Six months ago, I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. And almost instantly, my skin shifted into something I barely recognized. The postpartum glow? That skipped me.

Instead, I got dark spots, dullness, and hormonal acne I hadn’t seen since my early twenties. Products that once worked suddenly didn’t. My skin felt like a stranger. And when I finally built up the energy to visit a dermatologist, I was met with the same look I’d seen my whole life: confusion.

It’s the same look I got as a teen, when acne on my dark skin wasn’t taken seriously. The same one I got in my 20s, when I was prescribed a one-size-fits-all retinoid that left me with dry patches and peeling. The same one I got when I asked about fading hyperpigmentation and was told, “You’ll just have to wait it out.”

But postpartum skin? That’s a whole new battleground. And for Black women, it’s one with even fewer maps.

Here’s the hard truth: dermatology, as a field, hasn’t caught up with us. Only a fraction of dermatologists are Black. And most medical training doesn’t include how skin conditions look on darker tones.

That’s a problem when you’re dealing with melasma, eczema, or hormonal breakouts on skin that doesn’t show redness the way textbooks say it should.

During pregnancy, I dealt with melasma—those splotchy, mask-like patches that darken the face. I knew it was common, but I didn’t know it would linger months after birth. I went in looking for help and was met with generic suggestions. No nuance. No consideration for my skin’s unique needs. Just another product that wasn’t tested on someone who looked like me.

We talk about stretch marks and hair loss after birth—but what about skin?

Nobody warned me that postpartum hormones could reactivate old acne. Or that sleep deprivation and stress would trigger flare-ups worse than anything I experienced in my 20s. Or that hyperpigmentation would return like an old ex—uninvited and persistent.

And yet when I searched online, most “postpartum skincare” content was geared toward white women with redness, dryness, and concerns about “dullness.” I didn’t see skin like mine. I didn’t see conversations about how to safely treat melanin-rich skin after hormonal shifts. I didn’t see guidance for mamas who still wanted to feel beautiful—but didn’t want to risk chemical burns or irritation.

I felt erased. Again.

It wasn’t until I connected with a Black woman dermatologist that things started to shift.

She didn’t flinch at my concerns. She didn’t recommend harsh peels or one-size-fits-all routines. She listened. She explained how postpartum hormones affect melanin, why some products cause more harm than good on darker skin, and how to gently bring my glow back without compromising safety.

She knew about the risks of lasers on Black skin. She understood that we scar easily. She gave me a plan—not just a prescription.

And it made me wonder: where would I be if I’d met her 10 years ago?

When dermatology doesn’t see us, it doesn’t just hurt our self-esteem—it impacts our health. Skin conditions can signal underlying issues. Hair loss might mean more than stress. And when our concerns are dismissed or downplayed, we miss chances to catch bigger problems early.

I know women who’ve lived with painful scalp issues for years because no derm could identify their protective styles. Others who’ve had their eczema misdiagnosed. And countless who are just trying to get rid of dark marks without making them worse.

It’s exhausting. It’s isolating. And it’s preventable.

For Black women navigating postpartum skin, or any skincare journey really, here’s what I’ve learned:

• You’re not being dramatic. If something feels off, trust yourself—even if your provider doesn’t.
• Find a dermatologist who understands skin of color. Use directories like Black Derm Directory or the Skin of Color Society.
• Ask questions. Will this product cause hyperpigmentation? Is this safe for my skin type? Push for answers.
• Document your journey. Track what changes and when—especially during hormonal shifts.
• Be gentle with yourself. Your skin has been through a transformation, just like you. It deserves patience, not punishment.

I used to think clear, glowing skin was a luxury. Something for celebrities. Something you earn after using 10 products and drinking water religiously. But now, I realize the real luxury is care that’s built for you, not around you.

We deserve dermatology that sees us.
We deserve postpartum care that doesn’t stop at stretch marks.
We deserve providers who treat our beauty—and our bodies—with respect, curiosity, and intention.

Because our skin isn’t an afterthought.
It’s the main character.

And in 2025, I’m making sure it gets treated like one.