By Mo Perry
This piece has been slightly edited from Mo’s substack, The Unfurling, where it originally appeared.
My eye’s been twitching for weeks. I’ve been putting myself in an uncomfortable space on purpose. My eye twitches, and I let it twitch. I notice it — there it goes, mid-conversation — and let it twitch.
I’m in Atlanta, doing a diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) show with a touring theater company at a conference for the Federal Reserve. I did these shows a bunch in the before-times (pre-2020), then took a long hiatus during the pandemic years, and have just dipped a toe back in this year. I’ve changed since I did it last. The world has changed too.
I’ve had the chance to see DEI initiatives taken to their fullest, most extreme realization. I’ve seen the White Fragility-inspired self-flagellation sessions, the cancellations of advanced algebra classes in the name of equity, the declarations by organizations like the Smithsonian that love of the written word and rational thought are manifestations of whiteness. I’ve seen friends and colleagues get more paranoid, anxious, sad, and disconnected as they increasingly see the world through a lens of catastrophizing and grievance.
I’ve been blown back on my heels. Where before I thought, “We should all be more aware of potential harm,” now I think, “We need to stop insisting that everyone see harm everywhere they look. This isn’t making anything better. We are making people unwell.”
So why am I here? In Atlanta, I mean, doing a show all about DEI and microaggressions. This is a question I have asked myself. I’m like a newly-out gay Evangelical, trying to see if there’s a way to stay in the fold, holding on to the beautiful and good things I always loved about my faith community.