And for good reason.

McKenzie here. The kind of marketing you can’t fake usually starts with a scar.
Not because audiences want to feel sorry for you.

Because they want to feel you, period.

People trust people who’ve been through something and don’t hide it.

It’s not surprising they see brands and founders in the same way.

This month, we’re unpacking two wildly different brand moves that prove the same psychological truth:

Redemption, when handled correctly, doesn’t weaken a brand.

It humanizes it. And it builds real belonging.

Let’s hear from Sam.

We do have a soft spot for a bit of public humiliation followed by redemption, don’t we?

It’s the real storyline we grew up rooting for.

Mythology, scripture, film, and sport all tell it the same way:

From Prometheus to King David, Maximus to Batman, humanity is hard-wired to admire people who fall… and then earn their way back.

These days, that instinct doesn’t stop at people. It extends to brands.

One of my favorite examples is Owen Hanson and California Ice Protein. He went from dealing on the streets to dealing protein ice cream. His redemption story became the marketing.

He filmed content in his old neighborhood, talked openly about his time inside, and turned discipline, routine, and rebuilding into brand values.

He broadcast the part that most founders would do everything to bury. And it worked.
People didn’t see dessert.

They saw an honest comeback story unfolding. And they chose to believe in it.

That’s redemption through ownership. Cracker Barrel showed it through surrender.

Tried to modernise with a new identity. And the internet set them on fire.

Instead of defending the move, they reversed. Fast. 

They brought the old logo back, their way of saying: “Alright, we hear you.” A moment of humility that paid massive dividends. Fans didn’t just forgive them. They rallied. 

They felt like they’d saved a piece of history, together. 

And when people feel like they’ve saved something? You’d better watch what happens next. 

They’ll damn near go to war for that thing.

Redemption arcs have what success stories don’t: stakes, tension, risk, and reversal.

Audiences live for the tension. Because that’s what makes the rise possible.

Just think:

Logan Paul → didn’t tweet an apology; he documented maturity for years, then built Prime on top of that new identity.

Tiger Woods → didn’t beg for forgiveness; he won again. Results as repentance.

Domino’s → didn’t hide shame; they made criticism the campaign and shipped a new recipe.

Meta → didn’t argue morality; they fixed the product. 

The smart ones plan for it early. Three steps, built into the system.

Build the reflex before it’s high-stakes.

Run post-mortems internally. Share what went wrong and what you’re doing about it.

Make that public in small doses: founder notes, changelogs, and captions. Train your team to speak in real terms, not marketing jargon (drop the BS, it does more damage than good).

If you can’t say it when it’s minor, you won’t say it when it matters.

Don’t wait until you’re under fire to figure out how to show proof.

When you practice showing the fix early, two things happen.

You don’t have to prove your integrity later. Or forge a new system in a storm.

Win-win.

Make space for audience input before you need their forgiveness.

Make feedback visible and ongoing. Comments, open testing, shared milestones.

People want to be part of the journey, not just the applause.

That’s why Cracker Barrel’s reversal worked so well. The audience didn’t just react.

They took on their role. 

Sam nailed it. When people can say, “we helped steer this,” they’ll protect it like it’s theirs.

I wanted in on this one.

The second I saw the word comeback in the draft, I messaged the team.

Redemption stories hit different when you’re in the room building them.

Here’s the thing. When you’re creating for a living, missteps are inevitable. Sometimes, you’ll chase what’s new, stretch an idea, try to talk to new audiences and forget about the one you have.

That’s not failure.

That’s the risk of caring enough to push.

What matters is how you respond when it misses.
How you listen. How you rebuild. How you turn that feedback into proof.

I can tell you first-hand: when a brand’s rebuilding trust, the energy on set changes.

Every decision carries more weight. 

That’s what makes redemption stories special to produce. The crew knows what’s at stake. And so the framing, the color grade, the choice of music. It all matters. 

But that’s where it can go wrong, too. When you over-light, over-cut, over-score.

More often than not, it’s not about adding polish, but removing it. Stripping it all back until what’s left feels real again. That’s the shot we fight for.

Remember that your brand isn’t how you see yourself.

It’s how they see you.

You win not by saying you listened, but by showing it. Every time.

Build it in from day one, so that when (not if) you get it wrong, you have the tools to: 

✓ Confess clearly.

✓ Correct visibly.

✓ Re-enlist the audience into your next chapter.

Your fall won’t define you. But the way you stand back up will. 

. . .