As American politics shift from liberal to conservative, corporate marketing follows suit. But they aren’t driven by ideology. They are driven by capitalism. They rebrand to align themselves with what the customer wants to see. Or, as I heard in a Tecovas commercial the other day, “We might not need more people in the West, but would it hurt to have a little more West in the people?”

Even if you aren’t a corn-fed, dirt-raised cowboy, you can still buy a pair of Tecovas. Tecovas isn’t just selling boots — they are selling a fantasy. They are letting matcha-fed, LA-raised girls tug on a pair, take them to Coachella and play dress up. If the people want the West, let’s give them the West.

From the Biden administration to the Trump administration, brands have adapted to a changing political climate to maintain relevancy, avoid cancellation and pander to a diversifying audience.

Let’s start in 2020.

Social activism reached a peak. Using technology to speak our minds, grassroots movements took off left and right. The BLM movement, LGBTQ+ causes — all reignited and thriving. Accountability and social progress made themselves the priority. In a time of civil unrest, the general public valued policies that prioritized social change. People were unhappy with the lack of action taken by the current administration.

Running on a platform slogan of “Build Back Better,” Joe Biden took home the presidency, beating out Donald Trump’s “America First.” The first thing Biden did when he took office in 2021 was sign an executive order titled “Advancing Racial Equity and Support for Underserved Communities Through the Federal Government.”

Social causes play a powerful part in branding. If a company aligns itself with a cause, it becomes a statement. You aren’t just buying a box of crackers — you are endorsing an idea and contributing to positive change. Would you rather buy crackers that are against systemic racism or Kroger brand?

Aunt Jemima became the Pearl Milling Co., Uncle Ben’s became Ben’s Original, the Washington Redskins became the Washington Commanders, Lady Antebellum became Lady A. And historically, the green M&M switched from heels to sneakers. Her raw sex appeal was just too much for corporate America to handle.

Both trucks and beer are culturally-coded as country — and by extension, republican, white and male. So what is a brand like that to do in a time when being a conservative white male is the pinnacle of uncool?

In 2023, Ford ran an ad with the tagline “Tough is in your DNA.”

The ad opened with a montage featuring a diverse cast. They made sure to hit all the major ethnicities, genders and lines of work: from blue-collar to white-collar, from construction worker to artist.

The ad cuts to a truck, speeding down a dirt road. Then, back to the people — a man on a surfboard, a woman rock climbing, a vintage family tree, a map of the U.S., and a montage of yellowed family photos of people from the 18th century.

Then, Bryan Cranston’s voice: “There’s no ancestry connecting you … you weren’t even raised in the same part of the country. But look how similar you are.”

Then the truck – oh, it’s gone. Another montage of the cast and then it’s over, “Built Ford Tough” plastered on the screen. Cut to black.

With about five seconds of screen time, the ad clearly didn’t focus on trucks. The ad was saying that we can all drive a Ford. Ford is for everyone.

Exhibit A: pandering to a diversifying audience.

In 2023, Bud Light sent transgender influencer Dylan Mulvaney a six-pack of beer with her face on them. Mulvaney posted a video on social media, thanked them for their gift and encouraged viewers to grab a Bud Light on game day.

Unlike Ford’s more subtle, subliminal messaging, Bud Light made a direct statement. They sponsored a creator whose platform built itself on spreading awareness about transgender rights.

Exhibit B: attempting to maintain relevancy in changing times.

Critics responded swiftly. Sales dropped 23% after the controversy. You took away the sexy green M&M and now you’re taking my beer?

Anheuser-Busch put out a statement describing how they had “plans to launch a new series of television ads … leaning into themes of country music and football, which are themes that resonate with their drinkers.”

Exhibit C: attempting to avoid cancellation.

But why? What did Bud Light do wrong? They were just trying to align themselves with what America wanted.

Moving into 2024, people began to value different things.

In 2024, we dealt with the aftershocks of COVID-19 and the prospect of a major foreign conflict. The urgency once allocated to making the world a more accepting place shifted towards inflation. When faced with indefinitely rising gas prices, social activism seemed like a luxury. People were unsatisfied with the lack of action taken by the current administration.

During the 2024 presidential election, technically speaking, Kamala Harris blew Trump out of the water. I remember watching him in the presidential debate and wondering if he even prepared. He had no filter. It felt incredibly unrehearsed. It lacked newspeak with no attempt at sounding even remotely politically correct. But in 2024, people wanted bold, honest action. Harris felt like a Biden repeat. People wanted radical authenticity.

What Bud Light did felt performative — it felt like they cared more about being politically correct than being loyal to their actual customer base. This marked the beginning of the end for inclusivity-based marketing.

Come 2025, Trump immediately signed an executive order titled “Defending women from gender ideology extremism and restoring biological truth to the federal government.” Translation: transgender women can’t participate in women’s sports, and in the eyes of the federal government, men and women are defined strictly by biological sex.

In 2025, Bud Light ran an ad campaign titled “Big Men on Cul-de-sac.” The ad featured former-rap-artist-turned-country-music-performer Post Malone, the conservative, Trump-endorsed comedian Shane Gillis and football hall-of-famer Peyton Manning.

The three men throw a neighborhood party, using lawn-care tools to launch beer invitations across the neighborhood. They grill massive steaks and complain about the HOA.

Exhibit A: pander to your audience.

America made its choice. They responded to authenticity — both in office and in marketing. Bud Light was free to shamelessly cater to its demographic and associate itself with all things conservative and republican. And it’s not just Bud Light.

In 2026, it’s the trad-wife craze. It’s the internet’s obsession with sourdough. It’s the mass exodus from big cities to Texas ranches and Tennessee homesteads. It’s the inevitable country music pivot. It’s the countless Western-themed ad campaigns.

It’s a cultural movement informed by conservatism. Stay-at-home moms, homemade bread, homesteads, country music, cowboy boots — they always existed. Now they’re mainstream.

I was watching TV the other day and an ad for T-Mobile came on. The ad opened with Billy Bob Thornton walking down a long dirt road. Hay bales and rusted red pickup trucks littered his path as he lamented the inefficiency of Verizon. Thornton is currently starring in the hit show Landman, where he plays a Texan oil executive.

“According to some fancy experts that performed a network test,” he said, with a thick southern drawl, “T-Mobile sorta opened a can of whoop-up.”

A hawk screeches offscreen, and Thornton disappears into the sunset. Switch to T-Mobile because your no-nonsense, neighborhood cowboy says so. The ad was overbearingly country.

Exhibit B: attempting to maintain relevancy in changing times.

Unlike trucks and beer, there isn’t anything inherently republican-esque about your cell service. But T-Mobile is just embracing the trending aesthetic of 2026 in hopes of connecting with a new and changing audience.

I was watching YouTube and a Carl’s Jr. ad came on. Alix Earle in a red leather bikini, her golden blonde hair blowing in the wind as she shoved the “Hangover Burger” into her mouth.

Sydney Sweeney’s partnership with American Eagle — the camera slow-pans her body as she seductively buttons up her jeans. While the “Sydney Sweeney has good jeans” campaign faced backlash for its perceived promotion of eugenics, the ad generated 40 billion impressions and led to a 2% increase in revenue for American Eagle.

Exhibit C: cancellation isn’t really as big a deal anymore.

Is there anything inherently republican about Alix Earle or Sydney Sweeney? Not really.

But there is something inherently anti-2020 about perpetuating a beauty standard that isn’t the pinnacle of size inclusivity and physical diversity.

If either of those ads had run in 2020, they would have faced severe backlash. Carl’s Jr. and American Eagle would have issued a statement vowing to do better and would only release content that “leans into themes of body-positivity and inclusivity, which are themes that resonate with customers.”

So while the motivations of capitalism may seem worlds away from Nara Smith making apple strudel in her kitchen, reconsider how she would have done on the 2020 TikTok FYP.

At the end of the day, the way something is advertised is determined by what voters care about. Corporate America takes cues from the political climate, voters take cues from corporate America, and the cycle continues. While politics don’t directly dictate culture, they signal to corporate America what’s safe to sell.

None of us are above being influenced. That’s why awareness is important. Understanding the relationship between politics and marketing frees you from the shackles of corporate influence.

Buy your beer based on what tastes good. Buy your trucks based on what drives best. Regardless of what a brand has endorsed or who it’s tried to appeal to, the product remains constant. So it doesn’t really matter where they stand, does it? And besides, just give them another four years, and they’ll stand somewhere else.

Claire Thatcher is a freshman at UT this year studying journalism and media. She can be reached at [email protected].

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