It would be wildly disingenuous to claim that I was disappointed in The New Yorker editor David Remnickβs decision to feature sentient barrow of racist cat jizz Steve Bannon at The New Yorkerβs fall festival. Because that would mean I still possess the capacity to be disappointed by white people, and I do not. I am, however, surprised.
Remnickβwho, by all reliable accounts, is an extremely intelligent manβshould have known what would happen once word of this decision came out. I took a test several years ago that showed I just have a βmoderately highβ IQ. Despite these intellectual limitations, I can confidently say that I would have know what would happen. As would have anyone whoβs ever thrown a house party and knew that if they invited βJackβ to it then βPeter,β βRicky,β βTia,β βCamille,β and βGwenβ probably ainβt coming because theyβve made it clear they donβt fuck with βJackβ under any circumstances. And my 2-year-old daughter, who already knows not to mix her Pup Patrol toys with her Sesame Street figurines.
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This just keeps happening, though. Decision makers at large, mainstream publications and platforms keep inviting and providing space for men like Bannon and Richard Spencer and Milo Yiannopoulos, as if the things they have to say are riveting and engrossing, as if any novel insights can be gained from handing them the spotlight. (Especially the stage at a gotdamn festival.) A dive into the thoughts and inclinations and sensibilities of openly bigoted white men isnβt just old hat. Itβs Americaβs oldest hat. Need to ask Steve Bannon about his racism and xenophobia? OK. While youβre at it, exhume Christopher fucking Columbusβ corpse to ask about the lunch menu on the Santa Maria.
And then, once word of them legitimizing this sort of stale and retrograde thought with a platform (and cash) is spread, they reconsider.
Unfortunately, Iβm not smart enough to know exactly why this keeps happening. My IQ just ainβt that high, and I slept through each of the βWhy Smart White People Do Dumb-Ass Shitβ lessons in 11th grade civics. I mean, I think that sometimes whiteness can be so blinding and deafening that it turns white people into marshmallow Peeps; unable to see or hear or feel or process anything outside of their cocoons of causacity. But, again, I donβt know.
I do know that my capacity for surprise is waning, too.
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