Who’s on the cover?

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I see straight people

Listen, I have nothing against straight people. Some of my best friends are straight. Even my parents are straight. But that doesn’t mean I want to see them everywhere — like on the cover of LGBT magazines.

The husband and I got Out last week and discovered James McAvoy on the cover. Good actor, but not gay. A few days later, we received Equality, the Human Rights Campaign’s quarterly magazine. Jennifer Hudson is on the cover. Talented actress and singer, but not lesbian.

Why do I care so much? Because I turn to LGBT magazines to get something I can’t find in mainstream publications — news about the LGBT community. When a publication puts a straight person on the cover, it’s essentially telling readers that out of all the LGBT people profiled in the pages of the magazine, none of them did anything more worthy than the straight person on the cover. It’s a little offensive.

I know that publishers need to put people on covers that will sell magazines, but we’ve got so many LGBT actors, writers, politicians, sports figures, and artists to choose from today. Surely one of them deserves a spot on the cover of Out or Equality.

Root, root, root for the home team

I'm wearing a Super Bowl ring and standing next to the Lombardi Trophy.

I’m wearing a Super Bowl ring and standing next to the Lombardi Trophy.

Kudos to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, my hometown team, for hosting a LGBT tailgate party before the Rams game earlier this month. I can’t remember them doing something like this in the past. As a gay football fan (footnote 1), I really appreciate the outreach. However, I wish the team had done more to publicize the event — I’m pretty clued in, and I didn’t hear about the tailgate until today.

Footnote
1. Married to an even bigger football fan. When asked how much of a football fan he is, he said “Shut up, I’m watching football.”

Richmond is coming out, and I don’t like it

The city of Richmond, Va., is rubbing me the wrong way. The capital of Virginia (and onetime capital of the Confederate States of America) has launched a new advertising campaign aimed at LGBT travelers. This campaign has even caught the attention of the New York Times.

To kick off the campaign, Richmond posted video showing off the sights of Richmond, with locals (Richmondonians? Richmondites?) extolling the city’s welcoming and progressive spirit (footnote 1).

Richmond also started a web/print campaign ad that features letters from Richmond to other cities (Atlanta, Washington, Boston).

If I were in Richmond’s shoes, I’d probably do the same thing. LGBT people want to go where they’re welcome, which is why we’re probably not seeing a lot of LGBT tourism to Uganda. Like many another travelers, LGBT tourists seek out places with unique character — somewhere that’s not crammed with the same Olive Gardens and Walmarts we can find at home.

So what don’t I like? It’s the campaign itself, which claims that Richmond is “coming out.” I put coming out in quotes because I’m offended by the idea that anything but an individual can decide to come out of the closet.

I still remember when I came out. It was such an emotional, sensitive, and scary part of my life. I remember that when I visited my parents to tell them the news, I had packed my suitcase beforehand in case I needed to leave their house immediately, and forever. I knew on an intellectual level that my parents would readily accept me (they’re staunch progressive liberals, like me) but the entire experience was so nerve-wracking I really didn’t know what to expect.

Telling friends and other family members was also terrifying. The best reaction I got was from my baby brother, whose first response was “Does this mean we can still go car shopping this weekend?” Some people treated the news with indifference. Others behaved differently around me, and I had to cut them out of my life.

Coming out is such a powerful and personal thing that I think it’s insulting that a city can claim to do it? Did the city have have to go through a gamut of emotions, from fear to joy? Did the city risk losing friends and family? Did the city have to go through the steps of coming out to itself, then coming out to others, and finally living openly and proudly? No, of course it did not. It just hired an advertising agency that thought it was doing something cute.

Cities can’t come out. Richmond’s new advertising campaign and video trivializes the highly emotional and sensitive process of coming out.

I have checked with friends who used to live in Richmond, and they say it’s it’s a complex place that’s a little hard to describe definitively because it’s proud of its heritage (footnote 2) and, at the same time, very welcoming and progressive (footnote 3). It sounds like the kind of place I’d like to visit, if only its invitation weren’t so tone deaf.

Footnotes
1. Please note the lack of diversity in the video. It’s over 90 seconds long, and only one African-American is shown — and she appears for a fraction of a second.
2. Should a city be proud that it was once the capital of a country that (a) went to war against the United States of America and (b) was founded entirely on the idea that certain people didn’t deserve equal rights? Discuss.
3. Direct quote from a friend: “RVA is an historic southern city full of contradictions. I’ve spent a lot of time there. Much of the population is diverse, quirky, edgy, creative, and somewhat anti-authoritarian.”

Booze clues

I read a while ago that LGBT people are more likely to order a drink by name, compared with straight people. That means that a gay man might order Ketel One and tonic (footnote 1) while a straight person might order a vodka and tonic.

I think there are two forces at work to explain this.

First, gay people are bombarded with alcohol ads. A copy of Out or the Advocate is littered with ads for many brands of beer and hard liquor. Compare that with People, where you won’t find an Absolut ad anywhere. In addition to print advertising, alcohol companies sponsor many LGBT events and organizations. Diageo (footnote 2), one of the world’s largest alcohol companies, is a platinum sponsor of the Human Rights Campaign.

As we’re learning in class, many advertising messages are often absorbed at the subconscious level. That means that someone doesn’t need to be playing close attention to an ad for the brand and some of the message to sink in. So even if LGBT people aren’t paying close attention to these ads, it’s only natural for the bombardment of these brands to affect our subconscious. Ergo, we’re more likely to order a brand by name.

There’s a second reason which is that LGBT people are more likely to respond positively to brands that advertise directly to them. Many of these alcohol ads in LGBT publications are specifically geared toward the LGBT community — they are not the same ads that you’d find in a mainstream publication. Absolut vodka, in particular, has targeted the LGBT audience for more than 30 years (footnote 3).

I believe LGBT customers respond most strongly to brands and products that appeal directly to them (footnote 4). This is only logical.

Here’s my experience: I don’t drink a lot, but when I do I ask for products by name. When I’m asked what kind of beer I want, I often don’t know so I resort to ordering a Bud Light because I know they’ve run LGBT-targeted ads in LGBT publications. I definitely order hard liquor by name.

As I develop this blog, we’ll investigate these topics more fully.

Now it’s your turn to chime in. What do you think? If you’re LGBT, what is your experience? If you’re straight, how do you respond to alcohol ads?

Footnotes
1. This is my favorite drink, in case you’re feeling generous.
2. Home of brands like Guinness and Ketel One.
3. What’s remarkable about this is that I can’t recall any specific Absolut LGBT-targeted ads, except for one that showed an Absolut bottle in rainbow colors, but I know deep down that it’s a LGBT-friendly brand because I’ve been exposed to so many LGBT-postive ads for more than 20 years.
4. My husband says that this isn’t necessarily the case for him. However, he responds negatively to brands that demean LGBT consumers or don’t provide equal benefits for LGBT employees. We haven’t been to Cracker Barrel or Chick-fil-A in ages.

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Big Gay Ice Cream vs. bigot ice cream

The husband and I adore Big Gay Ice Cream in New York. We always go to the Greenwich Village location, and our favorite treat is the Salty Pimp (vanilla ice cream, dulce de leche, sea salt, and chocolate sauce). Big Gay Ice Cream is friendly, funky, and clearly open to everyone. We have recommended it to gay and straight friends alike.

That’s why I was a little shocked that one of Big Gay Ice Cream’s neighbors, Gallo Nero on Grove Street, is now billing itself as the home of “big straight ice cream.”

Some might interpret this as a playful joke, but it’s not. It’s just offensive. Gays have had to fight for every ounce of dignity and respect we’ve received over the past 40 years. It wasn’t long ago that it would be unthinkable to open a store with “gay” in the name. Big Gay Ice Cream is a reminder of how far we’ve come, and it gives us the energy (literally and figuratively) we need to continue the struggle.

Consider this: How would you react if an African-American opened a restaurant, and the place next door started offering “white” food? See, it’s clearly a slap in the face. It’s an example of the majority — the people of privilege — believing they’re being slighted when any else gains a victory.

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Me enjoying a waffle cone at Big Gay Ice Cream. It has no calories.

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Big Gay Ice Cream’s Greenwich Village location

Welcome to Out Marketing

Welcome to Out Marketing, a fabulous little blog that got its start as an assignment for a graduate marketing class. In this blog, I’ll look at the innovative ways that companies are reaching out to LGBT consumers, as well as the increasingly positive images of LGBT people in mainstream advertising.

Please add your own opinions in the comments, and follow me on Twitter at @out_marketing.