Today Elle published a piece called "30 of the Sexiest Men Alive Who Aren't White," which, taken out of context, is a whole lot of WTF. But there is context to this, which is that David Beckham has just been awarded People's Sexiest Man Alive cover (which feels a decade or so too late, but whatever), marking the 29th white man to be crowned the title out of 30 total recipients. Believe it or not Denzel Washington is the only man of color to be bestowed this honor, and that was in 1996. What in the actual hell.
"While it might seem trivial, the ongoing issue of the lack of diversity in the entertainment industry makes it more important than ever to highlight a more inclusive standard of what's considered beautiful—for women and men alike," says Elle. "Here, we celebrate a diverse roster of 30 other deserving men who are sexy, alive, and not white." While it's commendable for Elle to point out all the hot men of color who could have easily been this year's Sexiest Man Alive (like, come on, Drake is so much more relevant right now than Beckham), it feels too much like a "There, there" to minorities. Poor Idris Elba! Not sexy enough for People, but you get our sexiest man shout-out!
This sort of highlighting weirdly makes people of color still feel isolated, like they need their own list for affirmation and cannot compete with the loads of hot white men out there. Obviously there are plenty of hot men of color who could have graced the cover each year People has ignored them and the magazine should be questioned for literally having 97% of their past 30 cover stars be white (also, shout out The Hollywood Reporter for their pearly white Oscar cover this week). But what Elle could have done instead of pity calling out ignored non-white men is pick their dream Sexiest Man Alive covers for every year People has done it—but of course, with more diversity. And also include white men on it.
That isn't to discount the celebration of diversity that I believe was well-meaning on Elle's part. Sometimes overtly positive discrimination is necessary, as is the case for the Black Lives Matter movement. Yes, technically all lives should matter, but that isn't the point nor the spirit of the distasteful "All Lives Matter" counter-argument. Black Lives Matter happened in order to overtly draw attention to the history of repeated injustice and violence against black people, in light of Michael Brown and Eric Garner's deaths last year. It was tied to specific black people, but massive enough to be applied to the state's frequent offense against its black citizens.
A Sexiest Man award is, of course, so trivial in comparison. Lives are not at stake for minorities because they're shunned from being recognized as sexy. But there's a less forced way of pointing out People's whitewashing than making a struggle gallery in an attempt to undo American media's history of whiteness. Of the 30 men on Elle's list there are many celebrities certainly not famous or relevant enough to warrant a SMA, and it makes this list feel even more pitiful. Some of these faces wouldn't make sense judging the celebrity status of People's past awardees. Much of the latter half of this list was just thrown on there to forcefully assemble a diverse army of hot men. We don't need men of color to compete in their own sexiness race—we just need to be more mindful of including them in the bigger picture.
