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Spectator
30-04-2025
- Automotive
- Spectator
Is Subaru turning me into a lesbian?
I was recently lent the latest Subaru Forester to test drive, and I enjoyed its sturdiness, its space and the frugality of its 2.0 hybrid engine. But as my mileage progressed over the course of a week's bombing around the back roads of north Norfolk, I started to have a hankering for a nose ring, a tattoo of interlocking female glyphs, and to dye my hair pink and blue and wear dungarees. I put on a k.d. lang playlist, drove home, and watched Angelina Jolie in Gia. Was the Subaru turning me – a bloke, with no unusual pronouns – into a lesbian? Let me explain. In the 1990s, Subaru launched a calculated and groundbreaking advertising campaign on the US market. Rather than try to compete with their bigger rivals (Ford, Toyota etc) over the same white-bread suburban demographic, the Japanese company went after niche groups. Subaru built respectable but drab cars, yet they had a USP: their cars were all-wheel-drive, and the five groups that were identified as willing to pay a premium for AWD were teachers, healthcare professionals, IT professionals, outdoorsy types – and lesbians. Lesbians – ideally outdoorsy lesbians, who perhaps worked in computers, medicine or education – found Subarus' lack of flashiness appealing, and they liked that they could get a lot of stuff in the boot without it being as large as a pick-up. Lesbians were found to be four times more likely than the average consumer to buy a Subaru. So Subaru set to it, devising an ad campaign around lesbians' active and low-key lifestyles. They cultivated Subaru's image in such a way that it helped push gay and lesbian advertising from the fringes into the mainstream. Back in the mid-1990s, Don't Ask, Don't Tell was in full effect in the US military, the Defense of Marriage Act had just passed, and pop culture had yet to embrace the LGBTQ cause – so it was brave. And it worked. The image of Subarus in the USA is in marked contrast to here in the UK, where they're more likely to be driven by older wax-jacketed Tory-voting rural types or, in the suburbs, young men in tracksuits who like to leave tyre ribbons in supermarket car parks. The reason for this demographical schizophrenia is twofold: in the 1980s, when the brand first became established here, Subarus were sold through agricultural machine dealers, alongside fertiliser spreaders and seed drills. Then, in the 1990s, Colin McRae came along and drove a bright blue Subaru Impreza with gold wheels to glory in the World Rally Championship. Suddenly everyone in a baseball cap wanted to go sideways in a 'Scooby'. Meanwhile, across the Atlantic, the clientele was left-wing– and that's because Subaru of America hired an advertising agency called Mulryan/Nash that specialised in the LGBTQ community. One ad showed two Subarus, one with the registration plate CAMP OUT and the other XENA LVR, a reference to the TV show Xena: Warrior Princess, in which the female protagonists seemed to be lovers. There was another ad where the plate read P-TOWN, a reference to the popular gay vacation spot Provincetown, MA. There were taglines with double meanings plastered over billboards and magazine spreads: the image of an SUV or estate 4×4 tumbling over rocks with the words 'Get out. And stay out', or 'It's not a choice. It's the way we're built', or 'Entirely comfortable with its orientation'. Another read: 'It loves camping, dogs and long-term commitment. Too bad it's only a car'. Was the Subaru turning me – a bloke, with no unusual pronouns – into a lesbian?' Those that got it enjoyed decoding it. It was wink-wink, nudge-nudge. Those that didn't just saw a car with a bike rack and a kayak on the roof. Although 'Likes to be driven hard and put away wet', which took some prime real estate in a 2003 issue of Vanity Fair, was perhaps a less subtle effort. While a lot of straight people were blind to the subtexts of the adverts, Subaru did receive letters from a grassroots group that accused the car manufacturer of promoting homosexuality. Everyone who wrote said they'd never buy a Subaru again. But the marketing team quickly found out that none of those threatening a boycott had ever bought a Subaru before. Some of them even misspelt Subaru. Subaru wasn't the first company to create advertisements for gay and lesbian audiences, but it was the first in the United States to do so transparently and consistently. It's a campaign that has been studied in universities, and discussed in the New York Times, the Washington Post and the Atlantic. Today, high concentrations of Subarus are to be found in the liberal meccas of San Francisco, Portland, Burlington in Vermont and Northampton, Massachusetts, and Subaru has donated millions of pounds to HIV/AIDS research and LGBTQ causes. All of which makes me feel very comfortable behind the wheel of my borrowed 2025 Forester. Now where can I buy some Birkenstocks…
Yahoo
18-03-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
California judge approves landmark settlement for discharged LGBTQ+ veterans' discharge upgrades
A federal judge in California gave final approval earlier this month to the settlement of a class action lawsuit brought against the Department of Defense by former service members discharged because they were queer. The settlement will allow an estimated 35,000 service members to more easily upgrade their discharges, remove sexual orientation markers from their service records, and potentially obtain currently denied benefits. Keep up with the latest in + news and politics. The settlement expedites multiple processes of importance to former LGBTQ+ service members. The Pentagon agreed to provide 'an expedited group Board review process for considering discharge upgrades for veterans given discharge characterizations of General Under Honorable Conditions or Other Than Honorable,' the settlement states. The settlement also calls for streamlining the removal process for 'markers of perceived or actual sexual orientation.' from a member's service record. 'This expedited process removes the considerable burden on veterans to first obtain their military records – a process that can take years – and then submit full petitions supported by evidence to the Board – another process that can take years,' the settlement noted. The suit was filed in August of 2023 by former service members Sherrill Farrell, James Gonzales, Steven Egland, Julianne ('Jules') Sohn, and Lilly Steffanides with the help of the Impact Fund, Legal Aid at Work, and King & Spaulding LLP. 'I believe that part of service is standing up for what is right. That is why I publicly spoke out against Don't Ask, Don't Tell, even though it led to my discharge from the Marine Corps,' Sohn said in a statement when the suit was first filed. 'And that is what I hope to do today by filing this lawsuit – standing up so that other LGBTQ+ veterans are afforded the full dignity and honor for their service and sacrifices for this country.' The suit moved slowly until the parties began to engage in 'contested arm's length settlement negotiations' in July of 2024. The weekly or bi-weekly videoconferences were described as 'productive but adversarial in nature.' The negotiations were given a boost after an 'all-day in-person settlement negotiation meeting' in Washington, D.C., in September of 2024 that was attended by counsel and subject matter experts. The following month, the parties reached an agreement on the general scope and key terms of the settlement and notified the court they anticipated a full agreement in December. The final agreement was signed and fully executed on January 3, 2025, just weeks before the incoming administration of Pres. Donald Trump took control of the Pentagon and its negotiations. In addition to the new policies, the Pentagon committed to a timeline that will implement the policies within four months.
Yahoo
08-02-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
American troops describe their fear, anxiety, and whiplash following Trump's transgender military ban
As a lesbian teen growing up in Houston, Sam Rodriguez longed to join the U.S. military. But its 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' (DADT) policy, which was instituted 1994 and drove gay soldiers into the closet, was not something Rodriguez could accept. 'I'd been out as a queer person since, like, freshman year, and I didn't want to subject myself to an institution that was going to force me back,' Rodriguez, now 38, tells Fortune. But a few years after DADT was rescinded 2011, Rodriguez enlisted in the U.S. Navy, explaining, 'I wanted to be a part of something that was bigger than me.' Rodriguez soon began identifying as nonbinary—a gender identity that is not exclusively male or female—and using they/them pronouns. They began gender-affirming testosterone therapy to honor their 'transmasculine' side in 2018—two years after President Obama ended a long-standing military ban on transgender people serving openly, and right before President Trump's first ban on transgender military service took effect. That ban specifically blocked transgender people from enlisting, not continuing to serve, meaning Rodriguez was allowed to stay on. But it was still 'a heartbreak," they say. 'Watching others be forced to either hide their identity or leave service altogether was devastating,' Rodriguez recalls. 'It was a stark reminder that my ability to serve was precarious—entirely dependent on policies that could change with political tides.' President Joe Biden reversed the ban in 2021 and Rodriguez felt 'cautious optimism,' although 'the fear didn't fully go away.' Now, serving in the Navy as an active duty second class petty officer and clinical social work fellow, Rodriguez has reason for fear anew: Trump's Jan. 27 executive order, which gave the Secretary of Defense 30 days to come up with a policy that will make it clear that 'expressing a false 'gender identity' divergent from an individual's sex cannot satisfy the rigorous standards necessary for military service.' In short, another ban. And whiplash. 'It makes me feel sad and it also makes me feel angry,' Rodriguez, based with their spouse and young child in San Diego, tells Fortune (stressing, like all service members interviewed for this article, that they speak for themselves and not the military). 'With the yo-yoing of the policy, it can make it hard for people to know where they're safe.' That's an idea that's now resonating with all transgender soldiers—and all trans Americans, says Aimee Ruscio, a Washington, D.C.-based psychotherapist who treats transgender patients and has worked with trans service members. 'People do have a deep need to feel like they're safe—physically safe, but also that they're accepted as they are,' Ruscio, who personally identifies as nonbinary, tells Fortune. 'And that's part of what gets shaken when something like this happens.' The precise number of transgender individuals currently serving in the U.S. military is not known, although 2018 stats (the most recent available) from the non-profit Palm Center put it at around 14,000; in general, about 1 million American adults and 300,000 youths are transgender. Still, debates about the mere existence of trans people continue to dominate the national narrative—including in Trump's executive order about transgender military service: 'A man's assertion that he is a woman, and his requirement that others honor this falsehood,' it notes, 'is not consistent with the humility and selflessness required of a service member.' Being told you don't exist, says Ruscio, is 'a fairly obliterating statement.' And being told that one's 'internal sense' of who they are is wrong, they add, 'can create a lot of shame and can create a lot of anxiety.' The attack on transgender rights had begun before Trump took office, with 26 states passing bans on minors receiving gender-affirming care. Since his inauguration, Trump has issued several executive orders targeting trans people, including one that insists upon only recognizing two sexes, male and female; one that directs agencies to restrict gender-affirming care to anyone under 19; one that bans trans women from participating in women's sports; and the military ban (now being challenged in court). The psychological impact of anti-trans legislation—and, by extent, executive orders—is well known at this point, and includes heightened levels of anxiety, depression, and suicide risk, according to the American Psychological Association. And the return of Trump—who had been outspoken about wanting to dismantle transgender rights on the campaign trail—has especially affected LGBTQ youth: The Trevor Project saw a 700% increase in crisis-line calls right after Election Day. But trans people of all ages are at risk. The first study to assess post-election transgender mental health found anxiety had increased 45%, depression by 19%, and feelings of dread by 30% among trans Americans from the month before the election until the week afterward. For those also in the military, the stress may feel compounded. 'Serving in the military significantly impacts service members' identities, shaping their self-perceptions, worldviews, and mental health and well-being,' notes a 2024 article about military identity in the journal Military Medicine. That, says Ruscio, may prompt the feeling of being attacked on two fronts. 'It's another way of saying that you can't exist, right? Because the message is: You can't be trans and be a service member. And yet, people are like, 'Oh, but I'm here. I've been doing it, and it hasn't been a problem,' Ruscio says. 'Any time that your service is brought into question based off of who you are, that always creates a level of angst,' says Kara Corcoran, a 38-year-old combat arms officer and student of advanced military studies who also serves as vice president of SPARTA Pride, the non-profit organization supporting trans people in the military. She enlisted because she believes 'in the American ideals of freedom and liberty,' and wanted to protect them, and still does today. 'I've dedicated most of my life to the military,' adds Corcoran, who has served for 17 years. Now, despite the anxiety of the impending ban, she says, 'You show up every day and you put on the uniform and you do your job, and the overwhelming support of my peers and leaders continues to show that, no matter what, I am a valued member of this team.' In addition to the stress over anti-trans rhetoric is that of having one's health care—which the military offers through TRICARE insurance—threatened. "One of the pieces of the bans is that these are not based in science or clinical evidence, they are literally based on political ammunition," Kate Steinle, chief clinical officer at Folx, a national LGBTQ health care provider, tells Fortune. "Clinical care is different—you address the person in front of you and use a protocol… because that is what is going to protect somebody's mental health." That is simply evidence-based care—the same approach used for "any other type of medical care," she says. 'I think the key point here is that transgender healthcare is simply healthcare,' says Bree Fram, who has served for 22 years and, as a colonel in the Space Force, is one of the highest ranking out transgender officers in the military. She joined the Air Force in 2001 after the Sept. 11 attacks. 'That was one of the moments in my life where everything changed in a heartbeat,' says Fram, 46, who came out as transgender when Obama first lifted the ban in 2016. 'I wanted to give back. I wanted to be part of something larger than myself, and I wanted to protect and defend the freedoms that we'd been given by the generations that came before.' Rodriguez, who also transitioned using TRICARE for both hormone therapy and top surgery, pushes back against the medical-care argument of the executive order, which states that 'many mental and physical health conditions are incompatible with active duty,' including those 'that require substantial medication or medical treatment.' It references 'the hormonal and surgical medical interventions involved' as being "incompatible" with effective service. Trump has also, in the past, said such treatments were too expensive (citing figures quickly shown to be false). But as SPARTA Pride noted in its statement responding to the executive order, 'While some transgender troops do have surgery, the recovery time and cost is minimal, and is scheduled so as not to impact deployments or mission readiness (all of which is similar to a non-emergent minor knee surgery).' Rodriguez says their hormones cost the military an average of about $16 a month. 'It's pretty cheap,' they note. 'A top surgery…on average, costs between $8,000 and $12,000, but a shoulder repair or a knee repair can be anywhere between $20,000 and $60,000. I've had both of my shoulders repaired,' Rodriguez points out. 'I could have had top surgery three times.' To help alleviate such anxieties for other transgender troops, Rodgriguez, for one, is co-facilitating a six-week therapeutic writing group through SPARTA. 'It's just helping people hone in on what they can control right now, because there is so much uncertainty, and that can make any person feel stressed,' they say. 'It's been a really powerful time to just come together and have community.' Fram, who made it through the last ban, says, 'It feels like the stakes are even higher this time around.' That's because, she explains, 'When you see the erasure of transgender from every government website database, the feeling that our existence is what's at stake in the eyes of the public and in the eyes of our nation is different this time around, rather than it being just a military-specific thing." With rhetoric around trans people allegedly disrupting everything from women's sports to the medical system, she says, the message is that "we are the problem in more ways than one.' But Fram, just like Corcoran and Rodriguez, is focusing on resilience—a quality she believes transgender people have in spades. 'We already have had that experience of society telling us who we are or who we should love from the time we were born, and we had to find it within ourselves to say that despite the standard, despite what I'm being told from friends, family, parents about who I am, I know that's not the case,' she explains. The current executive order is just the latest example of that ongoing conflict, amplified. 'I think we fall back on that knowledge that we know who we are,' Fram says. 'We know that we exist. And no proclamation, no executive order, no change in government policy can invalidate or erase our existence.' More on health and politics: Fleeing the country and rationing testosterone: Transgender Americans' new reality under a Trump presidency Caroline Kennedy urges senators to reject her cousin RFK Jr.'s nomination Trump ditched the WHO and declared there are only two official sexes. Here are the other health actions he's eyeing This story was originally featured on
