If you look at a photo of Ariana Grande from 2010 and compare it to one from 2019, it feels like you’re looking at two different humans. Honestly, it’s jarring. People talk about the Ariana Grande race change like it’s some kind of urban legend, but the internet has receipts. We’re talking about a girl who started as a pale, red-headed teenager on Nickelodeon and somehow became the poster child for racial ambiguity during her Thank U, Next era.
The conversation isn't just about a tan. It's about a total shift in aesthetic, voice, and even the way she positions her eyes in photos. Some call it evolution; others call it "blackfishing" or "asianfishing." But if we’re being real, the truth is tucked somewhere between a heavy spray tan and a very calculated branding strategy.
The Italian Roots Nobody Believes
Let’s clear the air on her actual DNA first. Ariana Grande-Butera is Italian-American. That’s it. She’s half Sicilian and half Abruzzese. In 2014, she tweeted that a genetic test showed she had some North African and Greek roots—which makes sense given Sicily’s history—but she is, by all standard definitions, a white woman from Boca Raton, Florida.
Why does this matter? Because for years, a huge chunk of her fan base genuinely thought she was Latina. Or mixed. She didn’t exactly go out of her way to correct them while she was leaning into trap music and rocking a tan that was objectively darker than some of her Black peers.
The Victorious Era vs. The Trap Era
When she played Cat Valentine on Victorious, she was porcelain-skinned. The red hair was a character choice, but the skin was her own. Fast forward to the 2016 VMAs. There are photos of her performing "Side to Side" next to Nicki Minaj where Ariana’s skin tone is virtually identical to Nicki’s. That’s a wild jump.
It wasn't just the skin. She started using a "blaccent"—a specific way of speaking that mimics African American Vernacular English (AAVE). You can hear it in interviews from 2018 compared to her early 20s. It’s subtle, but it’s there. The "yuh" and the cadence were part of a package deal that helped her dominate the R&B-pop charts.
From Blackfishing to Asianfishing
Just when the "blackfishing" discourse reached a fever pitch, the aesthetic shifted again. In late 2021, Ariana posted photos that sparked a whole new wave of backlash. This time, the term was asianfishing.
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In these deleted Instagram shots, her makeup and the camera angles made her eyes look slanted and her skin noticeably paler—almost echoing K-beauty standards. People were confused. How does someone go from being accused of trying to look Black to trying to look East Asian in a matter of months?
Critics like Rayna Wuh have pointed out that "appearing Asian" isn't an aesthetic you can just put on and take off. For the celebrities doing it, it’s a trend. For people born with those features, it's an identity that often comes with real-world discrimination.
The 7 Rings Controversy
You can't talk about the Ariana Grande race change without mentioning the infamous charcoal grill tattoo. She wanted "7 Rings" in Japanese Kanji. She ended up with "shichirin," which literally means a small barbecue grill.
- She didn't check the translation properly.
- She tried to "fix" it, and it still wasn't quite right.
- She leaned into the aesthetic of Japanese culture for the music video but faced criticism for using it as a "costume."
This is the core of the issue. When you have the privilege to "try on" different ethnicities to sell records, it rubs people the wrong way. Especially when you can go back to being a white woman whenever the "trend" dies down.
Why the Shifts Feel So Jarring
Most pop stars change their hair. They change their clothes. But Ariana changed her phenotype.
Psychologists and cultural critics often point to "racial ambiguity" as a massive marketing tool in the 2020s. Being "ethnically ambiguous" allows an artist to appeal to everyone without being tied to the struggles of any one specific group. It’s profitable. It makes you a "chameleon."
But there’s a human cost to that. It can feel like a caricature. When you see her today, specifically in her Wicked era, she has pivoted back to a much paler, "Glinda-fied" look. The tan is gone. The blaccent is mostly gone. It’s like the "race change" was just a season of a TV show that finally got canceled.
What You Can Do Next
Understanding the nuance behind these celebrity "eras" helps you see through the marketing. If you're interested in how cultural appropriation works in the music industry, keep these things in mind:
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- Look at the context: Is the artist using a specific culture's aesthetic only when they are releasing a certain genre of music?
- Check the ancestry: Don't assume a celebrity's race based on their spray tan; many use it to appear "exotic" for clicks.
- Listen to the voices affected: Read articles by Black and Asian creators who explain why these shifts feel like "costume-wearing" rather than appreciation.
The Ariana Grande race change saga is a perfect case study in how fame, branding, and race intersect in the age of social media. It's a reminder that while style is fluid, identity has deep roots that shouldn't be used as a marketing gimmick.