Holding Brands Accountable: The Thin Line Between Inclusivity and Tokenism
My first personal experience of tokenism occurred a few years ago when I was at university. A friend had recently founded a student society and directly requested that I become involved at a managerial level. At first, I was flattered. However, it soon dawned on me that I had been singled out by him, not for what I could contribute to the organisation of the group, but more simply for the content of my face: ‘It would look good to have someone like you on the team,’ he suggested.
Like me? An embarrassing self-awareness crept over me as he proceeded to justify his selection. According to him, I was chosen because I was ‘female,’ check. And, more significantly, because I was ‘coloured.’ In checking these metaphorical boxes, I felt my appearance in his eyes being reduced to mere criteria. I found myself pondering whether other people might perceive me in a similar way, as different and, more significantly, as occupying a position of ‘otherness’ to them. I castigated myself for having been so blindly complacent up until this point. It had been a complacency about myself, an implicit trust in others that I would be perceived on the basis of my contributions, rather than my symbolism—I symbolised inclusivity, apparently.
Tokenism as depersonalisation
For the purposes of this article, I define ‘tokenism’ as the symbolic demonstration of inclusivity, in particular through the recruitment or inclusion of individuals from underrepresented or minority backgrounds, in order to create an impression of equality and diversity. During my experience of being cherry-picked in this way—as the ‘token minority’—I sensed a shift in the perceptions of some. For my appearance, which has historically formed the basis of my exclusion from popular narratives, was now actively being recognised as a criterion for inclusion—I was momentarily being seen.
When I was at school, for example, the contemporary message in advertising was that connotations of ‘beauty’ were invariably entwined with femininity, and that to be beautiful—the epitome of ‘female’—was to have straightened hair. As such, my well-meaning friends—of varying ethnicities and backgrounds—would frequently implore me to straighten my ‘frizzy’ hair. Although I never succumbed to this pressure, I was left with the lasting impression that my natural self was deemed to be less ‘beautiful’ and therefore less ‘feminine’ in popular perception.
Likewise, the timeless cliché that ‘men prefer blondes [or brunettes],’ for example, and the repetitive type-casting of the ‘attractive woman’ in Hollywood films, reinforced the sentiment that I, with my naturally ‘frizzy’ auburn hair and darker skin, am not the default ‘beauty’ or ‘female’ in contemporary parlance. As such, like many women, the all-consuming narrative of the beauty myth has positioned me on the fringe of popular perception, according to which I am second or ‘other’ to the archetypal image of a ‘beautiful woman.’
Therefore, by including somebody because of their otherness and their ‘exoticism’ relative to a certain default, tokenism perpetuates an illusion of inclusivity which is just as disempowering to the token individual as their own history of exclusion. This is because it operates to depersonalise them, valuing them because they appear different—they are seen as a mere symbol.
Holding brands accountable
In advertising, brands generally employ a strategy of appealing to a ‘target market.’ In particular, in this recent trend of embracing diversity and female empowerment, the need for profits has forced many brands to reinvent themselves. As such, we frequently observe advertisements that attempt to appeal to a target market, while simultaneously falling into the trap of perpetuating the tokenisation, commodification, and fetishisation of ‘difference.’
For example, faced with criticism that Barbie—with her unrealistic body proportions, single skin tone, and blonde hair[1]—was becoming increasingly estranged from the diversity of her target audience, leading to a dramatic decrease in sales, Mattel initiated a drastic rebranding of the doll in 2015. From introducing dolls with varying skin tones, heights, and body types in 2016,[2] to releasing a line of positive female role models in celebration of International Women’s Day in 2018,[3] the Barbie narrative has shifted—arguably reluctantly—to appease consumer conscience (and increase profits).
However, while retaining the strategy of appealing to a specific target market—adolescent girls (and more recently boys)—Mattel has, in my opinion, perpetuated the tokenisation and fetishisation of difference in an effort to salvage its brand. For example, while employing a new sales model that emphasises diverse representation, such as through the inclusion of dolls that have physical disabilities and vitiligo, Mattel’s prioritisation of the pre-teenage market has limited the reach of its diversity. In particular, Barbie never seems to age beyond her early twenties, and her smooth, plastic form lacks the physical changes that accompany age. When the average age of an avid Barbie collector is forty,[4] this observation is stark. Although Mattel seems to be marketing Barbie as an inclusive brand, by capping her age at about twenty-five the following ageist sentiment still haunts Barbie’s changing face: that, as women, we are in our prime when we are young.
Likewise, following the 2018 release of its role model dolls—unofficially branded ‘sheroes’—it is arguable that the objectification of these women into a malleable doll-like form directly contradicts the narrative of female empowerment that Mattel intended to co-opt. In particular, by reducing the achievements of these women—such as Amelia Earhart and Gabby Douglas—into simplified and playable models of their appearances, the celebratory symbol of female accomplishment is undermined. The message becomes: ‘Here you can collect the Michelin star chef Hélène Darroze, a pioneering woman. Why not dress her up and put her on display?’
Thus, faced with the changing narratives of certain brands towards an inclusive message, I am left with a more cynical impression. Why are we encouraged to applaud these brands when they finally decide to become more representative of us as consumers, relative to their previous selves? Why are brands, which were arguably responsible for generating disordered self-perceptions in women and minority individuals, permitted to shift with impunity from instigating exclusivity to now promoting inclusivity?
As such, my message to brands, like Barbie, is as follows: I learnt to accept myself, in spite of your arguably teaching me that I was not good enough. Hence, why should I applaud you now that you are starting to see that I was worth something all along?
Conclusion
In this age of representation, it is apparent that there is a thin line between inclusivity and tokenism. However, as the Barbie example shows, there has been a tendency for certain brands to seize upon the narratives of historically marginalised groups—a marginalisation that these brands may have inadvertently created or contributed towards—in an effort to continue profiting in a changing climate.
By resorting to the tokenisation and fetishisation of difference under the guise of inclusivity, however, the emptiness of this rebranding can be elucidated. Following Mattel’s newfound celebration of diversity, for example, it is arguably possible to observe a more cynical message that accompanies each inclusive grand gesture: ‘Please keep on buying our Barbies. We have the following: [insert categories here].’
Article tags: | intersectionality | diversity | tokenism | ageism | beauty myth |
In this age of representation, it is apparent that there is a thin line between inclusivity and tokenism. There has been a tendency for certain brands to seize upon the narratives of historically marginalised groups—a marginalisation that these brands may have inadvertently created or contributed towards—in an effort to continue profiting in a changing climate. Image source: Stylist
I define ‘tokenism’ as the symbolic demonstration of inclusivity, in particular through the recruitment or inclusion of individuals from underrepresented or minority backgrounds, in order to create an impression of equality and diversity. Image source: PRIDELIFE
Mattel initiated a drastic rebranding of the Barbie doll in 2015. For example, in 2018 a line of positive female role models was released in celebration of International Women’s Day. The Olympic gymnast, Gabby Douglas, is shown above with her doll. Image source: EURWEB
Although Mattel seems to be marketing Barbie as an inclusive brand, by capping her age at about twenty-five the following ageist sentiment still haunts Barbie’s changing face: that, as women, we are in our prime when we are young. Image source: ROGUEROCKET
My message to brands, like Barbie, is as follows: I learnt to accept myself, in spite of your arguably teaching me that I was not good enough. Hence, why should I applaud you now that you are starting to see that I was worth something all along? Image source: Insider
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Sources Cited
[1] Natalie Sherman, ‘Is Barbie’s makeover working?’ (BBC NEWS, 21 December 2019) <https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-50829046> accessed 17 February 2020.
[2] Anna Hart, ‘Introducing the new, realistic Barbie: “The thigh gap has officially gone”’ (The Telegraph, 28 January 2016) <https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/shopping-and-consumer-news/12122027/Introducing-the-new-realistic-Barbie-The-thigh-gap-has-officially-gone.html> accessed 16 February 2020.
[3] ‘Barbie celebrates role models’ (Barbie) <https://barbie.mattel.com/en-us/about/role-models.html> accessed 17 February 2020.
[4] ‘The story of Barbie’ (IMPULSE, November 2017) <http://www.impulsemag-online.com/2017/11/the-story-of-barbie/> accessed 16 February 2020.