

Millions of dollars of the chain’s past profits funded groups that opposed same-sex marriage during an era when millions of Americans were fighting for their civil rights smaller donations went to a group that practiced conversion therapy, a practice that stems from the discredited belief that homosexuality is a mental illness.Ībout a year before the Supreme Court struck down part of the Defense of Marriage Act in June 2013, chief executive Dan Cathy said that “we’re inviting God’s judgment on our nation when we shake our fist at him and say we know better than you as to what constitutes a marriage.” Following an uproar over those comments, Chick-fil-A pledged, on Facebook, to leave the policy debate over same-sex marriage to the government and political arena, and “to treat everyone “with honor, dignity and respect,” regardless of sexual orientation. People don’t love Chick-fil-A, the Atlanta-based, family-owned chain that’s heavily rooted in the South but that’s expanding aggressively into new markets like New York and Washington, fueling long lines and, occasionally, opposition. People love the carnival-like waffle fries, the neonatal ward-like hospitality, the cleanliness on par with a Silicon Valley chip manufacturer, the fresh-squeezed lemonade spiked with soft-serve ice cream, the aromatic peach shakes, the admirably bare-bones fried-chicken sandwich, the viral fan song set to the tune of the Beatles’s “Yesterday,” and the famous Polynesian sauce, an agrodolce condiment that looks like what would happen if a stop sign were melted down in a magical volcano made of pineapple, ginger, and corn syrup. People love Chick-fil-A, the poultry-centric fast-food chain whose corporate purpose is to “glorify God,” and whose strict Sunday closure means that every employee gets at least one day of rest.
