The Cost of Call-Out Culture

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The Cost of Call-Out Culture

We cannot afford to lose more voices

Andrea Gibson

Jun 30

Over the last decade I’ve met countless poets, writers, activists, and artists who are muting their own voices and removing themselves from vital political movements because of the constant influx of public commentary on what they might be doing wrong. I am a poet and author who has been speaking on social justice issues for the past two decades. Since social media became a thing, messing up and accounting for my mess-ups publicly is a part of my daily life, and I am intimate with the ways non-stop public criticism can erode any individual's wellness. Below are ten of my personal perspectives that support me when navigating call-out culture. My hope is that this will reach people whose feedback tactics are detrimental to the wellbeing of others, as well as those who have grown so afraid of making a mistake they have decided to make nothing instead. We cannot afford to lose more voices in the fight against facisim. To take down systems of oppression, we must stop taking down each other––so let’s chat this through.

1. Be wary of a pressure to homogenize your thinking. I’m not quite sure what the left means anymore but one of the scariest things I witness from us on the left is a demand to think what everyone else thinks. As our planet is literally dying for fresh perspectives, my wish is for all of us to engage the world like inventors. Becoming a product of a thought-assembly-line will never quicken our dreams of creating a more caring society. The answers we need are very often found in discussions that welcome wonder, curiosity, and respectful disagreement. Whenever I veer out of the lane of what everyone else is thinking, the road rage begins––but my spirit would be far more enraged if I decided to spend my life a replica of someone else. The key, for me, is to be guided by a deep reverence for others, and to never ever assume I know more about any group of people of which I am not a part than they know about themselves.

2. Having a marginalized identity does not inherently make anyone a ‘good’ person. (I’m not someone who resonates with the concept of good and bad people but since others do I’m including this sentiment.) I’m queer and nonbinary and have spent most of my adult life chronically ill and that doesn’t innately make me kinder or more committed to change than the ablebodied cis straight white man standing behind me in the grocery store. Dude could be a saint for all I know. I have very clear evidence that I am not a saint. Likewise, great politics don’t necessarily equate to compassionate people. I’ve encountered a number of politically progressive humans who act enthusiastically cruel. I’ve also known a ton of wonderful people who had terrible politics simply because they hadn’t yet been exposed to new ways of thinking.

3. Recognize when classism is mingling with your desire to call someone out. Who is and isn’t welcome in social justice movements? I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this as I have formerly incarcerated people in my life who are smarter than I am in countless ways, but who did not have access to the kind of education I did. Because of that, when I hear anyone referring to themselves as a ‘prison abolitionist’ while simultaneously viciously attacking people for microaggressions they simply hadn’t had the specific education to unlearn––it irks me. I have been actively reading and learning about the social justice issues I speak about for the last twenty-five years and I still mess up constantly. Imagine how painful it would be to know your voice is unwelcome in a movement where your voice would be the most vital. I’m not suggesting anyone should remain silent about microaggressions as there is commonly no micro-ness to the pain they cause. I’m saying we will have more necessary voices in our movements if we begin interacting with people with more understanding.

4. Make sure your reasons for calling someone out are pure of heart. Here are some questions one might use to gauge such a thing: Would you choose this method of accountability if your best friend made this same mistake or judgment error? Is your desire to publicly point out another’s poor choice fueled in any way by an unwillingness to address and account for your own behaviors? Do you feel pleasure or excitement when your community piles on to further shame the person? Are you in any way overstating harm? Is toxic individualism impacting your capacity to root for and believe in the growth of others? Do you have a keen eye on the fact that particular brands of public call outs for even small judgment errors in today’s world can mean the end of a person’s employment which commonly means the end of their health benefits and housing? Such questions are important because I’m not writing this essay about the alt-right. I’m speaking about community members who are committed to bettering the world, and are, like everyone, making mistakes on that journey.

5. Know the difference between ‘tone-policing’ and saying no to abusive interactions. There is a thin line here that I still don’t always get right, but I’ll share an example from my life to illustrate how one might navigate this. “What the hell were you thinking writing that racist/biphobic/ableist garbage? How on earth is it possible you don’t know this shit?” Ok, this may not be how I’d say something if I were consciously trying to reach someone, but it’s certainly how I’ve said things when triggered. If I shut down this conversation, that would be tone-policing. If similar feedback came my way with, for example, the addition of an attack on my appearance, I would not engage the person––but I would still spend time with the feedback part of the sentiment to see if it resonated as a learning I should do. Never let another person’s unkindness stand in the way of your own growth. And, as I’ve been unkind in my own life many times, I know that most people are typically unkind when they are terrified, grieving or both. There are an infinite number of reasons why marginalized people would be terrified or grieving in our world right now.

6. Being happy doesn't mean you don’t care about the world. I was hosting a writing workshop for youth when a girl raised her hand and said she didn’t feel her life had been hard enough to be a writer. I saw this as a failure of my generation. I wish we could erase every single thing we did to convince young people that pain is the only thing worthy of art. Similarly, no one needs to be unhappy to truly care about the world. Empathy actually increases one’s capacity for joy. Feeling into another’s pain wakes us to the love in our hearts and our connection with others. I share this fact each time someone suggests anyone’s care for our world could be measured by their online displays of grief.

7. Call-out culture is breeding an environment where people are afraid to thrive. One of the most devastating things I see call-out culture creating is an idea that one can be protected by their pain. Though the concept is terrifying, it’s not entirely far-fetched. I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer a year ago and since I announced it publicly I have seen an enormous decrease in the amount of raging criticism that comes my way from the left. Some may say people are simply being kind. But if they can be kind now, why not always? What I find literally sickening about this shift is that I have a large youth following who pays attention to such things. Their cells are still deciding what they want to become. If you are someone whose feedback tactics are so vicious they make young people think cancer looks more survivable, or if you’re someone who condones such tactics in others, your apology is the one to be most concerned about.

8. You are not the news. Though it makes a ton of sense why people would be desperate for others to use their platforms as loudspeakers for important world issues, the idea that anyone could speak to everything is, to use one of my least favorite words, problematic. Every day someone online is angry with me about something I’m not posting about, and as I share a lot I can only imagine this is happening to others tenfold. The one year I tried to keep up with such demands, the ‘real me’ was replaced by a performative activist I despised. Now I offer my voice where I trust my voice will help. And I pay attention to where I don’t think my voice will help, as that has always been a good indicator that I want to, and should, learn more about an issue.

9. Don’t apologize if you are not sorry. When someone makes a mistake in public, the demand to apologize with immediacy can make a person feel like they’re inside a moral pressure cooker, and if they don’t hit the “POST” button fast enough, their career and life will burn to a crisp. If you’re someone demanding lightning-quick apologies, please ask yourself if you’re truly invested in accountability, as genuine accountability takes time. If I don’t know what my response is, I give myself breathing room––even if it appears that no one else is willing to. If I still have some curiosity about what I may not be understanding, I might say something like, “I’ve been spending a lot of thoughtful time with this feedback and I am not able to offer an honest apology. That could very well change with more learning, which I’m committed to doing, but right now I’m unwilling to disrespect your life or mine by making up an apology that doesn’t yet resonate with me as truthful.” Harming others is painful, and authentically accounting for wrongdoing is as vital to the person apologizing as it is to the person who was hurt. We all knew by kindergarten that, “Say you’re sorry or you’re grounded!” wasn’t the path to true healing for either party.

10. Leave communities in which it has been collectively decided that cruel feedback is cool. This was the best thing I ever did for my mental health. I am no longer willing to be active in communities that show up to watch the failures and missteps of others like sports games. If you don’t believe people can change for the better, you do not belong in movements working to change things for the better. Additionally, the amount of times I have witnessed people who were causing a great deal of pain in the world brutally call out folks who were for the most part living thoughtful and compassionate lives, has been deeply disturbing. If you can’t see the humanity in others it is very likely you are struggling to see it in yourself. Put liking yourself on the top of your to-do list and you’ll be far less interested in tearing others apart, and far more invested in what we can create together.

Love, Andrea 🖤