The Cancel Culture Conundrum: A Disruptarian’s Tale
Ah, cancel culture, the phenomenon that’s got everyone talking, and by talking, I mean screaming at each other from opposite sides of the fence. As a self-proclaimed disruptarian, I’ve been dancing with this beast for years, and let me tell you, it’s a wild ride. From my early days as a mohawk-sporting, heavy metal-loving teenager to my current incarnation as a radio host and writer, I’ve been poking the bear of cancel culture, and it’s been poking me right back.
Growing up in Utah, I was the ultimate disruptarian, always looking for ways to challenge the status quo and push boundaries. My parents, bless their hearts, were semi-supportive of my antics, but my father, often drunk, would call me “faggot” and “little girl” when I got too close to the edge. Ah, the joys of toxic masculinity! But I digress.
As a kid, I was obsessed with rock ‘n’ roll, and by age 12, I was already writing about what we now call cancel culture. I registered my first website, behindzioncurtain.com, back in 1999, and I was off and running, ranting about the dangers of censorship and the importance of free speech. I even got a tattoo of the word “S.P.E.A.R.” (Skins and Punks Everywhere Against Racism) on my body, a symbol of my rebellion against the racist ideology of the Nazi skinhead scene.
But, as I grew older, I began to realize that cancel culture wasn’t just about social shaming; it was about silencing people, shutting down debate, and creating an atmosphere of fear and intimidation. I saw it happen to friends, family members, and even myself. The worst part? It’s not just the left or the right; it’s both sides, racing to destroy each other over opinions, with no regard for the consequences.
Now, I know what you’re thinking: “But what about the Nazis, the white nationalists, the hate groups?” Well, let me tell you, I’ve got no love for those folks. I’ve been vocal about my distaste for their ideology, and I’ve paid the price for it. I’ve been called a “Nazi” by my own cousin and brother, who claim I had swastika tattoos (spoiler alert: I didn’t). But, as I always say, “The truth is in the receipts,” and I’ve got the photos to prove it.
The thing is, cancel culture is like a game of whack-a-mole. You silence one person, and another one pops up. You ban one book, and another one gets written. It’s a never-ending cycle of outrage and offense, and it’s exhausting. I mean, can’t we just have a decent conversation without someone getting canceled or losing their job?
Take, for example, the case of Nick Fuentes, the guy who’s been dubbed a “white nationalist” and a “Nazi” by the corporate media. I don’t know much about him personally, but I do know that the reaction to him is a perfect example of how cancel culture feeds conspiracy culture. People are so busy trying to wipe him off the map that they’re turning him into a mythic villain.
And then there’s the story of Dasha Nekrasova, the Red Scare co-host who got dropped by her agency and pulled from a movie for having Fuentes on her show. Megyn Kelly laid it out in detail, and it’s a stark reminder of how cancel culture is silencing speech and stifling debate.
Now, I’m not perfect, and I’ve made my fair share of mistakes. I’ve offended people on purpose, and I’ve been called out for it. But I refuse to shut up. I refuse to bow to a culture that thinks disagreement is violence and actual violence is just politics. I’ll keep talking, keep writing, and keep poking the bear, because that’s what disruptarians do.
So, to all the cancel culture warriors out there, I say this: “Bring it on.” I’ll keep speaking my mind, even if it means getting canceled, because the truth is, cancel culture is just a dare, a challenge to speak louder, not softer. And I’m not going to back down.
In the words of the great Irish philosopher, Oscar Wilde, “To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.” Well, I’m not just existing; I’m living, and I’m going to keep on living, no matter what the cancel culture crowd throws my way.
So, go ahead, cancel me. I dare you.
