Báez, Navigating and Negotiating Latina Beauty
Báez, Navigating and Negotiating Latina Beauty
Báez, Navigating and Negotiating Latina Beauty
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to In Search of Belonging
What is Latina beauty? What does it mean to look Latina? How does media’s
construction of Latina beauty match up to or bump up against audiences’
preferred aesthetics? This chapter explores Latina audiences’ attempts to
navigate and negotiate Latina beauty ideals in relation to or against dominant
U.S. and Latin American media representations. In particular, it interrogates
how Latina audiences define Latina beauty vis-à-vis representations of gender
and race depicted in various forms of Latina/o-oriented media, especially
celebrity culture and telenovelas. While these ideals, aesthetics, and practices
are related to audiences’ desired representations of sexuality, as described in
more depth in chapter 3, this chapter specifically problematizes the women’s
notions of ideal beauty that are embedded within racialized hierarchies in-
formed by both U.S. and Latin American notions of race. In particular, I
reveal here how citizenship is mapped onto the mediated Latina body in
what I view as a form of neo-mestizaje. The participants pushed back against
Eurocentric beauty regimes in order to assert a more racially diverse ideal of
citizenship. In doing so, they embodied what Gloria Anzaldúa (1987) calls
“nueva mestiza” as racially mixed and culturally hybrid women.
I primarily focus here on how Latina audiences make sense of the domi-
nant images of Latina beauty in U.S. and Latina American media because
these images are the most widely circulated depictions of Latin(a) American
womanhood. They were also the aesthetics most often discussed and contested
in my fieldwork and interviews with participants. However, it should be noted
that many of the participants did engage in countercultural beauty practices
that diverged from the chaste, middle-class archetype prevalent in U.S. and
Latin American media. These women engaged in reappropriation by reclaiming
stereotypical images. For example, some of the women reappropriated images
of Latinas as hypersexual and prone to excess in clothing, jewelry, and makeup
by donning form-fitting clothing, bright colors and prints, large hoop earrings,
multiple pairs of metallic earrings, bracelets, and necklaces, hair highlights,
dark lip colors, and bold black eyeliner. These countercultural beauty practices
are similar to the chusma (specific to Cubans), chonga (specific to Latinas in
South and Central Florida), and chola (specific to Chicanas)1 aesthetics dis-
cussed in the work of José Esteban Muñoz (1999), Jillian Hernandez (2008),
Norma Mendoza-Denton (2011), and Rosa Linda Fregoso (1999). Hernandez
(2008) urges scholars to consider these aesthetics in a nuanced fashion: “rather
than critique visual representations of these young women for reproducing
negative stereotypes,” she suggests, “we [should] read them as indexing ethnic
pride, personal confidence, and non-normative sexuality” (66). In a similar
vein, I view these countercultural beauty practices as giving Latinas a way to
contest the sanitizing and whitening images of Latina beauty that appear in
both U.S. and Latin American media.
The participants’ call for more racially inclusive imagery of Latinas in
media and more expansive beauty norms serves as a vehicle for the women
to envision themselves differently in the public sphere. This reframing of
Latina beauty and what kinds of Latinas are visually foregrounded is one
way of reimagining the self as a worthy subject of not only media content
and consumption but also production. In other words, imagining how Latina
beauty ideals might be broadened is one way that Latinas enact citizenship
through asserting their place within the public space of media. For most of
the women in this study, discussions of media (whether in the formal inter-
view setting or the more informal setting of everyday life) provided them
with their only opportunity to produce their own representations of Latina
beauty. Particularly for those who had little access to technologies of media
production such as the internet, video cameras, smartphones, and computers,
or who did not have enough free time to produce their own media, this was
a space in which all the women could participate in self-representations. In
doing this kind of reframing, Latinas perform an alternative racialized citi-
zenship that holds media accountable for including a wider array of Latina
beauty aesthetics to reflect the racial diversity within Latina/o communities.
In Puerto Rico, for example, intellectuals in the 1930s tried to distinguish the
island from the United States by emphasizing that all Puerto Ricans were part
of la gran familia puertorriqueña (the great Puerto Rican family). Foreground-
ing the image of the white jibaro while also noting that Puerto Ricans have a
mixture of European, indigenous (Taino), and African roots, the discourse of
la gran familia puertorriqueña maintained a façade of racial democracy that
also erased blackness (Torres 1998). In addition, more recently scholars have
documented the racial disparities that black Latina/os and Latin Americans
face in both the United States and Latin America (Jiménez Román and Flores
2010; Quiñones Rivera 2006).
There has been some resistance to racial hierarchies rooted in colonialism
in Latin America. Impacted by the art of the Cuban Revolution, in the 1960s
and 1970s, Chicana/o and Nuyorican artists worked to remedy stereotypes in
both U.S. and Latin American culture. Moving away from Eurocentric ideals
that subjugate indigenous people and cultures as inferior, Chicana/o artists
heralded their indigenous identity by focusing on the mythos of Aztlán, the
U.S. Southwest, which before the Treaty of Guadalupe was Mexican territory.
Pre-Columbian images were common in Chicana/o art of this area, with
indigenous women revered as mothers and sexualized lovers. Consider, for
example, the film Yo soy Joaquin (1969), produced by the Teatro Campesino,
and based on a poem of the same title written by Rodolfo Corky Gonzales,
who was one of the leaders of the Chicana/o movement. Throughout the film,
artistic images of indigenous people abound alongside more contemporary
photographs of Chicana/os. Sylvia Morales’s documentary Chicana (1979)
is a feminist response to Yo soy Joaquin, but also invokes indigeneity by in-
cluding numerous matriarchal images of Aztec and Mayan art. Nuyorican
artists of the 1960s and 1970s also sought to recuperate the historical past by
invoking indigenous and African imagery. Approaching their work as exiles,
they used their art to overtly critique Spanish colonization as the source of
their displacement (Caragol-Barreto 2005). Chicana/os and Puerto Ricans
share colonized histories that are told through Eurocentric perspectives in
both the Latin American and U.S. educational systems. Artists’ recupera-
tion of indigenous and African lineages also informs audiences’ responses
to contemporary media representations of race.
Latina/os in the United States navigate both the U.S. and the Latin Ameri-
can racial systems. Especially for Mexicans, racial classification has been
arbitrary (Fernández 2012a; Menchaca 2002). For example, Latina/os were
defined as white in some states, such as Texas, and as mixed race in others,
including Indiana; and there were also states like California in which the
In addition, the “Latin look” stems from the trope of tropicalization, akin to
Orientalism, in that Latina/os are exoticized and represented as the Other
(Aparicio and Chávez-Silverman 1997).
There is a gendered dimension to the “Latin look.” In addition to the usual
racial signifiers like olive skin and dark eyes and hair, there is a specifically
“Latina look” for women. Latinas are positioned as more curvaceous and vo-
luptuous than Anglo and other women (Lloréns 2013), and also as having more
sexual prowess, plus a tendency toward excess in their hair, dress, and makeup,
and bodies that are usually in motion via dancing (López 1993; Peña Ovalle
2011; Valdivia 2000). As will be discussed in chapter 3, Latina audiences some-
times engage in self-tropicalization by reappropriating the tropicalization trope
into a discourse that affirms agency through difference. However, the domi-
nance of the “Latin look” in mainstream and ethnic media, coupled with the
preference for Nordic-looking bodies in Latin American media, creates beauty
ideals for women that are highly racialized. Hilda Lloréns (2013) argues that
the standard of beauty for U.S. Latinas is the Maja woman, who “is white or
light-skinned, has brown, green, or preferably, blue eyes, a ‘fine,’ ‘feminine’ or
European nose, is curvaceously thin, and has light brown (or a shade of blonde),
long flowing straight hair” (550). Although Lloréns suggests that the ideal eye
color for U.S. Latinas is lighter than the brown eyes that are part of the “Latin
look” favored by the U.S. mainstream media, the two ideals are similar. The
difference is that casting agents in the United States prefer Latina/os without
overt white (read: Nordic) markers like light eyes or blonde hair because they
need to register as nonwhite. While Latina/o beauty ideals might be more
celebratory of bodies that are more curvaceous and depart somewhat from
dominant white femininity (Goodman 2002; Molinary 2007), they are none-
theless steeped in Eurocentric notions of beauty that privilege whiteness
(Lloréns 2013). In addition, even the recent exaltation of the curvaceous body
in U.S. Latina/o media sets an often impossible standard of a thin body frame
with a small waist and large breasts, hips, and buttocks (Reichard 2013).
Latina audiences easily recognize the “Latina look” as a popular repre-
sentational strategy in U.S. media. Yvette, a twenty-one-year-old Mexican
college student, noted that advertisers tend to use “general Latinas” who
are olive-skinned with long dark hair, while Monica, a twenty-two-year-old
Mexican college student, expressed frustration that there is only “one Latin
look” in mainstream media. Some of the participants also discussed this
“Latina look” as an ideal beauty standard. When I asked Regina, a twenty-
three-year-old woman who migrated to the United States from Colombia as
a preteen, what she thought the perfect body should look like, it led to the
following exchange:
Lydia points to how Latinas are depicted not only as “darker” than “the
American woman,” but also as more voluptuous. This comment highlights
how much of the “Latina look” emphasizes a curvaceous body. Many par-
ticipants critiqued this construction, particularly the stereotype that Latinas
have large buttocks. For example, as explored in chapter 3, several women
expressed disappointment that for mainstream media and audiences, the
indexical marker for Jennifer Lopez is her backside. Moreover, the partici-
pants expressed concern about the homogeneous depiction of Latina bodies
prevalent in media they regularly consumed: though that mediated Latina
Whitening Celebrities
In addition to recognizing the “Latin look” in media, participants also fre-
quently discussed the “whitening” of Latina celebrities. More specifically,
they expressed concern about stars such as Jennifer Lopez and Shakira light-
ening and straightening their hair and losing weight as they became better
known in mainstream media. This concern was especially directed toward
stars who were crossing over from Spanish-language and Latin American
media to mainstream English-language media. The participants speculated
that conformity with more Eurocentric beauty ideals made Latina celebrities
Assimilated because she doesn’t look Latina. She doesn’t have a—I hate to say
this—Jennifer Lopez, every time you see her, her hair is brighter, her booty’s
smaller. And you can barely hear her accent. Every time you see her, it changes,
it’s just happening, you know. Shakira! Oh my god, Shakira! What happened
to her? She looked so beautiful with her Colombiana self, and then before
you know it, she became mainstream—una blonde. And she looked horrible
. . . that hair looks yellow, burnt. So it’s either the very—the people you like
to hate, the maids, or assimilated. So there’s no in between.
It is notable that both Elena and Lisa not only identified and cautioned against
whitening beauty practices within Latina communities, but they also faulted
the media for reinforcing this norm of whiteness. These types of commentar-
ies indicate that some Latina audiences reject such pressures from both the
media and local Latina/o communities.
At the same time, beauty aesthetics can be fraught with contradictions.
While participants contested beauty practices that might be construed as
whitening (such as dyeing one’s hair blonde, straightening one’s curly or
kinky hair, or losing weight), not all of the women agreed that these aesthet-
ics are oppressive. Audrey (Mexican) and Bianca (Mexican/Peruvian), both
in their early twenties, were best friends attending the same college. As they
were discussing how Shakira’s image changed when she crossed over into
the English-language market, the following disagreement ensued:
AUDREY: I think of Shakira, and I used to like Shakira a lot before, be-
fore she crossed over. I think she sold out. I think she’s a really good
singer and all. Her music is good now, but before she was more true
to her indigenous side. I think once she started singing in Eng-
lish, she lost a lot of her essence. She got thinner. She dyed her hair
blonde. I guess she became—I had this thing. We [Audrey and her
friends] call people that dye their hair blonde colonized because
they’re colonized by the white man. So we call her colony.
BIANCA : I don’t agree with that at all. Selena was able to make music in
English.
A : But did she dye her hair blonde?
B : Who cares what color her hair is?
A : It means a lot.
B : No, it doesn’t.
A : Yes, it does.
B : I like Shakira either way, and I think she’s good either way. I think
she did a good thing. She’s expressing herself not only to people
speaking Spanish, but people speaking English, too . . .
A : It’s totally different from the music now. I think that—I mean, look
at her image before she had red hair, dark roots, and she was a little
bit chunkier. She represented more of what the Latina woman is,
whereas now she’s a stick and she has blonde hair. I mean, if she does
this and goes to America, that has to mean a lot, and I guess it’s all
capitalism because you’re trying to, like, sell yourself, but I think that
is so wrong. You shouldn’t sell yourself in order to—if you’re good at
what you do, you shouldn’t do that.
B: I think that whatever color her hair would be, they would still listen
to her.
A : No, because who has blonde hair? The white girls do.
B : No.
A : She’s not white.
B : No. You had your hair blonde.
A : Yeah, that was like—I was a kid. I didn’t know better.
B : It doesn’t matter.
A : Yes, it does.
B : I disagree completely with your statement.
A : No.
B : I think that whatever color her hair is, I think she should be able
to—it’s not even selling. It’s like extending her music to other people
besides us. I think that that’s a good thing.
A : No.
B : She’s sharing it with others.
A : Okay, that’s fine.
B : Wait. Hold on. And there’s some stuff that’s in English and Spanish,
and people are like, oh, they’re a Spanish person, and then they’ll like
get into it to. It’s not only—because some like straight English.
A : No. Okay. You’re saying that, but look at it this way. Look at how she
was beforehand, and look at the after picture. Beforehand she always
only geared towards Mexico and South America. Now it’s America.
Now she’s more Americanized than anything. She has blonde hair
and she’s thin.
B : But she just learned English, so she wasn’t able to do it before.
A : But come on. You gotta sell yourself to the American people, and
she dyed her hair blonde and she’s like a stick, and a lot of American
actresses do that. A lot of people like, you know—
B : I still like her.
A : I like her, too, but I liked her better before.
I include this longer excerpt because it reveals how notions of belonging and
recognition are mapped onto the mediated Latina body. First, the women’s
discussion details some of the tensions surrounding aesthetic choices. On
the one hand, it addresses the Eurocentric beauty standards that are circu-
lated in mass media and how those standards are reinforced in the larger
dominant culture, which can shape aesthetic choices. It amply documents
that dominant Eurocentric beauty standards inform women’s sense of citi-
zenship and belonging, both in the United States and abroad (Bordo 1993;
Darling-Wolf 2004; Kilbourne 1999; Wolf 1990). On the other hand, choices
about aesthetics are also personal forms of creative expression. In the con-
versation above, for example, Audrey insisted that Shakira was adhering to
a Eurocentric beauty standard and viewed the choice to dye her hair blonde
as assimilating to U.S. ideals. Shakira’s aesthetic choices were underscored
because they occurred during her crossover into the English-language music
market. Bianca vehemently disagreed with Audrey and distinguished Sha-
kira’s aesthetic choices and musical career as separate issues.
Further, Bianca reduced the decision to lighten one’s hair to a personal
choice and suggested that women may take pleasure in aesthetic forms that
are racialized not simply as an adherence to whiteness, but as a form of
creative expression. I bring attention to these two perceptions of whitening
practices because aesthetic choices are fraught with contradictions about as-
similation and agency and shed light on issues of citizenship and belonging.
In some ways, Audrey’s and Bianca’s discourses echo binaries inherent in
African American beauty aesthetics of “white wannabe/radical black” (Tate
2008, 147) or natural/unnatural or oppressed/radicalized women. People use
these binaries to police and shame women who engage in beauty practices
that can be construed as whitening (for example, lightening their hair, or
relaxing and straightening it). Shirley Tate (2008) suggests that we instead
view these practices as broadening what it means to perform blackness rather
than as adhering to Eurocentric beauty regimes. While I do not want to strip
agency from women who might engage in these types of beauty practices, it is
difficult to divorce their choices from the racialized hierarchies embedded in
contemporary beauty norms, which continue to privilege Eurocentric physi-
cal features. Furthermore, given the prevalence of blanqueamiento practices
in Latin America in order to gain social and economic capital, there also
remains the question of who can pass for white. While not all women who
lighten or straighten their hair may do so with the intention of passing for
white, it remains the case that women who are already lighter-skinned can
more easily pass for white or at least racially ambiguous when they engage
in these types of beauty practices. As Aisha Durham and I argue (Durham
and Báez 2007), only light-skinned women (and presumably men) have the
racial and social capital to be able to perform not only whiteness but also
racial ambiguity. Women with darker complexions are less likely to pass for
white or even racially ambiguous even if they choose to partake in lighten-
ing beauty aesthetics. In other words, regardless of stylization, some women
will always be read as black or indigenous.
Overall, while there was some debate about whitening beauty regimes
among the participants, most of the women recognized these practices as a
form of assimilation and resented Latina celebrities for taking part in this
process. This is a significant response given the dominance of whiteness in
mainstream, Spanish-language, and ethnic media. These sentiments can
also be viewed as a rejection of the historical pressures of blanqueamiento,
especially for women in the form of beauty aesthetics. In this way, Latina
audiences challenge dominant beauty norms, which in both Latin Ameri-
can and U.S. media pressure women to engage in whitening practices. In
rejecting these racialized beauty norms, the women instead embraced their
own aesthetic ideals as mostly mestiza and mulata women. This assertion
of their bodies as beautiful, despite pressures to conform to Eurocentric
beauty standards, is an expression of racialized citizenship whereby notions
of belonging and worthiness are mapped onto mediated bodies (i.e., Latina
celebrities) and beauty norms are questioned.
1996; Sue 2013; Vasconcelos 1997). While there is a growing interest in indi-
geneity among Puerto Ricans on both the mainland and the island (Duany
2002; Haslip-Viera 2001), and while the visibility of the African presence in
Mexico is increasingly discussed in academic and community circles (Arce
2017; Gates 2011; Jiménez Román and Flores 2010; Sue 2013), Puerto Rican
and Mexican women have nonetheless historically been racialized (and have
racialized themselves) along a continuum of whiteness/Indianness and white-
ness/blackness, respectively.
Jovita, who is Mexican, used her own experience of being “treated like the
india” to demonstrate how media images translate into everyday lived ex-
periences. Jovita stated that she “hates” going to Mexico City because “I just
hate how I see people treated and how I’m treated.” She went on to discuss
how the india is predominantly represented:
The india, india, you know—from plaited hair to comical almost. Unedu-
cated or kind of the buffoon whore, and her ultimate dream is to be beautiful,
blonde, and be loved by a man who is not dark-skinned . . . indias are not as
important and are ugly . . . usually. They are disregarded or dismissed. They’re
in a subservient position to other people who have higher rank or more power.
And they’re, you know, the American version of a hillbilly or a hick.
Jovita situated the construction of the india within a racial hierarchy that
intersects with class, arguing that “the class system rules. And the lighter you
are, the farther you go. Socioeconomic status is really wrapped around also
color code.” Twenty-nine-year-old Luz, who is Mexican and was working as
an office assistant, reiterated the same type of characterization of indigenous
women, noting that they are especially represented as inferior and not to be
taken seriously in telenovelas. Ester, a thirty-two-year-old college advisor who
is Mexican/white, argued that it is usually the “glamour girl” (read: white or
light-skinned mestiza woman) playing an “indigenous woman because she’s
got braids in her hair.” In these ways, hair and other physical features become
markers for indigeneity. In other words, while the indigenous woman is vis-
ible, especially on Spanish-language television, either she is a minor, inferior
character or she is played by a lighter-skinned actress in a rags-to-riches
(read: india-to-white) fairy tale. For these reasons, Jovita and some of the
other women sought to redefine themselves against these representations of
la india as unworthy or inferior to white women and therefore sought more
empowering images of indigenous or indigenous-looking women.
Indigenous women were not the only group whose depictions in Latina/o
media were discussed. Some of the women also complained about the lack
In sum, these comments reveal that some Latina audiences desire much more
dynamic and fluid representations of Latinas in terms of race. Some partici-
pants sought to reclaim the representation of indigenous (or indigenous-
looking) women as beautiful, smart, and competent, while others desired
more images and content on the particular experiences of Afro-Latinas.
Several of the women also expressed an interest in coverage of issues of race
within the Latina/o community as an integral part of Latina/o news media.
Overall, some of the women were especially invested in making more visible
women who are usually invisible in Latina/o media, particularly indigenous
and Afro-Latina women.
wanted someone telling me, ‘Hey, you’re pretty.’” Here Veronica illustrates
women’s performance of dominant femininity for social gains (see Bordo
1993). In this case, she was taking part in the beauty pageant as a way to seek
social approval of her beauty and acceptability as a woman.
Even when some of the women did engage in the celebration of nonnor-
mative Latina aesthetics, as embodied in celebrities like reggaetón artist Ivy
Queen and mainstream actresses America Ferrera and Sara Ramirez, these
were negotiated identifications, with the hegemonic elements of these icons
preferred over the more subversive. In the case of Ivy Queen, for example—
who has embodied hegemonic beauty since her musical crossover with her
straight blonde hair, form-fitting outfits, and makeup, and at the same time
performs a “butch” femininity in her vocals (see Báez 2006)—some of the
women commented that they were fans, though they viewed her as “ugly”
and criticized her for looking “unnatural” (read: abnormal) because of her
mix of dominant and alternative aesthetics. On the other hand, many of the
women readily identified with Ferrera, and to a lesser extent Ramirez, for
challenging the ideal of the thin female body by having larger frames. While
Ferrera (a size 8) and Ramirez (a size 12) are far from overweight, let alone
obese, and while both still conform to Hollywood glamour aesthetics on the
red carpet by sporting straight hair, donning feminine designer gowns, and
wearing makeup, the two actresses are heralded for offering “new” ideals of
not only Latina beauty, but women’s beauty in general. In many ways, these
discussions mirror scholarly literature about the slain Tejana singer Selena
(see Aparicio 2003; Arrizón 2008; Paredez 2009; Vargas 2002a, 2002b) that
argues that this icon simultaneously reinforced and countered colonial, Anglo
beauty standards. I want to suggest that while Ivy Queen, Ferrera, Ramirez,
and Selena are shifting notions of female beauty in popular culture, they are
doing so in a limited way, as their challenge to hegemonic beauty entails
subtle changes that only slightly confront what dominant society values. For
example, all four of these icons are lighter-skinned (not one is Afro-Latina
or very dark-skinned), they are all of medium body weight, and they all
style their hair and makeup in ways that are consistent with dominant U.S.
fashion.
Conclusion
Latinas are the largest bloc of cosmetics consumers, buying over 25 percent
more than other women in the United States (Breast Cancer Fund 2005;
Costantini 2011; Nielsen 2015). Thus it is safe to assume that beauty practices
are a significant part of many Latinas’ lives. Second-wave feminists (e.g., Wolf
1990) dismissed beauty as an arena that was not empowering for women, but
as indicated by Latinas’ consumption of beauty products and engagement
with beauty practices—in both mainstream and countercultural forms—
aesthetics are important to Latina audiences, as the body is a space where
tensions over race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, and class arise (Beltrán 2002;
Hernandez 2008). Feminized forms of popular culture, including beauty
practices, have historically been considered frivolous by feminists and non-
feminists alike and are often viewed as compliance with the dominant culture.
The women’s responses detailed in this chapter, however, suggest that beauty
is racialized and that audiences are invested in aesthetics because they can be
markers of recognition and belonging. Feminist media scholars are seeking
a fuller understanding of the role of feminized forms of popular culture for
ordinary women in their everyday lives (Levine 2015). For example, a woman
may get a manicure and pedicure; have her hair cut, colored, and styled; and
shop for clothing as a way of disciplining her body to fit particular notions
of femininity. At the same time, these leisure practices can provide her with
a temporary break from a difficult day at work and serve as a source of self-
care, escape, and glamour while offering her a space in which she can enjoy
the company of other women (Ruiz 2000).
In both U.S. and Latin American media, dominant beauty ideals usu-
ally manifest as Anglo features (light skin, hair, and eyes), thin bodies, and
middle-class aesthetics. In this way, whiteness is maintained as the norm,
and hybridity is acceptable only in sanitized forms (Molina-Guzmán and
Valdivia 2004; Shugart 2007). This chapter has illuminated how Latina au-
diences recognize Latina beauty regimes in media and how they redefine
and broaden ideal Latina aesthetics on their own terms. As the dominant
racial model in Latin America, mestizaje has historically shaped beauty ide-
als in Latina/o communities. Is the beauty ideal that the participants in this
study produce a reinforcement of the dominant ideology of mestizaje? Yes
and no. Some of the women do reproduce mestizaje through celebrating the
tanned or brown body, but others offer a broader beauty model, predicated
not solely on mestizaje (though it certainly draws from it) but insistent on
overall racial inclusivity. In this sense, most of the participants’ beauty ideals
would be best described as a form of neo-mestizaje, in which racial mixture
is celebrated but blackness and indigeneity are also recognized as beautiful.
In this way, Latina audiences reimagine Latin American and U.S. beauty re-
gimes by demanding that the historical invisibility of black and indigenous
women be remedied, and by exposing and challenging the racial exclusions