Once upon a June, every storefront, cereal box, and corporate logo was hosed down in glitter and rainbows. Pride Month had become the Super Bowl of performative allyship. Brands couldn’t slap a rainbow on a tube sock fast enough—social feeds turned technicolor, donation receipts got waved around like golden tickets, and LGBTQ+ people were suddenly everyone’s “valued customers” and “beloved team members.”

Cut to 2025, and it’s Ally Regression season. The glitter has settled, the rainbows are fading, and corporate America is quietly retreating back into the beige closet of neutrality. Their excuse? Fear of right-wing tantrums, Trump administration scare tactics, and—of course—the looming threat of having to take an actual stance.

According to a Gravity Research survey, 39% of companies admit they’re pulling back from public Pride activity. Translation: less merch, less money, and way less visibility. All the fun stuff like sponsorships, social media support, and rainbow-drenched window displays? Gone faster than a closeted Republican at a drag brunch.

Enter Rainbow Washing—Stage Left, Exit Stage Coward

The brands that once turned Pride into a capitalist cash grab are now ghosting the very community they claimed to champion. Turns out the rainbow was only skin-deep. That T-shirt aisle and the “Love Is Love” marketing campaign? That was never activism. It was Rainbow Washing—a shallow, seasonal sales tactic designed to mine queer dollars without lifting a finger when it actually mattered.

Target, the former high priestess of Pride-themed pet costumes and glitter tumblers, now sells Pride merch in “select stores” and only if you know the secret handshake. Internally, they’re saying the company “catered to the direction of the administration.” Translation: they folded like a clearance rack tank top at the first whiff of conservative disapproval.

Bud Light, who had the audacity to work with a trans influencer in 2023, flopped harder than a RuPaul bottom two lip sync. Sales cratered, trolls howled, and instead of doubling down on inclusion, Bud Light pulled a beer-scented disappearing act—alienating both the haters and the LGBTQ+ community in record time. Iconic, if failure is your brand.

Then we have Kohl’s, which went from launching a Pride collection and donating to The Trevor Project to doing… well, nothing. No announcements, no merch, not even a half-hearted rainbow emoji. Kohl’s DEI team probably had a panic attack just opening their email.

Macy’s? Doing the work—sort of. Supporting Pride events and raising money for The Trevor Project… just quietly, with none of last year’s fanfare. Apparently supporting LGBTQ+ people is fine, as long as no one talks about it.

And Nordstrom? They needed a reminder that June had started before finally announcing Pride plans on June 2. They’re lucky we didn’t revoke their brunch privileges.

Let’s be clear: This isn’t a shift toward nuance. It’s corporate cowardice dressed up as strategy. It’s rainbow logos turned beige in the face of right-wing hissy fits. It’s Ally Regression in full, flailing form.

Behind the Scenes or Under the Rug?

Sure, some brands are still doing internal Pride programming. That’s cute. But giving your LGBTQ employees cupcakes and a lunch-and-learn while pulling funding from community orgs is like putting a Band-Aid on a broken ankle. And if your support is only visible behind closed doors, don’t expect applause.

This isn’t just a bad PR look—it’s a business fail. LGBTQ+ people make up 9.3% of the U.S. population, and we remember who stood by us when it wasn’t easy. And we definitely remember who ran for the hills the second Trump’s DEI goon squad started sniffing around HR policies.

Memo to Corporate America:

If your Pride plan is to rainbow-wash your Instagram once a year and then yank the rug the minute things get uncomfortable, congratulations—you’ve officially become a cautionary tale. You don’t get to profit from queer joy and then run scared when someone tweets a boycott hashtag.

Allyship isn’t seasonal. Pride isn’t a marketing trend. And the LGBTQ+ community isn’t your ATM. So enjoy your Ally Regression. We’ll be over here, queer and thriving, side-eyeing every sad little rainbow you try to resurrect in 2026 like we didn’t notice you skipped this year.

We noticed.