Are We The Bad Guys?: How Recent Displays of Antisemitism May Reveal More About Us Than We Think

Pamela Rodriguez
NJ Spark
Published in
3 min readDec 7, 2022
Rapper Kanye West, now known as Ye, listens during a meeting with President Donald Trump at the White House in October 2018. (Calla Kessler/The Washington Post)

In light of the recent public displays of antisemitism in America, the internet has witnessed how people come together for a common goal. Many within my social media circles were quick to post in outrage at Ye’s, formerly Kanye West, Holocaust-denying comments. Others affirmed their support for their Jewish family and friends through heartfelt posts. The internet masses didn’t waste time demanding companies like Adidas to terminate their collaboration with the rapper. Others pointed out that Elon Musk’s new role as Twitter CEO may be adding fuel to the dumpster fire of white supremacy. But within these online happenings, I noticed a silent few (thousand) who verged between admonishing Ye and forgiving him.

It often happens when extremely famous and once beloved artists get themselves into hot water. Fan bases don’t know how to separate their idol’s contributions to culture from their less-than-favorable opinions and actions. But in this case, what many fail to realize is that Ye’s antisemitic comments are directly feeding into a culture that quite literally aims to harm, murder, and subjugate millions of people.

It’s not enough to say, “Ye is just being Ye’’ or some other dismissive comment. And labeling him as mentally ill certainly doesn’t excuse his recent flare of racism. In fact, there are millions of mentally ill people in America, and certainly, not all of them go on podcasts with white nationalists or dine with Donald Trump. There is no excuse for the erasure of genocide and the encouragement of discrimination, though many will try to argue otherwise.

Among these middlemen, there is also the belief that the (rare) punishment their idols receive does not fit the crime. Take, for instance, Kyrie Irving, who was suspended from his position on the Brooklyn Nets after tweeting cryptic Holocaust-denying theories. Music fans are one thing, but sports fans are a beast not easily conquered, which became apparent after the onslaught of angry posts from Irving’s supporters. It seems that accepting someone whose work you admire is not a great person is actually quite difficult.

Instead, many Irving and Ye fans concluded that these men were victims of racism, and everyone who spoke out against them didn’t want to see Black men succeed. This would be a convincing argument if the men they were supporting weren’t actively taking part in deeply dangerous rhetoric that sparks nationwide displays of white supremacy, putting countless people in harm.

So what makes people so uncomfortable about parting ways with the likes of Ye and Kyrie Irving? Is it a denial that the figures we once looked up to could be bad people? Is it the unfounded belief that by calling out these people, we are suffering a personal attack against our character? Or, as one TikTok user offered, do we feel threatened when large groups of people stand up for themselves and make us face truths that we would rather ignore?

I think it’s a combination of all three. It’s no secret that we see ourselves in the media we consume and the people we admire. We wear these interpersonal attachments like clothing; each represents a part of ourselves, even the ones we are hesitant to admit out loud. So when the truth to one of these is revealed, and the curtain pulled back, we feel exposed, bare for all the world to see. It makes us question our perspectives; Am I right about this? What does this say about me? Am I even a good person?

These are scary thoughts, and while many of us can handle introspection, many of us cannot. Unfortunately, some of us turn to outright denial rather than admit fault. I think this is what’s happening with the people who still support Ye and Irving or the ones who still listen to Chris Brown and R Kelly. We don’t want to let these attachments go because it’ll mean that we’re not right about everything; in fact, we’re more wrong than we think. But maybe in our attempt at intersectionality and our fight for social justice, admitting that we’re the bad guys is the first step.

--

--