The High Cost of Low-Integrity Reach

When brand partnerships erode trust instead of earning it

Sharing personally; views are my own

I recently saw Lindsay Hubbard — of Summer House notoriety — featured in a State Farm commercial, and I’ve been struggling to shake the discomfort. This isn’t about personal distaste. It’s about what happens when a trust-based industry elevates someone whose public behavior is so self-serving, it throws the whole idea of reliability and care into question.

Hubbard’s on-screen persona isn’t just dramatic. She exhibits traits many recognize as emotionally exploitative: weaponized charm, volatile relationships, disdain for truth-telling, and a pattern of discarding people the moment they’re no longer useful. These qualities make for captivating television, but anyone who’s been in a relationship like that knows the damage it can cause. And anyone who watched her unravel things with Danielle and Carl saw the fallout firsthand.

This matters, even in a 30-second ad, because insurance isn’t like most products. You’re not buying peace of mind, you’re buying structured protection. If people don’t trust that their coverage will actually support them when something goes wrong, the whole value proposition falls apart.

And let’s be honest: insurance has always been a tough sell (that’s why the marketing teams are so big). Most people don’t enjoy buying it. Many don’t fully understand what they’re buying. Complex policies, disjointed service, and rising premiums only make things worse. And when people already feel unsure about whether their coverage will deliver, even small missteps can tip them toward doubt.

So when a major insurer chooses to spotlight someone known for manipulative behavior, it doesn’t just feel playful. It reinforces the fear that the promises behind the policy might not hold up either. It tells people who already feel uneasy: we reward self-serving behavior here.

As brand strategist Catherine Salgado put it in response to my original LinkedIn post:

“When a brand known for stability aligns with volatility, it’s not edgy—it’s incoherent. And in categories where people are literally trying to feel safe, that disconnect isn’t just cosmetic, it’s consequential.”

I agree. In service categories especially, brand strategy can’t just chase awareness. It has to deliver assurance. It should help people navigate decisions that are high-stakes, emotional, and often confusing. The real opportunity lies in creating experiences that reduce anxiety, clarify risk, and quietly teach while they help. The goal isn’t just compliance or conversion, it’s connection.

On the other hand, storyteller and content strategist Jennifer Lemmert offered a different perspective, explaining that from a reach perspective, this casting choice might be a smart one. Lindsay Hubbard has strong brand recognition and could resonate with a younger female demographic who relate to her life stage or storyline.

And I don’t disagree. She probably will get them attention. But personally, I think the cost of that reach is needlessly high. There are plenty of Bravolebs who come across like good neighbors. So why spotlight someone who’d let your house burn if it furthered her storyline?

That’s the heart of it for me: in an era of eroding trust, brands don’t need more visibility plays that confuse recognition with relevance. They need strategy rooted in respect, for the customer, for the context, and for what’s actually at stake.

This isn’t really about Lindsay Hubbard. It’s about what her selection reveals: a disconnect between the emotional weight of financial decisions and the stories used to sell them. In hard moments and uncertain choices, people don’t need spectacle. They need support.

Trust isn’t something you say. It’s something you show, in who you associate with, how you behave, and whether your customers feel seen.

State Farm should know better.