One of the largest media organisations in the world gives pixels and power to that utterly tired of tropes, that the mere existence of someone who isn’t white in a space must mean that space is ~pandering to the wokes~. And it becomes A Thing, the center of The Discourse, a reminder of who you really need to just unfollow because if Twitter is good for anything, it is good for people demonstrating what they really think and who they really are.
See also: “I can’t get hired because everyone is trying to check the diversity box”. See also: “the only reason you’re in that job is because someone needed to fill a quota”. See also: “I’m not against diversity I’m just pro meritocracy”. See also: “but what about historical realism”.
It is so tired, it is so tiring, it is so distracting. Not from “the real issues”, the phrase those who believe folks can’t walk and chew gum at the same time like to trot out. No, the distraction of these tedious pseudo-arguments is from pleasure, from joy, from fun, from the ability to participate in even frivolous discussion without having to be on high alert for sea lions.
Wait but why someone will say, I don’t understand, can you explain this to me? The dulcet demand of “I’m just trying to understand, why won’t you educate me?” An expectation masquerading as a question, the exercise of a prerogative pretending to be a request.
The cheerful mild constant anxiety
of your childhood turned
to writing, then meaning came
with its invincible glare—; the page
had borders but no limit—
& you loved letters then,
their breath allowed not
to decide as it curved between
skin-bearer & the being said—
— from The Letters Learn to Breathe Twice by Brenda Hillman