratives. The emotional weight of internalized oppression was palpable throughout the narratives. The women spoke of exhaustion, confusion, and the deep psychological toll of trying to meet dominant expectations. Fanon (1986) and Memmi (1965) help illuminate these inner struggles, particularly through concepts like the colonized subject’s desire for recognition and the persistent “echo” of inferiority. These theoretical insights resonate with the participants’ expressions of longing, self-doubt, and gradual self-acceptance. Their stories show how internalized oppression is lived as both an external pressure and an internal battle, a conflict they seek to make sense of and transform.

10. Conclusions

Memmi (1965) argues that the oppressed often internalize beliefs of their own inferiority, which, over time, transforms into an internal echo—one more destructive than the external voices of oppression (p. 87). The question remains: how can people of colour resist internalizing the reductive and racialized portrayals imposed upon them? As this echo grows louder, individuals may begin to accept such portrayals as truth, altering their physical appearance and, in the process, becoming what Freire (2018) describes as the “sub-oppressor”, one who develops a sense of “adhesion” to the values of the oppressor.

This study reveals that experiences of racism and social exclusion throughout childhood and adolescence contributed to the development of internalized oppression, particularly affecting participants’ self-perception in relation to their physical appearance. Several participants reported being prematurely sexualized, viewed as older than their age, and even subjected to sexual violence. These experiences were compounded by bullying and social exclusion due to their racialized features, particularly in predominantly white environments. In response, some participants resorted to altering their appearance, such as straightening or changing their hair, to fit in. For some, this represented a deeper erasure of identity, while for others, it was perceived more as a practical adaptation rather than a disconnection from their cultural self.

Now, as adults, the participants are actively engaged in the process of decolonizing their minds and reclaiming their identities. This journey involves conscious healing through political engagement, public discourse on racism, and community-building with peers, especially with other young women of colour. These supportive relationships offer affirmation and solidarity, enabling the participants to reinterpret earlier experiences through the lens of structural racism and colonial history. This reframing allows them to relocate the blame for past discrimination and harm outside of themselves, fostering empowerment and self-acceptance. Crucially, this process of healing and resistance is deeply rooted in the act of storytelling. By reclaiming their narratives and reshaping how they understand and articulate their past, the participants actively rewrite the meaning of their experiences. In doing so, they reconstitute themselves, not as passive subjects of racism and exclusion, but as agents of transformation. The power of narrative enables these women to confront internalized oppression, reimagine their identities, and assert new ways of being in the world. Although the participants report improved self-image and a more critical understanding of internalized oppression today, the remnants of these early experiences persist. Impulses shaped by years of racialized messaging still surface, even among those who intellectually and politically resist them. This underscores the long-lasting impact of internalized oppression and the need for ongoing reflection and support.

Furthermore, the findings emphasize that internalized oppression cannot be fully understood without considering its intersection with gender. As discussed earlier, the participants’ experiences were deeply shaped by the dual forces of racialization and gendered expectations, particularly in relation to beauty norms, sexualization, and perceptions of maturity. These intersecting forms of oppression illustrate how young women of colour navigate a compounded reality, where both race and gender inform how they are seen and treated (Crenshaw 1991; Hessaa-Szwinto 2023).

In sum, this study illustrates that internalized oppression, as narrated by the participants, is not merely a personal issue but a socially and historically embedded phenomenon. Through their own stories, the women demonstrate a critical reworking of their past, present, and future identities. Liberation, as Freire (2018) suggests, requires both awareness of oppression and active engagement in re-narrating the self. The participants reflections show that addressing internalized racism demands more than individual change—it requires broader societal transformation, including structural interventions, inclusive education, and alternative representations that challenge Eurocentric norms.

Ultimately, this study highlights that the path toward decolonization and healing is both individual and collective. It emphasizes the importance of community, critical consciousness, and narrative reclamation in challenging internalized oppression. Further research is needed to understand how racialized individuals deal with internalized oppression in their daily lives, and how they build new identities and ways of seeing themselves in today’s society.