By Jacob Gallagher

ON THE EVENING of May 29, protests sparked by the death of George Floyd at the hands of Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin spread across America. In response, Nike released a minute-long social-media video that flashed directives like "Don't turn your back on racism," and "Don't sit back and be silent." Competing brand Adidas promptly retweeted the ad, which has been viewed over 20 million times across platforms, tacking on its own message: "Together is how we move forward. Together is how we make change." This unlikely fusing of industry rivals paved the way for a deluge of "we care" statements from other apparel companies, dispatched primarily over Instagram.

The next day, Saturday, Gucci posted an anti-racism proclamation by author and activist Cleo Wade, while Reebok Instagrammed a message that read in part, "We are not asking you to buy our shoes. We are asking you to walk in someone else's." On Sunday, Michael Kors posted a photo with the message "Unity Now Racism Must End," and on Monday morning Belgian designer Dries Van Noten and Italian brand Valentino both posted simple "Black Lives Matter" statements. In the days since, countless brands have followed suit.

In decades past, this kind of social-justice support from a brand was unheard of. Even in the age of social media, apparel companies have typically met weighty socio-political moments with silence. If a company was willing to wade into controversial territory, it likely did so through sexualized advertising in order to stoke sales. In the 1990s, labels like Calvin Klein and Guess gained notoriety for risqué ad campaigns, but stayed mum when it came to divisive social issues. Responsibility was not seen as a marketing device.

Among the exceptions was the Italian label United Colors of Benetton, which ran diverse, equality-extolling ads throughout the late 20th century. Another, the shoe brand Kenneth Cole, began supporting causes including AIDS and gun control in powerful advertising in the late 1980s. But for most brands and their spokespeople, the risk of making a statement was perceived as too high. As Nike athlete Michael Jordan said when he refused to endorse democratic North Carolina Senate candidate Harvey Gantt in 1990, " Republicans buy sneakers too."

Thirty years later, the landscape looks quite different. "Michael Jordan came of age when it was okay to be a capitalist and not have any corporate social responsibility and not have to defend your decisions with any communities of color," said Shawn Grain Carter, professor of fashion business management at the Fashion Institute of Technology. But, he continued, "those days are over."

Today, socially and politically astute Gen-Zers and millennials force brands to take a public position on issues of gender, race and sexuality, often through social media. "These are the consumers that are really pushing brands to make a difference and to change, and honestly, they expect it," said Michelle Lynn Childs, professor of retail consumer sciences at the University of Tennessee. Ms. Lynn Childs noted that taking a stand is a "calculated risk" for brands -- they might alienate one consumer base, but "build brand loyalty" with another, ideally larger, one.

A prime example played out in 2018 when Nike launched an ad campaign that featured former NFL quarterback Colin Kaepernick, whose "take a knee" protest against police brutality and inequality ignited a nationwide debate. Despite significant outcry from some consumers -- and more than a few torched sneakers -- the campaign was a declaration that the "stick to sports" mentality of an older generation was obsolete. Notably, just over a week after its debut, Nike's stock price hit an all-time high.

Even before George Floyd's death, 2020 was already brimming with advertising connected to national crises. In light of the coronavirus, brands like Dodge, Target and State Farm all ran ads featuring actors from across age and racial lines and highlighting the unifying spirit of Americans, not a given company's products.

But these relatively schmaltzy ads have been eclipsed by openly activist statements, which came to a head over this past week, as every brand from Thom Browne to Warby Parker posted its support for racial equality on Instagram. Ludovica Cesareo, assistant professor of marketing at Lehigh University argues that these posts are filling "a void of leadership." In her opinion, many political leaders are sending "mixed and confusing messages," and, in that absence of clarity, consumers are looking to brands for "some kind of inspiration," and are likely to hold "the brands accountable for what [political leaders] used to be held accountable for which is political direction...." Nike's message was praised by some on social media and disparaged by others -- mirroring the way the public responds to political leaders.

Companies both large and small have faced criticism that their communication is falling short. After Need Supply, a clothing and lifestyle retailer based in Richmond, Va., posted an anodyne statement to Instagram, reading in part, "We don't know exactly what we have to add to the conversation," it received a stream of comments calling the post inadequate. Asked about the public's response, a representative for Need Supply said the store would now be donating funds to the Richmond Community Bail Fund and the NAACP, and that on Tuesday it would be placing its stores and online operations on pause.

On Twitter, Nike and Adidas faced criticism for not backing up their statements with financial contributions or concrete anti-racism actions. Asked for a response to the criticisms, a Nike spokesperson said, "Nike has a long history of standing against bigotry, hatred and inequality in all forms. We hope that by sharing this film we can serve as a catalyst to inspire action against a deep issue in our society and encourage people to help shape a better future." Adidas had no comment on the response to its retweet of Nike's video.

Even black-led brands are not safe from the social-media backlash: Virgil Abloh, the founder of Off-White and the men's artistic director at Louis Vuitton is one of the few black creatives at the helm of a European luxury label. On Monday morning, Mr. Abloh was criticized across social media for posting an Instagram photo of his $50 donation to a Florida bail fund, a figure that many followers viewed as insufficient. Mr. Alboh had no comment on the response to his post, but in a follow-up Instagram post he said he donated $20,500 to bail funds and other causes and he will "continue to donate more and will continue to use my voice to urge my peers to do the same."

In recent years, some fashion brands have financially supported social causes in major ways. Following the fire that catastrophically damaged the Notre-Dame Cathedral in Paris in 2019, luxury conglomerates LVMH and Kering pledged hundreds of millions of euros toward its restoration. And over the past few months, scads of brands including Ralph Lauren, Estee Lauder and Tiffany & Co. committed a million dollars or more each or more to fight the coronavirus epidemic.

In the past week, Glossier, a millennial favorite skincare company, spread a donation of $500,000 across a variety of organizations. Ganni, a Scandinavian brand with a firm foothold in America, declared its founder's intention to donate $100,000 to organizations like the ACLU and the NAACP, and Patagonia posted on Instagram that it was pledging the same amount to the NAACP Legal Defense Fund. On a smaller scale, Judy Turner, an upstart New York sweater brand, declared that it would contribute 15% of its sales in June to fund black-American-owned businesses, and Aurora James, the founder of shoe brand Brother Vellies, swiftly started the " 15 Percent Pledge," an initiative calling for major retailers to dedicate 15% of their shelf space to products from black-owned businesses (mirroring the approximately 15% of Americans who are black.)

The takeaway? If a brand wants to take a stand, it might take more than words to convince an audience that it really cares. "Consumers are done with platitudes and empty statements," said Lehigh University's Ms. Cesareo. "They want material action."