WHEN BLACK MODELS WIN

When Anok Yai won Model of the Year, the industry responded with certainty. This was progress. This was a milestone. This was proof that fashion is moving forward.

But what exactly was being celebrated?

Anok Yai did not arrive suddenly. She has been visible, booked, published and relied upon by the biggest houses in fashion for years. Her walk has opened shows. Her face has anchored campaigns. Her presence has sold clothes. None of this is new information. So why does recognition still arrive framed as revelation?

The question is not whether Anok deserved the award. That is indisputable. The more interesting question is why moments like this are still positioned as exceptional rather than expected.

Fashion has a habit of narrating Black success as interruption a break in the usual order. An achievement that requires context, explanation and applause. The language surrounding these wins often implies arrival rather than continuation.

Yet Black models have never been absent from fashion. They have been selectively visible. From Naomi Campbell to Alek Wek to Jourdan Dunn to Adut Akech to Anok Yai, the pattern is familiar. A small number of Black models are elevated to global recognition while the system around them remains largely unchanged. The exception becomes the evidence. The individual becomes the alibi. If one Black model can succeed, the industry suggests, then the system must be working.

But does it?

Awards do not reveal pipelines. They do not show who is being signed, nurtured and retained. They do not expose casting shortlists or campaign decisions. They do not show which models are consistently booked versus those who appear once and vanish. Recognition is easy. Keeping an infrastructure is harder.

There is also the matter of which Black models are celebrated. The industry tends to reward a very specific visual language. Height. Extreme thinness. Facial structure that reads as striking but still comfortably high fashion. Difference that can be editorialised rather than normalised.

This raises a rhetorical question. Is fashion celebrating Blackness or a version of it that feels manageable?

Darker skin tones remain underrepresented. Natural hair still causes hesitation. Body diversity within Black modelling is treated as niche. And when Black models do not conform to narrow standards, they are often framed as statements rather than staples.

Progress, in these cases, becomes conditional.

London in particular occupies an interesting position. It is often described as progressive, diverse and experimental. And yet its support for Black models frequently exists in bursts rather than systems. A strong fashion week appearance does not always translate into long term work. Visibility does not always equal sustainability.

The industry congratulates itself loudly for moments of inclusion while quietly maintaining old habits. Anok Yai’s win highlights this tension. On one hand, it is a deserved acknowledgement of excellence. On the other, it exposes how rare such acknowledgements still feel. When recognition is framed as history being made rather than history continuing, it suggests that the baseline remains unchanged.

So what would genuine progress look like?

It would look less like surprise and more like consistency. Less like singular wins and more like collective presence. Less like headlines and more like normalisation.

It would mean Black models being booked across seasons, not just moments. It would mean diversity in campaigns, not just runways. It would mean investment in development rather than extraction of image.

And perhaps most importantly, it would mean Black success no longer requiring explanation.

Anok Yai winning Model of the Year should not be a question mark. It should be a confirmation. Not that fashion is progressing, but that excellence, when acknowledged properly, eventually becomes unavoidable.

The real test is not who wins next. It is whether the industry stops acting surprised when they do.