Offline with Jon Favreau - Roxane Gay on Why People Are So Awful Online

Episode Date: February 6, 2022

This week on Offline, Jon is joined by writer, professor, and social commentator Roxane Gay for a wide-ranging conversation on consequence culture, writing in the age of the internet, and, of course, Joe Rogan. She explains to Jon why she’s been spending less time on Twitter and lays out exactly why she believes people are so awful online.For a closed-captioned version of this episode, click here. For a transcript of this episode, please email [e-mail] and include the name of the podcast.

Whenever people want to supposedly engage with me, what they really want to do is share their pet perspective and tell me that I'm wrong. And that's actually not engagement. So feel free to tell me that I'm wrong. But you're not really looking for a conversation. You're looking for affirmation of your point of view and acknowledgement. And I don't think – actually, I know. It's not my job to do that for you. You have to figure that out on your own.

And so, you know, the internet is a mess. It's just a mess. I'm Jon Favreau. Welcome to Offline. Hey, everyone. My guest this week is Roxanne Gay, a New York Times bestselling author, writer, professor, and social commentator who's been especially vocal about the topic of this series. A while back, Roxane wrote a Times piece titled, Why People Are So Awful Online. I've always been a fan of Roxane's writing, but this piece caught my attention for obvious reasons, and I thought that one part in particular was especially sharp and worth talking more about. Quote, lately I've been thinking that what drives

so much of the anger and antagonism online is our helplessness offline. Online, we want to be good, to do good, but despite these lofty moral aspirations, there is little generosity or patience, let alone human kindness. There is a desperate yearning for emotional safety. There is a desperate hope that if we all become perfect enough and demand the same perfection from others, there will be no more harm or suffering. It is infuriating. It is also entirely understandable. Some days, as I am reading the news, I feel as if I am drowning. I think most of us do. At least online, we can use our voices and know they can be heard by someone. End quote.

Roxanne is someone who has certainly used her voice online to great effect. She currently has nearly 900,000 followers on Twitter. She's been in her share of arguments and debates, but as a queer black woman, she's also's been in her share of arguments and debates, but as a queer black woman, she's also endured more than her share of online harassment from all kinds of trollish assholes. And so over the last several months, she's been trying to spend less time on Twitter and more time writing and living life. I caught up with her about how that's going. We discussed what she used to like about Twitter, why people have become so awful online, her distinction between cancel culture and consequence culture,

her thoughts on Joe Rogan and Dave Chappelle, how being very online has changed the way we both write, and what to do about a country that's currently grappling with the collective trauma of the past two years. As always, if you have questions, comments, or complaints about the show, feel free to email us at offline at crooked.com. Here's Roxane Gay. Roxane Gay, thank you for taking the time. Thank you for having me. It's great to be here.

So I've been doing this show about all the ways the internet is breaking our brain. And when I started, I made a potential guest list of really cool, smart, accomplished people who I've also seen complain about the internet, and you were right at the top. So you wrote a fantastic New York Times piece last July titled Why People Are So Awful Online. You were so good in 15 Minutes of Shame, Monica Lewinsky's documentary about public shaming. But of course, you've been on Twitter for a long time where you've built a huge following. Do you remember when you joined Twitter? I joined Twitter, I think 2007. I was in graduate school in Michigan's Upper Peninsula and didn't really know many people, though I did certainly

know my classmates and that was great. But there were not a lot of opportunities for socializing and especially socializing with people who liked books and things like that. And so it was really great to feel like I was at a cocktail party in my pajamas. And to also just be able to talk to writers that I really admired and feel connected to a literary community in some way. Do you remember when you started thinking that Twitter was getting bad? I think probably in 2016. I think there was something about that election that broke a lot of people. And once Trump was elected, whatever veneer of civility existed was completely obliterated. And I would say that on all sides. I think everyone just decided, oh, this is the world that we live in now. It's a free for all. Let's go for it. I think the just decided, oh, this is the world that we live in now. It's a free-for-all.

Let's go for it. I think the same thing. It was around 2016. And I think during that election, and then even in the years after, there was part of me that hoped maybe this was just an effective Trump. But I don't think Twitter has gotten any better. In fact, I think it's gotten worse. I think it has gotten worse because once you open this kind of door, I don't know that there's any closing it. I hope there is, but I think everyone is aggrieved now in one way or another. And I think that people are using that as justification for being cruel in the name of truth or justice or, you know, whatever they want to justify for themselves. And it's sad, actually. What was your experience like on Twitter when you finally decided to step back and spend a little less time on social media? I just hit a wall. I just didn't like the person I was becoming more than, it was more than just

the constant harassment and cruelty. I was finding myself becoming pettier and pettier and just, you know, just like that need to have the last word. And I love being right. There's just, there are a few things I love more than being right. And I hate when people misinterpret me or misstate my positions. And so I was in this constant mode of like correction. And I have never been one to look up myself. I don't search my name on Twitter. I never have because I don't want to know, honestly, what you are talking about.

You know, like if you're talking shit about me, that's really none of my business. I only ever see it when people tag me into it. And when that happens, I can't help but to figure out why, like what's being said. And I would just go down these toxic rabbit holes of people who clearly just don't like me and were looking for excuses that would make it supposedly safe for them to air that dislike. And so I just realized this isn't who I am. This is not how I want to be in the world. This has nothing to do with my actual work. And so I'm trying, and it's a process. I'm just trying to unclench and to just, you know, so what if someone's out

there misrepresenting something I've said or what I believe, you know, my work speaks for itself. And I'm just trusting in my work now and also trying to develop. I mean, I've always had hobbies and interests outside of the internet, thank God. And so I'm just spending more time doing the kinds of things that I actually want to be doing. Yeah, I made the mistake of thinking that, like, arguments on Twitter were things that you could win. Or that, like, people could be reasoned with. Or that I guess some of these arguments were on the level when someone was like criticizing you're coming after you and I would go into the mentions and I would reply to people not to try to be an asshole back to them but to try to say like oh maybe I'll

convince someone why I was right or maybe I'll have an interesting debate or conversation and pretty soon you realize like that's just not Like, that's not what the platform is for, and that's not really what the platform facilitates. It isn't. And I also find that people tend to want to debate what I've written. And for me, the beginning and end of my engagement with a subject is the essay that I've published. I don't have more interest than that, unless I'm, of course, at an event or talking with friends and colleagues. And people tend to get really disappointed that whatever I'm writing about isn't my lifelong passion. And it's like, I have many interests. And as a cultural critic, I'm going to write about many things. But I don't owe you engagement beyond the work. And on the pod or anything like that, and it's

an individual and we're one-on-one, I'd be happy to have that conversation. But that's not what engagement is on social media. When you engage with one person, you are then once again going fully public with that engagement. And it's an audience of people that are going to hear that that probably don't necessarily need to hear that. Yeah. And the reality is that I just find that there's not a lot of good faith engagement. Whenever people want to supposedly engage with me, what they really want to do is share their pet perspective and tell me that I'm wrong. And that's actually not engagement. So, feel free to tell me that I'm wrong. But you're not really looking for a conversation. You're looking for affirmation of your point of view and acknowledgement.

And I don't think, actually, I know it's not my job to do that for you. You have to figure that out on your own. And so, you know, the internet is a mess. It's just a mess. You know, and I think that a lot of it is because the people who created internet platforms sort of decided that they were not going to tend to the gardens that they built. Anything can go. Let's go ahead and build weeds. Fuck civility.

Of course, white supremacy on these platforms is fine. Misinformation, cool. And we're seeing the result of that. We're seeing what a lack of taste and curation becomes. And that's not even referring to some of these pettier, more aggravating day-to-day interactions, but the kind of energy that enables people to think, yes, I'm going to say this absolutely ridiculous thing to this person I disagree with, because why not? Because I can. And I think that most people don't have that kind of outlet anywhere else. Well, yeah. And also, you hear the argument from the platform people that this is simply a reflection of human nature and society and that it's just sort of is not the same as when you're just in person with someone. And also, like you said, I think one of the reasons that people think that they can get away with saying whatever they want about someone else is you don't have to see that person. You're not in a physical space with that person, so you don't have to see the person become upset when you criticize them or worse. And that anonymity helps people just

be monsters and then scroll right past it and never think about the interaction again. Mm-hmm. And I think that anonymity, that sort of isolation, that digital isolation, really allows people to forget that we are actually talking to other human beings, and that they have feelings, and frankly, that there are consequences for what you say. You know, a lot of times people do internalize some of the things that are said, which is one of the reasons I had to pull back, like the cruel things that people say. Of course, I can say, oh, that's just a troll, yada, yada, yada. But sometimes it really does hurt.

It really is just breathtaking. Like, wow, why would you say that? That's not good. You know, like, why would I subject my, this is something I've talked about in therapy. Like, she's always like, why would you subject yourself to this? Because she's not online at all. And that's a really useful perspective to see someone who's like, really, why are you stabbing yourself in the eyes with little needles all day long? It's not necessary. You don't have to be punished. You're't deserve this. And that's a really useful thing to understand that you don't actually have you call the hopelessness that many people feel when we consider the state of the world. And you write, in real life, we are fearful David staring down seemingly omnipotent Goliaths. What do you think it is about online spaces that make us feel, at least initially, more powerful or in control? I think the lack of boundaries, the perception of the lack of limits, the idea that we can sort of say anything, do anything, be anything. I mean, that's changed a little bit in that now that people tend to present as themselves rather than as avatars or whatever. But I think

there's just this lack of boundaries that people find empowering. And then, of course, there are people who just take it too far, who think, well, anything goes, this doesn't really matter. So I'm going to say my worst thoughts and my worst opinions. And you can see that people are actually holding back quite a lot for the sake of civility in their day-to-day lives. And Trump has really opened that door, like we were mentioning earlier. Now, I think there's almost this glee behind just airing out every terrible thought you've ever had. And I think at some point, everyone has to really take a step back and ask themselves, wow, why are we so comfortable being terrible? And I don't know that many of us are willing to ask that question. But I think a lot of times the answer is simply because we can. You talk about sort of this hopelessness and this feeling of powerlessness that you have in the real world sometimes. And then I think online, sometimes we think that like the public forum on Twitter or whatever social media platform can be a substitute for like the democratic process.

You know, like Kelly Weil, who's a Daily Beast reporter who wrote a book on conspiracy culture, she tweeted the other day that the whole Joe Rogan Spotify controversy is a reminder that, quote, so many US political conflicts are just proxy battles through customer service complaints.

And that in a disempowered electorate, what passes for power is a consumer who leaves an unfavorable Yelp review. What do you think about that? I'm actually writing an essay right now about that very topic for the Times. Oh, wow. Because I do think that we're seeing a lot of consumer politics play out. And, you know, it's happening at a lot of different levels. And I think it's because so many people feel

disenfranchised. And I think so many of us understand that in a capitalistic world, the only power we really have is not,'s sad, actually, that this is what people have decided is power. And in some ways, it can work. I think what's happening with Spotify, I actually pulled my podcast from Spotify today, is what we see with uncurated gardens, where people are like, I'm fine with the weeds. And I think that there are consumers who just think, why am I going to give you $10 a month to allow your garden to be untended. And $10 a month means nothing to Spotify, but a million people paying $10 a month who stop starts to mean something. And so in some ways it kind of works, this idea of consumer politics, but in other ways you just think, man, is this all we have really is this really all we have uh how yeah no that's what that's what i've been wrestling with this as well because like i understand the

impulse to pressure spotify on this i think spotify's you know whole argument that they're just some neutral platform right like they they they signed the deal with rogan to get more subscribers like they are in the editorial content business now. They're not a platform, so they don't they don't get off the hook. But I'm like, OK, if our ultimate goal, I mean, I come from the political angle, if our ultimate goal is to reduce the spread of misinformation about the vaccines or also increase trust in the vaccines. If so many people pulled out of Spotify, whether it's artists or people just canceling Spotify, that Spotify felt pressured to boot Rogan off the platform. Would that reduce the spread of misinformation about vaccines or increase trust?

Because then Rogan has, you know, probably just as large of a platform somewhere else. And he's got this big audience. I wonder if this sort of consumer oriented politics is, and it's is understandable. I'm wondering if it's effective. No, I don't think it is.

I think it can be. I do. But the reality is that we can only do so much. And the reality is that if it's not Spotify, it's going to be somewhere else. And that there is also, there's no ideal platform. Every platform hosts terrible people. I think Jordan Peterson's podcast is on Apple. Well, and wherever else podcasts are available. So, you know, I think some of us just take stands and just decide, you know what, of course, he's going to flourish no matter what. But I personally don't want to do business with a company that's fine with allowing that sort of misinformation to flourish.

I don't, I mean, I don't even know that Joe Rogan's podcast shouldn't, you know, it should definitely exist if people want it. I mean, there's clearly demand, so he's supplying that demand. But I do think that there have to be limits. I do think that Spotify has to say, you know what, we're taking these episodes with misinformation down. And the rest can stay up. Because he's allowed to have his opinions, and he's allowed to sway his followers. But I don't think that he's allowed in this climate to spread such rank misinformation. Because the reality is that over the past two years, we've had people taking ivermectin and injecting themselves with bleach and doing all kinds of batshit things. And it's because of misinformation.

You know, the January 6th insurrection's because of misinformation. The January 6th insurrection happened because of misinformation. There are measurable consequences. And I can't imagine why any company would want to be culpable in that. Yeah. I know we're touching on a subject that's very familiar to you, cancel culture, which you call consequence culture, a term of yours that I have cited multiple times in these offline interviews. I want to talk about that. But first, you said in the 15 minutes of shame doc that people ask you about cancel culture like once a day. Why do you think that is? Have you ever wondered why you've become a go-to person on the subject of cancel culture?

I think it's because— I'm sure you love it. Oh, it's my favorite thing. I think it's because I have a lot of opinions. And a few years ago, I pulled a book from Simon & Schuster because they were going to publish a book from Milo Yiannopoulos. And they had paid him an extraordinary amount of money to do so. And I just thought, wow. Like, I'm not doing business with them. That's just such a lack of taste. And I think ever since then, people have decided that I have thoughts and opinions on

cancel culture. And I, you know, I do, but I don't have a constant need to comment on the issue. Because cancel culture does not exist, really. And quite frankly, the people that get canceled are not the people who cry about it. People tried to cancel, for example, Nicole Hannah-Jones for the 1619 Project. They have spent two or three years nitpicking every single thing in that project, simply because she dared to assert that slavery is a fundamental part of the fabric of the United States, which is a fact. And people are trying to cancel the Holocaust because it's too uncomfortable to imagine that such atrocities were possible. We're seeing schools in Texas try to cancel slavery by saying that there are two sides to slavery. And so if we're going to talk about cancel culture, let's do it. But let's talk

about where it's actually happening. It's not happening to Joe Rogan, who's being paid $100 million to not prepare for his podcast, his own words. He does not prepare for any episode. He just shows up and is himself, which, wow, congratulations. Nice work if you can get it. I mean, have you thought about how collectively, like, we can dole out consequences to people who do awful things that are just in proportional since, you know, the court of public opinion has no laws and the jurors are basically like whoever shows up at any given moment. So it's like, it's a wild west out there. Yes. I think that we, I think that's one of the questions we need to answer. I do think that we have a significant problem with calibration.

Yeah. That when someone makes a misstep, we are treating that person the same as we treat Bill Cosby. And it's just like, wow, can we please get a little perspective here? And so how do we calibrate consequences? And for whatever reason, people are all or nothing. And I hope, I hope that we can have those conversations and think of justice in restorative terms and make sure that we provide paths for redemption. Because we're all going to make mistakes. But depending on the mistake, I don't think that lives should be ruined because of one mistake. Unless that mistake is really bad. In which case, yeah, your life probably deserves to be ruined for a while. But no, we just scale in proportion.

Like what happened to that? I mean, you've also pointed out that online shaming is quite different from online harassment, even though there's a tendency to equate the two or to just focus more on the shaming than on the harassment. Why do you think that is? Because I think that people are more afraid of being shamed than they are of being harassed. I think they don't think harassment is something that's ever going to happen to them, so it's that problem over there. But with shaming, no matter what This woman was talking at me, rather, about she had said something like, thank you for taking your podcast down, Roxanne. I hope you learn some lessons, Brene Brown. And I was just like, first of all, what? Wow. Brene was like the first podcaster who decided for at least some time to pause her shows on Spotify until they clarify and implement their curation policy. And so for her to say that to Brene Brown was weird. And I also said, you know, why are you pitting people who are aligned politically against one another?

It just felt weird and random and wildly unnecessary. And she said, stop trying to shame me. And I was just like, wow. Like, I was just asking you a question, actually. Yeah. And you started it. That's the thing. And when people say that, I actually end the engagement immediately because they've placed themselves in the role of victim. There's no opportunity for accountability or self-reflection. And I'm just going to get angrier and pettier. And why? Really, why? To prove that this person's wrong on the internet? No. Yeah, what does that get you? I mean, one of the reasons I think that cancel culture is a pretty useless term is that, you know, people use it to describe

everything from someone losing their job to someone just being criticized online. And I will say that of all of the Dave Chappelle special critiques, I found your New York Times piece most persuasive because instead of arguing that the special should be taken down or that Chappelle's comedy was out of bounds, you argued that his comedy was just bad. It's like mostly unfunny, incoherent, offensive, dated. And to me, that was even more damning because if you can't tolerate any kind of criticism about the things you say, like, how frail are you? Was that your thought process there in writing that? That was really my, well, my first thought process genuinely was, wow, this is not funny.

Yeah, that was mine too. There were definitely some moments, and I'm a fan. I think that Dave Chappelle at his best is fucking brilliant. And that's actually

why I care. I don't write about people I don't care about. I'm only disappointed because I held him in some esteem. If I didn't care about him, and there are plenty

of comedians out there doing lazy, shitty comedy, and whatever, feel free. But I care because he's better than this. And for whatever reason, he has decided to fixate on the LGBTQ community. And it's weird. Like, sir, why?

This is not your community, for the first of all. Why are you up in our business? Why are you so obsessed? One might wonder. And, you know, it just, the special was not good. And when we've seen his work, we know what his good looks like. The one he did during COVID, eight minutes, such and such seconds that was excellent and so

excellence isn't even 20 years ago he's been doing excellent recently and to then have to compare and contrast it to this it was just very disappointing and so I did try to frame my critique within that context

because no one's saying that he shouldn't make comedy or that he shouldn't make even comedy on Netflix. But I do think we're saying, especially to a place like Netflix, like, my goodness, what standards do you have when someone is so clearly engaging in transphobia? Why is there no pushback? And the answer is always going to be capitalism. People only have standards when it doesn't cost them too much to do so. You have a style of writing I really admire that I think your pinned tweet gets at well. You say, my tweets are not meant to be universal. They will not nor cannot account for every reality.

If something I say doesn't include or apply to you, that doesn't invalidate your truth. Why is it important for you to let people know that about what you write and believe? Because I think all too often what people want is universal writing, writing that speaks to everything and to everyone. And people have, and I'm writing an entire book about this at some point, people have decided that inclusion means universality, that to be inclusive, everything accounts for everything. And that's actually not what inclusion is. And so I think it's important to clarify that from the outset, that this isn't going to speak to everyone. And this is not going to accommodate every single perspective or intersection of identity, nor should it. Because if you write something that appeals to everyone, you're not really, really doing good work.

I would worry about anything that appealed to everyone. And when you look at things that appeal to everyone, they're generally just- Bland. Yes, there's nothing there. They're just bland and terrible and cliched. And so, no, I want to, I've often been called an acquired taste, and the older I get, the more I see that as a source of pride. I mean, I used to write speeches, I wrote about politics for a few years after I left the White House. I rarely write now, but when I do, I find that being on social media so much hasn't just affected the way I write, but how I make an argument, because I find that being on social media so much hasn't just affected the way I write, but how I make an argument because I find myself constantly anticipating the criticisms I'll get.

Do you ever feel that way? I do, which is the main reason I don't really want to be on Twitter anymore. I have found that I'm stifling a lot of the opinions that I would like to share because I'm afraid of the blowback. And I'm thinking about not even people who are diametrically opposed to me, but people who are maybe in the same church as I am. Sometimes that's worse. Yeah, it is worse. And they're oftentimes the loudest voices about like, you know, why didn't you talk about X? And it's because I didn't want to and it wasn't relevant. And so constantly thinking about all of the critiques from people who are both aligned and not makes me dilute my opinions.

Like this essay I'm writing today, I just started writing it. I didn't want to say anything about Joe Rogan, because I just know it's going to be a shit show. But I kept thinking and thinking, and the essay was writing itself. So I finally decided, okay, I'm just going to write it. And if it's terrible, at least I got it out of my system. But it's not terrible. And so as I'm writing it, I keep thinking, I'm literally not going to be able to go online for a week after I publish this because I don't want to hear it. It's not that I don't want to hear disagreement. I just don't want to hear bad disagreement. And unfortunately, most people are bad at disagreeing.

Yeah. It becomes like, you know what? It's not worth it. It's not worth the shit that I'm going to go through. But what happens is you do start, I think there's a risk of sanding down your own opinions. But it's also, I mean, it is a social media thing that, like, for example, when I'm recording the podcast, I'll be more honest about my opinions and say what I want because people are listening. And, you know, maybe they like might tweet at me and say something here and there.

And that's fine. But it's a lot. I can be much more controversial and much more honest recording the podcast than I ever could just like sending out a tweet and putting it in writing because that just sets everyone off, which means it's something about the platform and just not something about people. Yeah. Because that just sets everyone off. Which means it's something about the platform and just not something about people. Yeah. Twitter has, I think Twitter, Facebook, Spotify, really any content platform. I think a lot of them are going to, Substack, are really going to have to have some hard discussions with themselves in the coming years. What kind of place do you want to be? And what kinds of conversations do you want to foster?

And how can you understand that you can have a diversity of intellectual perspectives and ideologies without allowing transphobia, homophobia, racism, and other bigotries, anti-Semitism, you know, without allowing these kinds of things to flourish. And that to do so doesn't mean you're not protecting free speech. And so I hope, I mean, so far we have seen that these platforms are not up to that task, but you know, maybe something will change. Hope springs eternal. It does. You've written very powerfully and personally about trauma. I've been thinking a lot about how the anger and fear and helplessness that we see online has probably been exacerbated by two years of pandemic stress and isolation. Would you characterize this as a kind of collective trauma?

Is that even a thing? It's absolutely a thing. We've seen collective traumas throughout history, slavery, the Holocaust, Jim Crow, pandemics, the Great Depression. And we are in the midst of a collective trauma right now. And it's a collective trauma that is largely going unaddressed. And I think the consequences of that are going to be unhealthy. It's not going to be great. And we're already seeing that. I mean, I think that even in person, civility has eroded. People have kind of just done away with decency everywhere.

And it's really sad. It's really sad. I travel a lot and people on airplanes are really out of pocket these days, like in terms of wearing a mask and respecting flight attendants, respecting other passengers. There's always like a little brawl at some point somewhere in the cabin. And because I travel so much, I've never seen it like this, the way it is right now. You have to wonder, what will it take for this country to acknowledge the collective trauma, 850,000 deaths and counting, and lives upended, women forced out of the workplace in unprecedented numbers. There are children who have not known life without looking at their parents wearing masks and who have only been to school at home or online at home. And so, yeah, we are in the middle of a collective trauma. Yeah. And you look at all the political analysis and they're like, why is everyone, you know, 70% of the electorate thinks the country's on the wrong track and everyone's

so upset with everything. And they're like, is it inflation? Is it this? Is it that? And it's like, yeah, all these things for sure. But like, we're in the middle of a fucking pandemic and have been for two years that has reshaped society in a way that we haven't seen in, I don't know, a century? And I don't think we're dealing with it well at all.

No, and the government has been, under both administrations, so excruciatingly slow to do very basic things that pretty much every other country did right away. Affordable at-home testing. In Europe, you can get those little tests for a dollar. And that's where I get the majority of my tests from, from friends in Europe who will just send me 100 at a time for events and things like that so that we can do rapid testing and still have a semblance of a public life.

Masks for everyone. You know, high quality as the phrase now goes. Why did it take two years for the government to start distributing masks? It's just wild. Like the lack of care, the sort of just everyone for themselves, even from the Biden administration, which is certainly a choice. I mean, I think that, you know, look, I think everyone thought that in spring of 21, we were home free and then Delta hit and then Omicron hit and it's just been a slog since

then. But, you know, I mean, look, there is helping the country through the actual pandemic and giving people the tools they need to sort of protect themselves. But then there's sort of like a national spirit thing. And I find myself like, it's weird, as politics becomes more extreme, particularly as the Republican Party becomes more extreme, and the stakes get higher for politics to like fight to save democracy, I find myself maybe because we're in the middle of this pandemic and because it seems like everyone's just suffering through this collective trauma, trying to be like more empathetic. And like, like I find myself less angry online and less willing to like lash out at people just because I'm thinking, you know, there's that like off misquoted line, you know, everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. And I think about that a lot these days. And it's sort of, I don't know how to reconcile that with the fact that there's also like one party in this

country who's gone so extreme that it's like putting the whole thing at risk. Yeah, you know, I do believe that people are dealing with things we know nothing about and that we should extend grace to as many people as possible because of that. But not everybody deserves that grace. Like everybody's dealing with something, but there's an entire political party that doesn't believe in racism or slavery that doesn't believe that i have a right to be married to my wife that doesn't believe that you know that people like me are human so i could give a fuck honestly about those people i'm not trying to reach across i mean there's no aisle people are like reaching across the aisle. You might reach across the aisle maybe and wave at Mitt Romney or Liz Cheney reluctantly.

But are we reaching across the aisle for Josh Hawley? No. If we reach across the aisle, he's going to cut our hand off. So, you know, we do have to acknowledge that there are some fractures in this country that are presently unbridgeable, and that we are not the problem for being unwilling to sort of narrow that distance, because there's literally nothing we can do to narrow that distance. Yeah, exactly right. Like, there's just, there is a faction now of this country that has been radicalized that, like, are sort of beyond our help, and maybe don't deserve us putting the work in, right? I worry about getting so hardened that the rest of us who are all supposed to be allies,

even though that we don't necessarily all agree all the time, that that alliance sort of falls apart because we're all griping at each other on social media and we're not sort of extending good faith to one another, you know? And that's actually where I'm more interested in directing my energies, is how can we extend good faith to one another, to people who we don't necessarily agree with, but we just sort of agree, like, you have something valuable to say, your perspective is just as valuable as mine, which is most people, truly. You I don't know how we do that. And I do think that sort of affinity group infighting is nothing new. It's happened always. And I actually don't think it's necessarily

unhealthy unless that infighting is happening to the detriment of any sort of forward thinking, which does sometimes happen. Like, people get so mired in the quotidian details of infighting that we forget the larger picture. At the same time, you'll see people who are like, don't criticize Biden. He's doing the best he can. And I always just think, is he? Is he really? But also, he's the president. That's our job. We're citizens. We're supposed to criticize our leaders.

Wow. We are kind of all doomed if that's his best. How's life with less Twitter? It's fine. It's good. I go on Twitter about three times a day to just check in and read my little friends list. And I think I tweet about three times a day. And it's fine um i i i can't say like there's some magical productivity on the other side i'm just wasting my time doing other things like playing boggle on my phone but i am not aggravated and okay i'm not sitting around worrying oh my god what do they think what do they think of me

oh my god everyone hates me like i can do by myself. I don't need encouragement from others. And so that part is really nice. That's a good thing. Last question I ask all of our guests. What is your favorite way to unplug and how often do you get to do it? What is my favorite way to unplug? Oh, wow. I think my favorite way to unplug is watching TV with my wife. We've been strolling

through television of the 60s and 70s. And it's been so much fun. We've watched the entire run of Columbo, which actually ran for like 43 years. And there's a lot of Columbo there. Wow, I've never of Columbo there. Wow. I've never seen Columbo. This was my first time seeing Columbo. And now every night we're like, is there any episode we missed? And so I enjoy doing that. And I also enjoy doing, it's kind of nerdy, but I love making puzzles, putting together puzzles.

Oh, cool. And so I do a lot of puzzles. That's great. That's the first puzzle answer we got. I love that. So relaxing. Roxane Gay, thank you so much for joining Offline. I really appreciate it. Thank you for having me, John. I appreciate it too. Offline is a Crooked Media production. It's written and hosted by me, Jon Favreau. It's produced by Andy Gardner-Bernstein and Austin Fisher.

Andrew Chadwick is our audio editor. Kyle Seglin and Charlotte Landis sound engineered the show. Jordan Katz and Kenny Siegel take care of our music. Thanks to Tanya Sominator, Michael Martinez, Ari Schwartz, Madison Hallman, and Sandy Gerard for production support. And to our digital team, Elijah Cohn, Nar Melkonian, and Amelia Montooth, who film and share our episodes as videos every week.