By George Alexander

Naomi was first.

Before Beverly. Iman. Tyra. The other Naomi. Before the many other beautiful black women, who have graced the covers of major magazines, there was Naomi Sims. The original. Sims, who died on August 1, after battling cancer, was considered the first black supermodel.

Stunning. Regal. Statuesque was Sims. Thankfully, the editors of Ladies Home Journal—who put Sims on the magazine’s November 1968 cover, ending the industry black out—thought so, too.

That it would take over 200 years after the debut of America’s first magazine, The American Magazine in 1741, for an African American to appear on the cover of a major mainstream publication is rather profound, given that African Americans had already been on the continent for centuries at this point. That’s a long time, folks.

Putting Sims’s odyssey in context, by virtue of our American journey, African Americans are forced to always look at and remember our firsts. We’re always having to break down a barrier. That’s been our story: Alain Locke as a Rhodes scholar; Gwendolyn Brooks and the Pulitzer; Jackie Robinson and the Major Leagues; Marian Anderson and the New York Metropolitan Opera; Vanessa Williams and the Miss America crown; and, of course, Barack Obama and you know that story. We’ve come a long way, baby.

And none of this has come easily. It would take Nat Turner, Harriet Tubman, Frederick Douglass, Ida B. Wells, W.E.B. DuBois, Booker T. Washington, Marcus Garvey, Paul Robeson, Lena Horne, Hattie McDaniel, Diahann Carroll, Nat King Cole, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King and hundreds of marches, sit-ins, protests and the Black Arts Movement to occur in this country before a someone outside of our community could recognize that black is, indeed, beautiful. Lord, what took so long? Just think of all of the beautiful black women who came before Sims. And that’s taking nothing from her. I’m just saying. Come on now.

On the one hand, some might view Sims’s modeling triumphs as frivolous. You know, who cares? It’s just modeling. Anybody can do that. Black people—black women specifically—had been and are more than just objects, goes the argument. We are thinkers, educators, physicians, scientists, activists and more. Yes, we are a lot of things. I agree.

But African Americans are also consumers. We buy a lot of products to keep the American system moving. Not ignoring the fact that we need to produce more and consume less, according to a 2008 report from Packaged Facts, the market research firm, black consumer spending is projected to exceed $1.1 billion in 2012. That’s a lot of buying power. I don’t want to even think about how much dish washing detergent, butter, salt, soap, toothpaste, Crisco, cars, hair care products, and other goods advertised in magazines, black people bought long before one of our beautiful women was deemed worthy of being featured on the cover of an organ that promotes the very products in our homes. What’s up with that? Think about it. It’s rather absurd.

Though she actually modeled for only five years, what I find most attractive about Sims is that she was forward thinking. Using her business savvy, she understood the concept of celebrity branding long before Russell Simmons introduced Phat Farm, Kimora Lee Simmons debuted Baby Phat and P. Diddy gave us Sean Jean.

With her regal beauty, Sims used her success and celebrity to start her own line of wigs and cosmetics, wrote five books and opened hair salons bearing her name. Sims simply mastered the notion of multiple streams of income long before that concept became the parlance of financial gurus on CNBC. She was a true visionary.

Sims also fully comprehended the black consumer’s desire for high-end brands. You know how we do! She knew we were, for better or worse, aspirational—long before that became a marketing term of branding geniuses like Steve Stoute of Translation Consultation & Brand Imaging.

But Sims was not for sale. When Hollywood came calling, asking Sims to star in the blaxploitation 1973 film Cleopatra Jones, Sims turned them down, citing what she considered the film’s racist content. If that wasn’t revolutionary…the woman didn’t play.

So we have a lot to thank you for, Miss Sims. Thank you for your beauty. Thank you for your mind. Thank you for letting the world know what we all knew long before the mainstream media awakened from its sleep: That black is beautiful. And black is brilliant. Period.

George Alexander is the author of Why We Make Movies and Queens: Portraits of Black Women and Their Fabulous Hair. He also wrote the VH1 series Black in the 80s.