End White Supremacy?  Really!?
 Change The Language, Please!

 

Speech shouldn’t be free only when it’s cheap

 

 

So there I was on Lakeshore Avenue in Oakland—ground zero for progressive transformation and social justice passion—having what I thought was a genuine exchange of ideas with a millennial activist. Then it happened. The C-word. “Coon.” My offense? Daring to have an opinion that didn’t mirror theirs exactly. Cognitive dissonance much?

 

This wasn’t my first rodeo at the unpopular opinion corral. Remember Twitter before it became X? I once acknowledged the free speech rights of someone opposed to a sexuality campaign I supported. The fallout was educational. Adult entertainers, sex workers, and their advocates blacklisted me like I’d brought vegan bacon to a barbecue. Scheduled interviews vaporized. Excuses became more creative than my explanations for why I need both Starbucks and Philz Coffee in the same day.

 

These experiences make me wonder: Have we forgotten what the Constitution actually represents? Has freedom of speech become as outdated as cassette tapes, fundamentally misunderstood, or casually dismissed by those born after 1996? (And let’s be real—some pre-1996 folks are being herded by popular media like sheep toward cliffs of consensus thinking.)

 

Here’s some food for thought: If we don’t start emphasizing why free speech matters again, we might wake up one day and find it’s gone for good. And no, you can’t download it again later.

 

 

Let’s address the term “white supremacy.” I don’t subscribe to it. Not because racial injustice doesn’t exist (it absolutely does), but because the phrase itself is a linguistic trap. Repeating it endlessly doesn’t dismantle power structures—it might actually strengthen the very misconception we’re trying to overcome.

 

Real supremacy—the kind worth having—comes from ability, creativity, and merit. Not from race or historical narratives that we reinforce through lazy language. When we label every racist act “white supremacy,” we’re using a sledgehammer when we need a scalpel. Call genocide what it is. Call crimes against humanity what they are. Call oppression what it is. But let’s stop empowering a myth that gains strength through constant, thoughtless repetition.

 

 

Here’s the naughty truth everyone’s too polite to say: Freedom of speech isn’t just for popular opinions. It’s specifically for uncomfortable truths, offensive ideas, and perspectives that make us squirm. Today, we’ve developed sophisticated silencing techniques—canceling, unfriending, blacklisting, career sabotage—all because we disagree.

 

Meanwhile, in a delicious irony, X (formerly Twitter) has updated its policies to formally allow consensual adult content as “a legitimate form of artistic expression“. So the platform that got me blacklisted for supporting sex workers’ rights now officially protects sexual expression—as long as it’s properly labeled. The moral of the story? Even social media platforms understand that sexual expression and free speech deserve protection, even when they make people uncomfortable.

A genuine democracy thrives on open dialogue, not censorship. The constitutional right to free speech ensures our thoughts remain free in our minds, no matter how much others try to stifle them. This freedom is priceless, and it’s our responsibility to protect it—even when, especially when, it protects voices we dislike.

 

 

For something or someone to be genuinely superior, we need a level playing field. Supremacy isn’t achieved through violence, oppression, or censorship. It emerges through demonstrable skill, innovation, and collaboration.

 

You can’t claim superiority at gunpoint. You can’t enforce it through forced labor. You can’t cement it by silencing dissent. Real supremacy is earned in an arena where everyone has access to similar resources, training, and opportunities. It flourishes in environments of equality, not domination.

 

The global justice gap demonstrates how far we are from that level playing field. An estimated 5 billion people have unmet justice needs worldwide. How can we talk about supremacy when two-thirds of humanity can’t obtain justice for everyday problems, lack legal identity documents, or live in extreme conditions of injustice?

 

 

Each of us has distinct experiences, and categorizing people into broad stereotypes erases those nuances. The harm of stereotyping extends beyond individuals—it fractures communities and perpetuates what psychologists call “unhealthy narratives”.

 

These narratives often develop in childhood as survival mechanisms. For example, if caregivers were unreliable, a child might form a narrative like “people closest to me often leave me”. As adults, we project these outdated stories onto current relationships and social dynamics, recreating the very patterns we claim to want to break.

 

 

1. Identify the childhood narrative – What outdated survival story are we carrying? (“They’ll never accept us,” “The system is rigged forever”)

2. Name the feelings – What emotions does this narrative trigger? (Rage, defensiveness, hopelessness)

3. Get your head to talk to your heart – “Hey Heart, I know you’re scared of being silenced or marginalized based on past experiences of oppression. But our current tools for fighting oppression sometimes mirror the oppression itself.”

4. Act on thoughts, not feelings – Choose dialogue over dunking, understanding over undermining.

5. Repeat – Narrative change doesn’t happen overnight.

 

 

While we’re busy unfriending each other over ideological differences, the International Labour Organization reports that global progress on social justice is slowing due to persistent inequalities. The gender labor force participation gap has barely narrowed—remaining at 24%—and at current rates, it will take a century to close the global gender pay gap.

 

Meanwhile, 71% of a person’s earnings are still determined by circumstances of birth like country and sex. Now that’s what I call a rigged system—one that makes our domestic squabbles about who said what on Twitter seem embarrassingly provincial.

 

The struggle for justice extends beyond our national borders—it’s global. True progress requires recognizing our privilege and leveraging it for meaningful change elsewhere, not just using it to score points in online debates.

 

 

Effective advocacy requires both passion and strategy. It doesn’t have to involve putting others down or competing in the Oppression Olympics. According to advocacy experts, essential skills include strong communication, strategic thinking, relationship-building, and—crucially—resilience.

 

The most successful advocates understand that respectful dialogue changes more perspectives than vicious takedowns. We can advocate for systemic change while still valuing differing opinions. As one advocacy resource notes, handling conflict requires “respect, empathy, and a willingness to listen”.

 

 

· Direct Advocacy: Working directly with individuals to provide support and information

· Policy Advocacy: Influencing legislation and policy decisions

· Media Advocacy: Using platforms to raise awareness and shape public opinion

· Community Advocacy: Mobilizing community members to demand change

 

 

The language we use and the stories we tell matter profoundly. To overcome division and create a better future, we need to rethink harmful expressions and communicate with purpose.

 

This isn’t about being “colorblind” or ignoring injustice. It’s about being color-brilliant—seeing our differences as strengths rather than weapons. It’s about recognizing that while developed nations debate microaggressions, billions face macro-aggressions that threaten their very survival.

 

Real empowerment comes from action, resilience, and forward vision. It requires appreciating how far we’ve come while acknowledging how far we have to go. It means fostering open conversations, protecting our freedoms, and driving systemic change without resorting to divisive language.

 

Our words shape reality. Let’s choose ones that build rather than break, that unite rather than divide, that empower rather than enrage. Because the most revolutionary act might be refusing to repeat the same old stories—and writing new ones instead.