Rethinking Diversity and Inclusion in the Beauty Industry
What does it mean to be beautiful when the mirror was never made with you in mind? For generations, beauty has been curated through a narrow lens, offering its reflection only to those who already belonged. Even as the industry shifts and showcases more faces, more skin tones, more bodies, a deeper question remains. Has the frame really changed, or are we just changing the faces inside it?
Inclusion is the word that gets thrown around. But who is doing the including? And what are the terms? Representation has become currency, a sales tool, a checkbox on a marketing brief. A darker foundation shade gets released and the brand is praised. A hijabi appears in a mascara ad and the brand trends. But underneath all this visibility, the structure often stays the same. Those making the decisions, approving the edits, owning the companies, still look familiar. And the people being "included" often remain the subjects of someone else’s story.
What if real inclusion had nothing to do with being seen by someone else? What if it started from the inside? From being the one holding the mirror.
You can feel it in the language. Brands boast about “diverse campaigns” and “inclusive ranges,” but the underlying model often stays untouched. It’s not hard to notice the pattern. Add one model with vitiligo. Add one trans girl. Add one deeper shade. The effort feels like decoration. A remix of the same song. Diversity, but carefully edited. Inclusion, but curated through a corporate lens that knows exactly how far it’s willing to go.
Behind the scenes, the center is still holding. The industry continues to orbit a default. The old rules about what counts as beautiful, desirable, aspirational—they don’t disappear just because a wider cast is performing them. If the story doesn’t change, how much does the cast really matter?
There’s also a silence that lingers. A silence around whose lips, scars, textures, and features are still too “niche” to be marketed. Around whose mother tongues are still subtitled. Around whose gods are still misunderstood. These aren’t mistakes. They are reminders. Reminders that inclusion often stops just short of transformation.
Progress becomes a performance. And the mirror becomes more crowded, but still tilted in the same direction.
There’s a quiet violence in being almost seen. In being close enough to the frame to hope, but never quite centered. Many people know this feeling. The girl who buys the “deep” shade only to find it turns gray. The boy whose features are praised when worn by someone else. The mother who never saw her own skin type in a commercial until her daughter was grown.
Beauty has always been political, but now it’s pretending not to be. The industry tells you it’s inclusive while still selling you products that erase the very things that make you distinct. Coils are tamed. Hyperpigmentation is corrected. Wide noses are contoured. Acne scars are blurred. You are allowed to exist, but only in