By: Fred Smith
It’s time we had an honest conversation. A lot of the brands we obsess over—whether it’s that luxury handbag we saved up for, the sneakers we waited in line to grab, or the beauty products filling up our bathroom shelves—don’t actually care about us. They love our culture, but they don’t love us. And deep down, we know it.
They borrow our slang, our music, our style— turn it into profit—and stay silent when it really counts. We’ve seen it time and time again: brands that conveniently remember we exist during Black History Month or when a PR crisis hits, but go right back to ignoring us the rest of the year. Still, we keep showing up for them. We promote them, we wear them like badges of honor, and we help build their empires… while our own remain underfunded and overlooked.
Why do we do it? Part of it is history. For many of us, these brands symbolize success. We weren’t always allowed access to them, so now that we can afford them, it feels like we’ve made it. But if “making it” means giving our dollars to companies that wouldn’t hire us, represent us, or speak up for us, maybe it’s time to redefine what success looks like.
We need to start asking harder questions. Who owns this brand? Who do they support politically? Do they invest in our communities? Do they even acknowledge us unless it benefits their bottom line?
Change doesn’t come easy, but it starts with shift- ing our mindset. We don’t have to beg for a seat at their table—we can build our own. And we already are. There are Black-owned fashion lines, tech start- ups, beauty brands, and food businesses that deserve our attention—not just for the culture, but because they offer real quality and care.
The truth is, our buying power is estimated at $1.8 trillion. That’s not small change. That’s enough to shape the market—if we use it wisely. So next time you pull out your wallet, ask yourself: is this brand loving me back, or just loving my money?
It’s not just about what we wear. It’s about AA what we’re worth.
