So, anyway, as you may have heard, at a recent awards ceremony, a black millionaire celebrity slapped another black millionaire celebrity. The root cause, however, has only now been discovered:

This is about a much larger systemic issue rooted in white supremacist culture designed to police the behaviour of Blacks amongst the who’s who in Hollywood and beyond.

It says so here:

Respectability politics suggest that equity and fair treatment require that Black people — both inside and outside of Hollywood — conduct ourselves in a manner deemed acceptable to whites. Furthermore, expressing any emotion other than complacence, apathy, or agreeance directly violates those norms, disqualifying Black people from receiving the same equitable treatment that whites enjoy as a birthright. And sadly, there is a large group of Blacks who have internalised this toxic messaging.

You see, when Mr Will Smith, a black millionaire celebrity, publicly assaults Mr Chris Rock, another black millionaire celebrity, on live television, and is promptly given a prestigious award, for which he is applauded, and is then seen celebrating triumphantly at the award after-party, this is somehow proof of victimhood, of being racially “policed” by “respectability politics” and other works of the White Devil. Mr Smith, we’re told, is “not receiving the same equitable treatment that Whites enjoy as a birthright.”

Readers will note the implication that any black viewers who regard Mr Smith’s behaviour as not entirely optimal are merely parroting views “deemed acceptable to whites,” having somehow “internalised” the “toxic messaging” of “white supremacist culture.” For what it’s worth, I don’t have strong feelings on the incident one way or the other – it all seemed rather farcical – but I doubt my first impulse would be to suggest that black people who disapproved, however much or little, are merely aping whitey and don’t know their own minds. But such is wokeness.

The author of the piece, published in Forbes, is Maia Niguel Hoskin, a “writer, activist, and college professor,” whose areas of supposed expertise include “oppression, difference and mental health,” including “racial battle fatigue,” and who claims, modestly, to “facilitate cultural consciousness.” As a self-styled “speaker of truth,” she is, of course, schooled in “critical race theory.”

As the previous open thread is heaving at the seams, time, I think, for another.

To kick things off, some lively scenes; some decisive leadership; when the day’s not going as well as it might; and some viewing figures I’m sharing for no reason whatsoever. 

Oh, and via Mr Muldoon, and not entirely unrelated, a literary feat is announced.

You know the drill.

I’ll just leave this here, I think.

Oh, and via the comments, via Joan, “No longer valid.”

Also, open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

Further to the previous post, Charles Cooke on transgender activism and the price of indulging it:

That “as a mother” claim is utterly astonishing — a true jump-the-shark moment. Even if one were to agree with every single biological idea that is offered up by the transgender movement, there is simply no way of looking at history that could turn Don Ellis into the “mother” of the children he fathered. That Ellis is not his children’s mother is a fact, a certitude, a cosmic verity. It is true now, it was true then, it will be true forever.

I have two children. They were carried — and then delivered — by my wife. If I were to decide tomorrow that I identify as a woman, I daresay that some people would believe (or, at least, indulge me in) my fantasy. But that toleration wouldn’t — and couldn’t — change the historical fact that I did not give birth to my kids, and that I am, in fact, their dad. Perhaps, in such a strange circumstance, I would want to be my children’s mother. But I would not be so, and to say otherwise would be to tell a preposterous, revisionist lie.

The rather lively exchange mentioned by Mr Cooke can be found here, along with additional information:

Ennis (a biological male) was married to a woman and fathered three children. At the age of 49, he split with his wife of 17 years and publicly declared himself to be a woman. Ennis later went back to identifying as a man, then switched again for the third time, and currently presents as a woman.

At which point, readers may wish to ponder the assumption that Mr Ennis’ transition to an approximation of womanhood is something to applaud, and applaud wholeheartedly, as if brave but never selfish, as if such behaviour could have no hurtful consequences for others. One wonders, for instance, how the actual mother of his children feels about her erasure, her usurpation. Likewise, have his children not lost a father? Have his parents and siblings not lost someone who is, or was, as real to them as any professed identity?

Also by Mr Cooke and very much related:

I would like to know who is fooled by this. My suspicion is that almost nobody is fooled by this, but that almost everybody is scared to admit that in public.

The cost of indulging transgender activism has been illustrated here before, quite vividly.

Via Darleen.

Lifted from the comments – which you’re reading, of course – regarding this rather animated chap and his gushing sisterliness:  

And if you ladies would rather not find Camp Creepy Manic Guy in your bathroom or changing room, this is, he insists, proof of your own “internalised misogyny,” and it’s “up to you to unlearn” your foolish female ways. Because, you see, it’s “patriarchy” when women don’t want to get undressed in front of a mentally ill man. To avoid said “patriarchy,” you must submit. To him. 

He describes himself, modestly, as a “gender educator.”

Update, via the comments:

Chappie above, James, is apparently an “actress.” And “annoyingly hot.” As you can doubtless tell from his pretty nails, which he seems to regard as some ultimate measure of womanhood, and from the numerous videos of him parading around in his underwear while somewhat tightly wound. And remember, ladies, our “gender educator” only feels like a woman sometimes. So those visits to your bathrooms and changing rooms could go either way. A comfort, no doubt.

Update 2: 

Somewhat related, this.

Lion deterrent detected. || Get a load of me. || In case of emergency. || Meet your new flatmate. || Scenes from Mother Russia. || How to make carrot cake. || The thrill of carving broccoli. || They have one of these and, frankly, you don’t. || Headphones detected || Hens and roosters. || The classics, redone. (h/t, Damian) || The progressive retail experience, parts 421 and 422. || Little picture books. || Not without a point. || Slow-motion bubble-popping, from the inside. || Globle, or the thrill of geography. || The struggle is real, people. || Roland50 studio. || An obstacle is encountered. || The making of marbles. || A high-stakes drama unfolds. || And finally, behold ye the dominant species on planet Earth.

I thought I had a little more money than I did. I suppose that’s how life usually goes. 

A short drama about a young man, his heart’s desire, and an unforeseen shortfall.

Also, open thread.

Christopher Rufo on Victoria’s Secret and social-justice lingerie: 

The company presented the new spokeswomen not only as representatives of their intersectional identities — the original line-up included an African refugee, a pink-haired lesbian, an obese biracial woman, and a male-to-female transsexual — but as social-justice activists committed to “systemic change.” […] It would be a ghastly faux pas to point out that some of the women… are, to put it delicately, not as beautiful as their predecessors. To the contrary, the public must affirm [“LGBTQIA+ activist” Megan] Rapinoe and [overweight “body advocate” Paloma] Elsesser as at least equally beautiful as the outdated and oppressive standards embodied by Heidi Klum and Tyra Banks. One cannot point out, either, that the Collective’s social-justice activism is mostly a self-serving scam.

Needless to say, the results of this woke rebranding have not been entirely positive.

And Mr Rufo again, on woke Disney: 

The core of Disney’s racial program is a series of training modules on “antiracism.” In one, called “Allyship for Race Consciousness,” the company tells employees that they must “take ownership of educating [themselves] about structural anti-Black racism” and that they should “not rely on [their] Black colleagues to educate [them],” because it is “emotionally taxing.” […] White employees, in particular, must “work through feelings of guilt, shame, and defensiveness to understand what is beneath them and what needs to be healed.” Disney recommends that employees atone by “challeng[ing] colourblind ideologies and rhetoric” such as “All Lives Matter” and “I don’t see colour”; they must “listen with empathy [to] Black colleagues” and must “not question or debate Black colleagues’ lived experience.”

Or put more simply, “You are guilty by default, so just stand there while we scold you.” With seemingly unintended irony, employees are also informed that thoroughness and punctuality are “white-dominant” values and products of “white supremacy culture,” and therefore, presumably, bad. As a measure of woke perversity – one might say, unhingement – a pretty good indicator.

Secret entrance of note. || We are not related. || I was previously unaware of white strawberries. || This is bigger than yours. || Box of human heads stolen. || That’s close enough, pussycat. || Almost Pong, a game, of sorts. || Those Monday morning blues. || Incoming. || Incoming 2. || Not entirely ideal. || “Non-binary” baby shower. || A brief history of cardboard. || She does this better than you would. || Heardle, like Wordle, but with pop music. || Know your place, peasant. || Where pretentious grievance gets you. || The progressive retail experience, parts 417, 418, 419, and 420. || Know your place, part 2: “Men, don’t speak.” || A situation has arisen. || And finally, futuristically, the world of tomorrow.

You may wish to brace yourselves for some intersectional ruggedness, care of Patrick Kelleher, writing in Pink News:

Meet the queer hikers proving the great outdoors isn’t just for cis, straight, middle class folk.

I fear a question may have been begged there, one on which the entire article rests, but hey, let’s push on. There’s oppression to invoke and needless drama to manufacture.

On the last Queer Out Here walk, there was a welcome circle where everyone was asked to introduce themselves, state their pronouns, and tell the group what the outdoors means to them.

Because even simple fun – say, an outdoors walk – has to be organised, you see, and made “quite political,” with lots of declarations and public speaking to keep you in the moment and at one with nature. And a walk just isn’t a walk unless you can make it, like everything else, all about your identity, i.e., all about you. The organiser in question is one Ailish Breen, a being with pronouns, and who offers “queer-only spaces” to those in search of sky and scenery. If you’re “queer, trans, non-binary, genderqueer, gay, lesbian, bi, asexual, intersex, pansexual,” or any sexual-identity niche not yet recognised or invented, this is The Fun Time For You:

Our community is wonderful because of its breadth and diversity. By coming on a hike with us you’re committing to embracing everyone’s uniqueness and welcoming everybody. We don’t tolerate any form of discrimination at our events.

“Straight/cis allies” are, of course, not welcome.

Inevitably, “a lack of equality around access” is invoked, but as so often, particulars remain unmentioned or unobvious. Setting aside the advantages of suitable footwear and something waterproof, the nearest we get to crushing issues of unfairness are,

 Ailish says, “People think it’s for middle class, white, heteronormative families.”

A claim that hangs in the air with no obvious support.