To be fair, the fashion industry—despite its talk of creativity and inclusivity—largely remains trapped in narrow perceptions of beauty that exclude anyone not fitting the modelesque image.
By Abioye Damilare Samson
Growing up, I had the opportunity to read daily newspapers and weekly magazines. However, despite my easy access to them, I paid little attention to the political headlines or the heavy reports on the state of the nation. What I enjoyed most was the entertainment gossip, the music columns, and, most importantly, the fashion spreads.
I would flip through the fashion pages, thrilled by the glitz and the glamorous photos of the models, the swagger and poise with which they walked, and I wished I could become one of them one day. However, one thing stuck with me every time I checked the fashion section: all the models always looked the same.
Thin, tall, and draped in the finest designer clothes. And so, like many others, I thought that thinness was the first and most important requirement to be a model. At that point, I knew I would never be one.
That notion lingered for several years until I discovered the existence of plus-size models. Recently, while browsing Twitter, I stumbled across a video that made me pause and think. Alexandra Obochi, a plus-size woman, uploaded her entry video for GTBank’s fashion show competition, but unlike the other submissions, hers wasn’t the bubbly, optimistic pitch you would expect.
Instead, she confidently stated, “You and I both know GTCO isn’t going to pick me,” speaking as if she already knew the outcome of the entire selection process. She went on to challenge the show’s organisers and called for greater inclusivity in their selection criteria. Since the video went viral on X (formerly known as Twitter), the reactions have been fierce and polarised.
On one end, some netizens insulted her and even accused her of attempting to gaslight the organisers into selecting her. They saw her video as a bold attempt to disrupt a system that, for them, isn’t necessarily broken. On the other hand, others lauded her courage in advocating for inclusivity. However, this isn’t the first time such backlash has occurred; any viral video on the platform attracts its fair share of vitriol. Still, it’s important to consider why some felt Alexandra was overreaching. In a follow-up comment, she expressed her frustration about being dismissed simply for wanting a shot at something she desired.
Her critics argued that there’s more to being a runway model than just wanting it, and according to them, it’s a profession where specific physical attributes have historically been part of the job. For them, it was like asking whether anyone, regardless of their build, could just decide to be a professional athlete or a ballerina. This opens up a more nuanced conversation: Can inclusivity really apply to every field, or are there certain spaces where specific standards make sense?
These are the kinds of questions that arise when we examine whether the fashion industry is simply adhering to its own criteria or unfairly locking out diverse body types. However, this brings us to a more pressing concern: the real question isn’t whether Alexandra deserves to be selected because she spoke out; the real question, however, is: When was the last time a plus-size model won a fashion competition? How often do they even get shortlisted? Is Alexandra Obochi really trying to gaslight GTCO judges to be shortlisted, or does what she said in the video genuinely reflect the unspoken rules that have always governed fashion contests for decades?
These questions highlight a broader conversation about representation and inclusivity in the fashion industry. To be fair, the fashion world—despite its claims of creativity and inclusivity—largely remains entrenched in narrow perceptions of beauty that exclude anyone who doesn’t fit the traditional modelesque image.
The catwalk has historically reinforced a very specific standard of beauty, favouring tall, thin figures, from America’s Next Top Model contestants to Nigeria’s own Mayowa Nicholas and the stunning Adut Akech. Even as global movements toward body positivity and size inclusivity have emerged, the African fashion landscape has been slow to adapt.
While international platforms have begun to embrace plus-size models like Precious Lee and Ashley Graham, such representation still remains the exception rather than the rule. Back home, the Nigerian fashion industry continues to operate within a framework that marginalises full-figured bodies, often overlooking them in runway shows and competitions.
Notably, the 2024 Miss Universe Nigeria pageant presented an opportunity for change, with Chidimma Adetshina taking the crown and Ufa Dania, a plus-sized contestant representing Kwara, making a bold statement on that stage. However, while Ufa Dania’s participation is commendable, it reveals a critical reality that one shining example cannot compensate for the systemic exclusions that have persisted for decades.
Unfortunately, this bias is not merely a social issue; it reflects a significant missed opportunity in the fashion business. A report from Business of Fashion indicates that the global plus-size market is worth over a jaw-dropping $30 billion in the U.S. alone, with continuous growth each year. More than anything, this means that the industry’s sluggish response to inclusivity is a glaring oversight, especially in a country where full-figured women are the norm. Why, then, does the runway present a different picture?
The runway has long been a symbol of unattainable beauty that crafts an aspirational image that for too long has excluded real bodies—the everyday women who fill the streets, markets, and offices. However, it’s not all doom and gloom.
Notable attempts are being made to break this mold. Lagos Fashion Week, one of Africa’s premier fashion events, has begun to feature more diverse body types, with designers like Andrea Iyamah and Ejiro Amos Tafiri making strides toward inclusivity. Yet, while these efforts are commendable, size diversity remains an outlier in the mainstream narrative.
Token representation—where one or two plus-size models appear merely to tick a box—fails to challenge the systemic biases at play. True inclusivity requires a fundamental commitment that goes beyond casting a handful of curvier models. It demands rethinking how clothes are designed, constructed, and marketed to genuinely represent the full spectrum of beauty.
Moreover, the lack of representation goes beyond runway shows; it seeps into the very DNA of fashion education and mentorship. If the industry is to change totally, it must cultivate a new generation of designers, models, and influencers who understand the importance of diversity.
Fashion schools need to prioritise teaching future creators about body positivity, challenging industry norms, and the economic benefits of embracing all body types. This investment in education could reshape the very essence of beauty standards in the African fashion industry.
Until fashion competitions—and the broader industry—begin to reflect the diversity of body types that exist in society, size bias will continue to stifle progress. GTBank’s fashion show may have ignited a crucial conversation, but it is up to other brands and platforms to sustain it. Inclusivity is not merely about making space for plus-size models; it requires dismantling the very framework that makes their inclusion feel like a concession.
Fashion must shed its size bias and open its arms—and its runways—to everybody. Until that transformation occurs, our runways will remain incomplete, just as our definition of beauty remains limited.
Abioye Damilare is a music journalist and culture writer focused on the African entertainment Industry. Reading new publications and listening to music are two of his favourite pastimes when he is not writing. Connect with him on Twitter and IG: @Dreyschronicle
Cover image credit: Fashion and Co