“Disgusting and Disrespectful”: Angel Reese’s Call to Boycott American Eagle Just Collided With Sydney Sweeney’s Stardom—And the Internet Picked a Side

The six words that cracked a brand wide open

There are weeks when the culture machine thrums along exactly as planned—and then there are weeks like this one, when a single sentence blows a hole through a multimillion-dollar campaign and turns a red-carpet rocket into a lightning rod.

“Disgusting and disrespectful to Black culture.”
With those six words, WNBA star Angel Reese torpedoed American Eagle’s new ad blitz featuring Hollywood phenom Sydney Sweeney, and dared a generation to choose: cute campaign or cultural line in the sand?

The fallout wasn’t slow; it was seismic. Hashtags trended, comment sections caught fire, and the campaign designed to sell a vibe got dragged into a masterclass on appropriation, authorship, and who gets paid when Black aesthetics are turned into mood boards.

This isn’t just a dust-up between a brand, a baller, and a movie star. It’s a referendum on how pop culture is made—and who gets to own it.

The spark: a glossy rollout meets a hard stop

On paper, the Sweeney x American Eagle play looked bulletproof. She’s a proven ratings magnet—Euphoria, The White Lotus, Reality—and the campaign checked all the boxes: sun-splashed color, movement, “authentic” candids, the usual caption soup (freedom, friendship, found family). A feel-good cash machine.

Then came Angel Reese.

The LSU legend turned WNBA star—who’s been as fearless with a microphone as she is in the paint—posted a story and broke the spell:

“This is not it. American Eagle and Sydney Sweeney need to do better. Disgusting and disrespectful to Black culture.”

The algorithm did what algorithms do. The clip jumped platforms; the copies outran the original; the message hardened into movement: #BoycottAmericanEagle.

The charge: the difference between borrowing and erasing

Why this campaign? Why now? Because even the prettiest shoot can feel like déjà vu in the worst way when Black cultural codes—hair, nails, choreography, silhouettes, slang, sonic cues—are lifted for aesthetics while Black creative leadership is nowhere to be found in the credits, the boardroom, or the budget.

Critics weren’t arguing that a white actress can’t wear braids or streetwear. They were pointing to a pattern:

Black aesthetics to set the vibe;

Non-Black faces to sell it;

Black creators relegated to inspiration boards and unpaid Pinterest.

Or as one viral post put it: “Brands love our style, our rhythm, our heat—just not our invoices or our names.”

In that reading, Reese’s blast wasn’t a “gotcha.” It was a line item. Credit. Compensation. Creative control.

Sydney Sweeney’s bind: America’s it-girl meets the new rules of engagement

No one denies Sweeney grinds. The Spokane upstart built an A-list résumé the old-fashioned way—auditions, range, receipts. But in the age of receipts, intent isn’t a shield.

Her team emphasized her commitment to inclusivity and “unity.” Her defenders said the campaign was harmless fun. Her critics said “unity” without shared power is just a press release with filters. Reposting the mood board is not the same as hiring the people who invented it.

The career calculus for Sweeney is brutal and precise:

If she doubles down, she becomes the face of tone-deaf brand play.

If she vanishes, she looks guilty and unteachable.

If she engages, she risks the cynical “performative ally” label unless money and decision-making shift in public, measurable ways.

There is a path (more on that below), but it requires moving from “I stand with” to “I stand aside and share control.”

Angel Reese’s moment: from endorser to enforcer

Reese didn’t just post a take; she posted a directive. Boycott. And it landed because her brand is bigger than basketball. She modernized the athlete-activist template for an era where clips are currency and the tunnel is a runway. If Colin Kaepernick taught leagues they couldn’t quarantine conscience on Sundays, Reese is teaching brands they can’t launder vibes on Mondays.

A truth marketers hate: stars with real gravity bring their own standards. They don’t just shoot the campaign; they decide what campaigns get to exist.

The blowback: outrage, solidarity, and a brand on fire

Within 24 hours, American Eagle’s comment sections resembled a stock plunge in text form. Calls for apology. Demands for credit receipts. Screenshots of competitor pledges. Meanwhile, Sweeney’s posts became mini referendum rooms where fans battled fans.

Crisis-comms playbook, page one: “We regret any hurt caused. We’ll listen and learn.” The brand promised stakeholder meetings, process reviews, and “a recommitment to inclusivity.”

Page two—the part that actually matters—was missing: Who’s in the room now? Who gets paid next? What power changes?

“Apologies without transfer of power are just extended captions,” Dr. Maya Johnson (Howard University) told us. “If your creative leads aren’t as diverse as your mood boards, you’re not listening—you’re leasing.”

Receipts or it didn’t happen: the new rules for brands (and celebs)

If American Eagle and Sweeney want out of triage, here’s the only play that travels:

1) Publish the pipeline

Name the Black creative director(s) with hiring authority.

List the Black designers, hair and makeup leads, choreographers, stylists—and what they were paid.

2) Shift budget publicly

X% of next-year campaign spend goes to Black-led agencies.

A standing fund for Black designers to co-design capsule drops with royalty participation.

3) Share the stage

Brand shoots must include co-ownership of creative deliverables for Black creators—IP, not just day rates.

A rotating community review board with veto power before launch.

4) Make the supply chain match the ad

Commit to supplier diversity goals and publish progress quarterly.

Tie exec bonuses to inclusion metrics the way you tie them to sales.

5) For Sweeney specifically

Co-produce a Black-led short film on fashion authorship; don’t star—fund and feature the designers.

Donate a portion of her AE compensation to organizations that incubate Black creative talent—and do it before the next red carpet, without a brand-friendly photo op.

Good intentions are not a KPI. Structure is.

The context: fashion’s long tab

From minstrel aesthetics on couture runways to high-street blackface sweaters (remember those?) to braided silhouettes sold back to Black girls at a markup—the industry has blown this lesson for a century. We’ve seen better exceptions lately: Nike’s long-term Black designer pipelines, Sephora’s 15% Pledge, Target’s supplier diversity expansion. But the rule remains: when the heat dies down, budget drifts back to comfort.

American Eagle wanted to speak for youth. Youth spoke back: “Start by not speaking over us.”

The algorithm’s role: how an ad lost to a Story

The modern culture war is fought in 12–20 second loops. The AE spot was engineered for TVC and YouTube pre-roll. Reese’s call-out was engineered for vertical velocity:

Native camera (phone > shoot rig)

Direct address (the parasocial lock)

Six-word clarity (“Disgusting and disrespectful to Black culture”)

Campaigns still think in quarters. Movements think in hours. Guess who wins the first week?

Can Sweeney recover? Yes—but not the way publicists prefer

The crisis-comms cheat sheet (apology, education, donation) is stale. The only credible arc left is power realignment:

Publicly insist on Black creative leadership for any brand deal in her contract window.

Build a production shingle that funds Black writers/directors to tell their fashion stories; remain off camera when asked.

Host a roundtable that isn’t a vanity shot: two hours closed-door with Black designers, stylists, and models who’ve navigated extraction. Publish action items—not pull quotes.

Fans forgive growth. The industry forgives leverage used for good.

What this says about Angel Reese’s place in the culture

Reese’s breakout wasn’t only about shots and swagger. It was about brand literacy. She knows the ad isn’t the product—the reaction is. And she just out-produced a company with a nine-figure marketing budget using one Story and a six-word thesis.

That isn’t cancel culture. That’s culture control.

The takeaways brands will ignore (and regret)

Representation in frame ≠ representation in power.

If your campaign mood board includes “braid inspo,” your payroll better include braid authorship.

Don’t launch “unity” with a team that couldn’t explain the difference between homage and extraction if you spotted them the glossary.

Crisis apologies without a budget line are just press releases with ring lights.

Where this goes next (and how it ends)

Expect American Eagle to announce a “listening tour,” then a capsule collaboration with named Black designers. Expect Sweeney to post a longer statement and a partnership (or donation) meant to reset the temperature. Expect critics to parse every comma and allies to test for sincerity by watching who gets paid.

If the money and creative control move, this moment becomes a blueprint. If not, it becomes a cautionary clip that professors will teach in “What not to do” lectures for the next decade.

Either way, Angel Reese just proved again that the most valuable commodity in 2025 isn’t celebrity—it’s conviction with a camera.

Final word: The reckoning isn’t a storm. It’s the climate.

This story isn’t really about one ad, one actress, or one athlete. It’s about how America decides who gets to author the culture it profits from. Fashion can keep borrowing until the receipts come due, or it can co-create and build wealth where it borrows wonder.

Angel Reese made her choice. Now we watch who else does. Brands will ask if outrage will pass. It won’t. Outrage is the wrong word. Ownership is the right one.

And somewhere in a boardroom, a marketing VP is rewriting next quarter’s deck with a new first slide: