The Latest British Vogue Cover Has Been Accused of 'Black-Washing' it's African Cover Stars

The cover photograph from UK Vogue February 2022

The February 2022 issue of British Vogue has caused quite a storm. 

The cover features nine models Adut Akech, Amar Akway, Majesty Amare, Akon Changkou, Maty Fall, Janet Jumbo, Abény Nhial, Nyagua Ruea, and Anok Yai—who range from various African countries including Ethiopia, Nigeria, Rwanda, Senegal, and South Sudan. 

The cover was considered a pioneering moment as it focuses on African beauty on a large scale. However, the choice to edit the models’ skin tones to look darker, among other artistic liberties that were taken have caused some controversy.

It is one of two cover photos that were released this month (a second cover image features one of the group, supermodel Adut Akech, posing alone) and, according to British Vogue's British Ghanaian Editor-in-Chief Edward Enninful, the images aim to spotlight the rise of the African models shaping the industry. 

Adut Akech, on alternative cover. She is currently the most successful black model working today

However, what was intended as a pivotal moment in the fashion industry and a championing of Black talent in the fashion industry, the cover seems to have caused upset across the board. Stephanie Busari a journalist for CNN from Lagos, Nigeria, wrote that although she desperately wanted to love the images for their pioneering efforts, she couldn't help but feel let down. She writes, "my heart sank when I saw the picture of the models. I wanted to love it, but the image left me confused and raised questions about the execution of this important cover.

Why are the models depicted in a dark and ominous tableau, the lighting so obscure to the point they are almost indistinguishable on a cover meant to celebrate their individuality? Why were they dressed all in black, giving a funereal air, and an almost ghoulish, otherworldly appearance? 

A picture from the editorial

Why were they sporting strangely-coiffed wigs? Many of these women wear their natural hair normally and it would have been great to see that reflected on a cover celebrating African beauty. Additionally, on the cover, the models' skin color appeared to be several shades darker than their normal skin tone." 

Some Twitter users critiqued the models’ appearances.  “This cover is weird. The lighting is off. The backdrop is off. The various skin tones and highlights are missing. And the African models are all in European styled wigs. Huh? @BritishVogue definitely needs to hire Black women photographers,”  user @NyxGreenfyre wrote.

Lesego Tihabi responds to Nichelle: "I just would like black women to be represented as they are. Those women are stunning. Sometimes the European (or fashion) gaze exoticizes black women by darkening them to “make art” and it’s giving a bit of fetish. Even very dark skin has tones and highlights and isn’t just 1-D."

Another picture from the shoot

Twitter user Mr Adeyemi  @ActiveYouthUK wrote of the cover "A lot to deconstruct here; The framing, the deliberate darkening in post production, the dead expressions & the absence of joy saying so much about how white fashion institutions view Black women, the artistic choice to put them all in Black despite vivid colours probably working best for this particular group of skin tones etc. But all I really want to say is we're in 2022 and Vogue still can't properly light Black women. This lighting is a travesty."

Stephanie Busari goes on, "the lighting, styling, and makeup, which purposefully exaggerated the models' already dark skin tones, reduced their distinguishing features and presented a homogenized look. Was this the best way to celebrate Black beauty? Would it not have been better to let their natural, unique beauty shine through?"

Amy (@amyjv) wrote, on Twitter: "I would be surprised if a black person was involved in anyway in the production of this. This is why representation is important just not in front of the camera but also behind it." (In fact the entire production team in front of and behind the camera was black.)

Others suggested this was 'black-washing' and no different to 'white-washing' black women's skin, as was done in the case of Kamala Harris on a previous Vogue cover. 'Fetishising black women's skin' and 'catering to the white gaze' are the main criticisms thrown at the team who created the image.

A behind-the-scenes video of the photo shoot that Vogue posted on social media shows the models having their hair and makeup done, and some of their skin tones are undoubtedly lighter in the video.

Adut Akech photographed in similar fashion by same photographer Rafael Pavarotti

The photographs were taken by Afro-Brazilian photographer Rafael Pavarotti, and the images are consistent with his visual style (he has used the effect of darkening black women's skin in various other editorials he has been involved with over the years) of presenting Black skin in an ultra-dark manner. 

According to 1854, the publisher of the British Photography Journal, his work uses a mix of both analogue and digital photography and often involves deep colours, studio shots and darkroom techniques.

'The celebration of Black and indigenous experience specifically will always be a part of my work, because it's also a part of me', he told the digital media company.

'As an Afro-Indigenous Brazilian photographer, my existence and work are already political. With just one photo you can open up a whole history, or tell a whole story through different colours, styling and mediums.'

Of the Vogue shoot he says: "This is a celebration of women, of matriarchy, and of the beauty of Black women," Pavarotti said of his first British Vogue cover shoot in an article accompanying the pictures online.

"They are the past, the present, and the future," he added.

Makeup was by Ammy Drammeh and styling by Edward Enninful, whoreplaced Alexandra Shulman at the magazine. Enniful's appointment was met with praise and seen as the ushering in of a new era for the magazine. 

Following the announcement, Naomi Campbell said she was 'looking forward to inclusive and diverse staff' under Mr Enninful.

One of his first tasks was to assemble a 15-strong squad of women, dubbed 'Edward's Angels', charged with bringing a 'diverse perspective' into Vogue editions across Europe. 

He was given control following a restructuring which pushed him to the upper echelons of the Conde Nast empire, answering only to US-based editor-in-chief Anna Wintour. 

The highest-profile Angels included Edward's right-hand women Vanessa Kingori and Sarah Harris, as well as four new European editors – Italy's Francesca Ragazzi, France's Eugenie Trochu, Spain's Ines Lorenzo and Kerstin Weng of Germany. 

A source at British Vogue said at the time: 'Edward is the original champion of diversity at Vogue and has hand-picked these girls to be the most glamorous woke squad in Europe. 

'He has tasked them with transforming the European Vogue titles. They are preparing to roll out their new front covers in the next few weeks and the change will be clear for all to see at last.' 

Edward Enniful and Adut Akech in 2018

Of the February cover shoot he said of his inspiration in the accompanying article to the shoot: “I saw all these incredible models from across Africa who were just so vivacious and smart.”

He adds, “Fashion tends to follow waves. We’ve had the Brazilian wave. We had the Dutch wave, the Russian wave, the Eastern European wave… And while, in the last decade, the Black model has come to prominence, I love that we are finally giving more space to African beauty.”

'These girls are redefining what it is to be a fashion model.' 

'We need to ensure these girls last. We have to invest in them, nurture them and support them with editorial, with advertising, with shows.'      

'It's sad and heart-breaking for me to see girls who are on the rise suddenly taper off. 

'We need to ensure these girls last. We have to invest in them, nurture them and support them with editorial, with advertising, with shows. It has to be 360. Alek Wek didn't suddenly become Alek Wek. 

'There was a group of us behind girls like her, propelling them forward. This is what we have to do in all our different roles. Getting these girls and then throwing them away after one season? That has to stop.'

Vogue's Instagram advertorial for the magazine introduced the issue with the following: 

So what has happened here? Clearly the intention from a team was not to create an image that caused offence - it was after all a team comprised of people with black backgrounds. Did they miss the mark? Was the controversy intended? Or has their message simply been misunderstood?

Amongst all the disappointment, there have been messages of support.

Nyagua Ruea struts the A/W2020 Paris runway for Mugler

One of the models in the shoot, 20 year old South Sudanese Australian, Nyagua Ruea has said of the shoot: 'For the first time in the history of my modelling career, we had an all-Black team, from the photographer and stylist to the make-up artist, hair stylist, set designer and of course the models. Getting to experience this first hand was such a moving moment. I hope we can get more of these moments in the future.'

Others liked what they saw and praised the magazine for publishing a cover celebrating diversity.

“Beautiful @BritishVogue, kudos to you for featuring these mesmerising women on the cover,” music artist Henry Fricker tweeted.

“I really like this, why do dark skin girls need high beam lighting all the time, sometimes be creative,” another person wrote on Twitter.

“Black Girl Magic. This is the Vogue cover we never knew we needed,” someone else tweeted.

Glossier Accused of Racism by Former Empoyees

 Glossier is the latest brand to be accused of racism and troubling company culture by former employees, joining the likes of Everlane, Reformation and Refinery29.

The accusations surfaced when a group of former retail employees formed a collective called Outta the Gloss and published an open letter to Medium and Instagram (via an account which now has more than 5,700 followers) detailing their experiences with racism, unhygienic working conditions and generally being treated as disposable. 

Like former employees at a number of other millennial- and Gen Z- focused companies that have come under fire recently, the Outta the Gloss collective highlighted a discrepancy between the inclusive-seeming image the brand projected outwardly and their own experiences of the company from the inside.

"We were worn down by the contrast of the idyllic culture presented to us online... and the weight of our daily indignities," the collective wrote.

The former retail employees, called "editors" at the company, detailed a number of incidents with customers: a man massaging an editor without her consent, a woman who repeatedly came into the store and called Latinx employees "illegals," another who grabbed the face of a Black editor to "show off" her complexion to a friend. In most cases, the collective said, employees had come to expect little to no intervention from management in the face of such interactions. 

Beyond that, working conditions for retail employees were also substandard. Former editors described working in the space while it was still under construction (and overhearing an inspector say "the dumb girls in the pink don't even know what kind of fumes they are inhaling"); violating occupation limits for the showroom with the sales team alone, much less customers; taking lunch breaks on a "floor riddled with rat waste because we retail employees lacked a break room of our own."

Read full article here

Exposing the racism in the Influencer industry

 

(From left) the influencers Valerie Eguavoen, Rachel Duah and Nicole Ocran.

At the start of the pandemic, Vanity Fair asked whether the influencer era was over because people were tired of glossy, edited lives on social media and wanted something more “real”. Instead, it seems the world of influencers is adapting to reflect changes in the rest of the world. In recent weeks, the focus has been the shocking pay disparity between white influencers and influencers of colour.

In June, a group of influencers of colour shared an open letter on Instagram that called out Fohr, a marketing agency that work as a middleman between brands and influencers. Women including Valerie Eguavoen spoke out. “I cannot be silent when I see clear evidence of pay disparities between Black women and other creatives who work with you,” she wrote in an Instagram post. “I cannot be silent when you refuse to address racism form [sic] individuals on your team adequately. Enough is enough.” (Fohr replied on Instagram, apologising for its conduct, writing: “We HAVE to do a better job listening to, promoting and working with black influencers.”)

Lydia Okello, who uses they/them pronouns, spoke to the New York Times about how they felt mistreated by large fashion companies including Anthropologie. They told the paper that in exchange for Instagram content and the use of images for a Pride month social media campaign, the clothing company would give Okello a free outfit.

“I’ve worked as a Black creative all my adult life and I’ve noticed that there’s often an assumption that you should feel flattered that this large company is reaching out to you, that it has noticed you,” they said, “and that reflects a greater cultural narrative that the creative work of marginalised groups is less valuable. It’s like: ‘Just shut up and take it or we’ll find someone else.’” (Anthropologie responded on Instagram with a post that said: “In our business practices with outside parties, we compensate all partners with whom we contract services. In the cast of influencers our methods of compensation include product, financial payment or a combination of both … We are listening, learning, and reflecting on how we, as a brand, can improve diversity and combat racism.”)

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Malika James, Hollywood make up artist talks systemic racism in the industry, past and present

Malika James is a bicoastal makeup artist and a member of both Makeup and Hair stylist guild local 706 and local 798. She’s worked with stars like Gabrielle Union, Danai Gurira, Keke Palmer, and T.I. Her credits include “Grownish,” “America’s Got Talent,” “LA’s Finest,” “The Voice: Australia” and “The Walking Dead.”

“Hell, no.”

That was my reaction when a friend asked me to write about my experience in the film and television industry as a Black makeup artist over the past 15 years. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to properly get out all that I had been feeling.

So I went on about my life, or at least I tried. But everywhere I looked, I saw something else that stopped me in my tracks and brought me to tears. I realized wasn’t alone. I found myself listening to or taking part in conversations about race that were happening all around the country. And the more I thought about my journey with racism in this business, the more I realized I needed to get out my truth, in hopes of joining another much-needed conversation.

Before I could pursue makeup as a profession, I promised my family that I would go to college.  In 2005 I graduated from The University of Alabama. What most people know about the University of Alabama is their football team. What people don’t know is UA has a history of being one of the most racist and segregated universities in the American south. I left with a degree, and also a crash course in systemic racism.

Shortly after college I joined the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees Local 798, with a dream to join local 706, which serves as the West Coast Make-up Artist & Hair Stylist Guild. These affiliations are crucial to land top jobs. In my career I’ve worked across all content mediums. I’ve been listed as every title on the call sheet: additional makeup artist, third, key, department head and personal (which means you’re requested by star talent).

On one of my first jobs, I was the only person of color on the set. I was having a ball working with over 300 background artists. An actor I had worked with previously spotted me on set. He walked up to me and asked for my help correcting his makeup, because it was far off from his skin tone. I immediately told him that the conversation alone could get me fired. I explained I was there for the background actors only. He understood and walked off. Hours later, I was fired and told “just because you’re black doesn’t mean you get to work with the black star.” I couldn’t tell if my supervisor was trying to convince herself or me. Regardless, I said “okay”, and didn’t attempt to explain. However, before I left, the department head asked me to fix the actor’s makeup. I fixed it, pack my bags and moved on.

A day later, the cinematographer noticed the visual inconsistency in the star’s skin tone from watching the dailies, so I was rehired by production and brought on as a personal to the star. Try to imagine the tension on that trailer when the person who fired me had to see me daily. It was this incident that let me know in order to stay in this business, I would have to dance to a beat that was constantly changing. The micro aggressions, the toxic work environments, and the unspoken “you’re not supposed to be here” attitude.

In 2017, another actor was starring in a movie and requested me. I was told by union leadership that before being allowed on set, I had to provide 3 years worth of call sheets proving I worked with this star. I was also told that my name on every call sheet had to be specific, that my title had to read “personal makeup,” or I would not be eligible for membership. Some of the requirements were emailed to the producer, who would send them to me. And some were told to me during phone calls. Needless to say, it was a lot of back and forth.

After I finally collected the mandatory call sheets, I was told it was to prove history with the star and to avoid the issues that come with “on the job training.” And that made perfect sense to me. Five months after the movie wrapped, I was told to come in for an interview to discuss my possible membership. I say all this because, two years after joining the union, I came across a white artist who was in my exact same position. Only she didn’t have to jump through any of the hoops I did… she was just let in the union. I know this, because she told me. And even then, I still couldn’t believe it. I know so many other talented artists that have been denied for years and this woman just walked right in. Do you know I even called the union to confirm her membership? I had to know I wasn’t crazy. But it was true. She was Local 706. And as I began to navigate Hollywood, it was starting to feel more like the Jim Crow South, only west of Glendale.

Read full article here

Refinery29 founder steps down amid racism accusations

Christine Barberich

 Christene Barberich, co-founder and longtime global editor-in-chief of Refinery29, announced that she would be stepping down from the head of the company on Monday. The cause? Accusations of racism and toxic company culture at the media business she helped create in 2005.

Refinery29 is the latest company to come under the microscope — and be found wanting — as conversations about race and representation continue to amp up across the United States. Former Refinery29 employees began speaking out about their experiences at the company after seeing the publication black out its homepage on June 2 for #BlackoutTuesday.

"Hey @Refinery29, cool blacked out homepage! But you know what real allyship looks like? Paying your Black employees fairly, having Black women in top leadership positions & addressing the microagressions your Black employees deal with from management on a daily basis," tweeted former employee Ashley Alese Edwards. 

Edwards's thread spurred a flurry of stories from other Black Refinery29 former employees, who described "atrocious" pay disparities, called the company "violently clueless about race" and recalled when the "EIC cried in a meeting bc someone said she was 'squeamish' about race and said she had to go home for the day."

Read full article here

Walmart will no longer lock up African-American products

 

Walmart will end its practice of locking up African-American beauty care products in glass cases, the retail giant said on Wednesday after a fresh round of criticism that the policy was a form of racial discrimination.

Hair care and beauty products sold predominantly to black people could be accessed at certain stores only by getting a Walmart employee to unlock the cases, some of which featured additional anti-theft measures.

At some stores, the cases were across the aisle from shelves of generic beauty products that were not locked up and that included shampoo and conditioner.

Critics of the practice, which had been the subject of a federal discrimination lawsuit that was dropped last year, said that it implied that black people were more likely to shoplift. Walmart had previously said that certain products were locked up because they were more likely to be stolen.

The change came as a host of major corporations re-evaluated their business practices and social responsibility after the death of George Floyd and widespread protests over police brutality and discrimination. It also followed a recent report by the television station CBS 4 in Denver that drew attention to the different treatment of Walmart customers.

Read full article here

Is Fast Fashion Racist?

 Yes, Fast Fashion is Racist! And we need to stop pretending it’s not. The majority of fast fashion is produced in developing countries. This is because these countries don’t have labour laws, or don’t enforce labour laws, to a degree that we expect and demand in our own countries, making it quicker and cheaper to mass-produce clothing. This doesn’t dissuade the majority of fashion consumers from purchasing fast fashion items; in fact, the lure of low prices courtesy of the lack of labour laws, encourages unethical consumption.

If I had a dollar for every time I heard someone try to justify the fast fashion industry with “well, at least they have jobs” and “everyone is poor there, it’s just how their economy works” – well, I’d be writing this article from my beach house in Gracetown, not at my kitchen table in suburban Perth.

The fact that fashion consumers actively participate in the fast fashion economy by purchasing clothing deliberately manufactured in countries with labour regulation standards that we wouldn’t abide in our own countries is only due to one thing: racism.

As with all forms of discrimination, racism demands that we other ourselves from people who we assume are different from us in some (or many) ways – different enough at least to imbue them with wants, needs and desires that are inherently different from ours. This allows us to believe that those other people are content to be afforded lesser basic rights than we demand as minimally acceptable for ourselves.

Fast fashion hinges on consumers, a) turning a blind eye to the inherent contradiction of demanding rights for ourselves that we don’t demand for those that make our clothes and, b) justifying the unethical treatment of the human beings who produce those clothes by implying a level of willingness to their own exploitation due to their inherent difference from you and me (i.e.: racism).

It boggles my mind that recent current affairs had people up in arms about the electing to supreme power of a man who has demonstrated an unarguably racist and misogynist frame of reference for the world around him. Yet, the majority of these same people are happy, elated even, to pick up a bargain at the local chain store – a bargain that is the result of the exploitation of a non-white, majority female workforce who will remain in poverty as a result of this ‘discount’ economy.

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Why racism is so entrenched in the fashion industry

Diane von Furstenberg, Tory Burch, and Marc Jacobs, among many other designers, went to bat for Hillary Clinton, creating T-shirts for her campaign emblazoned with phrases like “Women’s Rights Are Human Rights.” In Ireland, when the country was set to vote on a bill to decriminalize abortion, local designers created luxurious hats and sweaters with the word “repeal” embroidered on them. And when Trump threatened to ban people from majority Muslim countries from entering the United States, designers took a stand by sending models down the runway during New York Fashion Week in outfits covered with words like “immigrant” and “human.”


The fashion community has shown, over and over again, that it is willing to fight for social justice and progressive causes. So it’s worth asking why it hasn’t done more to grapple with the racial injustice within its own ranks. The numbers alone tell a story: Within the Council of Fashion Designers of America, one of the industry’s most prominent trade organizations, only 3% of members are black. Less than 10% of the designers at the last New York Fashion Week were black. And only 15% of the models that walked the runway were black

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