Posted by Sam Taylor
on June 05, 2026
Sisterhood is having a moment. Feminism too. “Women supporting women” is practically stamped across half the internet, usually in a soft neutral font over a mirror selfie and a carefully positioned product shot.
And on the surface, it looks like progress. It sounds like progress. But the reality is, a lot of it has been absorbed into something else entirely: marketing.
Because let’s be honest - “sisterhood” sells.
It sells courses. It sells clothing drops. It sells skincare. It sells entire personal brands built on the idea of empowerment while quietly replicating the same old hierarchies underneath.
And it’s not just women doing it. Men do it too. Everyone does it, really. Because once something becomes fashionable, it becomes monetisable. And once it becomes monetisable, it becomes flexible. Words get stretched. Meanings get softened. Values get packaged into content that performs well online.
That’s how you end up with “feminist” campaigns that look great on paper but feel completely disconnected from real women’s lives.
There’s a very recognisable formula in modern branding too - whether people want to admit it or not. A curated “diverse” group, a carefully balanced aesthetic, a few familiar archetypes that test well with audiences. The effortlessly cool creative woman. The polished high-energy entrepreneur. The token “edgy” or “alternative” friend. Sometimes it’s even a queer best friend character used to signal inclusivity without actually changing anything structural.
It’s not always malicious. But it is predictable. And predictability in branding often comes at the cost of honesty.
Because real sisterhood isn’t predictable. It’s not neatly packaged. It doesn’t always look good in a campaign shoot.
And here’s the part that gets uncomfortable: a lot of what gets labelled as “feminism” or “women supporting women” in marketing spaces is actually just rebranded competition with better lighting.
There’s a difference between centring women and curating a version of womanhood that performs well online.
One is about shared power. The other is about positioning.
And the internet has blurred those two things so much that people don’t always notice anymore.
That’s where Dope Soul Village deliberately steps out of the noise.
Because DSV isn’t trying to use sisterhood as a visual identity. It’s trying to build it as a functioning reality.
A space where women aren’t competing for proximity to success, but actively creating something together. Where they can learn, sell, heal, and exist without constantly being filtered through what is “marketable” or “relatable” enough for an audience.
And yes—there’s a reason people are starting to feel tired of performative empowerment language. Because when you strip it back, consumers can feel when something is being said because it works in a caption, not because it reflects actual values.
There’s also a growing awareness of how selective representation gets used in branding. Not as genuine inclusion, but as a visual shorthand: a way to communicate “we are progressive” without necessarily changing how things function behind the scenes. It becomes aesthetic diversity rather than structural change.
And that gap is where trust starts to break down.
Because people aren’t just looking at what is being said anymore. They’re looking at what is being done.
At Dope Soul Village, sisterhood isn’t a theme—it’s the foundation. And that means it has to show up in practical ways, not just emotional language. In access. In opportunity. In who gets to participate, who gets supported, and who gets left out by default systems that were never designed with them in mind.
It also means acknowledging something else: that internalised misogyny exists everywhere. Not as a buzzword, but as a pattern that shows up when women are conditioned to compete, rank each other, or only extend support when it doesn’t threaten their own positioning.
That doesn’t make anyone a villain. But it does make the work of real sisterhood more intentional.
Because real sisterhood isn’t just “we support women” as long as it’s convenient. It’s support that holds even when it’s complex. Even when it’s not aesthetic. Even when it doesn’t benefit your personal brand.
That’s the difference.
And that’s why DSV exists in the way it does.
Not to sell sisterhood.
But to actually build something that looks like it in practice.
