Earlier this week, digital health scale-up Ro announced that Serena Williams has joined as a celebrity patient ambassador for its GLP-1 weight loss offering. The 23-time Grand Slam champion and four-time Olympic gold medalist revealed that she has been using Ro to access GLP-1 treatment after struggling with postpartum weight changes. For the first time, Williams is speaking openly about her own experience, and explains that despite disciplined training and healthy eating, her body simply didn’t respond the way it once did after having children. “I realized it wasn’t about willpower; it was biological,” she said. “This isn’t a shortcut. It’s healthcare.”
Ro isn’t new to celebrity partnerships. Earlier this year, NBA legend Charles Barkley became the company’s first GLP-1 ambassador. Beyond Ro, other high-profile figures are also speaking publicly about their use of these drugs. Singer Meghan Trainor, for example, has shared her experience with Mounjaro after the birth of her second child, while Kelly Osborne lost weight using Ozempic, after initially criticising the drug’s popularity. Taken together, these stories signal a broader change: GLP-1s are being reframed not as Hollywood secrets, but as mainstream medicine.
On one level, this is a positive development. For years, conversations about weight loss have been wrapped in shame and stigma, particularly for women. Having one of the most celebrated athletes in history say that biology, not discipline, was the driving factor for her will resonate with many. Postpartum changes are real, and Serena Williams naming them publicly creates validation for millions of women who rarely hear such experiences acknowledged at this level of visibility.
Part of why this announcement feels different than most GLP-1 testimonials, is who’s saying it. When the Kardashians or other Hollywood celebrities discuss Ozempic, the public reaction is often a collective shrug – another story about image, vanity, and the extremes of celebrity culture. But Serena Williams represents something else entirely. For years, she has been a symbol of power, resilience, and peak performance. To hear her say that even she needed GLP-1 support reframes the conversation, shifting it from aesthetics to health, postpartum recovery, and biology.
But here is where the tension lies: While celebrity campaigns destigmatize, they also risk obscuring a harder truth. GLP-1s (and many other cutting-edge treatments) remain largely inaccessible to the very people who might benefit most. Monthly costs can run into the hundreds or even thousands of dollars. Insurance coverage is inconsistent, with many plans excluding obesity treatment altogether. For many women considering their options, these barriers are far more pressing than the visibility created by an ad campaign.
To be clear, this critique isn’t aimed at Serena Williams personally. Her openness may well help countless women feel less alone, and that matters. But her story also symbolizes something bigger – a moment when GLP-1s are entering the cultural mainstream, when celebrity is being used to normalize them, and when the gap between visibility and access is growing more apparent.
This dynamic is particularly stark in women’s health. Postpartum care is chronically underfunded and underprioritized. Women are often told to simply “bounce back” after childbirth, with little medical acknowledgment of the biological shifts that affect metabolism, weight, mental health and overall health. GLP-1s may indeed offer a powerful tool for some, but without broader changes in coverage and access, they risk becoming yet another example of innovation reserved for the few.
So what do we make of this moment? And what do we learn? Celebrity endorsements can help open conversations. They can chip away at stigma. They can make it socially safer for women to admit they need help. But they are not substitutes for systemic change like payer coverage, policy reform, and a healthcare system that takes postpartum women seriously.
Serena Williams joining Ro may mark progress in how we talk about weight and biology. It may help normalize the use of GLP-1s as a legitimate form of healthcare. But it also spotlights a larger, unresolved question for women’s health: Who gets access to innovation and care, and who is left behind?
