The world of celebrity endorsements has finally breached one of its last taboos. Serena Williams, an icon of supreme athleticism and physical power, is now the face of GLP-1 weight-loss drugs through a multiyear campaign for the telehealth company Ro.
This move does more than just sell a prescription; this move seriously undermines the common story people tell about these popular but controversial drugs. For years, campaigns for Ozempic, Wegovy and other GLP-1s have leaned on vague imagery and faceless testimonials. Now, they have one of the most recognizable and respected athletes on the planet stating plainly, “After kids, it’s the medicine my body needed.”
Ro’s strategy is deliberate since the company has been prescribing GLP-1s for nearly three years. The company’s CEO, Zach Reitano, admits that the anticipated criticism—that an elite athlete like Williams "doesn't need this"—is precisely why she is the perfect endorser. The goal is to normalize the use of GLP-1s for a broader audience, moving beyond the archetype of a patient with severe obesity to include anyone, even a 23-time Grand Slam champion, who struggles with stubborn weight.
Until now, the “celebrity seal of approval” has been conspicuously absent. Despite widespread use in Hollywood, only a handful of figures like Oprah Winfrey have spoken openly about it. This secrecy, Reitano notes, extends to the general public, where many users remain reluctant to disclose their medication use. Ro’s previous attempt to break this silence featured NBA legend Charles Barkley self-injecting, but Williams’s entry into the arena carries a different weight. Her story of struggling to lose weight post-pregnancy despite a lifetime of discipline is a powerful, relatable marketing tool.
Still, this new chapter is not without risks. The proliferation of GLP-1s has already inflamed public opinion. Ro faced backlash for a 2023 subway ad campaign critics said irresponsibly glorified weight loss. A Super Bowl ad this year from a competitor drew complaints from politicians over a lack of side-effect disclosures and was decried as body-shaming propaganda.
Doctors continue to voice concerns about potential malnourishment and the use of these drugs by individuals for whom they are not medically appropriate. The so-called "fat activism" movement pushes back against the very premise that widespread weight loss is a societal good.
By aligning with Serena Williams, Ro isn’t just selling a service; it’s making a high-stakes bet. It is betting that her stature can deflect criticism and destigmatize the choice to use pharmaceutical aid for weight management. But it also risks framing these drugs as just another accessory for the wealthy and well-connected, a quick fix in a jar, overshadowing the complex medical conversations they require.
What Williams’s endorsement guarantees, however, is that the conversation will no longer be whispered. The question is whether that conversation will be about holistic health and medical access, or simply about a new, glamorous frontier in the relentless pursuit of thinness.
