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Pretty privilege saturates all aspects of TikTok. Individuals who are “TikTok stars” are often beautiful (I will be using the term “TikTok stars” to describe individuals who have attained their fame exclusively through TikTok and have over 20 million followers) TikTok stars often gain their following through videos that accentuate their physical features (usually their body and face) through dancing and voice-overs. While many of the most popular TikTokers are famous due to manipulating their appearance, there are many renowned TikTokers who have established careers separate from TikTok. For instance, Will Smith (right), an American actor, producer, and rapper, has 40.8 million followers, and Jason Derulo (left), an American singer, songwriter, and dancer, has 39.1 million followers. Still, their fame came from avenues other than TikTok, such as television and music. I would not categorize these individuals as TikTok stars because of the talent they showcase apart from TikTok content. Not to be harsh, but most TikTok stars do not have exceptional talent. It is solely their appearance and aesthetic that is desirable to the viewers. They gain followers by smiling, dancing poorly, and flexing their abs, while individuals like Will Smith and Jason Derulo spend hours outside of TikTok producing original work. Don’t get me wrong, both Derulo and Smith gain many followers by smiling and flexing muscles, but they have an extensive portfolio of work that set them apart from the app, proving that their following is not solely based on their beauty.

Don’t get me wrong, there are undoubtably TikTok stars who produce original content, but most of the content that fills TikTok stars’ pages are produced by a “nobody!” When a lesser-known TikToker makes quality content and receives some buzz, what do the beautiful influencers do? They take it. It goes viral. And the “nobody who produced the content? They are forgotten. While TikTok does provide the opportunity for TikTokers to give credit to producers of original audio (via a small feature in the bottom right corner), the platform does not require credit to be given to the producers of the content of the video. That means that TikTok stars do not have to give credit to the individuals who choreographed the dance or masterminded the trend they are doing in their TikTok, even when it is a direct copy of someone else’s post. Every so often, a TikTok star will put  “d/c” (dance credit) in the caption of one of their posts, acknowledging the unoriginal content of their video, giving credit to the choreographer, but this infrequently occurs and only with dance TikToks. Once the post has been recreated enough times, credit often falls on the individual who is seen doing it the most: the beautiful TikTok star whose popularity sprinkles them throughout everyone’s “Discover” page. TikTok celebrities are stealing the content of others. No consequence.

You may be wondering “What’s the big deal? Who cares if they do not give credit?” The issue with neglecting to provide credit to original producers is that TikTok stars are making enormous sums of money on their posts. TikTok stars are turning a profit and not providing royalties to the original producers of the content. TikTok stars get most of their money through sponsorships directly influenced by followers and engagement rates.  Jason Derulo makes quite a lot of money on Tiktok. When confronted about whether or not he makes $75,000 per TikTok video, Derulo states that he thinks  “it’s tacky to say what I do make from them, but it’s far more than that. I’m not going to say what it is’”. The thought of making $78,000 per post is shocking! But his profits don’t come strictly from TikTok and sponsors. He receives royalties for many songs that have gone viral on TikTok, receiving money each time they are used. He is getting credit for the original content he creates!

I created a chart that lists the highest-paid TikTok stars, titled Figure 1. Of the top ten earning TikTok stars, Zack King and Spencer X are the only producers of original audio and content. The other eight’s range consists of almost exclusively voice-overs and dancing music and audio producers by others. Zack King specializes in illusions, which takes so much time, effort, and money, and Spencer X is a very talented beatboxer, which must have taken him years to master. Given that these two individuals make up the third and seventh most profitable TikTok stars, TikTok seems to be rewarding the beautiful, not the talented. As of April 2020, the two creator’s of original content in the top ten earners account for only 20.6% of the total $335,000 per sponsored post earned by the top ten, whereas the remaining eight “pretty” TikTok stars account for 79.4% of the the total $335,000  per sponsored post made by the top ten (Figure 1). TikTok who are not considered hot or sexy must put in infinitely more effort and time into their content and are rarely financially compensated. Their content contains creative edits, helpful tips, or specific talents.

Meanwhile, pretty privilege allows beautiful TikTokers to be compensated with money, fame, popularity with minimal effort or time. Honestly, they do not even use creativity. They do their hair, put on some makeup, toss on a trendy outfit, and lip-sync. Some videos go viral of them just goofing off in front of the camera, gaining millions of views and hundreds of thousands of likes. Their laziness is rewarding not only socially but financially. Given that the data mentioned earlier was taken in April of 2020, the number of followers of each of the top TikTok stars increased. It is not super far-fetched to assume that so made their profits!

So you might be wondering, what’s the big deal? Who cares if these pretty kids are making a little money? Well, let’s unpack this. According to Daniel Hamermesh, an economics professor at the University of Texas in Austin, attractive people earn an average of 3-4% more which adds up to more than $230,000 in a lifetime (Shellenbarger). So there is a long history of beauty financially rewarding beautiful people. The financial benefits of being beautiful are manifesting themselves on TikTok.

Additionally, pretty privilege is allowing TikTok stars to steal the content of others. In academia, plagiarism like this has serious consequences. Trademarks, patents, and copyrights are all established to protect producers of original content from the effects of capitalism, ensuring profits are given to producers not reproducers of material. TikTok has gotten around all of these protections, allowing pretty privilege to flourish, costing “normal” TikTokers potential profits. Jason Derulo’s large income via royalties on TikTok is proof that financial compensation is available to producers of original content on TikTok. TikTok is rewarding appearance and not content. TikTok stars can take someone else’s content without giving credit to the original producers of that content, make it go viral, and profit from this popularity. The more famous they become, the more followers they acquire. TikTok stars receive more public engagement, they receive sponsors who pay them to endorse their products. Pretty privilege allows stolen content to go unchecked, robbing original and typically “not-as-beautiful” TikTokers of tremendous potential profits.

Given that TikTok is already such an established and popular social media platform, I am not sure how we could correct this theft and provide credit for producing the original. Ideally, I would hope that if brought to the attention of TikTok stars, they will begin to acknowledge the accounts who created the trend/content they are using in their videos, but I doubt that. Why would they change a system that is rewarding them for minimal effort? I guess my other hope would be that enough attention is brought to this issue that TikTok will be forced to add a requirement that users must acknowledge the use of content that is not theirs!

It seems as though body positivity is everywhere you look. It has taken over   social media and penetrated long-established marketing strategies. But before body positivity began saturating our Twitter and Instagram feeds, Aerie, a lifestyle brand offering intimates and activewear owned by   American Eagle Outfitters, pioneered the “body positivity” market with its #AerieREAL me campaign. In 2014, the company stopped retouching their models through its “Aerie Real” campaign, pledging to highlight “real women” through its hashtag #AerieREAL movement. Female shoppers could upload photos of them and all their wonderful “flaws” to the Aerie website. In 2016, Aerie announced their first #AerieREAL Role Model, Iskra Lawrence. Aerie’s Global Brand

President, Jennifer Foyle, explains that #AerieREAL Role Models “were chosen for their influential voices, unique stories, and commitment  to nurturing an inclusive, empowering community for Aerie women everywhere.” On January 23,  2020, Aerie welcomed female actors, writers, scientists, activists, and CEOs to their star-studded #AerieREAL Role Model lineup. Among the “role models” included To All the Boys I Loved Before star Lana Condor, gold-medal gymnast Aly Raisman, and Booksmart star Beanie Feinstein. Additionally, the company launched its #AerieREAL Change Initiative that will award 20 real-life change makers  who make a difference in their communities with $20,000 to help them on their journey to make the world a better place.

Today, the #AerieREAL campaign has grown into an empire titled #AerieREAL Life, providing resources about relationships, body confidence, styles and trends, health and movement, and global news and events.  #AerieREAL quickly became an international success, producing massive profits for the company. After launching #AerieREAL, retailer sales grew 20 percent in the 2015 fiscal year, and sales rose 32 percent in the first quart of the 2016 fiscal year. In 2017, the company’s same-store sales growth saw a 25 percent increase. In 2018, same-store sale growth rose an additional 38 percent in the first quarter, valuing the company at $500 million (previously $200 million in 2017). As of December 3, 2020, American Eagle Outfitters’ net worth is $2.97 billion, and Aerie alone is on track to top more than $1 billion in revenue this year.

The brand’s appeal is that women can see bodies that look like theirs in spaces that are often only occupied by “beautiful” underwear models. Brands like Victoria’s Secret have perpetuated narrow and limited criteria to be considered beautiful and sexy in intimates. You must be thin, tall, and blemish and bump-free. Aerie shows bodies that do not fit their criteria and, more importantly, they are celebrating them, allowing female shoppers to begin to see their bodies as celebratory rather than shameful. While the #AerieREAL campaign has done so much undeniable good for women and body image, I want to see this campaign continue to develop and grow. I worry that the brand is still privileging stereotypical, professional models in some ways.

While Aerie titles their celebrity ambassadors as #AerieREAL Role Models, it references its catalog models as “every day” or “real” women. If these women are modeling for a business, aren’t they, by definition, models? Why do we feel the need to deny these women the social and economic advantages that the title “model” receives?  Models are often considered beautiful people, and with that comes fame and fortune. As previously mentioned, Aerie is making $1 billion annually, so by refusing to bestow the title of “model” on these women, I wonder if Aerie is robbing these women of potential profits. If these women are considered “everyday women” instead of professional models, does that mean that they can be left financially unprotected and open to exploitation? If we were to call these women models as opposed to “real women,” we would challenge and begin to redistribute the privilege that society gives to women who have a particular image. 

Reaffirming these women as different than models is dangerous and prolongs the privilege that thin, tall, seemingly perfect women receive. Our reluctance to call these women models is constructing artificial, mutually-exclusive categories. The categories of  “model” and “plus-size model” are well-established, but now #AerieREAL is adding “role model” and “everyday woman” to the mix. While a greater representation of women is a wonderful thing, these categories are static, binding, and hierarchical. Since we have privileged certain types of models over others, the consequences of this categorical rigidity are dangerous. We refuse to allow these women to be intersectional, or to embody multiple titles and identities. Given that Aerie spearheaded body positivity campaigning, I understand that it was complicated to critique this empowering movement. However, we must acknowledge that there are still issues that need to be addressed in hopes to develop an even more inclusive and empowering movement!

[Read more…] about Is Aerie’s #AerieREAL Campaign All Its Cracked Up To Be?

A Conversation with My Family

Growing up as a mixed chick in a family of other mixed chicks has created my unique perception of pretty privilege. Here are some of the most poignant parts of my families discussion of race, privilege, and beauty!

[Read more…] about My Family: A Conversation about Race, Privilege, and Beauty

I read Uglies by Scott Westerfeld when I was twelve years old, and it was the first time I was introduced to the idea of pretty privilege. My 12-year-old self understood that beautiful people were more likely to attain fame or celebrity status, but Westerfeld’s critique of our society was jarring. Uglies is the first book in a trilogy of novels about sixteen-year-old Tally Youngblood. In Tally’s world, once you turn 16, you undergo a total-body cosmetic operation that makes you “pretty.” Facial features are carved and filled until perfectly symmetrical, eyes enlarged, lips plumped, legs elongated, abs carved. In Tally’s post-apocalyptic world, the procedure functioned as the ultimate mechanism for equality. The public are taught that all conflict arises from people looking different. Students learn how “the Rusties”, the term used to describe our contemporary society, were a divided society because they had varying perceptions of beauty. “The Rusties” were flawed because “everyone judged everyone else based on the appearance. People who were taller got better jobs, and people even voted for some politicians just because they weren’t quite as ugly as everyone else… people killed one another over stuff like having different skin color”(Westerfeld 44). In Tally’s world, this deep understanding of pretty privilege justified the operation as “the only way to make people equal” (Westerfeld 44).

Uglies is brilliant because it creates a world in which pretty privilege is so explicit even a twelve-year old can understand it. By constructing a future, dystopian world, Westerfeld allows young readers to think critically about what role beauty and appearance has real world. In the book, the post-op “pretty” young adults spend the rest of their lives intoxicated and work free. They live in mansions and have their every need catered to them by machines and robots. The “uglies,” who haven’t had the operation yet, live a very different life. They are required to attend school, live in mundane dormitories, and are outcasts of society. In Tally’s world, “uglies” are not allowed in “pretty” spaces and this segregation is strongly policed. There is a community of outcasts who refuse the operation, but that is just what they are, outcasts. These “uglies” are forced to live deep in the woods beyond the city limits with no access to any of the luxuries and technologies that the city has to offer. The correlation between appearance and a life of luxury is made explicit in the book, making pretty privilege abundantly clear for young readers.

Westerfeld also introduces teens to other societal qualms that revolve around perceptions of beauty, issues that teens may not be aware of or have yet to experience. As I read this nine years ago, I began to critically think about our obsession with beauty and body modification. The “pretty” operation in the book made me critically think about popular cosmetic surgeries and just how invasive and serious these “normal” procedures are. Uglies also introduced male and female negative body image. I was able to see similarities between the negative comments I would make about myself and the self-deprecation by the “uglies” in the book. The exaggerated perceptions of beauty in the book made me sympathize with the “uglies” for being average looking, allowing me to be more forgiving towards myself as well.

While these representations and revelations were so important to my adolescence, it wasn’t until later in life that I noticed how the novel only focuses on Western beauty ideals. While I understand that these Western beauty ideals were often the cite of critique within the book, the only time a non-Western beauty ideal was mentioned, it was presented as foreign and dangerous.  While I began to understand the concept of pretty privilege and the dangers of a narrow definition of beauty, Western beauty was the only definition presented to me. While the race of characters was not explicitly stated, the descriptions given create the image of exclusively white characters. At twelve-years-old, when I would go to school, I would see white kids get all the attention while non-white kids were cast aside. So when the descriptions of procedures and transformations all aligned themselves with a Western, white body, Uglies only solidified my understanding of white bodies as desirable and superior. I internalized that Western beauty ideals were rewarded with privilege. Teen novels are always didactic, so representations are extremely significant. The absence of non-white representations of beauty directly influences and informs the perceptions and beliefs of the young-adult reader!

While Uglies explicitly and implicitly forces readers to acknowledge faults in our perceptions of beauty, does it dismantle these expectations? My twelve-year-old self was made aware of pretty privilege, but that was it. I became more critical of how we value beauty and use it as a form of social and economic capital, but Westerfeld fails to provide teens with the tools or practical advice about how to navigate our appearance-driven society. According to the book, I must flee civilization and live off the land in order to handle societal expectations and pressures. Don’t get me wrong, I am not condemning this book to the trash bin! Quite the opposite actually! I encourage young adults to read this book because it provides a wonderful introduction to sociological imagination, societal short comings, and pretty privilege. Uglies allowed me to discern how young people are introduced and experience pretty privilege. At twelve-years-old, I experienced the exclusion of “uglies” from fun and events, and Westerfeld’s dystopian world reflects those adolescent experiences making it a wonderful tool for understanding these complex social critiques. But given the wealth of teen novels that now exist, Uglies does not provide the diverse representations and practical solutions that teens need.

Sources:

[Read more…] about Must Read for Teens: Uglies by Scott Westerfeld

Dear Reader,

As December draws to a close, and we can finally bid 2020 adieu, this issue of Pretty Prerogatives is a reflection my experiences during the pandemic. Socialization is instrumental to the presence and longevity of pretty privilege, and at a time in which socialization was interrupted, how was pretty privilege still affecting us? As opposed to experiencing pretty privilege on billboards or executive boards, during lockdown,  I began experiencing pretty privilege in the mediums in which I kept myself busy. While perusing the internet for sweatpants and pajamas, I was introduced to the #AerieREAL campaign. While I initially applauded #AerieREAL for being far more inclusive than Dove’s Real Beauty or Victoria Secret’s Perfect Body campaigns, there are flaws in the campaign that contradict the campaign’s call for inclusivity.

Being stuck in the house also meant I spent a lot more time with my family and on my phone. The more I talked with my family, the more I realized that our varying appearances and ages have strongly shaped our perceptions of beauty and how each of us has experienced pretty privilege. For this month’s conversation, I spoke with my two of my aunts, my sister, and my mother about race, privilege, and beauty. As always, the conversation is divided into micro-podcasts, each representing the parts of our conversation that stuck with me most. I do not add context to these micro-podcasts because my contextualization to influence what the listener takes away from each piece.

As I spent more time with my family, I was introduced to the various ways in which everyone was staying busy within the confines of their home. Some aunts had taken up baking, while some uncles had started DJ-ing again. TikTok was a crowd favorite among the younger generations. I didn’t even need a TikTok in order to understand the insidious ways TikTok is governed by pretty privilege. While I could have written an entire book about TikTok, in this issue, I examined two very important and unique ways in which TikTok is propagating pretty privilege financially and morally. It was important for me to write about TikTok because the app has been downloaded more than 2 billion times globally and has more than 100 million active daily users in the United States. As more and more people join, it is critical that participants are aware of the exploitation that exists on TikTok due to pretty privilege.

Lastly, I wanted to talk about where this whole pretty privilege thing started for me: Scott Westerfeld’s young adult novel Uglies. This book was the first time I was understood pretty privilege. Sure, I had experienced it before, but it wasn’t until I read this book that perceived it as a society issue and not a personal problem. But the older I get, the more I realize that Westerfeld’s book is not as perfect as I once thought, and a lack of non-white representation was fairly harmful for my twelve-year-old-self. I still believe that it is a must read for adolescents, but I stress that it must be read in conjunction with other, diversity-soaked books.

As always, this e-zine is my attempt to digest and cope all of the pretty privilege I experience in my life. I am a mixed-race Cape Verdean girl (I say girl not women because I still have quite a bit of growing to do), therefore, as a tall, athletic, hazel-brown-eyed girl, I have been experienced the benefits for pretty privilege. On the other hand, I am a caramel-skinned, curly-haired woman of color, so I have also experienced the harmful effects of pretty privilege.  I have darker skin than most, but lighter than others. I have curly hair, but not quite kinky. I have been discriminated against, yet placed on a pedestal for the way I look. I have been provided with  a lens into pretty privilege unique to my liminality, and, the older I have gotten, the more I am realizing the importance of critically evaluating the the ways in which “beauty” and its multitude of forms and definitions are repeatedly rewarded in society. By no means are the things I say in this e-zine universal truths, but they are my truths!  I hope that this e-zine will provide just a fraction of the relief and insight for you as it has for me!

Warmest,

Olivia ♡