My Favorite Commercial: From Achilles to Xena, Between and Beyond by Sebastian Nothwell

     

        This Subaru advertisement from 1996 is one of my favorites. Can you guess why?

On the surface it seems simple enough. It shows a green Subaru Forester with a kayak on the roof rack, which makes sense for a vehicle famed for its all-wheel-drive; a practical choice for those inclined towards wilderness adventure. But a closer look reveals smaller details—particularly the license plate, which says: XENA LVR.

You may be wondering, what does a sword-and-sandal TV show have to do with a car?

Or perhaps—given the reputation Subaru has earned in the years since this advertisement ran—you’ve already made the connection.

Xena: Warrior Princess was a live-action fantasy adventure series that aired from 1995-2001, starring Lucy Lawless as the titular protagonist. Over the course of six seasons, Xena fought her way through a fantasy world loosely inspired by ancient Greece, with her beloved companion Gabrielle by her side. Xena’s battle prowess, strong bond with her female sidekick, and lack of any long-term male romantic partner made the series resonate particularly with lesbians and other women-loving-women—especially in the 1990s and early 2000s, when there was precious little queer content on mainstream television. The series ended in 2001 with a plausibly-deniable “kiss” wherein Gabrielle gave Xena a mouth-to-mouth transfer of magical water. Over twenty years later, the actors Lucy Lawless (Xena) and Renée O’Connor (Gabrielle) have long since confirmed that they viewed their characters’ relationship as romantic, and the official graphic novel continuation of the series has made them an out-and-proud couple.

But back in 1996, was Subaru aware of the sapphic connotations of Xena?

Short answer, yes. Longer answer to follow.

In the early 1990s, Subaru was in dire financial straits. They did market research to strategize a new path forward and discovered that LGBTQ+ individuals made up a surprisingly significant portion of their customer base. Furthermore, they found that lesbians specifically were four times as likely to buy a Subaru than non-lesbians. Rather than flee from the association as most companies would then (and some still do now), Subaru embraced it by hiring a marketing firm that specialized in reaching LGBTQ+ customers and producing advertisements like XENA LVR that appealed to that specific market.

More extraordinarily still, Subaru focused on advertising to the queer community “before it was cool”—indeed, before it was safe. An IKEA advertisement featuring a gay couple in 1994 had resulted in a bomb threat to an IKEA storefront.

And Subaru didn’t stop at mere advertising. When other companies are content with “rainbow washing” (slapping LGBTQ+ messaging on a product that doesn’t otherwise support queer rights), Subaru sponsored pride parades and partnered with the Rainbow Card to donate to LGBTQ+ charities.

The gamble paid off. The queer community rewarded Subaru with brand loyalty (another trait lesbians in particular are famed for), allowing Subaru to grow at a time when other larger and more well-established automobile companies were shrinking.

As the years rolled on, Subaru’s advertising towards this specific market continued in this playful double-meaning vein, including such slogans as…

“It’s not a choice. It’s the way we’re built.”

“At least we’ve got our priorities straight.”

“Entirely comfortable with its orientation.”

“It loves camping, dogs, and long-term commitment. Too bad it’s only a car.”

Through market research, Subaru discovered that most straight consumers wouldn’t notice these subtle winks, but LGBTQ+ customers picked up on them immediately, and in fact preferred them to more overt references such as commercials featuring same-sex couples.

The queer community is well-practiced in the art of sending and receiving covert signals. As homophobic persecution has persisted throughout world history, we have responded to the need for secret signals to build community amongst ourselves (without risking our lives) in various ways, from the theatre language of Polari to the hanky code to lesbians adorning themselves with violets in honor of the ancient poet Sappho, amongst others.

OAK KING HOLLY KING

        For middle- and upper-class Victorian men, a thorough education in Latin and Ancient Greek was a status symbol. It meant one had the “correct” education to access a world of privilege. Most learnt their lessons by rote and forgot the rest. Others found they resonated with the tales of historic and mythical heroes. Queer men in particular saw themselves in the stories of Orestes and Pylades, the Sacred Band of Thebes, and Achilles and Patroclus, amongst others.

To most 19th century Londoners, the Wellington Monument in Hyde Park—a statue of Achilles cast in bronze from melted-down captured enemy cannon, erected 1822—was a testament of British military superiority and a tribute to a national hero. For certain gentlemen in my Victorian fantasy novel Oak King Holly King, the statue of an ancient Greek hero defined as much by his love for another man as by his battle-prowess becomes a nocturnal meeting-place for men who likewise find love amongst their fellow men. A public tribute to the establishment becomes a secret symbol for those cast out of society, whose affections are punished by death.

In the last five years there has been an explosion of overt queer content, from TV shows and films like Our Flag Means Death and Red, White, and Royal Blue to bestselling books like Legends and Lattes, Most Ardently, and Gideon the Ninth.

However, with waves of book bans and other legislation designed to silence queer voices, we may soon be once again reduced to secret signals, subtle cues, and plausibly-deniable close friendships in lieu of out-and-proud romance.

Regardless, the queer community will remain strong and keep up the fight. We are nothing if not survivors. And we hope that, like Subaru, our straight allies with fight for us, too.

~ 

Sebastian Nothwell is the author of Oak King Holly King, a queer romantasy wherein a fearsome fae warrior destined for ritual sacrifice seeks a Victorian clerk fated to save him.

 sources:

How an Ad Campaign Made Lesbians Fall in Love with Subaru by Alex Mayyasi (Priceonomics)

Outward Explainer: What’s With Lesbians and Subarus? by Izzy Rode (Slate)