The trouble with being beautiful

It's National Inclusion Week when we all come together to 'celebrate everyday inclusion in all its forms'. This year's theme is 'unity' where 'thousands of inclusioneers worldwide' are being encouraged to 'take action to be #UnitedForInclusion.'

In the bewildering world of identity politics, however, there is one group of excluded individuals you won't be hearing much about. As a demographic, they suffer from all kinds of discrimination and yet social justice activists seem uninterested in their plight. Unlike oppressed minorities, this particular group may be in the majority and yet they garner little in the way of sympathy from anyone, barring their mums, perhaps.

As with race, gender and disability, physical attractiveness is an immutable characteristic born out of biological happenstance; unless we decide to go under the knife there is very little we can do about a wonky nose, droopy shoulders or a weak chin. A study has found that employers tend to assume that attractive people make better workers. The so-called Halo Effect implies that we subconsciously assume a person's appearance is an accurate reflection of their overall character; we say they have 'kind eyes' or a 'charming smile' as though looks were a window into the soul. Is it any wonder then that those blessed with 'good looks' - even the term sounds supremacist - are viewed in a more favourable light?

According to evolutionary biologists, attractiveness may be linked to healthy genes, which is why we are so drawn to it. Anyone who has signed up to a dating site will know how brutally shallow the whole business of pairing off can be - looks are the first thing we notice and the main reason we flick either left or right. Imagine if we were as openly hostile towards people because of their skin colour.

Nor is beauty really in the eye of the beholder; our view of attractiveness tends to be exceedingly narrow, ensuring that only a few gain from the privilege. Linda Evangelista has learnt to her cost what happens when that privilege is taken away. The ex supermodel has spent the last five years living as a recluse after a cosmetic procedure left her face permanently disfigured and unrecognisable. No longer able to work and afraid to leave her house Evangelista claims the experience sent her 'into a cycle of deep depression, profound sadness and the lowest depths of self-loathing.' The model intends to sue the company responsible so that she can move 'forward to rid myself of my shame.' Losing her most prized asset has come at a heavy price.

So what should be done about this beauty premium? When white heterosexual men are being asked to check their privilege, should the same be demanded of the beautiful? It seems remarkable that such an obviously privileged group has managed to slip through the social justice net. 

Where are the 'anti-attractivism' training initiatives during which the aesthetically blessed confess their unconscious bias? Where is the show of 'allyship' with their plainer brothers and sisters?  Perhaps the less attractive among us should be targeted by all those diversity and inclusion initiatives where employers must accurately represent the marginalised across every level of their business.

Institutions such as the BBC could introduce quotas stating that from now on 80 per cent of those in front of the camera will have to be physically unappealing. During the Academy Awards ceremony, gorgeous Hollywood stars could show their solidarity with the less attractive actors by joining the '#OscarsSoBeautiful' campaign.

Perhaps I'm taking the whole inequality thing too far but if we were serious about diversity and inclusion why wouldn’t we include this historically marginalised group? When it comes to equality, it seems there are some social hierarchies we aren't willing to forgo.