I’m no stranger to being the ‘only one’ in a room. It’s nostalgic— not preferred or cherished, but regrettably familiar. Akin to an old friend I don’t particularly wish to see again, but we run in overlapping social circles and I’ve learned to play nice. Comparably more diverse, the modeling world feels similar to the world I grew up in. An unwritten standard for appearance exists with little (albeit slowly growing) room for exceptions. 

When I first became a model, I was signed to my agency’s new curve board. My agents were supportive and never expressed my size or racial background as being a barrier, but rather something to celebrate. As I began working, however, the unspoken division between models who fit archaic standards and the modern exceptions to the rule became clear to me. Many times I found myself back to being the only one on sets after booking jobs where the casting was filled with girls like me.

I understand today’s growing market and need for diverse representation in advertising. It makes me proud to be the kind of model I wanted to see as a young girl who cried about the size of her thighs and the hue of her skin. It makes the journey worth it.

Even with brands who sport splashy front-facing dedications to diversity, I noticed that the attitude behind the scenes was not always aligned. My hair has frequently been a problem to be dealt with on set or right before a shoot day. This has looked like the client requesting me to have my natural hair, but hiring a hairstylist who doesn’t work with all textures. 

Or, it’s looked like me taking down my sew-in extensions and washing my hair the night before a shoot, getting my hair tightly cornrowed with heaps of gel the next morning on set, only to wash it again; paying out of pocket to have my sew-in re-installed within a 60 hour time period. It also appears in the form of a stylist lamenting about having to find clothes in my size, due to such a deed being “a waste of money” as they wouldn’t use them again. Or being coyly told not to eat too much while grabbing breakfast before shooting. 

Each time something like this happened, I attempted to swallow my emotions in an effort to remain professional. One time I cried a bit. The expression “death of a thousand cuts” is the closest descriptor to this pattern. On the bright side, these micro and macro aggressions are countered by like-minded hair & makeup artists, stylists, and more who are ushering in a better standard for practice in the creative industry.

So when I showed up on set for the mysterious celebrity beauty brand shoot I booked and was met with diversity in every corner of the room– from hair & makeup to the marketing division– I knew I could put my anxiety to rest. 

After I sat down to eat breakfast with the other models, I headed over to makeup. At this point, the identity celebrity I was working for remained mysterious. I noticed that all of the makeup to be used on my face were untitled bottles of Wyn Beauty products. This isn’t common with beauty campaigns. Commercial advertising laws only require the specific product being advertised to be used for the focal point of the ad. The rest of a model’s face is regularly done with whatever products the makeup artist brings in their personal kit.

To my left was my hairstylist, a Black woman teasing a massive afro wig. I thought back to a shoot I did earlier in the year where the hair artist looked at me with a slight grimace and said, “Well, we’ll see what we can do with this.” He was sent home by the brand to retrieve a wig of a more suitable texture than mine to shoot me in. My confidence was crushed and the set was delayed. My hair was a problem. 

Throughout the day I chatted with various members of the Wyn team and observed the room. Directors, all levels of staff, and us contractors shared an ability to collaborate creatively and share excitement. At this point, I knew who I was working for. Her employees gleamed on the years-long journey they embarked on to create the brand. There was a clear sense of pride  coupled with a joyful anticipation for the launch. 

After finishing my hair and makeup, I caught a ray of sunshine peering down from a high window. I instinctively grabbed a massive 12 foot tall white board and brought it to the light. I angled my face upwards while posing with another model for an impromptu BTS shoot with the Social Media Photographer. It came together naturally, there was a mutual freedom for creation.

The energy in the room was electric, and I was a happy conductor. I swayed to music with the other models as we waited to shoot our respective portions. The last step before shooting is styling, where my experience with the team was seamless. They happily consulted my opinion when choosing my look.

By the time I was ready to shoot, I felt an assurance that I hadn’t felt before while working. Typically I mentally repeat affirmations in an attempt to squash the nerves riddling my body. This time the affirmations were calm. My brain and body were in unison, knowing I’m doing exactly what I need to do, exactly where I’m meant to be.

I came off camera and the Chief Brand Officer approached me with a smile. She told me how impressed she was with the range of photos; each shot a wyn. I thanked her and expressed my gratitude for how kind everyone had been so far.

I gushed my praises on the marketing vision, and told her about my experiences studying and working in integrated communications. She listened and stayed with me briefly to discuss her story working for Serena’s other ventures and her own career. We shared chats about our ethnic background and stories of second generation immigrants.

By the time the set wrapped, the energy hadn’t left my body. I thanked everyone and left the set beaming with another model, who I gushed with the moment we left the building. As the sun began to set, I said my goodbyes and searched for a Citibike. I cycled into the sunset back to Brooklyn.

Models have a unique and intimate experience with brands that the average consumer or press don’t. We often have the first outside interaction with beauty products or apparel, and we work closely with corporate teams. We can candidly observe whether or not a brand is true to what they sell, whether that be products or messaging. Nevertheless, our perspective often goes unmentioned when discussing a brand’s corporate social governance or ESG – environmental, social, and governance. After all, we’re just models.

On a personal level, working with Wyn Beauty was the kind of experience that left an undeniable imprint on my confidence. Moving from a university and corporate background to working as a model has come with its changes. I went from being respected for my intellect or work, to being acknowledged for my physical appearance, performance, and perceived personality. 

From the highs of being on a Times Square billboard, to the lows of being ignored on set or having my hair fried off because I’m “just a model,” I’ve learned to adapt. Working with Wyn reminded me that there are people who truly acknowledge both. It was an experiential affirmation that reminded me how I can be valued in this profession. My skin is not a token, and my hair is not an inconvenience.