Blog: When Brands Removed Faces but Didn’t Replace Them
- Michael Woodruff
- 55 minutes ago
- 4 min read
Black History Month exists because Black history was historically omitted from
mainstream narratives. In 1926, historian Carter G. Woodson established Negro History Week to address that absence in American education. Fifty years later, in 1976, it expanded into Black History Month. The purpose was never symbolic celebration. It was corrective. Black history wasn’t missing. It had been left out.
Marketing plays a role in that correction.
Advertising and branding do more than sell products. They shape cultural memory. Who appears on shelves, screens, and billboards quietly teaches society who belongs. Over time, marketing defines what feels normal. For much of the 20th century, that visibility was uneven. Housing policies such as redlining limited where Black families could live. Employment barriers restricted opportunity. Media representation often reduced Black Americans to stereotypes or excluded them altogether. Marketing didn’t create these systems, but it reflected them, reinforcing patterns already embedded in society.
That history makes recent branding changes worth examining.
In recent years, companies removed long-standing characters such as Aunt Jemima and Uncle Ben from product packaging. The intent was understandable. Both brands traced their imagery back to racial stereotypes rooted in slavery-era and Jim Crow traditions. Over time, those characters were softened and modernized. Head coverings disappeared. Wardrobes changed. Faces were presented as more contemporary and less caricatured, particularly in the late 20th century. But modernization wasn’t enough to erase origins. Eventually, the brands were retired entirely. Aunt Jemima became Pearl Milling Company. Uncle Ben’s became Ben’s Original. The faces disappeared.
Removing harmful imagery was the right corrective action. But something else happened along the way. Those faces were rarely replaced with contemporary Black representation. Instead, packaging shifted toward abstract logos, typography, mascots, or neutral branding. In everyday kitchens, Black faces largely vanished from shelves altogether. Open a cabinet today and you’ll likely see cartoon characters on cereal boxes, stylized icons, or familiar white faces like Quaker Oats. What you won’t see very often are Black families, Black professionals, or Black founders reflected in ordinary consumer spaces.
I’m not alone in noticing this. A close friend of mine, who is Cherokee, politically liberal, and a retired educator, shared the same reaction. For her, the change felt less like progress and more like subtraction. Visibility matters, especially everyday visibility. Removing flawed representation without replacing it with real, modern people creates a vacuum. Two things can be true at once: the old imagery needed to go, and something meaningful was lost when nothing took its place.
Corporate America handled this moment defensively rather than creatively. It treated representation as a legal cleanup instead of a storytelling opportunity. Removing risk was easier than rebuilding presence.
There is one notable exception: Wheaties.
For decades, Wheaties has featured real athletes on its boxes, including many Black sports figures. Instead of retreating into abstraction, the brand leaned into actual people. It demonstrated that replacement doesn’t have to mean erasure. But even that example comes with limits. Wheaties representation is achievement-based and moment-driven. Visibility depends on who is winning, who is trending, and who is culturally relevant at the time. When the spotlight moves, so does the face on the box. That’s representation as reward. What’s missing across most consumer brands is representation as normal. Not celebrity. Not seasonal. Not tied to headlines. Just everyday presence. Wheaties shows replacement is possible. It also shows how rarely companies commit to it consistently. Visibility, however, is only the first step. Responsibility goes further. Posting a graphic in February is easy. Building inclusion into everyday operations takes intention. Responsibility looks like spotlighting modern Black founders and entrepreneurs, featuring real people in authentic roles, sustaining partnerships year-round, and making inclusion part of hiring, collaboration, and storytelling. Marketing isn’t just about what a brand says. It’s about what a brand repeatedly shows. That repetition becomes culture.
Large corporations get most of the attention, but small businesses often have more influence at the community level. Every local business decides who they collaborate with, who they feature in content, who they recommend to customers, and whose stories get told. In today’s world, every business is also a media outlet. Social posts, websites, newsletters, and community events all contribute to cultural visibility. You don’t need a national advertising budget to practice inclusion. You need awareness and consistency. Who you invite into rooms matters. Who you highlight matters. Who you support matters. These choices accumulate quietly, shaping how communities see themselves. Marketing doesn’t just move products. It preserves stories. If Black history matters in February, it should matter in August too. Legacy isn’t seasonal. Black History Month reminds us that stories don’t preserve themselves. People do. Brands participate in that process whether they intend to or not. Every campaign, every image, and every partnership adds to the cultural record.
The question isn’t whether businesses take part. It’s how.
Written with AI assistance based on the author’s ideas, experience, and editorial direction.
Michael Woodruff is a former news reporter and radio announcer turned creative marketer and founder of Woodruff Media. Michael brings a storyteller’s discipline and a journalist’s perspective to his work. Today, he helps businesses and communities communicate clearly through video, design, livestreaming, and digital strategy, focusing on authenticity, practical messaging, and long-term impact.
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