We need to talk. It seems over the last few months there’s been a bit of a communication problem. For the first time, I’m having trouble holding a conversation with you; and as someone who is a champion of chatter, that is a puzzling phenomenon. It’s not for lack of things to talk about. The current global climate is certainly a juicy one. With immigration, the Trump presidency, and the rather baffling fact Justin Trudeau looks extraordinarily like Fidel Castro, we should be jabbering away like two women on a trip to the hairdresser.
However, you seem rather reluctant to talk about, well, anything anymore. At least, not to a topic’s full extent. Take the migrant rape crisis in Europe. When I suggest maybe it has something to do with Muslim immigration, your eyes widen like a child who lost its mother in the supermarket. When I back up this assertion with the fact rates of rape in Sweden have risen by nearly 1,500 percent since multiculturalism was embraced in 1975, you grow pale, sometimes gasp, and insist I stop using “language” like that.
If I dare to push the envelope by mentioning public pools in Germany are now being segregated to protect women from the numerous, well-documented sexual attacks by migrants, you’d think I’d insulted your entire family. You insist sources must be wrong, journalists must be biased, migrants are ‘disenfranchised’ and therefore must be pitied rather than feared, and every other politically correct excuse you can think of. You insist I’m perpetuating “hate speech”, “racism”, “bigotry”, as if those labels are some sort of magic spell to make it stop. And when I dare suggest maybe, just maybe, this is a cultural problem, or that these migrants are predators rather than victims, you narrow your eyes, clutch your pearls, and say the two words guaranteed to shut down any conversation:
Just like that, the debate is over. Rather than an interesting discourse of contrary viewpoints, the outcome is a dummy-spit (and not from me). You are sheltered from ever having to confront an opposing opinion, and I’m made to feel like a villain for hurting your feelings. And as a self-confessedly nice person, that’s not something I like to make a habit of. But it’s occurred to me lately that this reaction of yours can be applied to any topic, from the non-existence of the gender pay gap, to the stupidity of the ‘fat-positive’ movement, to stating Men’s Rights Activists may not be the violent, misogynistic jerks they’re cracked up to be. Any hint of unpopular opinion, and your Leftist response is infallibly, “I’m offended. I’m offended. I’m offended.”
Needless to say, this constant hijacking of controversial conversations has got me in a bit of a tizz. Especially as I know I’m correct most of the time. I like conversing. I’m very good at it. And as a lover of words, having my language policed doesn’t really sit well with me. However, all your Leftist hand-flapping got me thinking; why is it you feel ‘offended’ whenever a tricky topic arises? Especially when your opposition is spit-firing statistics at you to prove their point? After all, you haven’t been insulted. Nobody has called you a nasty name, or made a ‘your mum’ joke, or used a racial slur, or (Heaven forbid) criticised your favourite contestant on The Bachelor.
So what is causing this seemingly soul-destroying offence you take every time I say something like, “Lena Dunham is a sociopathic, self-admitted sexual predator”? Well, after much deliberation, I’ve realised the reason is actually quite simple; you are emotionally confused. You’ve gone and confuzzled the discomfort you feel when someone calls you a mean name, and the anxiety of having your opinions legitimately challenged with fact and reason. In other words, Leftists, you’re not actually offended; you’re just wrong.
Look, I don’t mean to ‘offend’ you with my bluntness; I’m actually trying to help. For the last thirty years, the Left has had a stranglehold on Hollywood, the television industry, the media, the theatre, social media, academia, fashion, and everything else that influences mainstream culture. You have messages coming from all sides affirming your opinions are the correct ones. Nobody ever, ever tells you you’re wrong. As such, it’s only natural you’d confuse feeling offended with feeling challenged, because you’re just not used to it. That’s why you dismiss everyone who disagrees with you as a ‘bigot’, and label everything you don’t like (or can’t argue) ‘hate speech’.
You panic in the face of unpopular opinion, because nobody ever raises anything with you that’s not on the ‘things you’re allowed to talk about’ list. Why? They’re too afraid of your vitriolic reaction. Your idea of reasonable debate is yelling over your opponent until they give up. You attack the speaker, rather than the argument, because you don’t have anything to fight back with. You’ve never needed to. For you, moralising has always been enough. And for your sake, that needs to stop.
So here’s the thing, snowflakes. It’s time for you to cease the cop outs. Shutting down an argument because you think you’ve been offended does not a productive society make. Plus, it must be really awful to live in constant fear of your feelings being hurt. But you can end that by learning to relish debate and discourse, rather than rallying against it. We Deplorables on the Right never run from a fight. We’re always happy to engage. We don’t allow our feelings to be hurt, because we don’t really care about feelings when facts are in play. And because we get told we’re wrong literally all the time, we’ve always got a killer comeback.
Come on, Leftists. Life is too short to be offended. Walk towards the fire. Have the rip-roaring argument, and don’t quash it when it heats up. I double dare you. After all, what have you got to lose? The election?
With every best wish,
PS: Before you go cry-screaming that Donald Trump is also easily offended, just remember; he was originally a Democrat. One of yours.