What if some of the most significant cultural conversations are the ones we hear the least about? And what might that tell us about the way marketing decides which causes deserve a voice? Rexona's former Global Brand Director, Emily Heath, has her say.

We work in an industry obsessed with cultural relevance. We track conversations, identify emerging movements and look for opportunities to connect brands with the issues people care about.

But what if the conversations we're not hearing are just as important as the ones we are?

Every October, brands turn pink. Every November, moustaches become symbols of men's health. Across advertising, sport and popular culture, marketers have helped transform important causes into movements people recognise, discuss and support.

And rightly so. These campaigns demonstrate the extraordinary influence our industry can have when creativity and commercial investment serve something bigger.

Yet as Baby Loss Awareness Week draws to a close, I've found myself reflecting on a very different experience.

I've experienced baby loss twice. There is a particular kind of grief that comes with losing a child you never had the chance to know. And alongside that grief, I remember feeling profoundly alone. Unsure how to talk about what had happened, or whether anyone around me could truly understand.

It's an experience far more common than many realise. Latest figures show one in four women experience baby loss and around one in six pregnancies ends in miscarriage, yet it remains something we often struggle to acknowledge or discuss openly.

And perhaps that's what has stayed with me most. Not simply the pain of loss, but the silence surrounding an experience shared by so, so many.

For someone who has spent her career in marketing, an industry built on understanding people and shaping conversations, that silence feels particularly striking.

The causes we can campaign around

Movember demonstrates the extraordinary potential of a well-built cultural movement. It has made difficult conversations about men's health more accessible through a simple, recognisable symbol and an invitation to participate. Its success deserves celebration.

But its success also invites us to examine the ingredients that make a cause appealing to marketers: a distinctive visual identity, an optimistic or empowering story, participation that feels easy, and outcomes we can measure.

Baby loss doesn't readily fit that formula. It is intensely personal, its experiences vary, and there may be no uplifting resolution. Asking people to participate publicly can mean asking them to reveal something painful. Even a brand working in women's intimate health might reasonably conclude that a campaign would be intrusive or inappropriate.

That is not a failure of courage or creativity. Nor is this an argument that brands should divert investment from Movember, or that baby loss is somehow more deserving. The causes Movember addresses are vast, and comparing their prevalence with miscarriage would be misleading.

The question is subtler: when we assess cultural relevance, are we sometimes measuring how easy a subject is to activate rather than how deeply it affects people?

When quiet is mistaken for irrelevant

Marketers are trained to listen for signals: search trends, social conversation, audience participation, cultural momentum. These are valuable tools. But some experiences generate fewer public signals precisely because people feel uncomfortable discussing them.

Low visibility is not necessarily low relevance.

If we only follow the conversations already gaining traction, we risk reinforcing the boundaries of what feels socially acceptable. The uncomfortable subjects stay uncomfortable; the people affected continue to navigate them quietly.

Of course, brands cannot, and should not, be expected to solve every cultural silence. Sometimes the most respectful choice is not to speak. Some people experiencing loss want privacy, not publicity, and many charities and organisations already provide thoughtful support without fanfare.

But there is a difference between deciding, after listening, that a brand has no appropriate role and never considering an issue because it lacks an obvious creative platform.

That distinction matters.

A different question for marketers

Before asking whether a cause fits our brand, perhaps we should ask whether our capabilities could help meet a genuine need.

Could our media reach amplify a specialist charity rather than our own message? Could a partnership open access to support? Could research help illuminate an experience that existing data overlooks? Could we contribute without placing our logo at the centre?

Those aren't instructions to launch more campaigns. They are invitations to widen the way we think about contribution.

And they demand judgement. A brand's involvement must be wanted, credible and useful. The answer may still be to do nothing publicly.

But at least it would be a considered answer, rather than one dictated by whether the subject lends itself to a hashtag, a hero film or a moment of mass participation.

As Baby Loss Awareness Week ends, I don't want to suggest that the industry has failed a cause, or that every brand should rush to acknowledge it.

I do want to challenge a habit of thought.

We are extraordinarily good at recognising the cultural conversations we can build campaigns around. We should be equally curious about the conversations that remain quiet and whether our instinct to seek visibility sometimes prevents us from seeing their significance.

Because the hardest causes to campaign around may be the ones that most challenge our understanding of what marketing can contribute.