"Inclusive" commercials: "We're dead, but not from thirst"

Brands are not embracing diversity in Argentina. The presence of three "hydrating" beverages at the Pride March does not change this fact.

November 5, 2019

By Franco Torchia

Brands are not embracing diversity in Argentina. The "hydrating" presence of three alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages at the recent Pride March (one of them with its own truck) does not alter this certainty: they form a celebratory and tearful manifesto that digitizes the boundaries already established by the hand of the father, the mother, the school, the doctor, the police, and the never-saintly spirit of heteronormative authority.

[The Brahma commercial and Pride]

As a leader and a de facto ruler, the heteronormative authority portrays the differences twenty-eight years after the first mobilization and, for example, nine years after the passage of the equal marriage law. Late is an understatement. In terms of attendance, the three major business groups (a triad of extremely powerful multinational corporations, by the way) scored zero. In terms of representation, two. And in terms of commitment, utter non-compliance.

[The Sprite commercial and Pride]

Outside, there is a war. The march in Buenos Aires itself, and all the other marches in the provinces and cities of the country, advance over corpses. Not explicitly stated as such, the historical process of the extinction of sexual, identity-based, and bodily “otherness” (exacerbated in recent years, judging by the scant, semi-official, or quasi-official statistics) transforms every urban space where marches take place into a necropolis.

The bubbly concept of a party on a conga line or an "exclusive" bash with celebrities and influencers like Tini Stoessel is reminiscent of aperitif commercials from decades past. An olive would fall into a glass, sparking a fleeting romance between the intensely gazing man and the feigningly indifferent woman. There's always a DJ. Now, the fast-forward camera adds smiles and poses, flags and makeup, kisses between "equals," cool, responsible adults, and fairytale grandmothers. From what perspective do these brands narrate their stories? Who's telling the story? Heteronormative authority, landing. She's the one who speaks. She hovers and touches down briefly, on the day of revelry and guaranteed plenty of exposure. The word "Pride" appears above the man driving the car. About him, for him, by him. His pride.

Transvesticides, transfemicides, lesbophobic crimes, homophobic attacks, mutilating interventions on intersex bodies, gay suicides, and other acts of violence perpetrated by those in power militarize any demand, even when protests are dripping with glitter. Amidst heels and wigs, there is blood. Should advertising, in these neuro-warlike times, dedicate itself to counting deaths and filming graves? Or should it "do its own thing," aspiration intertwined with fantasy; the packaged product now also for global identities whose lives are a little complicated, but look how well they're doing?

I once read activist Mauro Cabral Grinspan suggesting that psychology "ask for forgiveness." At the very least, ask for forgiveness. Apologize for its narrowness and its mechanistic approach; for leaving out (but above all, far away) so much subjectivity, so much indeterminacy. Tentative but effective (apologies are never enough and are not a valid political mechanism), that could be the first step for agencies, advertisers, and clients: to ask for forgiveness. Forgiveness for having ignored, erased, ridiculed, and above all, distressed the LGBTTIQ+ population throughout more than a century of propaganda work. Following that, stop designing pieces that, stripped of their core message, convey something like, "In the end, Black people are people too." In turn, demand state regulation (regulation that is almost extinct, by the way) and reprogram how to sell when "the traitors" of the established norms are being gunned down in the streets: the gay man who doesn't wear a shirt and pants; The cake that doesn't look "feminine"; the impoverished trans woman who isn't a star on Telefé; and the parade of everyone who can afford the annual gym membership. That is, all those people that these same companies would never hire. The "good appearance" and the "resume" that these firms demand, and which Valeria Licciardi's "Soy Naná" segment so aptly addresses.

Through strategic alliances, advertising (re)invented heterosexuality. It's not just any social agent. It's a powerful one.

The crux of the matter is not "pinkwashing" ("Paint it pink and you'll seem inclusive") and the objective is not dissent as a modus operandi. The crux of the matter is the unbridled conflict within the funeral industry.

Unlike the political massacre at the Time Warp festival, here there are more and more deaths, but not from thirst.

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