
Each June, fashion slips into a familiar costume. Logos imbibe the rainbow, storefronts proclaim solidarity, and limited-edition collections surface—taglines in tow—parading an ostensibly principled stance on inclusion. Models who once hovered at the margins of representation are abruptly cast as centrepieces come June. The routine is rehearsed and so is the dissonance.
Allyship, for many corporations, has taken on the tone of marketing: a rainbow logo, a charitable promise—sometimes unspecified—and a commercial that circulates briefly before fading away. This performance, commonly labelled “rainbow-washing,” often shrouds genuine support, as brands adopt LGBTQ+ imagery essentially for show while maintaining affiliations that contradict the very rights they claim to support.
Take, for example, the heavily promoted moment in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast (2017), which featured LeFou briefly dancing with another man. The scene lasted mere seconds, yet was marketed as a groundbreaking representation—now widely ridiculed for its brevity and lack of impact. These passing nods to visibility present neither depth nor continuity. They serve the brand, not the cause.
This Pride Month, many brands settled for silence over symbolism, retreating from visible support amid mounting backlash. What was once performative has now become conspicuous by its absence. But in a time increasingly shaped by both Pride and prejudice, neutrality is simply another form of decision-making.
The cycle persists: declarations in June, retreat by July. In fashion, an industry fixated on perception, the annual dalliance with Pride is no longer a celebration; it’s a transaction. Words once born of protest are co-opted into taglines. The rainbow, stripped of its meaning, becomes a seasonal token. One question remains at the heart: who stands to gain from this progress?
Pride finds its origins in upheaval—in riots, arrests, and collective defiance against invisibility. When fashion commodifies that lineage without responsibility, the result is not inclusion; it is erasure. A brand that flaunts slogans of love and equality in June, yet remains conspicuously mute during legislative attacks on queer lives, is not neutral. It is participating in a form of selective engagement that borders on complicity.
As consumers demand greater transparency, its natural for them to inquire about who created the campaign, who received compensation, where the profits are directed, and what policies underpin the gesture. When these questions remain unanswered or obscured, scepticism is not just natural; it is justified.
On the bright side, not all efforts are merely performative. Some fashion houses and independent labels have embedded equity into their practice—not through big billboards, but through consistent, long-term commitment. They invest in grassroots programs and uplift queer designers. For instance, Collina Strada regularly collaborates with queer artists and features gender-nonconforming models, while Chromat centres trans and non-binary representation both on and off the runway—making inclusion a central pillar of their identities. These acts often go unnoticed publicly, yet their impact far outweighs any passing campaign. Closer to home, Suneet Varma, Bobo Calcutta, and Siddhartha Tytler, among others, have woven their queer identities within the folds of their labels.
One thing is clear, though: the burden of authenticity must shift, it can no longer rest on consumers to decipher sincerity. The onus lies with brands—to disclose, to invest with purpose, and to enact genuine inclusion. True solidarity is not an annual display; it manifests through hiring practices, corporate strategy, and financial commitments. It is ingrained, not borrowed.
Pride is not a corporate event; it is a political legacy, hard-won and continuing. If the fashion industry truly seeks to honour it, that respect must take the form of decisive action. Symbols alone are insufficient, and performative gestures offer no assurance. The demanding, ongoing work of accountability and change must begin in earnest.
Lead image: Getty Images
Also read: The 16 best queer books for pride month and beyond
Also read: Get ready for alt-girl summer