There’s something iffy about brands selling empowerment

This isn’t an article with a neat conclusion. You might call it a ramble, but I think of it as a discourse, one that’s been quietly brewing in the back of my mind. It started one random evening, as I sifted through 20-odd campaigns back-to-back, vetting case studies. Somewhere along the line, a pattern emerged. And now I can't unsee it.

Whenever a campaign is speaking to women, it’s never just a straightforward "Hey, we sell this, please buy." No, it’s far more nuanced. It sounds like: “We know you’ve always dreamt of becoming an astronaut. Or that you survived cancer (we know because we track you through cookies). Now buy a plastic doll. Or a diamond ring. To celebrate life.”

Suddenly, there’s a product for every milestone. When I bought my first vehicle, brands told me I deserved to treat myself to a pair of diamond earrings. Not just could, but should. And I remember when Barbie released her “you can be an astronaut” version. It was inspiring. I genuinely wish I’d had that version as a child instead of the blonde, petite Barbie I was gifted. Who knows? I would have been one of the women in STEM had the idea been planted in my head. Back then, at the same time, I didn’t realise how subtly the blonde Barbie conditioned me to be harsh on myself every time I gained a little weight.

Here’s the thing… The representation is great. Little girls seeing astronaut Barbies will feel encouraged. But this is also where capitalism quietly wins. The empowering message is attached to a purchase. Want to dream big? Here’s a doll. Or a limited-edition space-themed charm bracelet. The advertising worked. And yet, it feels... off. The brand never really cared about nurturing young dreams. It cared about selling the doll.

And why wouldn’t it? That’s what brands are designed to do — sell. But is it strange that women’s struggles and victories are now constantly tied to a product? We’re told we’re ‘worth it’, not just in a life-affirming way, but in a here’s-some-lipstick way. Or you go girl, now buy these heels kind of way. 

Is this progress? Or is it simply a rebranded exploitation of our vulnerabilities, a more sophisticated cousin of fairness cream marketing? Same genie, just a glossier bottle.

Don’t get me wrong. I love this cultural shift where women’s achievements are finally being spotlighted. Our foremothers would probably weep tears of pride knowing their battles paved the way for such visibility. And yes, in some moments, I do feel seen.

But do I want a ring because I bought a house or a vehicle? Honestly, no. Do I feel a quiet thrill when I see women confidently closing real estate deals in ads, shaping aspirational futures for millions of others? Absolutely.

Empowerment sells

As audiences became more diverse and vocal, brands realised they could no longer speak in generic tones. They had to segment. So, they began crafting messages for specific identities – women, mothers, working professionals, LGBTQ+ folks, etc. On paper, this was progress. But in practice, it meant linking identity to consumption: You are X, so you deserve Y. The message became: your milestones are not just personal wins; they’re shopping triggers.

A campaign like Ariel’s Share The Load works because it tackles a systemic issue. It nudges men to share domestic responsibilities and reminds us that turning on the washing machine isn’t rocket science. It doesn't pivot to women with a “You got promoted? Now go treat yourself to our detergent.” It respects the narrative. It doesn’t hijack it. 

And brands now know the secret — empowerment sells. But instead of hiring more women to come up with campaigns that relate or questioning structural issues that bind women buying products in their industry, they reduce empowerment to a tagline. It is easier (and cheaper) to reframe buying lipstick as a feminist act than to address why women still make less money than men. 

Mining for emotions to exploit 

Another reason we have arrived at this point is that we are constantly trackable. Brands know how we are feeling, when our salary day is, and even when we are on our period. Oh, and this reminds me: Have you noticed how you might see more ads of indulgent products when you are on your period? Just me, then? Okay. 

Regardless, brands do seem to know more about our emotional states than before. With every scroll, like, and purchase, we feed the algorithm a map of our dreams and insecurities. It could easily chart our life purchases for a brand at this point of time, and with AI, the accuracy will be on point. 

So when the data says, "She's entering her 30s and recently searched for houses," marketing kicks in: Time to show her an ad for jewellery that celebrates independence.

Where rituals and communities existed

This whole idea that wins need to be celebrated stems from cultural evolution. This is the reason why a young girl getting their first period is celebrated. Or take the most capitalised cultural moment of one’s life, a wedding. Life milestones have always come with rituals. Some cultural, some spiritual, and many community-driven. Now, brands step in to offer those rituals through consumption.

In an urban jungle, where more and more people are living alone and battling with loneliness, products do fill the gap. No housewarming ceremony? Here’s a premium chandelier that will make you forget your worries. In the absence of tradition and human warmth, consumerism fills the gap.

Don’t you love yourself? 

Self-love is rooted in personal psychological battles. It is in learning to accept ourselves, set boundaries, and unlearn trauma. But you also know that it has quietly been rebranded. 

The idea of retail therapy stemmed from a rebellion against corporate burnout. However, emotions have been yet again commodified.  

Today, it's less about the messy, internal work of healing and more about what you can buy to feel better. Bubble baths, skincare routines, and retail therapy have replaced journaling, therapy, and difficult conversations. The message isn’t love yourself through the hard stuff, it’s love yourself, and prove it with a purchase. Consumerism has hijacked self-love, turning what should be an inward journey into an aesthetic, shoppable lifestyle.

And let’s be real. It’s easier to buy clothes than to dismantle systems that make women feel undervalued in the first place or talk about the pink tax. 

Personalisation? Nah, corporate surveillance 

Our feelings, our thoughts and our wins are monetised. That makes me feel used, uncomfortable, and alas, I did accept all cookies, so I can’t complain, but I didn’t even get a bite for myself. 

And why didn’t I? So here’s a crazy idea: if my data is being used to train your AI, refine your algorithm, or boost your ad revenue, I deserve a cut. Is it time to move beyond data privacy, which let’s face it – is just an illusion for consumers, and talk about data royalties? Because if a brand knows that I am on my period and is selling me chocolates, that data is a gold mine for them. What do I get? A golden, plastic wrapper, perhaps? 

Turns out, this idea is not so crazy. There are startups working on data unions where users get paid for sharing their data. Even big thinkers like Jaron Lanier have suggested that people should be compensated any time their data is used to train AI or sold to third parties.

If companies are essentially mining me for profit, it’s only fair that I get royalties, right? We have arrived at a point, well, long ago, where big corporations know my feelings because I agreed to accept their cookies in search for better recommendations?

So, what brought us here? The perfect storm of cultural evolution, tech-fueled hyper-personalisation, feminist vocabulary being repackaged by marketers, and a relentless push to find meaning in things we can buy.

We’re in an era where feelings are monetised, and that’s… complex.

As I said, this isn’t a manifesto with a resolution. Just something to think about. Maybe there are two sides to this coin – one that empowers, and one that markets empowerment. 

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