The Zendaya Effect: Hidden Whitewashing in our Media
Let’s talk about something that a lot of us feel but rarely say out loud: Black women in media are easier to digest when they appeal to white beauty and behavior standards.
And before y’all start, this isn’t a critique of Zendaya herself—because we love Zendaya. She’s stunning, talented, and has worked her ass off to get where she is. This is about the system that uplifts a certain type of Black woman while keeping others invisible.
Because let’s be real—the way Hollywood picks and chooses its Black “It Girls” is not a coincidence.
A History of Palatable Blackness
This isn’t new. It didn’t start with Zendaya, and it didn’t start with Hollywood.
Let’s rewind.
During slavery, mixed-race enslaved people—often referred to as mulattos—were frequently given preferential treatment. They were more likely to work in the house than the fields, often receiving slightly better conditions (but still being enslaved). Why? Because their proximity to whiteness made them more acceptable, more valuable, more desirable in the eyes of white people.
Fast forward to the brown paper bag test—a literal test that Black Americans had to pass to be considered worthy of certain spaces. If your skin was darker than a brown paper bag? Sorry, you’re too Black to be included. This happened in social clubs, schools, and even some Black organizations.
This is a pattern. And that same pattern shows up today—just more subtly, more insidiously, and on the biggest media platforms in the world.
Hollywood’s Favorite Type of Black Girl
Zendaya, Yara Shahidi, Amandla Stenberg, Zoë Kravitz, Halle Bailey. Gorgeous, talented, deserving of success. But what do they all have in common?
Light skin.
Loose curls or straightened hair.
Eurocentric features.
Non-threatening demeanor.
This is the Zendaya Effect: The elevation of Black women who fit within the margins of white acceptability, while darker-skinned, more visibly Black women struggle to get the same roles, the same recognition, the same grace.
And before anyone says “but look at Viola Davis, look at Lupita Nyong’o”—exactly. Look at them. They have had to fight for their success in ways their lighter-skinned counterparts simply have not. They are exceptions, not the rule. And when they do land big roles, the way they are treated in the media (or by their own industry) is not the same.
The Code-Switching of Beauty Standards
It’s not just about skin tone—it’s about behavior, too.
The Black women Hollywood loves are often the ones who present in a way that is digestible to white audiences. They speak softly. They don’t demand too much space. They don’t challenge the system in ways that make people too uncomfortable.
Compare that to how the media treats someone like Megan Thee Stallion. Or how Serena Williams was constantly degraded for being “too masculine.”
It’s a system that rewards proximity to whiteness—not just in looks, but in energy, in mannerisms, in how much someone makes white people feel safe.
What This Means for Black Women in Media
The Zendaya Effect isn’t just about who gets chosen—it’s about who doesn’t.
Why aren’t there more dark-skinned Black women leading romance movies?
Why are darker-skinned actresses often cast as the best friend, the sidekick, the struggling single mother, or even the lawyer?
Why do we rarely see dark-skinned Black women being soft, desirable, the center of attention?
Because Hollywood’s version of diversity still operates within a white gaze. They want just enough Blackness to be “progressive,” but not so much that it disrupts their comfort.
And that’s the real problem.
So, What Now?
This isn’t about tearing down Zendaya or any other Black women who fit the industry’s preferred mold. They’re not the problem—the system is.
But we do need to talk about it. We need to name it. We need to push for real diversity that doesn’t just uplift one type of Black woman while shutting out the rest.
Because if Hollywood truly wants to be inclusive, it’s time to stop centering Blackness only when it comes in a form that is easy for white people to accept.
It’s time to see all Black women, in all shades, in all spaces, in all roles. Period.
