In homes across Chicago, bottles of bleach, sprays of fragrance, and jars of moisturizer promise safety, freshness, and self-care. But a growing body of research suggests that many of these products—especially those marketed to Black consumers—are quietly undermining our health. From endocrine-disrupting chemicals in hair relaxers to allergens in air fresheners, the products we trust may be doing more harm than good. For Black professionals, the consequences are both personal and systemic.
The issue isn’t new, but it’s gaining urgency. A 2023 study from the Environmental Working Group revealed that beauty products marketed to Black women contain significantly more toxic ingredients than those aimed at white consumers. These aren’t minor irritants—we’re talking about chemicals linked to hormone disruption, reproductive harm, and even cancer. For Black men and women in Chicago navigating high-stress jobs, managing households, or aging into their 40s and 50s, it’s a quiet crisis happening right on their bathroom shelves.
“I used to think the higher the price, the safer the product,” says Jada M., a 42-year-old corporate manager from South Shore. “But then my doctor started asking questions about my home and haircare routine when I developed fibroids. That was my wake-up call.”
Fibroids. Breast cancer. Autoimmune disorders. These diagnoses hit the Black community harder—and earlier. Yet the conversation about prevention often ignores what’s in our homes, on our bodies, and in the air we breathe. And when medical guidance is hard to come by—or shaped by systemic bias—we’re often left to figure it out alone.
In Chicago, environmental racism isn’t just about factories and lead pipes—it’s also about what’s stocked on store shelves. A walk through certain dollar stores on the West Side reveals aisles full of products banned in the EU but still legal here. “There are ingredients in some of those hair sprays that would get you fined overseas,” says Dr. Aniyah Carter, a toxicologist based in Hyde Park. “But here? They’re sold next to diapers.”
And it’s not just personal care items. Candles, cleaners, and laundry products often contain phthalates and VOCs (volatile organic compounds) linked to asthma, hormonal disruption, and skin irritation. For families already dealing with air pollution, mold, and aging buildings, these everyday exposures compound into long-term health risks.
Still, it’s not all bad news. Local organizations are fighting back. The Chicago Environmental Justice Network recently launched a campaign urging city officials to regulate toxic products more stringently in neighborhood retailers. Their petition has already gained support from several aldermen and community health clinics on the South and West Sides.
Meanwhile, Black-owned wellness brands like BLK + GRN and local shops like The Scentuary in Bronzeville are offering non-toxic, eco-conscious alternatives. While their reach is still limited—often by cost or distribution—they’re beginning to shift the conversation from reaction to prevention.
But for many Black professionals, the question isn’t just what to buy—it’s what we’ve been taught to trust. “We don’t think of shampoo as a health decision,” says Dr. Asha White, a holistic medicine practitioner who runs workshops throughout Cook County. “But when you zoom out and look at the long-term effects, it becomes a public health issue. What you breathe, what touches your skin, what soaks into your scalp—it all matters.”
The conversation is growing. From group chats about safe deodorants to community teach-ins on fragrance-free living, there’s a rising awareness that health isn’t just about what you eat or how often you work out—it’s about what surrounds you, quietly, every day.
If Chicago is serious about health equity, it can’t just focus on clinics and coverage. It has to take a hard look at capitalism, culture, and convenience—and ask who’s really paying the price for “fresh and clean.”
Because when products marketed as safe are silently toxic, the real danger isn’t just exposure—it’s normalization. And in a city as resilient and resourceful as ours, Black health deserves more than the illusion of care.