Another day, another swarm of so-called “tolerant progressives” giving me flak for eating Chick-fil-A just because Chick-fil-A keeps pouring millions of dollars into anti-LGBTQ causes. I sympathize—really I do—but my stance on this issue hasn’t changed: Yes, Chick-fil-A is totally evil, but on the other hand, waffle fries.
Listen. I’m a progressive person, and it makes me sick to think that my money made up some of the $1.8 million Chick-fil-A gave to anti-LGBTQ organizations in 2017. But who could possibly resist the siren song of a factory-farmed chicken breast wedged between two nondescript slices of bread? Plus a pickle?! Chicken, bread, AND a pickle? That’s innovative. That’s disruptive. That’s more immediately satisfying than changing my lunch plans for the betterment of society.
I know at least one of Chick-fil-A’s favored organizations, Salvation Army, has fired employees for being gay and refuses to comply with anti-discrimination laws in places like San Francisco, and I think that’s awful. But peanut oil makes my brain shut down. One whiff of that alluring nut oil and all personal agency and social responsibility goes out the window, along with my money.
I know that conversion therapy has been linked to a five-fold increase in suicide risk, so I am literally funding organizations that could push a queer kid over the edge, with lethal results. But, counterpoint: fresh-squeezed lemonade. How many other fast food places serve lemonade? Maybe 500,000? But how many are right on my way to work? Only nine. You see the moral quagmire in which I find myself.
It's ludicrous to assume that giving money to an anti-LGBTQ company forwards anti-LGBTQ interests. If Chick-fil-A has more dollars to donate to evil causes, those donations will generate more negative press, eventually bankrupting the business! It’s called the long con, y’all; try and keep up.
Plus, by supporting Chick-fil-A, I’m avoiding a much more nefarious establishment, like Wendy’s—which (to my knowledge) hasn’t donated one red cent to GLAAD. Really, is one worse than the other? Yes, Chick-fil-A is far, far worse, but frankly I don’t care for Wendy’s condiment distribution.
I’ve tried to recreate the magic of Chick-fil-A at home. I got the chicken breast, pickle juice, paprika, garlic salt, flour, and eggs. But when I mixed the spices, they formed a multicolored spectrum that reminded me of the rainbow LGBTQ flag, and I passed out from the beauty of it all. When I woke up, the frying oil was bubbling, which reminded me of the hot hatred and fiery intolerance that LGBTQ people face around the world, and BAM!, I was back on the floor.
When I woke up the second time, the chicken breast was covered in ants, my stove was engulfed in flames, and firefighters were slapping a medical bracelet on my wrist that labeled me a person with a “DANGEROUS AMOUNTS OF EMPATHY.”
Here’s something nobody’s talking about: the insidious worker bees at the heart of Chick-fil-A’s bigotry, A.K.A. its employees. Sure, Chick-fil-A is one of the highest-paying fast-food companies in the country, and many of its employees work there due to the dearth of well-paying, entry-level jobs in this country. Maybe they’re just trying to stay out of poverty and pay for (a fraction of) college. A fair portion of Chick-fil-A’s employees are gay themselves, and probably hate that America’s broken capitalist engine forces them to choose between a job that’s in-line with their morals, and having a roof over their head.
But that won’t stop me from spitting in those traitors’ faces when I grab my Breakfast Chick-n-Minis and peel outta the parking lot every morning.
Of course, as an ally, I can’t let Chick-fil-A completely off the hook. That’s why on every single bill I give to Chick-fil-A, I write the word “RESIST” in tiny-but-legible two-point font. Think about it—if enough employees get ahold of those dollars, see my note, and understand that I was specifically referring to resisting anti-LGBTQ policies, they’ll form a resistance (scheming on Sundays, when no one else is around) and take down Chick-fil-A from the inside. Checkmate.
There. Chick-fil-A is basically doomed, and you have my dollars to thank.