Why representation in marketing is a growth strategy—not just good optics

We once launched a campaign that looked great in the boardroom—and landed flat in the market. The problem wasn’t the budget, the creative, or the media spend. It was something deeper. We were speaking to someone we didn’t really know. And they could tell.

Representation in marketing isn’t about being politically correct. It’s about relevance. It’s about respect. And if you’re a founder building in 2025 and beyond, it’s about revenue. The world you’re selling into doesn’t look like the one you grew up with—and pretending it does is a fast way to waste money and trust.

A few years ago, we ran a series of digital ads featuring polished urban professionals—think soft lighting, glass offices, neutral tones. It was aspirational, clean, and completely disconnected from the reality of our Southeast Asian customers. Within 24 hours of launch, we got the first comment: “Another brand that thinks we all work in WeWorks and wear linen blazers.” More followed. “Try coming to our neighborhood.” “Where are the aunties?” “Y’all forgot who buys your stuff.”

We didn’t just miss the mark. We missed the market. The data confirmed it. Click-throughs were low. Conversions dropped. And worse, we triggered a subtle brand erosion that took months to rebuild. Not because people were offended. But because they didn’t feel seen.

That’s when it hit me: the people we were marketing to were not reflected in our marketing. And that wasn’t just a creative issue. It was a leadership blind spot.

Founders are taught to think in scale. TAMs, CACs, funnels, lifetime value. But those numbers are only as useful as your understanding of the people behind them. And too often, early-stage teams build customer profiles based on instinct—or worse, proximity. You market to the people you hang out with. You imagine a user who thinks like you, buys like you, talks like you. That’s fine when you’re testing an MVP. But once you raise capital and expand beyond your early adopters, that myopia turns expensive.

Here’s the kicker: by the time you realize you’ve misread your audience, it’s often too late. Your brand voice is already baked. Your agency partners are already locked in. Your founders’ faces are already on the About page. And your team looks nothing like your target user. That’s not a marketing problem. That’s a leadership one.

Let’s get this straight: representation in marketing isn’t about ticking boxes. It’s not about slapping different skin tones on stock photos. It’s not about rainbow logos during Pride or ethnic motifs during Lunar New Year. Representation means doing the hard work of understanding who your customer really is—and showing up for them in ways that feel real, not rehearsed. It means hiring people who don’t think like you. Testing language you’re not fluent in. Asking for feedback from communities you’ve never sold to before. It’s about putting humility before aesthetics.

And here’s what most people miss: good representation isn’t loud. It’s consistent. It’s in your product decisions, not just your ad spend. It’s in your packaging, your sizing, your UX. It’s who you choose as influencers—and how much you pay them.

True representation also shows up in the absence of stereotypes. It means knowing when to lead with identity and when to normalize it. It’s not about highlighting difference for the sake of it. It’s about making sure your customer feels like they belong without needing to earn it. That level of fluency doesn’t happen by chance—it’s the result of deliberate design, repeated feedback, and the willingness to be corrected.

I’ve seen too many startups push out a “diverse” campaign and then panic when it backfires. The comments come fast: “Where are your Black team members?” “Do your hijabi models even use your product?” “You posted a woman in a wheelchair—do your stores even have ramps?” Today’s consumer is fluent in inauthenticity. They know when they’re being pandered to. They know when you’re borrowing culture instead of building for it.

And once you break that trust, it’s brutal to repair. This isn’t about cancel culture. It’s about earned attention. If you want someone’s loyalty, you better earn the right to speak to them. And that starts by listening, hiring, building, and showing up in ways that go deeper than the campaign brief.

Let’s make this practical. If you’re building anything remotely consumer-facing, here are the early-stage signals that you’ve got a representation gap:

• Your brand voice sounds clever but narrow—like it only speaks to Twitter insiders.
• Your content strategy revolves around US or Euro-centric trends that don’t localize well.
• Your influencer roster is full of people who look the same—and none of them resemble your median customer.
• Your packaging, app design, or sizing doesn’t reflect real-world bodies, languages, or access constraints.
• Your team debates identity-driven messaging like it’s risky, but no one hesitates to overpay for paid media experiments.

Sound familiar? That’s not just a marketing flaw. It’s a leadership culture problem.

Nope. That’s the trap. Representation is a strategic lens—not a comms tool. It affects product development, partnership strategy, retail decisions, community building, even customer support.

Let me give you a real-world example. A startup I mentored in KL was targeting Gen Z Muslim women with modest fashion rentals. The founder, a former Bain consultant, was sharp but skeptical of spending on “cultural branding.” She thought the product spoke for itself. But her homepage images showed only fair-skinned models. Her captions referenced Coachella. Her newsletter used Western fashion terms that didn’t translate well.

Conversion rates were okay—but flat. Until she hired a part-time creative from Johor who rewrote the copy, reshot the lookbook with models wearing tudung styles, and used Malay-English language hybrids that felt more conversational. CTR jumped. Instagram engagement tripled. Retention improved. Same product. Better representation. Deeper resonance.

Some founders panic and overcorrect. Suddenly, every photo has a rainbow coalition of models. Every post becomes a tribute to inclusion. That’s not representation. That’s performance. Tokenism is worse than invisibility—because it insults intelligence. The goal is not to “show everyone.” The goal is to speak to someone. And to speak to them like you actually know them. That takes specificity. That takes time. That takes people in the room who can say, “Actually, that doesn’t land the way you think it does.”

This is where ego comes in. I’ve been in rooms where the founder insists a campaign is great because they like it. Because they find it funny. Because they would buy it.

But here’s the truth: if you’re not part of the audience the campaign is targeting, your opinion matters less than the data—and the lived experience of someone who is. That’s why I push early-stage teams to build feedback loops with community partners, local creators, and cultural consultants. Not as a box to check. As a system to protect relevance. Your marketing isn’t art. It’s a bridge. And if the people you’re building the bridge for can’t cross it, then it’s not working.

If I could go back, I’d do three things earlier:

1. Hire across difference, not just competence. I want team members who catch what I miss. Who see what I can’t. Who know what I never lived through. That’s not charity—it’s strategy.
2. Build a representation checkpoint into every brand decision. Not just “Does this look nice?” but “Does this reflect the people we claim to serve?” And if not—why not?
3. Take feedback seriously, even when it stings. Especially then. Because that discomfort? That’s where the growth is. That’s where trust gets built.

You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to be accountable. You need to ask the hard questions, bring in the right voices, and resist the urge to defend when you get it wrong. Representation isn’t a phase. It’s a discipline. And like every other part of building—whether it’s product, ops, or hiring—it rewards those who treat it like a craft, not a campaign.

So if you’re launching something this year, ask yourself:
Who do you want to reach?
Who do you actually understand?
And who do you still need to listen to before you speak?

Because marketing isn’t just what you say. It’s who you say it for. And whether they believe you.