Yes: Sometimes Pants Are Just Pants
By , Freelance gear reviewer and editor
Being a centrist in today’s world feels lonelier than it should. Most of us fall somewhere in the broad middle of the political spectrum, but feel forced to pick a side even when it’s not strictly necessary. Many far-right or far-left folks abide by the idea that a dollar is a vote, and that buying a company’s products means subscribing to the social or political views of that company. I disagree.
Let’s use camouflage as an example. And let’s say we’re in a bar in rural Montana during big-game season. An educated consumer like me can draw all sorts of conclusions about the bar patrons wearing this or that pattern of camo. One brand indicates a person who doesn’t drink a certain kind of light beer anymore and hunts in a tree stand; another signals that the wearer is into public-land conservation, which means they’re hiking lots of miles on BLM property adjacent to the big private cattle ranches. Someone else in yet another brand strikes me as a guest of that ranch down the road that charges $10,000 to hunt elk this time of year, with all the big-ticket luxuries that go with it.
But the truth is, the assumptions I might draw about brands and values and tendencies are just that: assumptions. Life in the real world isn’t so simple. I’ve come to understand that there are a multitude of other moral universes in addition to my own.
As a longtime gear writer and editor, my integrity as a journalist means that the professional must supersede the personal. In order to review, rank, and recommend equipment, my job requires me to set my biases aside, ignore the rhetoric from brands regardless of their political or social leanings, and focus on what works best for the consumer. This leads to testing and even recommending gear and apparel with a branding message that doesn’t always square with my personal values.
Through this work, I’ve made friends across a wide swath of the political spectrum. My curiosity overcomes my moral superiority when I come across people wearing polarizing gear; I find that, like me, many of these people have complicated and interesting ideas about how to stay safe, connected, and purposeful in this world. What I assume they believe is rarely what they actually believe. Nuance lives in the herd of fluffy sheep making up the flock of ideas, and I can only understand these by consulting the shepherd.
So why use gear if its brand espouses different beliefs than mine? Clothing is one way we express identity, but in my experience the stuff we use outside is more about function than form. The best products we can afford keep us safe and help us pursue our passions regardless of brand identity.
We acquire gear for a variety of reasons. As someone who looks past the values of brands in an effort to practice unbiased journalism, the answer is clear to me: you can wear the pants without letting the pants wear you.
No: Representation Matters
By Wes Siler, ϳԹ contributing editor
We aren’t living in normal times. Right now everything, from the future of American democracy to which people have a right to control their bodies to the environment as we know it, is under threat. And the people and corporations with the most influence in these areas wield their power through profits.
It’s my belief that each of us needs to be doing everything we can to fight for what we believe in. As a journalist, I can use words to shed light on important issues, expose bad actors, and try to bring clarity to topics increasingly muddied by disinformation and outright lies. I do that in my work for ϳԹ and other outlets—where, in addition to politics and science, I also write about outdoor gear. And whether we like it or not, the products we buy and use are more than just stuff.
I started to think seriously about this in the summer of 2020, when Black Americans stood up and demanded that cops stop murdering them. In the middle of all that, Donald Trump Jr. posted a racist video while wearing a shirt prominently featuring the logo of one of my favorite brands. Around that same time, the brand’s PR person emailed me hoping for coverage. A little worked up, I responded by asking if the company had any plans to disavow Junior’s comments; I also requested details about its financial relationship with the Trump family. When the answers weren’t satisfactory, I loaded everything the brand had ever sent me into a box and dropped it off at Goodwill.
No longer being seen in that company’s clothing may only amount to a small statement. But it also means that I’m not endorsing a company that profits from fear and hatred.
While I understand that I can’t impose my views on others, and that I can’t expect every policy or employee of a given gear company to line up on what I consider to be the side of good, I’ve extended the experience described above into an ethic that now informs which brands I will or won’t work with.
I have plenty of friends in the outdoor world who don’t vote like I do, and I don’t always seek to learn the politics of a brand or its owners before writing about the products it sells. But I’ll do without gear that’s clearly and deliberately aligned with fear, lies, and hatred.
Avoiding brands that don’t match with your values isn’t just a preoccupation of the progressive left. The right also acknowledges that the brands we support matter. The right canceled the Dixie Chicks for opposing the invasion of Iraq and shot at cases of Bud Light when that brand did a social media collaboration with a transgender influencer.
We stand on opposite sides of the political spectrum, but both groups agree: where you spend your dollars matters.
There’s plenty of good gear out there. Choosing not to buy products or support brands that finance actual harm is simply the responsible thing to do.