Every April, the internet fills up with green logos, limited-edition packaging, and pledges that will be quietly retired by May. We’ve gotten good at calling that out. Greenwashing is understood, documented, and increasingly prosecuted. What we talk about less is the other problem: the brands that are actually doing the work, but have stopped saying so.
Both are failures. Just different kinds.
Here’s what’s actually happening. The share of S&P 100 companies using “ESG” in their sustainability report titles dropped from 40% in 2023 to just 6% in 2025. But the work hasn’t stopped. According to a 2025 EcoVadis study, 87% of U.S. companies have actually increased sustainability spending even with regulatory uncertainty. They’re doing it, they’re just not saying it. PwC called it an “era of quiet progress.” I’d call it fear. Greenwashing lawsuits are real, regulatory scrutiny is tightening, and overclaiming—even when the underlying work is solid—has become a liability. So the brands with the most credibility have gone silent, and the ones with the least credibility have filled the space.
When the brands getting it right say nothing, the people who depend on that story lose more than a narrative. Farming communities lose the market signal that makes regenerative practices economically viable. Ecosystems lose the investment that keeps them standing. Employees who chose their employer because they believed in what it stood for lose the culture they signed up for. And consumers who would have chosen differently—who would have paid a little more if they understood what that dollar was actually doing—never get the chance.
WHAT WALKING THE WALK ACTUALLY LOOKS LIKE
At Yerba Madre, we make yerba mate—a naturally caffeinated plant that’s been shared in South American communities for centuries. We brought it to the U.S. nearly 30 years ago. It only grows in one place: the Atlantic Forest, one of the most biodiverse ecosystems on Earth, with more than 85% of its original canopy already gone.
That geography is why our business model exists. The 257 Indigenous and small family farms we work with across Argentina, Paraguay, and Brazil aren’t suppliers. They’re communities that have stewarded this land for generations. The forest is still standing in the places we source from because that relationship with the land has never been broken—and our job has been to make sure our business doesn’t break it either. We pay above-market prices on multiyear contracts, cocreate shade-grown practices with each community based on their land and culture, and reinvest a portion of every sale back into restoration. That commitment is written into our legal structure as a social purpose corporation. It took nearly 30 years to build.
This kind of on-the-ground work doesn’t often make headlines on its own. But it’s baked into the price. A can of Yerba Madre costs more than the alternative because the farmers who grew it earn a living wage and the forest they farm in is still standing. Marketing exists to make that clear—not to apologize for the price, but to make people understand what they’re actually paying for. When that story goes untold, consumers lose the ability to choose with intention. And the whole model loses the one thing it needs to survive: people who get it.
HONESTY IS THE STRATEGY
The brands that will earn trust aren’t the ones with the cleanest story. They’re the ones willing to tell the real story.
Patagonia published a report last year admitting that their emissions went up due to a shift in product mix. They explained why and what they’re doing about it. We’ve had our own version of that. Building a fully shade-grown supply chain across three countries, with Indigenous communities and small family farmers, doesn’t happen on a straight line. There are farms still in transition, practices still being refined, and the distance between where we are and where we’re trying to go is real. We talk about that—not because it’s comfortable, but because hiding it would make the rest of the story hollow. A brand that only talks about what’s working is just a different kind of greenwashing.
The way you avoid that is by making marketing responsible for more than the message. Get in the rooms where sourcing, hiring, and community decisions get made. Not to polish what comes out, but to influence what goes in—which suppliers get chosen and why, what living wage actually means in practice, which certifications the business is willing to be held to.
EARTH MONTH IS THE MOMENT, NOT THE METHOD
Don’t treat Earth Month like a campaign—and don’t skip it out of fear either. Both are the wrong answer.
If your brief starts with “what can we do for Earth Month?” you’re solving the wrong problem. If it starts with “what are we already doing that’s worth showing?” you’re on the right track.
Build something worth showing, then have the courage to show it—all year, in every sourcing decision, contract, and community relationship. The communities, the ecosystems, and the consumers who would choose differently if they knew are all waiting for someone to say something true.
Earth Month is just the moment to prove you will.
Emily Kortlang is chief marketing officer at Yerba Madre.