Many years ago, I wrote a piece wherein I expressed genuine sympathy for Jenner, which inspired much derision from many people who read it. They didn’t have time to pity a multi-millionaire, they said, which was certainly understandable. It’s easy to roll your eyes over the poor little rich girls of the world, especially those who have profited in obscene ways by mining the insecurities of a younger generation. Yet I couldn’t shake the sense that Jenner had been screwed from day one. How else was a woman raised in the Kardashian-Jenner family, one who was a prepubescent reality TV star among a clan of women who turned their money and malleable flesh into a cottage industry, supposed to get out of this alive? She had been all but pimped out by her mother to rapper Tyga when she was underage and allowed to undergo intense cosmetic augmentations before she was old enough to vote. The insecurities of adolescence were a fix-up project and business investment for her family, and she followed in their footsteps.
She lied about the lip fillers, the boob job, and all the other treatments, but so did everyone else in her family. Hell, so does everyone else in Hollywood, full stop. This is an industry where an audience of millions is expected to believe that good genes and SPF 50 can erase not only wrinkles but buccal fat and crooked teeth, never questioning it all while we’re sold makeup and skincare brands that are touted as the ultimate solution. I’ve lost count of the number of film trailers I’ve watched in recent years where actors I love have become unrecognizable thanks to a slow succession of nips and tweaks that have left them with frozen faces and poreless skin. Kylie Jenner’s big mistake was doing it all too obviously, going from a baby-faced adolescent to a full-lipped makeup maven in record time. Everyone saw what was happening, and the more she denied it, all while shilling her lip kits, the more aggravating it became. Her admissions, followed by details of her insecurities, felt less like moments of raw confession than a ‘sorry I was caught’ apology in hindsight. You can’t sell the lie to kids and expect people to accept it as a minor oopsie.
Such is the Kardashian conundrum. They’re not the only ones who do this, of course, but the ruthless efficiency with which they execute their business plans remains notable. They do not define trends so much as they chase them, appropriating and shape-shifting where they deem it to be beneficial. Big lips, big butts, and dark contouring that veered into ‘racially ambiguous’ (read: copying the styles of Black American women) sold a lot of makeup, jeans, and whatever it is that Kourtney does. When thinspo chic and minimalist couture came back in fashion, the BBLs were removed and the corsets tightened. Balenciaga came calling so Kim went back to being white. Kylie followed. Her makeup is far less overwhelming. Her fillers seem softer. Her latest venture is Khy, a ‘luxury’ clothing line that seems to be aiming for The Row-style quiet luxury. She’s also a mother of two young children and may or may not still be dating Timothee Chalamet, which inspired a sadly predictable round of misogyny over the apparently absurd idea that the guy from Dune would ever want to date a hot rich woman in his age range.
Jenner has talked about wanting her daughter to grow up with a strong self-image and not be beaten down by society’s horrid beauty standards. It’s what every mother wants, really, but most of our mothers didn’t become multi-millionaires by creating said standards, making them so cruelly unattainable that not even Ms. Jenner herself could attain them. Therein lies the hellish Catch-22 of Kylie. She is trapped by that which she commodified but could never fully control. Many famous women embrace the patriarchal noose in the hopes of finding power through working alongside it. Emily Ratajkowski wrote about this in her book, candidly noting that using her body and yielding to the male gaze made her rich even if it did not allow her total autonomy over her full self. Nobody is free of this smog that we all breathe in day after day, and we’re typically sympathetic towards those who express regret over their involvement in the process.
But the Kardashian-Jenner family? They’re still moulding themselves to sell the latest beauty model to the masses. It’s Skims, it’s The Good American, it’s Lemme vitamins, it’s Khy, it’s seven-figure brand deals with high fashion houses. It’s Kim wearing a corset so restrictive that she was barely able to breathe on the Met Gala red carpet. And it’s Kylie doing ‘no makeup makeup’ tutorials to sell lip gloss. If every woman woke up tomorrow and loved the way they looked, capitalism would crumble into ruins. In the comments section of one of Jenner’s most recent Instagram posts, someone wrote, ‘loving this authentic era.’ In the end, it’s all business. Even her rawest emotional confessions, after all, were made to be content for a reality TV show.
I must admit that I still feel sympathy for Kylie Jenner, much in the same way I feel for every woman who has tried to play by the broken rules and found themselves scarred by the process. In a sexist society, we don’t have many other choices. But Jenner’s not just one of the victims: she’s the one cashing in on those ever-moving goalposts every other woman is expected to chase after. There will always be another mascara or skirt to sell to those who feel bad that they can’t look like Kylie Jenner, even if she can’t look like her.
