The Aesthetic of Struggle: How Poverty is Marketed in Music, Fashion, Influencer Culture, and Film

The Aesthetic of Struggle: How Poverty is Marketed in Music, Fashion, Influencer Culture, and Film

The music industry has long profited from narratives of struggle, hardship, and survival. From hip-hop’s reflections on inner-city life to indie rock’s glorification of working-class authenticity, poverty has been transformed into an aesthetic - one that sells records, garners credibility, and builds cultural capital. But this phenomenon extends beyond music, shaping trends in fashion, influencer culture, and even film, where struggle is often romanticised and repackaged for profit. When hardship becomes a marketing tool rather than a lived reality, who really benefits? And how does this dynamic reflect broader political and economic inequalities?

The Commodification of Hardship

Music, fashion, cinema, and social media have all turned struggle into a commodity, presenting economic hardship as an aesthetic rather than a structural issue. Genres like blues, folk, grime, and hip-hop were born out of real socio-economic adversity, acting as both artistic expression and social commentary. Yet as these genres gained mainstream success, the raw authenticity of struggle became something to package and sell.

Mainstream hip-hop provides one of the clearest examples. The ‘rags-to-riches’ story is a core narrative, where artists recount their past struggles before celebrating their wealth and success. While many rappers genuinely come from difficult backgrounds, labels often amplify and romanticise these hardships to add a sense of authenticity. Artists such as 50 Cent, whose rise to fame was heavily marketed around his survival of nine gunshot wounds, or Jay-Z, who has frequently referenced his time as a drug dealer, have seen their struggles leveraged as part of their brand. While their past experiences are real, the industry’s fixation on hardship often leads to an exaggerated or selective portrayal that prioritises marketability over reality.

UK grime and drill have faced similar issues, with artists like Stormzy, Dave, and Headie One balancing genuine social critique with the industry's expectations of gritty storytelling. Drill music, in particular, has been both sensationalised and scapegoated by politicians and the press, with critics arguing that its focus on poverty and crime perpetuates violence, while others see it as an authentic reflection of systemic failings. The industry's willingness to capitalise on these narratives while distancing itself from their social implications highlights the exploitative nature of struggle as an aesthetic.

🌟 Working-Class Aesthetic vs. Reality

Cultural appropriation plays a key role in the commodification of struggle across industries. Just as the fashion industry sees wealthy individuals adopting elements of lower-class fashion as trends, privileged musicians, influencers, and filmmakers often adopt working-class accents, slang, and imagery to invoke a sense of rebellion while ignoring the realities behind them. This raises ethical questions about the difference between genuine representation and exploitative appropriation.

Rich influencers like Hannah Neumann exemplify this trend, portraying a quaint, rustic lifestyle while omitting their true wealth. Her family’s content aestheticises struggle in a way that removes its real consequences, much like Marie Antoinette’s ‘peasant village’-a historical example of the elite romanticising hardship while remaining detached from its realities. Similarly, celebrities such as Kim Kardashian have engaged in performative poverty, as seen in her infamous milkmaid photoshoot. The ‘van life’ trend on social media also illustrates this phenomenon, where influencers with financial security portray an idealised version of homelessness while those truly struggling remain invisible.

Cultural appropriation plays a key role in the commodification of struggle across industries. Just as the fashion industry sees wealthy individuals adopting elements of lower-class fashion as trends, privileged musicians, influencers, and filmmakers often adopt working-class accents, slang, and imagery to invoke a sense of rebellion while ignoring the realities behind them. This raises ethical questions about the difference between genuine representation and exploitative appropriation.

The commodification of struggle in music mirrors similar trends in the fashion industry, where high-end brands market distressed clothing inspired by homelessness and poverty, making struggle fashionable for those who have never experienced it. In music and social media, this manifests in artists and influencers from privileged backgrounds adopting working-class accents, slang, and fashion to build credibility, despite never having lived that reality. The UK indie and punk scenes are particularly guilty of this, with middle-class musicians constructing an image of rebellion and struggle without facing the material conditions that working-class communities endure.

This phenomenon extends to film, where the ‘sad girl’ aesthetic and the portrayal of poverty have been used to add an air of artistic credibility. Films like Lola attempt to depict financial hardship but are criticised for lacking authenticity, as they are often created by those who have never faced such struggles. Comparisons can be made to directors like Bong Joon-ho, whose films such as Parasite engage with class issues in a nuanced way, exploring both hardship and resilience rather than romanticising suffering.

The influencer industry also thrives on the performance of struggle. Social media personalities frequently showcase an aesthetic of “hustle culture” or claim to come from nothing, despite often having significant financial support. The rise of “sad girl” and “grunge revival” aesthetics has also contributed to a wider romanticisation of financial hardship and emotional struggle, without any real engagement with the struggles that marginalised communities face.

Poverty as a Branding Tool

Much like the fashion industry profits from an aestheticised version of hardship without supporting the communities it draws from, the music, film, and influencer industries turn struggle into a marketable identity while failing to reinvest in marginalised communities. Artists, influencers, and filmmakers who genuinely come from poverty face barriers such as lack of industry connections, financial instability, and exploitation, yet their stories are often co-opted by more privileged figures who use hardship as a branding tool. The selective embrace of struggle narratives serves to commodify suffering while ignoring the structures that create it.

Social media further accelerates this trend, allowing wealthy influencers to cultivate a ‘struggling’ persona while maintaining financial stability behind the scenes. The disconnect between aesthetic and reality creates a false narrative that romanticises poverty, making it appear aspirational rather than an issue requiring urgent structural change.

Much like the fashion industry profits from an aestheticised version of hardship without supporting the communities it draws from, the music, film, and influencer industries turn struggle into a marketable identity while failing to reinvest in marginalised communities. Artists, influencers, and filmmakers who genuinely come from poverty face barriers such as lack of industry connections, financial instability, and exploitation, yet their stories are often co-opted by more privileged figures who use hardship as a branding tool. The selective embrace of struggle narratives serves to commodify suffering while ignoring the structures that create it.

Marketing agencies and record labels have become increasingly skilled at crafting narratives of struggle that resonate with audiences. The rise of social media has accelerated this trend, allowing artists, filmmakers, and influencers to curate their own stories and aesthetic. Whether it’s the DIY indie artist ‘struggling to get by,’ the rapper detailing a troubled past, or the influencer portraying themselves as a self-made success, the industry rewards those who can present their hardship in an engaging and digestible way. However, these curated struggles rarely include discussions of the systemic causes of poverty, such as austerity policies, wealth inequality, and gentrification.

🏙️ The Political Dimension: Why This Matters

The stark contrast between the lives of wealthy artists, influencers, and filmmakers and those genuinely facing economic hardship highlights systemic inequalities. Just as fashion has become a battleground where class disparities are both showcased and exploited, the music, film, and social media industries benefit from perpetuating these struggles while failing to address their root causes. Instead of advocating for structural changes, they often reinforce existing power dynamics by presenting hardship as an individual rather than a collective struggle.

In film, this manifests in the ‘sad girl’ aesthetic and the romanticisation of suffering. Films like Lola attempt to depict financial hardship but are often created by filmmakers who have never faced economic struggle. The lack of nuance in these portrayals reduces poverty to an aesthetic rather than a lived reality. By contrast, directors like Bong Joon-ho (Parasite) demonstrate how storytelling can explore class struggles with depth, acknowledging both hardship and resilience.

The stark contrast between the lives of wealthy artists, influencers, and filmmakers and those genuinely facing economic hardship highlights systemic inequalities. Just as fashion has become a battleground where class disparities are both showcased and exploited, the music, film, and social media industries benefit from perpetuating these struggles while failing to address their root causes. Instead of advocating for structural changes, they often reinforce existing power dynamics by presenting hardship as an individual rather than a collective struggle.

The marketing of struggle reflects wider political and economic issues. The glorification of rags-to-riches success stories reinforces the myth of meritocracy, suggesting that anyone can succeed if they work hard enough. This individualistic narrative downplays systemic barriers such as racial discrimination, class immobility, and lack of access to resources. In doing so, it shifts focus away from collective solutions - like stronger social safety nets or fairer wages - and towards neoliberal ideals of personal resilience and self-sufficiency.

Furthermore, the romanticisation of poverty can desensitise audiences to real economic struggles. If struggle is just another aesthetic, the urgency of issues like housing crises, food insecurity, and wage stagnation can be diminished in public discourse. Music, fashion, cinema, and social media have the power to challenge these issues, but when hardship is reduced to a branding tool, it risks reinforcing rather than confronting inequality.

📈 Reclaiming Authenticity

Trends in music, fashion, film, and influencer culture follow cyclical patterns, with themes linked to poverty frequently resurfacing. This reflects broader societal attitudes towards class and status, where economic struggle is romanticised in times of cultural change. However, rather than simply recycling these aesthetics, the industry should prioritise ethical storytelling, ensuring that artists, filmmakers, designers, and influencers with lived experiences of hardship receive the support and platform they deserve rather than being overshadowed by those using struggle as a brand strategy.

Filmmakers must engage in thorough research and self-reflection when depicting class struggles. As the video critique of Lola suggests, portrayals of poverty that focus solely on suffering, without exploring resilience or joy, can feel exploitative rather than authentic. The same applies to influencers and musicians—those who aestheticise struggle without advocating for real change contribute to a misleading narrative that minimises the experiences of working-class and marginalised communities.

Trends in music, fashion, film, and influencer culture follow cyclical patterns, with themes linked to poverty frequently resurfacing. This reflects broader societal attitudes towards class and status, where economic struggle is romanticised in times of cultural change. However, rather than simply recycling these aesthetics, the industry should prioritise ethical storytelling, ensuring that artists, filmmakers, designers, and influencers with lived experiences of hardship receive the support and platform they deserve rather than being overshadowed by those using struggle as a brand strategy.

Consumers play a key role in shaping these trends. Supporting independent artists, ethical fashion movements, and filmmakers who genuinely engage with socio-economic issues rather than aestheticising them can help shift the culture towards authenticity. Music labels, fashion brands, and social media platforms must also be held accountable for reinvesting in the working-class and marginalised communities that shape the culture they profit from.

Struggle should be a tool for empowerment, not just a marketable trend. The challenge for artists, industry leaders, and audiences alike is to ensure that music, fashion, cinema, and social media remain spaces for truth rather than carefully curated hardship narratives designed to sell.