Op-Ed: Pride for Sale?

@ Canva

Every May/June, rainbows bloom—not just in parades and protests, but across store shelves, corporate logos, and online ads. From rainbow-themed sneakers to Pride Month playlists curated by multinational tech firms, LGBTQ+ visibility seems more mainstream than ever.

On the surface, it feels like progress. Big brands are finally recognizing queer voices… right?

But as rainbow capitalism becomes a recurring ritual, more people—especially within the LGBTQ+ community—are asking hard questions:

Is this real allyship or just marketing? And who’s actually benefiting from it?

From Margins to Marketing

There’s no denying that LGBTQ+ people have fought tirelessly for visibility, rights, and respect. Pride itself began as a protest—most notably the 1969 Stonewall Riots, led by trans women of color and other marginalized queer people.

Fast forward to today, and major brands are draping themselves in rainbow flags and releasing “inclusive” collections to celebrate Pride Month.

This visibility can feel affirming, especially for young people discovering their identities in a still-hostile world. But here’s the rub: when LGBTQ+ identities are commodified without accountability, it turns activism into aesthetics.

What Is Rainbow Capitalism?

Rainbow capitalism, sometimes called “pinkwashing,” refers to the practice of corporations publicly supporting LGBTQ+ rights (usually during Pride Month) while doing little or nothing to support the community behind the scenes. It’s when a brand sells a rainbow T-shirt in May/June, but:

• Donates to anti-LGBTQ+ politicians the rest of the year

• Has no openly queer leadership or inclusive internal policies

• Exploits queer aesthetics for profit but stays silent on real issues like trans healthcare or hate crimes

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In short, it’s the appearance of solidarity without the substance.

The Performative Problem

This form of commercial allyship often stops at surface-level representation. Companies change their logos to rainbows, release limited-edition Pride collections, and launch inclusive ad campaigns—but these gestures are rarely accompanied by meaningful action. It begs the question:

Are queer people being seen, or are they just being sold to?

Performative support can actually harm the movement by giving corporations the image of being progressive while avoiding the messy, uncomfortable, and necessary work of structural change—like lobbying for anti-discrimination laws, supporting queer workers, or funding mental health resources for LGBTQ+ youth.

What Real Allyship Looks Like

Supporting the LGBTQ+ community as a brand requires more than rainbows in May/June. It means:

• Hiring queer people, especially trans and BIPOC individuals, at all levels of leadership

• Creating and enforcing inclusive workplace policies

• Donating to organizations that fight for LGBTQ+ rights year-round

• Speaking up publicly when queer rights are under attack—not just when it’s trendy

• Designing products and campaigns with, not just for, the community

True allyship is consistent, uncomfortable, and unglamorous. It means showing up when no one’s watching—and when doing so might cost you.

Final Thoughts

As Pride becomes more commercialized, it's important to remember its roots. Pride wasn't born from corporate sponsorships or rainbow capitalism—it was born from resistance, rage, and radical love. The people who started the movement weren’t trying to fit in with corporate culture—they were fighting to survive.

So if we’re going to celebrate Pride, let’s do it in a way that honors that legacy. That means demanding more than rainbow merch. It means pushing for justice, inclusion, and real support—365 days a year.