This week, I did it. I did that insufferable thing that insufferable, progressive business folk do, on those rare occasions when their personal beliefs, the temperature of the moment, and having access to an Instagram audience of 400,000 followers fall into perfect alignment. I wrote and posted a Culturally Progressive Corporate Statement.
Maybe the first thing I should mention, in part the reason I’m writing this, is the uncomfortable truth at the heart of every one of these company statements: whether crassly intended as a pure sales tactic or actually presented in good faith, they are all, ultimately, marketing. Marketers must acknowledge this, and consumers must bear it in mind while scrolling their feeds. Alongside whatever genuine, heartfelt sentiments these messages contain, they also, at least in part, convey to a certain kind of customer that a brand shares their values (and therefore, in the future, should win their business). Any marketer who tells you otherwise is lying, seriously deluded, or both. The message it sends to the audience is clear: we make great products, and we’re great people. And hey, how about a new pair of shoes while you’re here?
It’s understandable, then, why there exists a healthy skepticism — even resentment, in some corners — for these messages, and why people like me feel a twinge of ambivalence about writing them. Even for those of us not categorically opposed to cultural commentary from brands as a matter of principle, we see the business motive many companies have to say these things, and it becomes hard to accept them at face value. As a result, there’s a cross-section of Americans, conservative and liberal alike, who would prefer never to hear about cultural issues from companies at all. They might just be right.
And yet we live in a society in which, for better or worse, many of our cultural touchstones are themselves created or amplified by brands. Through TV advertisements, event sponsorships, social media posts and more, the material that brands create often sits firmly within the cultural zeitgeist — stirring the pot, sparking conversations, showcasing new perspectives and creative forms of expression. Whether brands should or should not be the outlet for all of this is a subject for another field note. For now, it’s our reality. Would it be better if, on matters of culture and society, on days like this past Wednesday, they all went dark? I don’t think so.
My philosophy is this, informed no doubt by the misgivings laid out above: if we aren’t challenging, possibly even confronting, the people reading a given statement, it’s not worth putting out. The world has enough pledges that Brand A stands with Community X. When the writing is safe, when no risks get taken, no one stands to gain but the brand. They’ve warmed hearts, they’ve won customers, and we’ve learned nothing. When companies are willing to go out on a limb, to talk about uncomfortable subjects, to dare to tell their own customers to do better, maybe, just maybe, society stands to gain, too. I hope that’s what we were able to do with our post this week.
Call it The Pharcyde rule: if your brand is going to put out a statement, it better kick somethin’ that means somethin’.
You can read Nugget’s statement about anti-Asian racism, and the power of words — which I really do mean every word of — below:
In the wake of yesterday’s horrific violence in Atlanta, particularly against Asian women, we feel compelled to express our solidarity with the Asian American community, our condemnation of racism in all forms, and our commitment to actively use our platform for anti-racist resources. But these things are easy to say, and should be obvious. Here’s a tip for today: don’t just listen to us.
Listen to the Asian American voices in your community, in pop culture, and re-posted on our Instagram Stories. They are individuals, not to be treated as a monolith, but many of their stories carry a common theme: violence begins with language. Violence lies dormant in off-handed remarks, in off-color comments that are “just jokes.” It starts with assumptions that may even seem positive, like “they must be so smart.” Without knowing it, we flatten people, strip them of personhood, through the use of seemingly innocent or harmless words.
We learn this language as kids, and by the time we’re adults, it’s hard to pull apart which elements of our perspective we formed on our own, and which ones snuck into our subconscious when we were young. It’s a daunting task to re-visit the comments we made, the jokes we laughed at, and reflect honestly on where that came from — why we took comfort in grouping individuals as something “other” than ourselves.
Today is another reminder, one that we shouldn’t have needed, that all “other”-ing — from silly jokes to outright slurs — is the same. It all leads to the same, ugly place: the viewing of other people as sub-human. Phrases like “China Virus” and “Kung Flu” are not funny, and they are not harmless. They are the permission structure for the 3,800 Asian-centered hate crimes in the US since the beginning of COVID-19, and countless other atrocities committed against Asian Americans over the past 200 years. They must stop.
Families across the country are grieving today, painfully reminded of generational traumas that have been tamped down under reassurances that they were the “model” minority. That they “had it good.” That they were “basically white.” The rest of us must do better, with our actions, and even before that, with our words. So the mistakes of the past are not repeated in the future, and so all kids can grow up feeling seen, respected, and free.
Check in on your Asian American and Pacific Islander friends. Comments are turned off for the day — thank you for understanding.