Decolonisation™

When Revolution Becomes a Marketing Slogan - Has It Lost Its Meaning in the Corporate Echo Chamber?

There was a time when the word ‘decolonisation’ carried a real sense of urgency. It was about dismantling colonial systems, challenging power structures, and restoring balance. It had teeth. It had bite. But now? I worry that it has been co-opted to become just another hollow buzzword, a slogan companies use to sell more shit or to sprinkle onto their diversity campaigns like some kind of magical progressive seasoning. We need to ask ourselves: has decolonisation lost all meaning because of how it’s been bastardised by corporatisation and marketing?

It’s hard to say exactly when this shift happened. When did the raw power of ‘decolonisation’ get swallowed up by the glossy brochures of both non-indigenous businesses and the performative statements of government agencies? As well as the Indigenous business misusing the term to cater to sales of decolonisation consulting? Somewhere along the line, what should have been a call to arms against colonialism was turned into another feel-good term for people who are performative without actually doing any of the hard work.

The corporatisation of decolonisation is everywhere. You see it begin to pop up in strategic plans, RAPs and mission statements—organisations boasting about their ‘decolonising practices’ while continuing to operate within the very systems that uphold colonial power. They talk about inclusion and reconciliation, but often they’re not willing to get their hands dirty, to confront the structural racism embedded within their own institutions. It’s easy to talk about decolonisation in a boardroom; it’s much harder to look at how you’re benefiting from the status quo and then work to actively dismantle it.

True decolonisation is about much more than corporate lip service. It’s about power—who has it, who’s been deprived of it, and how we go about reclaiming it. It’s about returning land, amplifying Indigenous governance, and completely rethinking the systems and structures that have been imposed on us since colonisation. It’s about breaking things down and rebuilding them from the ground up, not just slapping a ‘decolonisation’ sticker on a broken system and calling it a day.

Then there’s the marketing angle. The way brands have co-opted ‘decolonisation’ is especially grotesque. Suddenly, everything is being ‘decolonised’: fashion, tech, wellness. It’s like these companies realised that social justice sells, so they jumped on the bandwagon without any real understanding of what they’re talking about. When a term like ‘decolonisation’ is thrown around so carelessly, it loses its meaning. When everything is ‘decolonised,’ nothing is.

This kind of performative activism isn’t just harmless posturing—it’s actively dangerous. It gives people and organisations a get-out-of-jail-free card, making them feel like they’ve done enough just by using the right language, while the real work of decolonisation gets left to those who have always been doing it: Indigenous communities and their allies who are fighting tooth and nail to reclaim land, language, and culture.

And this isn’t the first time we’ve seen this happen. The co-opting and diluting of powerful language is a trick as old as the fight for self-determination itself. Look at the history of Pride. What began as a radical protest, a riot against police brutality and systemic oppression, has been swallowed up by corporations waving rainbow flags and slapping rainbows on their logos for a month, only to go back to business as usual once June ends. What was once a fierce demand for LGBTQIA+ rights and visibility has been repackaged as a feel-good celebration that, more often than not, ends up excluding the very people it was supposed to centre. It’s the same story: when a movement or term gains traction, those in power find a way to tame it, to turn it into something palatable and profitable.

This pattern plays out over and over. We saw it with ‘diversity’ and ‘inclusion,’ terms that once challenged systemic inequality and pushed for real change, now reduced to corporate checkboxes and buzzwords. These terms become part of the system they were meant to disrupt, losing their edge, their revolutionary potential.

So, what do we do? Maybe it’s time to take a step back from the language and look at the practice. Maybe it’s time to question anyone who throws around the term ‘decolonisation’ without anything to back it up. Who benefits from this version of decolonisation? Who profits? And who’s missing from the conversation?

Decolonisation can’t be a marketing strategy or a checkbox on a corporate agenda. It needs to be uncomfortable, confrontational, and, frankly, dangerous to the status quo. It has to force us to reckon with history and imagine a future that isn’t defined by colonial violence, but by Indigenous sovereignty and self-determination.

As ‘decolonisation’ gets tossed around by people and organisations who just want to look good, it’s up to us to hold fast to its true meaning and purpose. We can’t let it be diluted into something that sounds good in a boardroom but doesn’t change a damn thing. Decolonisation isn’t a brand or a marketing gimmick; it’s a revolution. And revolutions aren’t meant to be easy or comfortable. They’re meant to tear things apart so we can rebuild something better.