Exploring Black Identity Through Albinism

Dort said her African American and Haitian upbringing allowed her to experience Black culture in its entirety. Dort grew up in a tight-knit community where she was never treated differently because of her physical differences.

Credit: Amani Bayo

By: Amani Bayo

Blackness is often defined by the state of belonging to a group of people with dark skin.

Skin color and the perspectives it sparks is one of many shared experiences Black people in the U.S. have.

This definition, however, can be troubling, as it disregards the versatility that exists within the Black community. Essentially, there’s more than meets the eye when defining Blackness beyond skin color.

Those that experience skin conditions, such as albinism, have noticeable skin color differences that can impact the development of Black identity.

Dr. Stephanie Trovato, assistant professor in dermatology at the Wexner Medical Center at Ohio State, defined albinism as a genetic condition that results in little to no melanin pigment in hair, eyes, and skin.

Trovato said pigment disorders can be more common in darker skin tones, and the noticeable color contrast can create difficulties in self-confidence.

“Patients with chronic skin conditions can be vulnerable to social pressures, as sometimes these skin conditions can be visible to the outside world, they may face obstacles feeling confident and comfortable in their own skin,” Trovato said. “It is important to support patients through their chronic skin conditions and assess how much it may be affecting their quality of life.”

Trinity Dort, a third-year in biomedical engineering with albinism, defines Blackness not by the amount of pigment in her skin but by the experiences Black people could relate to. 

“I didn't even know I had albinism until I was 14,” Dort said. “Nothing about my childhood was different because I had albinism.”

Dort said she does not consider her lack of pigment to be a defining factor in who she is. She said her African American and Haitian upbringing played a prominent role in discovering who she is as a Black woman and allowed her to see herself beyond her skin complexion.

“I think that being Black has prepared me for being in spaces where people don't look like me,” Dort said. “In terms of my albinism and defending my identity, there’s nothing to defend.” 

Born and raised in a tight-knit community in New Jersey, Dort was raised in a Black community and was never treated differently because of her rare skin condition. 

“I feel like my Blackness is defined by the shared experience I have with other Black people,” Dort said. “Black is to be in spaces that were built by you but were never meant for you.”

From family cookouts to playing spades — a popular trick-taking card game in the Black community — and wearing cornrows, Dort said she was raised in a Black culture that played a more active role in her identity than the physical differences of albinism. 

“Growing up where I grew up, I never had gotten my race called into question. I was just always perceived as Black, which is how I perceive myself. I think I have really Black features,” Dort said. “If it hadn't been like that, so much of my identity would have been tied to albinism it would become one with who I am and not something separate.”

Dort said she has found comfort in the fact no two people look the same. She said her family helped build her confidence as a Black woman which has led her to appreciate her distinguishing Black physical traits.  

“I love being Black, I love everything about it, I literally wouldn't want to be anything else,” Dort said.

Though Dort’s Black identity was nurtured and supported through Black culture, others with albinism — like Ngozi Onimoe, a fourth-year in psychology — describe a different kind of struggle. Onimoe said she experienced a harsher social stigma due to her albinism which impacted her Black identity. 

“As a kid, trying to navigate through the school system was difficult,” Onimoe said. “I was just constantly bullied and made to think that I was ‘othered.’”

Raised by Nigerian parents, Onimoe often struggled to develop a sense of belonging in social environments, yet she managed to grow into her identity as a first-generation African American.

“In a way without realizing it, I kind of just grew into my own Blackness,” Onimoe said. “It really wasn't until I entered college that I was somewhat stable in my identity as a Black person.”

Onimoe said she was made to feel as if her albinism separated her from her Blackness, which has caused her to only recognize herself as a person with albinism but not under the term “albino.”

Onimoe said the general lack of understanding of skin conditions prevalent in the Black community perpetuates a cycle that ostracizes affected individuals from feeling like they belong. 

Experiencing albinism led both Dort and Oniome to reject the idea that Blackness exists under a singular monolith.

“I know that it's different for everybody, but for me, I don't like the term ‘albino’ just because it has a negative stereotype attached to it,” Onimoe said. “To be Black is to have African ancestry. There are billions of us, there's no way for us to look the same.”