Inclusivity in women’s modeling is officially in. In the United States, when you scroll through ads on social media or walk past store windows, you see pictures of women that actually reflect the average American; There are women of color, women with disabilities and women of every shape and size. Or are there? 

Even brands that have traditionally endorsed thin models have tagged onto the trend of public body positivity campaigns. In June of 2021, Victoria’s Secret announced the close of the curtain for its trademark Angels — a largely homogenous group of conventionally beautiful models, famous for walking the runway in fantastical lingerie — and introduced its initiative for the “VS Collective,” a group of women united in their common commitment to drive positive change. Since then, Victoria’s Secret has diversified the rest of its model lineup, adding models of color as well as plus-size models. However, Victoria’s Secret — as well as other brands that have likewise attempted to rebrand themselves as “woke” — is most likely riding the wave of popular opinion, with no true desire to drive the body positivity and diversity movement. And while, to some extent, we have to take what we can get in regards to body inclusivity, we should also be critical and vocal in demanding more.

Scrolling through Victoria’s Secret’s website, there is admittedly greater commitment to including women of color, but there is a clear discrepancy in the body shapes of the models. The vast majority of the models on the recommended page for bras are willowy with tiny waists and flawless, airbrushed skin. The few plus-size models look like size 8s or 10s at most, and when I click on the thumbnail of the “Bombshell” bra, its product page displays not the plus-size model from the thumbnail, but a much thinner model. Most of these plus-sized models, I notice, are still hourglass shaped and have thin faces — they represent a very select population. But maybe this is to be expected of notorious Victoria’s Secret?

I head over to the online store for Aerie, one of the brands most widely lauded for “practicing what they preach” as it comes to body positivity. I click on their Apparel tab with high expectations — sorted by ‘Featured,’ as default — and I can’t help but raise my eyebrows as I scroll past about 20 rows of product thumbnails until I finally find one with a plus-size model. I surf through more popular women’s fashion websites, and none fare better until I try Savage x Fenty, which is famous for its revolutionary inclusivity which may feature items like Plus Size Clothing Online. The website boasts a diverse range of body types, and when I go into product pages, I can even scroll through models in different sizes. I’ve seen many companies, specifically Victoria’s Secret and Aerie, advertise on big screens and social media accounts with body-inclusive models; Those same companies still employ and use mostly traditionally thin models and their photos to actually sell products. It’s refreshing to be able to see the same clothes on a range of body shapes, but it’s undeniable that the range of body shapes doesn’t really compare to the ad campaigns that Savage x Fenty is famous for.

At this point, I worry that I’m nitpicking, that I’m just looking for something to point at. What exactly is it that I want? It’s so incredibly important to have diverse models in the limelight, to celebrate different bodies and change the fatphobia rooted in women’s fashion. It’s good that prominent brands promote body inclusivity, and these very public campaigns have an incredible reach across the cultural psyche in this digital age. But what rubs me the wrong way is when it feels like just another corporate tactic to rake in the sales, to ride the “woke” wave and take advantage of the public’s thirst for proper representation. It’s all well and good for a company to run a high-publicity campaign with a diverse cast of models and make headlines, but when most of the models they hire to actually sell the clothing on the website are of the traditional cast and mold — when the plus sized models they do hire still adhere to conventional beauty standards — it’s disappointing. Something’s not quite the same on both sides of the paper. 

There are no official statistics, but from what I’ve seen around campus, I think the average BMI at Yale is lower than the national average. Sure, we’re young and most of us walk everywhere — but maybe more factors come into play here. I’ve caught brief conversations in different circles about surreptitious body judgment at Yale, and it might even reach back to when we were applying to college: Skinny privilege is real. We live in a certain bubble as a direct consequence of the narrative on bodies, and we should absolutely applaud initiatives taken by companies to push diversity, because at the end of the day, one more body-inclusive ad can have a significant push against our deeply-rooted notions of traditional beauty, and affect one more person, change one more life. However, that doesn’t mean we should blindly support companies that do the bare minimum, that upload a single photoshoot with models that look like average people, before going right back to their conventional hires. There doesn’t even need to be vocal criticism, simply an awareness and vigilance of the lengths to which companies will go to profit, and of what true body inclusivity might look like: representation across all levels of modeling within the brand and better representation of the plus-sized body.