The dark side of building "community"

It’s never been trendier to say your brand is “building community” than it is right now.

But where do we draw the line between actual, genuine community and community as an aesthetic? Because community is not just a vibe, or a content strategy, or a shortcut to engagement. It’s a commitment. One that comes with responsibility, reciprocity, and actual people at the centre of it. And too many brands seem to be forgetting that.

I recently read about the death of counterculture and the part brands had to play.

Everyone wants community, but few actually want the responsibility.

Most brands saying “we’re building community” are really just building audience. Or fandom. Or a Discord server with niche memes and a brand voice that uses sparkles. But community is waaay deeper than that. Community means showing up consistently. It means accountability. It means you don’t get to disappear when the vibes shift or when it’s no longer trending on TikTok.

When brands treat community as a campaign, they don’t just dilute the meaning of the word. They break trust. People notice when the energy is extractive. Why yes, we can most definitely tell when you’re here to be a culture vulture, not a contributor.

Punk was a protest. Skate was subversive. Queer nightlife was a lifeline. And then brands showed up with their creative briefs, chasing edge and energy — not equity.

Brands took the aesthetics, sanitised the politics, and tossed the community. Suddenly, anarchy symbols were on high street hoodies. “Grunge” became a fall fashion trend. Pride was a product line. And when the next shiny subculture came along? The old one got dropped like last season’s lookbook.

This isn’t “celebrating culture.” It’s cultural strip-mining. And it should serve as a giant red flag for any brand entering community spaces today. If your relationship with culture is transactional, it won’t last. And it probably shouldn’t.

Brands and pop culture more broadly have been doing this to Black culture for decades.

From hip-hop to streetwear, slang to dance, protective hairstyles to social movements, the world has consistently pulled from Black culture as an endless source of innovation, style, and “cool.” But it’s a one-way exchange. Everyone wants the sound, the swag, the social capital. Few are willing to pour back in. Fewer still are willing to confront the structural inequalities that shape the very conditions this culture was created within.

The difference? Black culture is too deep, too wide, too rooted to be “killed” — but that doesn’t mean it isn’t harmed. When brands commodify elements that are integral to Black identity, without care, credit, or contribution, it’s not just theft. It’s erasure. And while they profit off the packaging, Black communities continue to face the policing, punishment, and prejudice attached to the real thing.

If brands want to participate, they can’t just take. They have to show up, pay up, and stand up. This is especially important in an industry that seems to be bulldozing DEI efforts at large.

Because aesthetic without ethics is just performance. And a lousy one at that.

When brands co-opt the look of a community but not the values, what remains is marketing cosplay. It’s all visual language, no lived reality.

This isn’t just a missed opportunity. It actively harms the communities being mimicked. The original members get pushed out or spoken over. The values that held the community together—solidarity, resistance, joy, whatever it may be—get reduced to palette choices and playlist curation.

Brands, we’re not participants. We’re custodians.

If you’re entering community spaces as a brand, you’re not just another user. You’re not just “joining the conversation.” You’re in a position of power. And that power comes with responsibility. You have to move from extraction to custodianship.

That means:

• Hiring people from the communities you want to serve

• Investing long-term (not just when the trend report tells you to)

• Giving credit where it’s due and not rewriting history

• Making space, not taking space

• Knowing when to amplify, and when to sit down

Community isn’t something you own. It’s something you earn through care, consistency, and alignment with values that aren’t negotiable for the sake of brand safety. You can’t be cool without caring, because that’s like, totally not cool. You get me? 

-Sophie Randell, Writer