Why I’m Cancelling Me: Calling BS on Social-Justice Hypocrisy

It may be cliche, but it’s true – a shower really does spawn insane ideas. As a scientist with a Ph.D., almost every single one of my best research and publication ideas have come to me in the shower. Today was no different.

It hit me as I was scrubbing my armpit with a bar of Irish Spring:

Holy shit! If smart devices and social media existed during my teen and college years, I would be cancelled from society post-haste.

Anonymous Me, in the shower, with an Irish Spring Bar in my armpit

Thank, God — or whatever the hell you prefer, as I’m an atheist and tend not to take offense over imaginary things — that I’m a Gen Xer! When I was growing up, not only did we not have non-stop video surveillance. We didn’t even have the internet! No one but my friends, family, and probably random passersby (like the guy whose head I almost blew off with a bottle rock one night) knew anything about all of the absolutely dreadful things I did back then.

Later that morning, I heard my pre-teen daughter yelling at her mum, who is my wife, but of course, I don’t want to imply that I own her mum, or that I think heterosexual marriages are better than homosexual, polygamous, or bestial ones… Well, they’re better for me, because I’m a heterosexual male. And that’s okay. It’s who I am. (You can shame me later for that aspect of my biology I have no control over.)

So my daughter was yelling at my wife, because… What does it matter. That’s just what middle-school-aged girls do. Although, I realize she could still decide to be a boy, or maybe one of 15 new genders that are yet to be identified.

Note: I’m not poking fun at the 15 as-of-yet unidentified genders, and if you end up being one of those, once they are identified, feel free to shame me for being an ignoramus. Definitely cancel me in the future! However, right now my daughter has a vagina and seems to be learning toward the, not necessarily oppressive but definitely, normative heterosexual norm. Don’t worry! I will make sure she feels ashamed enough about being heterosexual, so that she can at least think about experimenting with lesbianism in college.

But I digress… Where was I? Oh yes, my daughter was yelling at my wife and being absolutely indignant. I would dare say, she was unhinged! I was feeling very fortunate I wasn’t in the same room. Is that the lazy, self-serving male in me? Could be. Definitely the lazy me in me. As I was trying to stay away from the fray — as there are no winners in an argument over a moved hair brush no matter how many people get involved — a second thought hit me.

Me

If my daughter, I’ll call her Amira, flies off the handle like this with her mom for displacing her hairbrush, imagine what will happen when she gets mad on camera at someone who happens to be one of the 15 aforementioned, but yet to be discovered, genders someday! (And let’s face it, everyone is on camera, everywhere these days.) Amira will be cancelled. She has no chance. And her name won’t help her claim victimhood, because she’s not really named Amira.

I was overcome with empathy. Not just for my daughter but society broadly. But honestly, mostly for my daughter. Who am I kidding? I could give a shit about an entire generation. My genes and evolution are on the line! This social engineering is threatening to screw up my family’s genes!

Amira has no chance to experiment with who she is outside the social-justice prison social media and contemporary academia is building:

  • No chance to make a horrible, social faux pas and have her friends laugh about it with her. (More likely it will go viral, and someone living in Singapore will rage against her.) No chance to practice satire without feeling ashamed or being booed off the stage. (More likely satire will get her kicked out of school or prevented from getting a job.)
  • No chance to hurt someone’s feelings simply because she’s mad. No chance to carry the yucky, remorseful feeling of having said something horrible to a person for rest of her life.
  • No chance to take mundane teenage risks — like flicking off passing trains and dragging an American flag across the floor in Boy Scouts only to find out your Scout Master is a Vietnam Vet.
  • No chance to play devil’s advocate with leftist theory that is not scientifically verifiable — one of my favorite past-times, even though I’m a neo-Marxist social scientist.

What a God awful fucking life I’ve brought my kid into!!! She’s being raised to think that feelings aren’t completely subjective and unique. She’s being raised to think that you shouldn’t ever hurt other people’s feelings. That you should accept everyone and everything, as long as it is new and conclusive. If it’s an old way of doing things, it is suspicious and oppressive — i.e., religions that don’t accept gays.

My God! She actually believes you can go through life successfully without ever hurting people’s feelings. Like that is a goal to aspire to. That’s harebrained! That’s ludicrous. What a horrible, fucking life! They are raising my daughter to be ashamed of who she is — her flaws, her mistakes, and her feelings. To be scared of saying how she really feels. To defend her version of reality. Feelings aren’t bad. They’re the only real thing in life!

For the Record, I Feel a Lot of Shame

This blog is an attempt to wash away the future sins of my daughters. Do I feel ashamed that I’m basically saying I want to act as a shaming Jesus? Only because – yes, there are two, and the other one was born with a vagina, so I call them daughters. Of course, I love them, so if they wanted to be called boys, I would do that too, because words are just labels — see Foucault. I wouldn’t demand that the whole world call them that, though, because well… They were born with fucking vaginas and they will be able to give birth to children!

In this book I’m going to spell out 50 reasons to cancel me. Feel free to. I’ve done some horrible things. Most of things in this book I’m not proud of at all. On the other hand, if I hadn’t experienced, participated in, or straight-up done these things, I wouldn’t be the unique character I am today. I wouldn’t be the dad I am. And I think my life would have been really fucking stale.

I guess my point is: canceling and public shaming is stupid. It’s destructive. And it’s truly unjust to the generations growing up with it. This ain’t a manifesto. I know cancel-culture and public shaming are here to stay. They were around for thousands of years before shaming was banned by law in the United States in the 1800s. It’s back now, though, without a judge, jury, or even rationale for existence.

Cancel me instead. Don’t cancel my daughters. Cancel me and let my daughters just live their lives, doing things they will regret. Hurting people in ways they will later feel bad about. Not hurting people in ways that other people will someday say they hurt people with and be enraged by. Cancel me. Let Gen Z be free.