A video depicting a young man handing out clothing from Abercrombie & Fitch to the homeless has recently gained traction on the Internet. Why? The video represents one of the prominent backlashes against A&F CEO Mike Jeffries, whose candid explanation of the company’s business strategy has recently resurfaced: “We go after the attractive all-American kid with a great attitude and a lot of friends. A lot of people don’t belong [in our clothes], and they can’t belong. Are we exclusionary? Absolutely.”

In an act of ostensible charity and activism, the creators of the video aim to give Abercrombie and Fitch a brand readjustment by having those outside the company’s target demographic wear their clothes. In the video, the movement is dubbed #Fitchthehomeless, and encourages viewers to donate their A&F clothes to the homeless in order to make A&F “the world’s number one brand of homeless apparel.” Certainly, this statement  is an ironic blow to Jeffries. Yet, after watching the video, I was left quite unsettled.

My first concern is that the allure of the video is solely contingent on the homelessness of the recipients, and is therefore an acceptance of the superficial categorizations Jeffries himself constructed. Without an acknowledgement of the notion that people can be classified under image-based criteria, the whole premise of the video falters. It reinforces the idea that the state of homelessness is deplorable and undesirable, and could thus diminish a brand’s value. The proposed “brand readjustment” is only possible when the recipient of the clothes carries the negative connotations the filmmakers are attempting to associate A&F with.

As such, #Fitchthehomeless only emblazons the exclusionary circle crafted by Jeffries, and has done little to subvert the existence of such a circle. I understand that the intent of the video is likely to say that anyone, not just an ‘ideal’ person, can belong in A&F clothing, but surely making A&F ‘everyone’s’ apparel instead of the ‘homeless’ apparel has less of an appeal. In the end, the makers of the video use the very same marketing tactic that Jeffries uses by hinging their product image on preconceived notions of certain groups of people.

The video also exemplifies the kind of thoughtless charity much too prevalent in society today. The man in the video doles out his symbolic A&F clothes without regard for the needs and preferences of the recipients.  He drops off his clothing to various homeless men and women without first asking what items they need and if they need them altogether. The underlying assumption is that these homeless recipients absolutely need clothing donations, and that any piece of ill fitting, badly designed clothing will do and will be thoroughly appreciated. There is no acknowledgement on the part of the filmmakers that the homeless have the capacity and conscientious will to recognize and assert their own needs. As well, none of the homeless recipients were asked about their size, colour, or design preferences. Here, the assumption is that aesthetic choices only belong to those who can afford it, from which the homeless are clearly excluded. In effect, #Fitchthehomeless serves to perpetuate paternalistic concepts of dependency and class privilege.

Finally, using the homeless as mere props to make a sardonic statement against an elitist CEO is, frankly, unethical. The entire premise of the movement is no more than a cheap exploitation of the homeless for the profit of an activist cause. It runs in the same vein as hypothetical researchers who would exploit the vulnerability of the homeless to test the efficacy of a new drug. I see a deeply engrained pathology in any movement that uses a vulnerable population, or any group of people for that matter, as a means to an end. The makers of the video fail to recognize the humanity of the people they claim to be helping, and outright promote the homeless as disposable tools to further an agenda.

#Fitchthehomeless attempts to affront Jeffries’ philosophy, while simultaneously helping the homeless. For me, it fails to do either one. Rather, it validates the exclusionary criteria posited by Jeffries, while propagating the stigma surrounding homelessness, adding to the many social barriers already faced by the homeless. I sympathize with the desire to make a statement against disingenuous and superficial corporate values, but we should never resort to exploiting the needs of any group to do so.

If you’d like to help the homeless, there are various organizations on top of traditional give-away programs that aim to address various structural determinants of homelessness. If you’d like to oppose A&F’s philosophy, then stop buying their products. Part of the justification the creators of the film provide in the creation of the movement is that A&F refuses to give their surplus clothes to donation programs in order to maintain their pristine image. Lobbying for A&F to change their donation policy would be much more effective than “fitching” the homeless. After all, we would need to purchase endless quantities of A&F apparel to “clothe the homeless,” as the video sets out to do. It’s not hard to fight for a cause in an ethical, sustainable, and thoughtful manner, but it takes that much more effort.