The Secret Sri Lankan Skin Crisis

In Colombo’s beauty boutiques, Galle’s seaside salons, and Instagram influencer feeds from Kandy to Jaffna, a dangerous beauty fad is quietly eating away at health and self-esteem. Skin-lightening creams — sold under glossy promises of “bridal glow” and “instant fairness” — are leaving a trail of irreversible damage, and now, Sri Lankan doctors are sounding the alarm.

The warnings are stark. These creams, many smuggled in or bought online, are laced with toxic chemicals like hydroquinone, steroids, and sometimes even mercury. They strip away melanin, the natural pigment that protects skin from the sun. The temporary paleness comes at a brutal cost: paper-thin skin, constant burning, fungal infections, acne, stretch marks, permanent discolouration — and increasingly, skin cancer.

One Colombo dermatologist recalls a young professional who came in with patchy ochronosis — dark, leathery marks — after three years of bleaching. “She told me she wanted to look like her lighter-skinned cousin,” the doctor said. “But now, her skin will never be the same.”

The obsession runs deep, fed by Sri Lanka’s colonial hangover and modern media. Lighter skin still opens doors — from better marriage prospects to friendlier job interviews. Billboard models and teledrama stars almost always have porcelain complexions, and in family circles, “fair and lovely” isn’t just a phrase — it’s a lifelong benchmark.

It’s not just women. Young men, especially in modelling, TV, and wedding photography, are quietly joining the fairness race, hoping for sharper selfies and better casting calls.

Globally, the industry is booming — worth $10.7 billion and projected to hit $18.1 billion by 2033. In Africa, Asia, and the Middle East, bleaching is rampant, and Sri Lanka’s market is no exception. Social media has supercharged the trend, with influencers flaunting “miracle” before-and-after shots while never mentioning the toxic reality in the jar.

Doctors say regulation here is too weak to keep up. Mercury-based creams are banned, but enforcement is patchy, and new formulas with dangerous steroids slip through. Small-town pharmacies and urban beauty counters still sell imported creams with little to no ingredient lists, while TikTok “beauty hacks” push homemade mixtures that are just as dangerous.

Activists warn that the only real fix is a cultural one — dismantling the centuries-old belief that lighter is better. “We need a national campaign that talks about the beauty of darker skin and the dangers of bleaching,” says one health advocate. “Otherwise, no ban will stop this.”

For now, the glow so many are chasing hides an ugly truth: in the quest to look fair, too many Sri Lankans are gambling with their health — and losing.