Mar 5
The Cancellation of Dilbert
My husband recently commented that Dilbert creator Scott Adams had publicly exposed himself as the racist he apparently is, and his cartoon was rapidly being dropped. I probably should have paid more attention, but I’ve never been a Dilbert fan and it seems like new people flaunt their racism almost daily thanks to various others who’ve made it acceptable again.
The next morning, of course, it was everywhere. I opened Medium and got the details from William Spivey (“Dilbert Creator, Scott Adams, Cancels Himself After Racist Rant”), who skipped most of the commentary and simply quoted Adams, letting him skewer himself with his own words.
On the off chance anybody missed it, Adams was responding to a poll that asked people’s opinions of “It’s OK to be white,” then used some twisted math to say that “If nearly half of all Blacks are not OK with white people . . . that’s a hate group and I don’t want anything to do with them.” He then advised white people to “get the h — — away from Black people,” and went on to say he’s “going to back off on being helpful to Black America because it doesn’t seem like it pays off.”
Damn.
So many things to respond to here, and none of it good. (Before I continue, let me point out that I studied polls and statistics in school, and use them routinely in my work.)
For starters, his source was a right-wing pollster whose integrity was already suspect based on previous polls. Then there was the sample size, with just over a hundred Black folks responding to this questionable poll. A little over half of them agreed with the statement, while a quarter disagreed and the remainder weren’t sure — in other words, almost literally one in a million Black people in America who disagreed or said they weren’t sure. Further, being unsure does not equal no. For anyone who knows little about stats, I can assure you the results are completely and utterly meaningless.
Then there’s the actual wording: “It’s OK to be white.” What on earth? I mean, I’m white by birth and that’s just a melanin fact of life. But to react “white” in the racially politicized sense that my “race” exists solely to make oneself superior to People of Color? Not in the least OK. Some on the right interpreted poll respondents’ disagreement as a full-blown desire to see white folks dead; but how did the handful of actual, real-life poll respondents interpret the poll’s wording? (And remembering that half of them in fact simply said unsure, which could mean, well, anything, and not just Adams’ negative interpretation.) For that matter, what did any of the group know about the trolls issuing the poll and how did that affect their responses?
Bottom line, even if there were enough people involved to be statistically relevant, the verbiage would render it worthless. One would hope that someone who makes their living by the written word — such as Adams — could see at least that much.
Not surprisingly, despite Adams’ claim of previous support for Black people, no one has come forward with any evidence that he ever did anything that could be remotely construed as “support for Black people.” It took him more than three decades to add a Black character to his comic strip — a character, as Spivey notes, “whose purpose was to mock workplace diversity and transgender identity.” We also know he didn’t just vote for a racist but publicly supported the candidate. So what, exactly, was all this “help” he spoke of? Did he toss coins at some poor homeless man once, who happened to be Black? Did he give a Black waitress a tip? Or is he just another white dude in shining armor with a white savior complex?
On top of that, whenever incidents like this happen, right wingers feel the need to whine about Adams being “cancelled” by all of us evil socialist snowflake libtards. I am so utterly tired of this cancel culture concept that really means we expect people to take responsibility for their actions! In a civilized society, there are consequences when you spew vile, hateful rhetoric. Can you still say those things? Sure. Your freedom of speech is intact. But the rest of us have the right to decide if we want to interact with you. (We might even forgive, if one demonstrates true remorse, but that seems to be even more rare than demonstrating empathy.)
And how many of those same folks crying foul noted that Adams essentially cancelled 43 million Black people, based on the possible opinion of four or five dozen? Meanwhile, Adams sits back in his mansion with millions of dollars while the people he wants to cancel are still struggling for basic racial equity.
What bothers me the most though, is the ease with which Adams made his statements — along with those who galloped to his defense. Indeed, numerous politicians, “news” hosts, and other right wingers have made similar statements on an almost daily basis and the only effect has been an increase in their popularity. Comments that would have been completely unacceptable ten or even five years ago are now almost de rigueur among some factions, and it scares the hell out of me. On the flip side, I am surprised and relieved that Dilbert was pulled from hundreds of media outlets almost immediately. Basic decency is arguably on life support here, but it isn’t dead.
On another note, the whole Dilbert debacle has brought me closer to understanding why I hate the word “ally.”
Different people have different interpretations of the word, some expectations more onerous than others. According to Merriam-Webster, the most basic definition, in this context at least, is “often now used specifically of a person who is not a member of a marginalized or mistreated group but who expresses or gives support to that group.”
Before the word even started trending, it was important to me that my Black friends understood they could trust me to have their backs. I felt good whenever I was called an ally in the early days, as I suspect is still the case with most decent people.
By the time Clay and I named Fieldnotes on Allyship, however, I was uncomfortable with the word — although I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. I noted how too many of us white folks would wear the word like a badge of honor for virtue signaling, having “that Black friend,” or posting quotes on social every Martin Luther King Day, without doing the introspection and actual work required. In other words, it’s not a gold star on one’s lapel so much as a way of being. (I imagine a lot of Black people find allies suspect for these reasons at the very least.)
While that’s all valid, I recognized that my misgivings were deeper, but I still couldn’t pin down why — until now, strangely enough, reading Adams’ rant. Part of it is the repugnance of his idea that his “help,” whatever he sees that as, should provide some sort of “payoff.”
While one could potentially define a more fair and enlightened society as a kind of payoff, this is clearly not what Adams meant. He seems to expect a more personal payoff, or gratitude, if you will, for whatever anemic effort he imagined he was making — kind of like giving him that gold star, vs. (gasp!) questioning whether it’s okay to be white. It’s the prioritization of too many of us white folks to be seen as a good person, rather than being a good person. (And no, white friends, I’m not suggesting this is always intentional, but we tend to be reticent about exploring our internal racism.)
Second, his words clarified for me how the definition at its core continues to other: we white folks ‘are not a member of that marginalized group but support it.’ Yes, it’s technically correct, but it ignores the intricacies around the fact that the concept of race is built upon a hierarchy of inequities we created, and that we continue to benefit from them. So the individual ally is being supportive, but also providing a small amount of restitution for society’s debt. No matter when enslavement ended or who our personal ancestors were, we experience privilege every single day.
That’s not even the biggest issue here, though: the definition puts a distinct wedge between us that continues to divide us and gives white people the upper hand — if (and only if) we choose to be benevolent. ‘We don’t have cancer but we’ll go to the fundraiser.’ ‘We are not gay but we’ll let you get married.’ ‘We are not homeless, but we’ll donate some change.’
If it were our best friend with cancer . . . our child who was LGBTQ . . . our father who was homeless, there would be none of this “we” and “they,” only us, fighting the good fight together. So why does it sound like some kind of extra effort to fight racism in support of our Black neighbors, coworkers, and friends?! We are all Americans, and we bought into this idea of equal rights. We are all human beings. And as we often quote Maya Angelou here, “We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike.”
I’m not suggesting we give up the word ally; it serves a purpose, however utilitarian. But, my dear white friends, let’s all focus less on the badge, the gold star, the payment, as it were (looking at you, Mr. Adams), and focus more on treating our Black friends the same exact way we’d like to be treated. Because, at the end of the day, it’s as simple as that.
Love one another.
Sherry Kappel
OHF Weekly Managing Editor
