Corporate Rainbow Marketing: Too Much of a Good Thing

The West is awash in corporate rainbows. Since the LGB and T communities became politically respectable some years back, big businesses have made sure to participate in Pride parades, both as a form of public-relations outreach to we alphabeters in particular, and to social progressives in general. While some radicals claim that Pride has sold its soul, others counter that this pandering for profit by commercial elites only serves to confirm our status as equal members of once bigoted societies.

Recently, however, many organizations have gone beyond the usual rainbow ads, signage, flyers, sponsorships, and parade floats. They are now enlisting their employees and affiliates in public demonstrations of “allyship.” In the view of this gay progressive author, such moves are implicitly coercive and counterproductive. In some cases, they even run afoul of the core principles that animate liberal democracies, such as freedom of conscience.

A current flareup involves the NHL. (That’s the National Hockey League for those Quillette readers who live outside North America.) As part of its “Pride Nights,” players are asked to show up for pre-game warmups wearing Pride-themed jerseys. The culture of professional hockey, as with many other sports, is markedly homophobic, as evidenced by the inability of professional hockey players to feel comfortable publicly identifying as gay. (To date, there has only been one, and this on a farm team.) So, it’s understandable that the NHL might want to pinkwash its sport’s reputation, not to mention tap into young, progressive urban markets. And who knows? Maybe an NHL player who dons a Pride jersey might one day be emboldened to come out publicly.

But here’s the thing: the NHL already had been performing various forms of “allyship” for years, and in ways that were wholly unobjectionable. You Can Play, founded in memory of Brendan Burke, son of former Toronto Maple Leafs president and general manager Brian Burke, has initiated a variety of programs aimed at eliminating homophobia in hockey, and sports culture more generally. These include creating volunteer player ambassadors from every team, and the sale of rainbow Pride tape to benefit charities devoted to LGB and T inclusion. Who can argue against that?

One important aspect of these earlier programs: players opt into them of their own free will. The element of choice and personal conviction adds a moral force to their efforts that is absent when the onus is reversed—i.e., when they are pressured to signal their support for the rainbow world on pain of public humiliation and the possible loss of sponsorships if they fail to show up.

Which brings us to San Jose Sharks goaltender James Reimer, who decided to sit out the Pride Night warmup before his team’s March 19th home game against the New York Islanders. Reimer wasn’t the first conscientious objector in this regard. That distinction belongs to Ivan Provorov of the Philadelphia Flyers, who sat out a Pride skate in January, citing his Russian Orthodox religious beliefs. Later that month, the New York Rangers cancelled the team’s Pride skate due to (unspecified) diverse views within the team’s locker room; and, instead, illuminated Madison Square Garden in rainbow lights, handed out rainbow fanny packs, and made a charitable donation to help homeless LGB and T youth—all positive and unexceptional PR moves.

Reimer’s decision got more attention, perhaps because he explicitly cited his Christian faith. (Provorov did, too, of course. But his status as a Russian-born member of Christianity’s Orthodox branch somewhat muddied the waters. Reimer, a Manitoba-born Mennonite, supplied a less ambiguous target.)

Reimer told the press that he “has love in [his] heart” for everyone; has always tried “to treat everyone with respect and kindness”; strongly believes that “every person has value and worth”; and that “the LGBTQIA+ community, like all others, should be welcome in all aspects of the game of hockey.” At the same time, he said that as a committed Christian who follows the Bible, he can’t endorse sexualities and lifestyles that go against his beliefs.

Reimer has always been known as one of the sport’s good guys. And even in this episode, his underlying decency and sincerity are apparent. Certainly, none of his remarks can be construed as hateful. Yet that didn’t pre-empt public condemnation. A Toronto Star sports reporter noted Reimer’s long history of exemplary conduct, but then called him a bigot, and said his faith was “a skirt for bigotry.” On social media, a progressive broadcaster, once famed for his sports journalism, suggested he should be fired.

In an age of cancel culture, this kind of broadside is no idle threat. In fact, Reimer concedes that it factored into his thinking. (He’s 35 years old, not young by NHL standards, and this is the last year of his Sharks contract.) “I saw [Pride Nights] happening, and I started [private] conversations almost a year ago with people in high places, not because I’m ashamed of my faith but because of certain consequences that they could have for me or other people that feel this way,” he said. “I’m sure there’s people in management or ownership that won’t look favourably on this.”

While many hockey commentators have proved eager to demonstrate their progressive bona fides by denouncing Reimer, my own view is that these dust-ups demonstrate the folly of intermingling corporate marketing with acts that play on the conscience of individual actors. Despite the fact that the NHL has said players are free to opt out of Pride events, there is obviously a good deal of social and professional pressure exerted on players to go with the herd. Those who swallow their principles and participate will experience anger and resentment, while the few public dissenters, such as Reimer, predictably become martyrs to individuals and groups who may be far less tolerant than the dissenters themselves. The result is that the presumed beneficiaries of performative inclusion—i.e., people like me—find themselves dealing with more skepticism of LGB and T rights, not less.

Leading people to toleration, rather than forcing them, has always been the preferred strategy for building a more welcoming society. This is especially true today, now that LGB and T communities across the West generally have achieved full civil rights, widespread social acceptance, and inclusion at the heart of cultural and political life (if not most professional sports). Decades ago, forceful policy measures were defensible as a means to secure the basic human rights and dignity of LGB and T people, which were then far from secure. But in the West, at least, that era is now (thankfully) in the past.

A generation ago, coming out was brave. Today, it sells records and wins invitations to the White House. Hollywood, certainly, has gone all in: Witness Drew Barrymore, literally getting on her knees to pledge admiration for a trans activist. One can appreciate why even some progressives (including gays such as me) wonder whether all of the manic corporate rainbow PR, at the NHL and otherwise, isn’t a bit much—especially given that our annual calendar now seems to feature more alphabet commemorations than there are days in the year.

It is also either disingenuous or ill-informed to suggest that donning a Pride Night jersey constitutes the simple act of support for LGB and T inclusion that it once did. As the ever-expanding nature of the “2SLGBTQQIPA+” initialism attests, actual gays, lesbians, and transsexuals are far from the movement’s current central concerns. Many trendy categories, such as “non-binary” or “genderfluid” lack any real meaning, and attract so-called “alphabet tourists” who appropriate our spaces while being neither same-sex attracted nor gender dysphoric. The “2SLGBTQQIPA+ community” now has so many intersections, you can’t turn around without being run over.

While the rainbow continues to symbolize inclusion for most members of the general public, I can attest that the broader movement, and the government-funded organizations that purport to represent it, have largely been co-opted by radical, self-described “queer” activists who attack women’s sex-based rights, expect gays and lesbians to engage in opposite-sex relations, and support the medicalization of dysphoric children who would otherwise grow up to be gay and lesbian. (Indeed, as I’ve written elsewhere at Quillette, it is ironic that the public increasingly conflates gays and lesbians with a “queer rights” movement that seeks to redefine us out of existence, to rewrite our history, and to trans our dead and gender nonconforming youth.)

Casual observers have better things to do than invest their time in the weeds of alphabet politics. But it shouldn’t be hard to understand why so many observers are troubled by the sight of men winning women’s sports competitions; by the explosion of children and teens being put on puberty blockers and hormones; and by organizations that now seek to “queer” society rather than integrate within it. On its social media feed, the NHL has appeared to put down stakes with this more militant faction. And so it isn’t just a Pride jersey that Reimer and his supporters are upset about, but the increasingly radicalized viewpoints that it now seems to represent.

Over the past 70 years, LGB and Ts have been gradually winning the battle for civil and human rights in the West by appealing to liberal values—which include the accommodation of an individual’s right to freedom of thought and expression. Majorities have an inherent power in numbers. Minorities need to persuade, something that’s difficult to do when you’re simultaneously engaged in hectoring. Advocates for diversity and inclusion forget this at their peril.