Meeting people where they're at

A review of the film "Am I Racist?" (2024) by Matt Walsh

Being Extremely Online is a fast track to misanthropy. Unless you’re lucky enough to inhabit an exceptional bubble—think hacker house, elite campus—the people around generally don’t care about big ideas. And that’s fine. You tune out, let them enjoy their Netflix reruns. But every now and then, something cuts through. Enter Am I Racist?, Matt Walsh’s new satire.

(Is he really going to plug Daily Wire slop to a Substack reader?…)

I get it. I was skeptical too. But Holly MathNerd gave it a nod, and feeling a bit prosocial (and pro-free-speech), I figured why not. Plus, I like throwing my money at good causes, whether that’s Walsh’s movie or keeping Substack writers fed. And you know what? It was fun.

I am cringe, but I am free

Walsh opens strong by letting “anti-racist educators” like Kate Slater speak for themselves. When he asks earnestly how to be less racist, their answer is: “Confront your racist uncle at Thanksgiving”. Buy their books! Take their courses! But most of all, the daily practice is to denounce “racist” people on-the-spot, publicly.

These women really put a lot of importance on “feeling uncomfortable”, and on not allowing White people to feel comfortable. Awkward silences and squirming are practically their KPIs. So you really can’t blame Matt for acting like a clown during these paid DEI seminars. Respect is supposed to be mutual, but the other lane is closed.

Other than a brief Wilfred Reilly cameo, the film doesn’t really challenge woke ideas. Walsh cozies up to Based Black Guys like Reilly and Sowell but never quite steps out of that safe zone. He’ll do a gag where he walks into a biker bar in tweed, drops the word “heteronormativity,” and gets blank stares. The audience laughs. End Scene.

Does Matt Walsh’s audience matter?

There’s a fashion among writers right now to dunk on normies—Glenn’s article “Most People Don't Grasp Nuance” is a classic example. Because the rube cannot make or understand assessments such as, “George W. Bush was 70% good and 30% bad”, he does not have the right to rule. I quote:

you really don’t have to care about what the majority of people who don’t grasp nuance have to think and say, since they usually don’t have the motivation or wherewithal to make it through elite institutions and exercise political power.

But we are already ruled by rubes, just not the ones Glenn has in mind. Rubes in pantsuits—HR functionaries and “activist” censors—determine people’s life chances. These gatekeepers of corporate morality are not elite individuals, but they hold power that “weirdos” must respect. Scott Greer gets this in “You’re Not A Normie”:

Getting exposed as holding [dissident views] can lead to job loss and major reputational damage. It’s why people are anon on the internet. There’s no need to be anon when your politics are “Swiftian Normality.” That’s just another way to say “status quo,” and no one will cancel you for stanning Taylor Swift.

Engaging with normal people is essential to knowing where the lines are dawn—because those boundaries shift constantly. To protect your personal and professional reputation, you need a bellwether. Walsh, for all his antics, knows how and when to dance all the way up to the line. It’s a delicate and strategic type of performance art.

Handwaving Freakoutery’s review of Am I Racist? notes how The Washington Post has flipped from recommending Robin DiAngelo’s White Fragility book in 2020, to recommending Matt Walsh’s film in 2024—which thoroughly mocks DiAngelo! The Post is not at the bleeding edge of thought, but it surely represents the mainstream.

A delicate and exclusive dance

Walsh’s film is crass, sure, but visually it nails the dynamic. The masochism of white Americans gets played out literally. At one point, Walsh pulls out a box of belts and whips during a DEI workshop. He stops short of telling the attendees to flog themselves, but you can see the willingness in their eyes. They want it.

But then Walsh indulges in his own brand of masochism. In DC, petitioning to rename the Washington Monument the Floyd Monument, he relishes telling passersby that the white obelisk should not only be painted black, but also that this phallic object should also be “30% larger”. Here he is shameless, and without pride.

Nonblack nonwhites? They enjoyed no release from the humor of the awkward situations. When Walsh crashes a “Race2Dinner” event, going undercover as a waiter, it’s South Asian co-scold Saira Rao who shuts him down hardest. There’s a strange joy between the black and white participants in these awkward encounters—a bond, if temporary. But Rao? She’s just an outsider in the game.

We are not going back

In the end, Am I Racist? doesn’t upset the status quo. Whether you’re in Matt Walsh’s world or Robin DiAngelo’s, black Americans wield disproportionate cultural power, moral license, and access to public resources. You’re maybe choosing between the masculine and feminine flavors of this basic setup.

But for those ready to dig a little deeper, Walsh’s mockery of racial double standards could be a starting point. Whether you’re angling for meritocracy, colorblind liberalism, or something more exotic, the first step toward a fairer future might just be laughing at the excesses of 2020.