Pride is a test of true allyship. Corporate sponsors’ retreat is a dangerous sign
In the United States, June has long been recognized as Pride Month — a time for LGBTQ individuals and allies to celebrate identity, progress, and resilience. Historically, this month has also been a time for partners in government and the private sector to voice their support for our community, not just with words but with action.
After the Supreme Court legalized marriage equality in 2015 with the Obergefell v. Hodges decision, corporate sponsors rushed to align with the outcome. And, with them, visibility, funding, and the power of mainstream recognition for hundreds of Pride celebrations across America. But lately, that momentum has stalled, and what’s replacing it is deeply troubling.
In 2024, many corporations cited “budget constraints” as their primary reason for scaling back their Pride sponsorships. But this year, the reasons are unmistakable. The current administration’s open hostility toward diversity, equity, and inclusion has created a chilling effect. Support for LGBTQ+ communities is being withdrawn, not because companies can’t afford to support us financially, but because they’re afraid to.
Specifically, our peers here in New York saw an estimated $750,000 shortfall in corporate support ahead of this year’s New York City Pride festivities. San Francisco Pride, which had previously received funding from Meta, “formally [cut] ties” with the company after it eliminated internal policies designed to increase diverse hiring practices.
While many allies continue to show solidarity through actions like marching, volunteering, or attending Pride events, the previous rapid rise and now sudden fall of tangible financial support, such as sponsorships and corporate donations, is most revealing. DEI policies have become a lightning rod for political controversy, prompting large corporations to retreat from public support to avoid being targeted. These sponsors are not unaware of the optics. They’re choosing to step back because standing beside us comes with political consequences in 2025.
This drawback from corporate sponsors of as much as $200,000 to $350,000 per event sends a dangerous message to corporate America: support for the LGBTQ+ community is secondary to external political pressure.
This phenomenon raises a problematic question for LGBTQ Americans: How sincere was the corporate support, whether intangible or tangible, in the first place?
And many of us are asking this question.
How sincere was the rainbow logo on your company’s social media pages? How earnest was the big donation to our festival after the 2020 election? Did these companies ever care about us, or were their pre-2025 actions just performative virtue signaling? To be clear, performative allyship is not a new concept. But we wonder: was it all just “rainbow capitalism?”
Support and allyship for our community should not be confined to one month – that is what makes people question its authenticity. Sure, anyone can produce a feel-good video about how their company supports LGBTQ staff. But if it all stops on July 1, it does nothing for LGBTQ individuals.
And we aren’t blind to it. Pew Research Center reported that 68% of LGBTQ adults think corporate promotion of Pride is just as they believe it is good for business. We know the difference between performative allyship and real, courageous support. Real allyship doesn’t disappear under pressure. It doesn’t end when the month does. It shows up 365 days a year, especially when it’s hardest. We know how to ask the hard questions: What backs this up? How does this support go beyond Pride Month? How can organizations show their support during the other eleven months of the year?
The lack of sponsorship and support during this year’s Pride answers these questions. It shows that too many corporations never truly cared about the LGBTQ community but chased public sentiment when it was “in style” to support us.
As a festival organizer and LGBTQ executive, I’ve felt firsthand how these retreats sting, especially for our Trans siblings, who the current administration has relentlessly targeted. We’re not dismissing the value of past support; many Pride events genuinely could not have happened without it. But when that support evaporates in the face of political backlash, it’s hard not to wonder if it was ever genuine to begin with.
This moment is a loyalty test. Who will stand with us now, not just when it’s popular, but when it’s hard? Who will invest in our future, even when it’s under attack?
Allyship doesn’t need to come in the form of a float or a flag. But it does need to be consistent. It needs to be visible in boardrooms, in hiring practices, in advocacy, and in year-round support of the grassroots organizations doing the work on the ground. If you genuinely care about the LGBTQ community, help us access the spaces historically off-limits to us and show your support for the companies that celebrate our lived experience.
The implications of corporate withdrawal go beyond the immediate loss of funds. Paired with a recent Supreme Court decision weakening protections for transgender individuals, it signals that political agendas are again taking precedence over the fundamental rights and dignity of vulnerable people. Pride was never just a party; it has always been a protest. And while we still celebrate, we are once again reminded that our joy is a form of resistance.
Rather than joining in celebration, our community is once again forced to rise above political hostility and cultural backlash. We will continue to rebuild, advocate, and celebrate ourselves in ways that reflect our worth — not only in June, but all year long. True allyship doesn’t retreat; it shows up when it’s needed most.