Why rainbow logos are not enough to show support for LGBTQI+ issues
Gay activism ramps up during Pride month, but what happens during the other 11 months? True allyship means showing up at the Pride parade every day. By
My heart leaps up when I behold a rainbow in the sky, declared poet William Wordsworth, and Judy Garland sang of a magical place where the skies are blue and the dreams you dream really do come true.
There is arguably no symbol more replete with hope than the kaleidoscopic rainbow. Archbishop Desmond Tutu declared our newly minted democracy a rainbow nation – plump with possibility and rich in its diversity; during the pandemic, houses, hospital wards and schools were adorned with bright watercoloured arches – a symbol of hope and solidarity; and early last year, when my beloved 12-year-old basset hound Lola crossed the rainbow bridge, the only thing that brought me comfort was seeing, in my mind’s eye, her awkward flat-footed gallop across the sparkly bow – ears flapping in the wind and tongue catching between lips and teeth – the picture of blissful abandon.
Of course, the rainbow flag, as conceived by the American artist and gay rights activist Gilbert Baker, at the request of gay San Francisco politician Harvey Milk, has since 1978 become a worldwide symbol of LGBTQI+ pride.
Emblazoned on clothing, flying loud and proud at marches and saved for posterity in virtual spaces as gifs, filters and memes, this colourful motif is a creative anthem that proclaims power and shouts authenticity. It works in any language, and, over the years, the rainbow has proved it doesn’t have to say a word to speak volumes about equality, inclusion and diversity – as the US Supreme Court proved in 2015 when it posted this photograph on its Twitter page:
Beware of rainbow-washing
During Pride Season (starting 1 June), rainbows are ubiquitous, not as naturally occurring meteorological phenomena, but rather as reimagined company logos, advertising campaigns and marketing material. June is LGBTQI+ Pride Month, commemorating the Stonewall Uprising that took place in New York City on 28 June 1969, when the queer community decided to fight back against police raids and brutality, so the colourful buzz is understandable, and showing support and raising awareness of LGBTQI+ rights is an important step towards real inclusion – but there is a fine line between support and tokenism.
“What brands need to understand is it’s not enough to just ‘go rainbow’ – they need to earn the right,” explains Jan Gooding, chairperson of Stonewall, the LGBTQI+ charity. There’s even a term for this kind of diluted solidarity: “rainbow-washing” refers to a superficial participation that lacks real engagement in the political legacy of the commemoration.
In a LinkedIn post a few years ago, Marie Downes, Chief Talent Officer at Adaptive Financial Consulting, challenged herself and her CEO to interrogate whether their company had earned the right to “Pride-i-fy” their company logo.
She wondered if, during their onboarding process, they asked about preferred pronouns. She asked herself and colleagues if they publicly call out inappropriate gender references, microaggressions, “jokes” and homophobic language. She started thinking about whether their company had perhaps been sending staff on company travel to hotels owned by people like the Sultan of Brunei, who introduced a law that makes homosexuality punishable by death. The answer to the latter question was no, but she realised that not all their company’s contract documents were non-gender-specific. Her company’s verdict? They hadn’t done nearly enough to earn a rainbow logo and, until they had changed, their logo wouldn’t.
What real representation looks like
Although many businesses and brands have implemented long-term programmes and initiatives to support LGBTQI+ employees in the workplace – and should be commended for raising the flag and flying it in a way that’s authentic, drives real changes and promotes allyship – there’s a flip side. Lavish PR exercises are being called out by woke consumers, and brands are being taken to task for conspicuous shows of support that have little to no substance.
In the 1980s, the initialism was limited to LGB – lesbian, gay and bisexual – but LGBTQI+ includes transgender, queer, questioning, intersex, asexual, ally, pansexual and polysexual – so whereas an ad in which a white lesbian couple is sitting on a sofa with their dogs might tick a box, the box is not the full and fair representation of a diverse community. It must be considered that the issues and challenges facing a gay Xhosa man are very different to those encountered by a bisexual Muslim woman.
Gooding, who is also the former group brand director of insurance multinational Aviva, implores brands to consider that there are many different forms of sexual orientation and gender identity and often the marginalised members of the queer community, who might need more visibility and awareness, often get lost in gay pride translation.
“Of all the letters, the T part is the one that brands, organisations and communities find the most challenging,” remarks Gooding. And perhaps that can be attributed to the fact that there are fewer transgender people with a seat at the proverbial decision-making table interrogating whether the community is being depicted with authenticity. It’s not just about who is in front of the camera, but who is behind it, who is talking to the community and asking them how they want to be represented and involved.
Showing up 365 days of the year
According to a recent LinkedIn survey of LGBTQI+ professionals, the majority of those polled – 54% of managers and 52% of employees – say that their company should offer educational opportunities and bias training.
Although bias and harassment are more common workplace themes for queer employees, many LGBTQI+ workers are unhappy with how they feel their organisation supports, or does not support, the LGBTQI+ community.
When the heterosexual world resets on 1 July, and the rainbows are packed away with all the other well-meaning camp intentions, it’s just an ordinary day for members of the LGBTQI+ community. Lazy activism serves no one and, like the awareness campaigns around gender-based violence, rah-rah becomes blah-blah if awareness isn’t followed by action.
A LGBTQI+ ally may not be LGBTQI+ themselves, but they are committed to equality, and they call out discrimination and harassment, and confront homophobia and transphobia. Allies are role models for kindness and inclusion and create safe spaces for sharing.
They educate themselves because they understand it’s not a queer person’s place to keep them informed – they themselves have to do the work. They are mindful of their language, using preferred pronouns or a different name if one has been requested.
Even if there are occasional slip-ups, this is the kind of support that says “I see you”, “I validate your journey”, “Who you are matters to me”, and it walks the talk towards genuine inclusion and equality.
If that is where your heart really is, let your true colours shine – 365 days of the year.