For almost two decades, we’ve had front-row seats to the inner workings of the advertising industry through our work in casting. As a creative supplier to production, we’ve witnessed firsthand how the ‘Boys’ Club’ culture quietly but pervasively runs the show behind the scenes.
Despite the advertising industry’s vocal advocacy for diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI), a closer examination reveals that much of this “allyship” is merely superficial. Many agencies and industry leaders engage in virtue signalling, paying lip service to DEI principles while failing to enact meaningful change. When confronted with the evident equity imbalance – whether in terms of gender, disability, race, or body type – they often fall back on the argument of meritocracy to justify their hiring practices.
The stark reality of this disparity stared back at us last month when Campaign Brief published its list of the advertising industry’s top 30 Creative Directors. The gender imbalance was impossible to ignore: 29 of the 30 named were male, with the vast majority being white. While much of the outrage was aimed at Campaign Brief, the reality is it highlighted a broader issue in the industry – the lack of women in senior creative leadership roles. The glaring disproportion serves as a potent reminder of how far the industry still needs to go to achieve genuine diversity and inclusion, despite its public proclamations.
Let’s start with what this looks like in practice. Major ad agencies and brands routinely showcase women in campaigns, commission high-profile diversity reports, and release statements about inclusion that make them look good on their LinkedIn profiles. While these actions might polish their image, they’re often devoid of real, meaningful action. It’s easy to show up to a “Women in Advertising” panel once a year or to post a hashtag on social media; it’s harder to actually break down the structures that keep the same people in charge and the same voices in the room (because this would require being honest with oneself about their privilege and accepting their fragility in the space). Again, it’s women that have to do that. It’s us writing this article.
Optical allyship also creates a toxic environment for young women trying to break into the industry (particularly young women from marginalised backgrounds). Many of these women enter with high hopes, only to find themselves hitting invisible walls. They’re recruited in the name of DEI but often sidelined when it’s time for promotions or when their ideas don’t align with the conventional narratives upheld by the Boys’ Club. Or worse, they are cut down by their female counterparts who have succumbed to Cool Girl Syndrome. Those of us who have been around longer and watched from the outskirts – casting directors, producers, creatives – see the pattern, and it’s painful to watch talented young women realise that their voices (while celebrated in a heartbeat of the infinite scroll) aren’t being truly supported when they aren’t in the room.
Real allyship doesn’t look like anything flashy. Non-optical allyship is messy and often uncomfortable; it requires those in power to actually share it. That means hiring women into leadership roles, listening when they call out inequality, and being willing to hand over the mic and let new voices define campaigns and creative direction. This doesn’t mean just putting women into positions of power for the optics, it means truly curating creative teams that make sense to the campaign that is being produced.
The sad truth is that, despite all the talk, the critical thinking for putting together a production team that is matched to the job is lacking when it comes to brands and topics that are directly related to women. Imagine this, you’ve got a campaign for a female issue or product and you’re curating the production team. You’ve got a large cast of actors, a lot of women – ones that may have lived experience in the area they are putting their hands up to be the face of. The audition process is an intricate and intimate thing. It requires actors to be emotionally vulnerable on camera and to wholeheartedly trust the casting director they are taping with. They also have to put trust in people they don’t know and have never met to watch their tapes in corporate style meetings that they are never invited to sit in on. When the material is themed in a way that is sensitive to women, we need to think beyond our inner circle and really ask ourselves “who is the right person to take on this job?”
On the flip side – optical allyship is accepting that job without any questioning about whether or not you should be doing it. So how can we move past optical allyship? By demanding action, accountability, and sitting in a little bit of discomfort. Those who hold the reins of power need to get real about their values and make actual changes that go beyond lip service. Agencies need to recognise that true diversity isn’t a checkbox but a commitment, one that affects every level of the process (from casting choices and creative direction to who sits in the executive seats). Real change also means creating systems of accountability, where leaders are held responsible for making (or failing to make) meaningful progress on inclusion.
As creative suppliers, we’ve been lucky enough to have some incredible male champions behind us who have supported us and pushed us behind the scenes. Those conversations (the ones without us present) are the ones that truly matter and make all the difference. And we, as women, need to keep pushing. Not just for seats at the table, but for the freedom to challenge the outdated frameworks that keep diversity in advertising little more than a tagline.
We need to make noise, call BS when it’s needed, and demand better for ourselves and for the next generation of creatives. Only then will we see an industry that truly represents the diversity it claims to champion, and only then will the advertising industry find integrity.
Feature image: Alison Fowler and Stephanie Pringle.