Cancel Culture Vs. Counsel Culture
Are we all just being sanctimonious?
I’m not the only one who has experienced anxiety and stress when it comes to our society’s current and past scenarios of what we call “cancel culture.” It becomes all too easy nowadays for someone to be “canceled” from either language rooted in racism, misogyny, or homophobia; or actions that go against what a grand majority of people are fighting for. Personally, I found this inner turmoil to erupt all the more with the 2016 elections. It’s not that I never had instances of questioning those around me and myself — but 2016 created a lot of division and magnification of things I previously swept to the side.
How could I have a conversation with those I love who supported Trump when he has said and done many offensive and horrific things to either the race and community I belong to, or those I know and love belong to? How can I reconcile the two? Am I missing something? I am not alone in this debacle since it’s something we all faced. Many people swore off friendships, broke up with significant others, and fought with family members. Supporting someone — anyone — whose rhetoric and narrative inspires further division and hate, can inspire a questioning in morals from those who are not supporters.
Furthering this comes the pandemic; wrought with its own division. It’s the pro-vaccines vs. the anti-vaxxers, the pro-masks vs. the anti-maskers, those who believe the virus is a joke and those who lost many loved ones in one year alone. It’s also the fact the virus has affected communities of color and the Black community at an alarming rate; racial inequality during a health crisis. How are we navigating this? And do enough people care?
During one of Rich Roll’s episodes, he interviewed Karamo Brown — a cast mate of Queer Eye. In this episode, Karamo mentions believing in “counsel culture” more than “cancel culture.” In his description, he explains caring more about having raw and heartfelt conversations with those who share different viewpoints, in order for them to exercise empathy. My personal opinion as someone who believes the same? Sometimes it works, sometimes it flatlines; it might also depend on the audience. However, it’s still important. The paradox of counsel culture is this: Black people and people of color shouldn’t have to constantly run around correcting people or explaining why certain rhetoric is rooted in racism. It’s not our jobs — everyone has to do their own work. Conversation is certainly one of the tools.
I’d rather have open and honest conversations with those I share differing views with than just cancel our relationship altogether. What will I be left with then? Surrounding myself with people who only share my viewpoint won’t necessarily challenge me or cause me to practice empathy. It might piss me off more than I’d like, make me question a whole lot, cause my blood pressure to raise a bit — sure — but I don’t think I’m down to live in a personal bubble where everyone I know thinks the same way I do. After all, I’m also selfish and enjoy my individuality.
Herein lies another area I wrestle with: if everyone is entitled to their own opinion, at what point do we cross a line? It’s easy to think or say something rooted in racism, sexism, or any of the phobias and justify it as, “well I’m entitled to my own opinion.” Of course — but when does an opinion support and perpetuate hate and division? At what point are you just an apologist? When does a simple phrase or statement with racist undertones, hurt someone else and create a domino effect of more racism in the world? It’s too easy to brush things off with the “opinion” defense. It’s not enough. Stalin, Hitler, the KKK, serial killers, mass shooters and the like — all had/have opinions too. And we all saw where that got us and where it’s still taking us…
I’m not trying to support the idea that we should all have the same mentality and live in some Utopia — that’ll never happen, and for good reason. Rather, I’d love for us to just have a call to empathy. As a Puerto Rican, how can I put myself in the shoes of a Black person and imagine the space they inhabit? What are ways I can listen or just awaken myself? To educate myself and do my personal work? Additionally — as a light skinned Latina with curly hair, I am even more aware of the colorism and hair politics which exist not only in my own community but the South Asian and Black community as well. What are ways I can recognize my privilege while also calling out problematic statements? As a cisgender straight woman, how can I put myself in the shoes of a transgender or nonbinary person and imagine what their plights might be? How can I extend love and sensitivity to the LGBTQIA+ community and help to eradicate homophobia? And as an American — what are ways I can understand, wholeheartedly, the lives of those who immigrate here and the struggles they face; regardless of what those struggles may be. As someone who — thankfully — didn’t pick up a lot of homophobia, hatred against other races, xenophobia or any other -ism or phobia; I come from a somewhat privileged position. Yet, that privilege has its limit and there’s still a lot of work I need to do, for my own sake and for my fellow humans. The work comes in various ways of correction: language, thought processes, common phrases which we often don’t realize have a horrific history. Constant self-awareness and self-inventory. It’s a domino effect and we all have a responsibility to one another to create — and support — safe spaces.
The intersectionality of this is also interesting. The LGBTQIA+, Black, Latino, Jewish, and Asian communities — literally all types of people — have experienced a mass generational and racial trauma. Even certain religions have experienced the trauma of colonialism coming along and telling them their religion was wrong and the religion of colonists is correct — Christianity. If the community we belong to has experienced a historical trauma, can’t we look to other communities and understand their pain all the more? And if we don’t — why not?
This is why I believe empathy is of the utmost importance; because without empathy, we’ve lost all heart. We lose a piece of our shared humanity. We draw lines of division everywhere and within the same communities; it’s like we are trying to prove to one another and ourselves that we don’t just matter, but that we matter more. We seem to be running around scared and savagely defending our perspectives. We forget — all too easily — we have way more similarities than differences. This is where cancel culture isn’t actually helpful. Do we shame people in society and those in our personal lives because they say problematic things or have different beliefs than us before at least trying to understand? Arguably, not everyone cares or can meet us where we yearn to be met. In which case we can choose to extend an olive branch, or peacefully walk away if the differences sting far too much. However — we can’t live in a world where empathetic listening, conversation, and redemption are not possibilities. My current issue is: my knee jerk reaction many times is to want distance if the speech and beliefs are perceivably too distorted for me to digest. It can be really hard.
I remind myself, sometimes not often enough, to be humble and not be a hypocrite. I don’t want to be sanctimonious and cancel culture opens the door for just that — sanctimony. There is such a fine line between calling out various problematic social constructs and going so far as to create more division by doing so. Walking the tightrope is something I think a lot of us are currently doing. Fall on either side, and you end up in murky waters.
Something I live by and would like to gift the reader: question everything, even yourself. Come up with your own narratives and viewpoints. Talk things out, practice empathy, allow the experiences of people from varying walks of life to color your world. Change your mind — don’t be afraid. Turn ignorance into cognizance. A lot of things we have been indoctrinated with since childhood, don’t hold water anymore — or simply never did to begin with. Don’t be afraid to discard and start over. Be proud of your continuing evolution.
I don’t have answers for any of this; I’m still navigating it all. I don’t know if I will ever have the answers. Most times, it’s frustrating, stressful, and hurtful. Sometimes, it’s just plain fucking annoying. But all the time — it’s important.
