When Leanna Hunter stepped onto that minimalist stage in her razor sharp blazer, she wasn’t just introducing a new campaign; she was publicly staking her reputation on Angel Reese as the face, body, and attitude of a new era in women’s sports.

The promo reel flashed not just jump shots and rebounds but slow motion hair flips, glittering tunnel walks, and close ups of lashes, nails, and jewelry, sending a crystal clear signal to anyone still confused about what this partnership really meant.

This was not a commercial; it was a manifesto, a declaration that a six foot something Black woman with edge, attitude, and “villain” energy could be polished, packaged, and sold as the definitive blueprint for the modern female athlete.

In that moment, Leanna Hunter didn’t just praise Angel Reese, she essentially signed a declaration of war against everyone who still believes athletes of color should only be allowed to sweat, grind, and keep their shine dialed down for corporate comfort.

The deal is reportedly worth seven figures when you add base pay, performance bonuses, and backend from capsule collections, and the whole launch felt less like a sponsorship and more like the coronation of a very specific type of marketable rebellion.

Fans of Angel Reese went wild instantly, calling it overdue recognition for a player who has carried storylines, ratings, and conversation on her shoulders, even while being criticized for the same confidence that brands now want to monetize.

They see Leanna Hunter as the rare executive who actually understands how culture moves, choosing not the safest image on the court but the loudest, most polarizing one, betting that controversy plus charisma equals unstoppable brand gravity.

But outside the hype bubble, another conversation is spreading in comment sections, group chats, and think pieces, asking whether this is truly about elevating women, or about squeezing every last drop of profit from a personality built on defiance.

Critics argue that the same system that once side eyed Angel Reese for trash talk and unapologetic swagger is now rushing to slap her face on billboards, hoodies, and perfume, not because it finally respects her, but because it finally understands her value.

They ask a brutal question: if Angel Reese stops being polarizing, if she quiets down or tones it back, does the machine still love her, or does it quietly move on to the next “problematic” woman it can turn into a brand asset.

Leanna Hunter’s speech didn’t shy away from the contradictions, proudly calling Angel “complicated, unapologetic, and impossible to ignore,” a line that sounded inspiring to some and deeply calculated to others, like a creative brief disguised as a compliment.

To young girls watching, especially Black girls and girls of color, the partnership can look like a dream finally breaking through, proof that you don’t have to shrink, soften, or apologize to be rewarded, that your loudest self can be your most profitable self.

But for people who have seen this movie before, it raises alarms about what happens when rebellion gets captured, bottled, and sold back to the same communities that created it, with a mark up and a brand logo printed over the original message.

In this version of empowerment, the glow up comes with deliverables, milestones, quarterly targets, and clauses about public image, meaning that the very attitude that made Angel magnetic could one day be the thing her own sponsors beg her to tone down.

Leanna Hunter positions herself as the visionary who “gets it,” the executive willing to risk backlash by centering an athlete who divides opinion, but critics say that the real risk all flows one way, onto the shoulders of the woman in front of the camera.

If the campaign soars, Hunter becomes the genius who read the culture correctly and pushed the industry forward, but if it backfires, Angel becomes the headline, the scapegoat, the “too much” story that boards use to justify going safer next time.

Some feminists celebrate the deal as a power move, proof that women in sports can finally leverage personality as aggressively as men have for decades, while others worry that it only rewards the women who become characters, not the ones who quietly dominate.

Angel Reese is not just selling sneakers or dresses in this setup; she is selling an entire narrative arc, from “villain” to icon, from meme to mogul, and everyone involved knows that a good story is sometimes more profitable than a good season.

The most uncomfortable part of this partnership is that both things can be true at once, that Leanna Hunter can be genuinely opening doors while also exploiting the very hunger for recognition that the sports and fashion worlds helped starve in the first place.

On social media, you can see the split in real time, with one comment reading “This is the future, pay Black women what they’re worth,” and the next saying “Cool campaign, but when do we start paying all women athletes like their work matters off camera too.”

There is no question that the images are stunning, the styling is elite, and the aesthetic is powerful, but all the eyeliner and metallic tailoring in the world won’t answer the deeper question of who actually benefits when personality becomes the product.

Does Angel Reese walk away from this with generational wealth and ownership, or does she walk away having rented her image to a brand that will move on the second her engagement dips, her team struggles, or her next rival becomes hotter online.

Leanna Hunter talks about partnership, collaboration, and amplifying voices, but the true test will not be in the campaign launch, it will be in the contract language, the boardroom decisions, and the long term money that quietly shapes who really wins.

Right now, fans and haters are both doing exactly what brands dream of, arguing in quote tweets, stitching videos, and turning the launch into a referendum on race, gender, capitalism, and what kind of woman gets to be called marketable.

It is possible that years from now, people will look back at this moment as the one where the line finally broke, where women athletes of color started setting the terms instead of just smiling through whatever the brand handed them to read.

It is also possible that this will be remembered as just another glossy chapter in a long story of corporations absorbing rebellion, turning it into content, and leaving the originators wondering why their revolution now comes with a promo code.

For now, one thing is certain, whether you are clapping, cringing, or conflicted, Leanna Hunter has forced everyone to pick a side, and Angel Reese once again finds herself at the center of a storm she did not fully design, but absolutely cannot escape.

Maybe that is the real headline hiding under all the neon lights and viral edits, that a so called million dollar glow up can be both a victory and a warning, depending on who is writing the contract and who is left holding the receipts.