What’s so attractive about cancel culture? This is the question I was asked by a friend recently, and as I am wont of doing, I began to ponder the question with requisite seriousness. After some thought, the best answer I could come up with is that it gives weak, spineless, unremarkable, unaccomplished, limp wristed, mediocre, inconsequential, irrelevant individuals a shred of power they otherwise would never have been able to acquire of their own volition or merit.
It’s not fairness driving the cancel train, nor is it equity. It’s envy, jealousy, and the blinding need to cut everyone down because you don’t have the wherewithal to build yourself up. These are not the new heroes of civilization blazing a trail of equitability; they are sniveling trolls on the periphery of society who see their one chance at casting a pall over the success of everyone else just because they are mired in failure.
Now I’m sure at this point, there will be a handful of pearl clutchers who will insist that we show these festering boils on the backside of civilization grace and empathy. Still, just as you don’t bring a viper close to your bosom, you don’t embrace individuals who so flippantly attempt to ensure that a mom or a dad can no longer feed their family because they found something they said mildly offensive.
My empathy is near to empty already, and I will not waste it on mean-spirited, evil gremlins who see someone’s inability to earn a living as a win. This sort of mindset, these sort of movements must be put down in utero before they can grow and mature and become something uncontrollable.
It won’t get better. It will only get worse, and even if you keep your head down and shuffle along with the rest of the sheep, at some point in the near future, you will do something to offend the hobgoblins, and they will come for your head as well. It won’t even have to be some great offense like telling the dude with the beard that he isn’t really a woman. It could be something minor and seemingly insignificant, like a perceived microaggression.
Some of you may think I’m kidding, but these sorts of things tend to get out of hand quickly. The worse it gets, the more violent the redress will have to be to get back to some semblance of normalcy wherein just because you like beef and I like pork, it doesn’t mean I should go on permanent jihad until your life is ruined.
How long before the dredges set their sights on the church? How long before what you believe, what you stand for, what you practice in your day-to-day becomes intolerably offensive to them? How long before a pack of unwashed, screechy, crazy-eyed feminist activists pitches tents in front of your church with signs reading Hate Lives Here?
Before you start thinking that this could never happen, check yourself and realize how many things you never thought you’d live to see you are witnessing on the daily.
With love in Christ,
Michael Boldea, Jr.