Semaglutides – otherwise known as GLP-1 injections – have become Hollywood’s latest open secret, whispered about on red carpets and glamorised within the wellness-industrial complex. But their rise has come with a cultural price tag. At a moment when the body positivity and body image movements had begun to help reframe beauty standards, the injection trend has threatened to rewind the clock, ushering in a revival of early-2000s thinness – an aesthetic we once fought so hard to leave behind.
By now, celebrity admissions of GLP-1 use have almost become predictable, but last week, the announcement that Serena Williams would step in as a global ambassador for Ro – a health company prescribing these medications, where her husband Alexis Ohanian sits on the board – landed with far more impact. The news quickly ignited online critique, raising questions of optics, influence and what it means when one of the world’s most iconic athletes lends her name to the most polarising trend in wellness.
For many, the discourse was entered into in good faith. When a medication like Semaglutide is packaged and promoted with similar gloss to a new skincare serum, it risks reframing a serious treatment as just another beauty ritual. That shift doesn’t happen in a vacuum – such normalisation can arguably subtly erode the progress made in body inclusivity, reinforcing narrow ideals and leaving audiences, particularly those vulnerable to body image pressures, with the sense that thinness is once again the ultimate cultural currency.
Alongside this, there is an undeniable cultural resonance in watching one of the greatest athletes of our time appear to concede, however unintentionally, to the enduring pressures of thinness. At the same time, Serena has been very candid about health factors influencing her decision – a reminder that individual choices are often far more layered than the narratives imposed upon them.
What’s missing from much of the backlash is a vital layer of context – one that makes the intensity of the critique feel even more pointed. Serena Williams is a Black woman, and Black women’s bodies have, for centuries, been subject to a uniquely insidious form of objectification and policing. From the grotesque spectacle made of Saartjie Baartman in the 19th century, to the fetishisation and simultaneous demonisation of curves in popular culture, to the relentless commentary on Serena’s own physique throughout her career, there is a long history of holding Black women’s bodies to impossible, racialised standards. To ignore that lineage is to miss the full picture of why Serena’s association with GLP-1s provokes such charged responses.
Throughout her career, Serena has faced relentless scrutiny, with critics going so far as to compare her to monkeys, comment on her muscularity and masculinise her appearance. From headlines questioning whether her physique is “too powerful” for a woman, to viral images and commentary that emphasise her strength as somehow unfeminine, the treatment of Serena’s body reflects a persistently racialised gaze.
This pattern extends far beyond Serena of course. Dark-skinned Black women have long been subjected to a pernicious media gaze that masculinises and exoticises our bodies, trapping us in a double bind of hyper-sexualisation and dehumanisation.
Consider the portrayals of Rasputia, Madea and “Big Momma” by actors Eddie Murphy, Tyler Perry, and Martin Lawrence. These characters reduce plus-sized Black women to exaggerated caricatures, played for laughs at their expense, turning bodies into spectacle rather than representation. Such depictions are not harmless comedy; they reinforce harmful stereotypes, normalise ridicule and perpetuate a culture in which Black women’s bodies are constantly policed, mocked and denied dignity.
Figures from Naomi Campbell to Beyoncé have faced similar commentary, where muscularity and strength – qualities celebrated in men – are reframed as threatening or unattractive when present in Black women. The media’s fixation on policing these bodies perpetuates a cultural standard that Serena has long resisted simply by existing as herself: strong, unapologetic and undeniably talented.
The feverish commentary on Serena Williams’ alignment with GLP-1s is about far more than a wellness trend; it is a lens through which we can examine our culture’s obsession with bodies, beauty and control. It reminds us that the pressures placed on women, and Black women in particular, are neither new nor neutral – they are shaped by centuries of racialised scrutiny, stereotyping and impossible standards.
Any critique of her appearance or health choices cannot be disentangled from this history. It’s not just about the decision itself; it’s about the context of systemic bias and racialised beauty standards. Public commentary should be rooted in respect, recognising her autonomy over her body, rather than reinforcing the longstanding pattern of judgment and critique she has faced.
In a society still quick to judge and slow to empathise, Serena’s choice and the conversation around it, forces us to confront the ways fame, race, gender and health collide. Ultimately, it is a call to question not just the products we consume, but the cultural scripts we continue to enforce, and to remember that respect for the body, however we choose for it to show up, should never be conditional.
