Let’s just call it like it is: being nice is boring. Especially in marketing. Especially when you’re trying to get noticed in a world where everyone’s yelling, but no one’s actually saying anything worth listening to. If you want attention, you need conflict. You need drama. You need a rival.

And not just any rival. You need someone to feud with in public. Think Nike vs. Adidas, McDonald’s vs. Burger King, Coke vs. Pepsi. These aren’t just brand wars, they’re modern-day myths. And they work like hell.

Your brand doesn’t need safe. Safe is boring. Safe is invisible. Safe is the default path to irrelevance.

When your instinct is to issue a press release, apologize, retreat, “clarify the intent,” and tone everything down, that’s the moment your brand is getting eaten alive. What you really need is conviction, nerve, and a willingness to absorb backlash that isn’t aimed at your customers.

Let’s get this out of the way: the phrase "executive branding" feels gross. It sounds like something your niece does on TikTok. Something with ring lights and hashtags. But here’s the truth, and it took me two decades online to realize it: Posting a lot and kinda sharing a lot of stuff isn’t about ego. It’s about access.

Here’s the thing: anti-woke marketing works… until it doesn’t.

It’s the marketing equivalent of eating nothing but candy, sure, it gives you a quick sugar rush, maybe a stock bump, maybe even a bunch of free media coverage — but it leaves you queasy and doesn’t build a healthy brand. We’ve seen this play out with Bud Light, Target, and most recently Cracker Barrel. The data is undeniable: when anti-woke consumers get angry, they vote with their wallets, and it moves markets.

I am a pioneer of the internet. Literally one of the early ones who discovered new land and how to make a career because of it. I was there with Mitch Joel, Chris Brogan, and others and while I admire these people and hang on their every observation to this day, now I am not sure they will tell you what I am about to say. A long time ago, on what feels like a planet far far away, “social media” was about connection, and it was beautiful. In high school, I met other They Might Be Giants fans online and realized I wasn’t the only person in the world obsessing over accordion-driven nerd rock, and it made me feel less alone. Later, I met people who were doing the kind of work I wanted to do, and they gave me tips and encouragement. It was human, messy, and, yeah, sometimes even weird in a way that felt authentic.