Cancel Culture Needs to Change

Telling someone they're wrong doesn't really work, and it's killing the cause

Photo by Markus Winkler

“Generally, change in our society is incremental,” the late, great Supreme Court Justice, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, said. “Real change, enduring change, happens one step at a time.”

Ginsburg’s incremental change included winning five out of six key gender discrimination cases in the 70s, which she personally argued in front of an all-male Supreme Court. The Notorious RBG moved the dial, but she was intent on moving it one notch at a time.

But why go slow when the needs of marginalized people are immediate and pressing? Why not ramrod social justice down the throats of the ignorant bigots that oppose it?

Interjecting my own opinion here, I believe that Ginsburg understood the wisdom of a slow boil. You put a frog in a pot (not that I’m a proponent!), and then you gradually turn up the heat. Turn up the heat too fast, and the frog hops out. Boil him before he knows what’s happening, and you’ve got yourself a “tastes just like chicken” dinner.

This has been a hard lesson for me to learn. When social injustices are truly urgent, especially around the issues of racism and sexism, my kneejerk reaction is to smite the wicked and avenge the wronged. I want something done about it, and I want it done now. None of this waiting. None of this namby-pamby incrementalism. I want to grab my torch and my pitchfork and howl for blood.

And yet…

And yet….

That’s not how people learn. That’s not how offending behaviors are corrected. Push too hard, too soon, and we see the reverse of what we’re looking for: the tide of popular opinion turning against us. We are perceived as fascists and bullies. What to us is decency borne of frustration with a system that is stacked against the marginalized, is to many, if not most, an attempt to silence dissent.

Case in point. I’m a lifelong vegetarian. That’s not to say I won’t eat meat if it’s presented to me at dinner, but if left to my own devices, I almost never consume it. Butter, cheese, eggs, sure. But not meat. Still, I refuse to lecture people on their dietary choices. Telling someone they’re wrong, their choices are inhumane, selfish, muddleheaded, regaling them with statistics and photos of cows at a slaughterhouse—this is not the way to win hearts and minds. How receptive are you when someone aggressively calls you out? When under attack, we play defense. We become so entrenched in our position and opinion, we’re deaf, dumb, and blind to all attempts at reason.

That’s called human nature.

And just to be clear, when it comes to taking a slow, steady approach as opposed to online whack-a-troll, I am the WORST OFFENDER. I am so not above sharpening the blade edge of my tongue on some sub-literate man-hog for writing sexist, racist vitriol. My self-control in this area is not impressive. When I see bigotry, all I can think about is forming my words into a laser-blaster, searing off the head of the offending party, and leaving nothing but a pile of smoldering rat feces in his place.

So, what you’re basically getting here is advice from a failure.

But I do know it’s wrong. If the end game is to win public support for political correctness and the righting of societal wrongs, shaming people for their opinions is the worst way to go about it.

Social media has, of course, given us an enormous megaphone, one we use spread the “tyranny” of woke culture. I’ve been on the bleeding end of that cannon, by the way. One time on Twitter, I made the mistake of forwarding a quote that had the word “ghetto” in it and was promptly swarmed by outraged Black women. Or paid trolls. We have no idea who we’re talking to anymore, do we?

I tried explaining it was a pull quote. I tried explaining (nerdily) that the term ghetto actually came from the Jewish area of Venice, Cannaregio, in the year 1516. It didn’t only mean crowded urban quarters of minority groups. Nobody was having any of it. I was castigated for being an out-of-touch white lady, a closet racist, a Karen. It left me feeling supremely pissed off and disgusted with my political brethren.

Pro tip: don’t cannibalize your own. Republicans don’t do that. It’s why they’re still in office, even though the majority of voters agree with nothing they stand for. We on the political left have a huge problem being loyal to one another; we’re loyal only to our lofty ideals, and I don’t think the Republican spleen merchants are entirely wrong when they accuse us of committing political arson.

All this to say, progress is being made. It’s important we remember that, especially when the road seems dark. Voting rights are under assault. Reproductive choice has been chipped away so gradually—and effectively—most people don’t realize how difficult it is for an American woman to procure an abortion. But we have only to look at the mirror of the marketplace to see that woke culture has made a difference. A big one. Check out these Folgers Coffee ads from the sixties if you want to appreciate how far we’ve come.

Yes, we have miles to go before we sleep—and maybe we never sleep. The way I see it, every generation seems to get a little better at inclusivity. As a Gen Xer, I make an embarrassing mess out of people’s pronouns, but I do understand their importance, both personally and in the greater scheme of things. I also understand why some feminist and lesbian communities feel as though their gender identity is being co-opted. Clearly, we have a lot more discussing to do.

One of the most powerful weapons in our arsenal is Hollywood. That’s a culture we export all over the world. Normalizing interracial relationships, depicting women in power, and showcasing LGBTQ characters not only generates empathy for people who may or may not be similar to ourselves, it makes it okay to like these things. Sadly, Hollywood is still run by middle-aged white men whose artistic choices all too often devolve into racist or sexist tropes. It’s frustrating, but with more women and more people of color entering the entertainment field on the production side, things are slowly improving. Last year’s Oscar sweeper, Nomadland, was edited, directed, and produced by a woman (Chloe Zhao), and it starred a woman (Frances McDormand). However, the very fact of its newsworthiness tells you we’re not there yet.

But the older I get, the easier it is for me to take a deep breath and count to ten when I come across social media trolls. Oh, I will always be guilty of snark and rage-takes, and yet, I’m trying. Really trying.

Not for me. Not for them. For the cause.

I believe in the cause. I believe in cultural pluralism. I believe in the American experiment. And if that means “being reasonable” and not slashing and killing in multiples of ten, I’ll do it. I’ll do my damnedest not to cancel people even when I know they’re wrong, misguided, pig-ignorant and dangerous. And yes, I will occasionally fail.

Venting spleen is only a temporary rush. What’s lost is a chance to put one tiny incremental nick in somebody’s armor. If we make that our goal—one tiny nick—progress will continue, and likely without significant backlash. Less smugness and judgment; more compassion for those who simply don’t know any better.

Also patience. We need some.

And then, when I’m done saving the world from itself, I want a big bowl of popcorn, a bunch of murder shows, and a soft place to put up my feet.

I’m willing to bet you have an opinion about cancel culture. If so, I’d sure like to hear it. Fire when read—I mean, leave your comments below!

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