Very few things in this life are promised. If you’re lucky – aging is one of them. For young women, aging is a strange catch-22. We all know it’s coming. It’s inevitable. And still, before most of us can even wipe the sleep out of our eyes in the morning, we run to the mirror – dissecting every new line, dark spot, and creasing eye bag – trying to avoid it.
If you’re a young Black woman, the process is even more torturous. For us, aging is forbidden. “Black don’t crack ” is practically an old-age scripture that has permeated our minds – so, God forbid you see a little wrinkle. To no irony at all, Botox has never been taboo for white women. But rather a widely accepted means of “self-preservation”, a regular dinner-table talk topic, and an unofficial right of passage into the Real Housewives club.
This disconnect can be traced back to the inception of the procedure.
Since its FDA approval for cosmetic use in the early 2000s, Botox wasn’t just marketed exclusively to white women, but the only proof that it worked were clinical studies done predominately on white patients, with little to none POC representation. Yet, in the age of changing times and breaking generational curses, Black women are overriding tired tropes and trying out the procedure with no shame about it.
Black women only account for about 4% of Botox procedures in the U.S, according to ASPS. Yet, the current search query “Botox Black Woman” has over 1.5B views on Tik Tok. So, what is all the curiosity about?
From using it to prevent the deepening of lines and creating sleeker face shapes, to simply using the technology in the name of elevated “self-care” – Black women are turning something that used to be rather questionable for us, into something that is just as normal as going to the nail salon.
@_trishonna
Source: @_trishhonna on Tik Tok
I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t admit to my own personal qualms with this trend before doing my research. Why do women have to fear looking older? Why are we so scared of having a little proof on our faces that we’ve lived? It wasn’t naive – I was aware that culture tends to discard the worth of older women. I was aware that tightly gripping onto youth was a way to hold onto cultural capital. But in 2023, weren’t we past that?
When I thought about the role aging played in my 20-something life, I quickly stumbled off my high horse. I was just as scared of aging as anyone else – I just wasn’t brave enough to go to a med spa.
I picked apart my forehead lines in the mirror every morning. I felt flattered when someone carded me at a bar. I bought every new product TikTok shop could convince me of a glowing complexion overnight. I cringed at the very thought of not accomplishing every single one of my wildest dreams by 30. I had to remind myself that what it meant to age was intensely emotional and mental – the physicality of it was just the onset.
Some of us are excited by the future nostalgia of how we were when we used to be young. Some of us are absolutely f*cking terrified – of the future we may or may not have , if we’ll have a retirement, or if we’ll be overcome by “should’ve, could’ve, would’ve” complex.
But the irony of it all still puzzled me.
Regardless of the reaction you have to the idea of having a few more wrinkles and sags on your face – most (if not all) young women are rather eager to outgrow the hell-ish experiences that go hand in hand with youth. We want to leave behind the utter dysfunction that makes up most of our 20s, becoming a more evolved, wiser version of ourselves.
I had to ask myself – how is it that we all want the “feeling” that comes with aging (and I’m not talking about the arthritis, I’m talking about the wisdom) – yet we don’t want the look that comes with it? It didn’t seem fair. Aging in theory should be a beautiful badge of honor. A sign that says you’ve been through it, but you’re still here. Instead, it was a sign that you were a woman past your prime. The reality? You probably had better days ahead.
Then it dawned on me. It isn’t aging that we’re all scared of – it’s all the other complications that come with it. Facing your mortality. Feeling less desirable. Fearing the grief of never looking like “our best” again.
On the contrary, for some women, anti-aging treatment is really just skin deep. It had nothing to do with trying to not look old, but everything to do with feeling the most comfortable in the current state that they’re in.
Here are a few takes from Black Women who’ve done the work:
“…When I think of beauty and aging and I approach it with a curiosity, I’m interested to see how the different sides of aging start to show on my face…{the work} I’ve had done is less about trying to prevent aging but more about the fact I don’t want makeup folding in my creases.” – Ginnah, 26, Bronx NY
“….If I can make a small tweak to boost my confidence and I can afford it – why wouldn’t I do that?” – Traciee, 24, Brooklyn NY
Other Black women have noted using Botox for experimentation – trying it out for brow lifts, micro-lines, and even hyperpigmentation.
When it comes down to it, young Black women should feel empowered to approach aging and how it manifests on our faces (and in our minds) – however we please. The world polices women enough – so why should we police each other?
As I woke up this morning visiting my family home, finishing this piece and once again checking my forehead lines in the mirror, I was stopped before I could fixate. My grandmother swiftly reminded me, “don’t worry they will get deeper, but you won’t care as much.”