HOPE NEEDS A REBRAND

17 Jun

WHAT EVEN IS HOPE ANYMORE?

Hope. What even is it anymore? A word that’s been rinsed, flattened, dulled and shoved into so many strategy decks it’s basically become a filler word. “Hope for the future.” “Hope for a better world.” Blah blah blah.

It’s not that I don’t believe in hope, I really do. I just don’t believe in this version. The sickly sweet, engraved-on-a-pebble, live-life-love cushion version. That’s not hope. That’s empty promises. And aesthetically, it’s borderline offensive.

***Image credit: Google Search ‘Hope’***

THE KIND OF HOPE THAT ACTUALLY MATTERS

The hope I know is what drags you out of bed when you’re burnt out and cynical, but still trying. It’s the energy in the room when someone says, “f*ck it, let’s build something better,” and actually means it. Hope had a moment in 2008, with Shepard Fairey’s iconic Barack Obama poster, it felt good, right? That was almost 20 years ago, and the world has changed a lot since then. Hope has come and gone.

But here’s the thing: hope is creeping back into culture.

Image credit: obeygiant.com

CULTURE DIDN’T KILL HOPE, IT’S RECLAIMING IT

You’ve got artists building playable Afro-surrealist video games about Black liberation. Solarpunk futures are flooding social feeds, all colour, community and climate optimism without the dystopia. ELLE Magazine just dropped a “40 Women of Hope” feature, platforming the women who are actively shaping what’s next. Zines, collectives, grassroots movements, they’re not using hope as decoration, they’re rebuilding it.

Loyle Carner’s new album Hopefully! isn’t just a nice title. It’s personal, raw, and completely unfiltered, touching on fatherhood, grief, growth, and the fragile optimism that comes with trying to build something better while figuring it out in real time. This isn’t hope as branding. It’s hope as emotion and connection.

THE WORD HASN’T CAUGHT UP

Hope does show up in culture. It’s just that the word itself hasn’t caught up.

Right now it still sounds like it was printed on a scented candle by someone who’s spiritually dissociating. Like something you say when you’ve got no actual plan. Hope needs to be pried off the mugs and Facebook quotes and dropped back where it belongs, in real life. Make it f*cking cool again. Because if we can do that, if we can make hope feel like activism, alive and ownable, maybe we can get people to care again. Maybe we can remind people that building the future can be exciting!

HOPE SHOULD HAVE AN EDGE

Until now, the way we talk about hope has often felt… surface level. It’s been used as a kind of brand-safe placeholder, something to soften the edges, tick the emotional box, round off the keynote with a nicely vague uplift. It shows up in awareness weeks and vision statements, in LinkedIn captions and CSR campaigns. Well-meaning, but often disconnected from what people actually feel.

And when a word gets that diluted, it stops landing. It stops doing anything. Hope loses its edge. And hope should have an edge.

WE LIVE WITH IT EVERYDAY

But that’s the contradiction, because while it might feel hollow in the public sphere, it’s quietly everywhere in our personal lives. We say it without thinking.
“Hope you’re well.”
“Hope it all goes okay.”
“Hope to hear from you soon.”

It’s in our texts, our emails, the way we speak to strangers. It’s stitched into our day-to-day lives. We live with hope constantly, for the small stuff and the big stuff. From getting a reply to a job application to believing your kid’s going to be okay in a world that feels anything but.

SO WHAT DO WE DO WITH IT?

If it’s already embedded in us, why doesn’t it feel powerful? That’s the bit I keep coming back to. How do we take something we use without thinking and turn it into something we feel, a force we carry, not a throwaway phrase?

Here’s the point. This isn’t about putting hope in a new font. It’s about giving it meaning again.

If we want the next generation to believe in anything, we have to stop serving up vague optimism and start giving them tools, visions, and culture that actually resonate. That’s what we’re doing here. And if we can shift the way we frame it, through design, language, stories, and systems, then maybe we can shift what people believe is possible.

That’s the rebrand.

If anything sparks your interest in this or the following articles, please do email hello@libraryofhope.world.

Fiona OBrien

CREATIVE DIRECTION, TREND FORECASTING AND STORYTELLING SPECIALIST.

Fi is a Creative Brand Consultant with 25 years of experience shaping disruptive, culturally-driven brands. She founded a Melbourne café that became a movement, championing Oz hip hop, street artists, and indie creatives, cementing her belief in the power of culture to build community. As the former co-founder and creative force behind Girls Who Grind Coffee, she challenged industry norms through bold storytelling and equity-driven branding. Library of Hope is an extension of everything she’s built, a space where creativity becomes an active force for change, shaping tangible visions of a better future.

https://www.fiobrien.com