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We'reÌýcurrentlyÌýexperiencing aÌýradical sociological shift in the way we talk about race, and 'where do we draw the line?' seems to be a popular question among peopleÌýwho are eager to determine – once and for all – what’s okay and what’s not.ÌýÌý

On the one hand, I recognise the benefits of establishing a clear demarcation between acceptable and unacceptable behaviours as it pertains to reducing the harm that the White majority inflicts on minority groups and Peoples of Colour. On the other hand, though, I’m fatigued by our constant need to create borders around marginalised peoples' expressions of selfhood. I’m fatigued by our misguided belief thatÌýthe decisions which directly impactÌýthese peoples somehow fall within our jurisdiction, as though it’s an academic debate for us all to partake in. In the process, we wind up reducingÌýfundamental rights to questions for the collective to answer.

Mostly, though, I'm fatigued by the reality thatÌýWhite People do not ask where the line is because they want to understand how to be better, non-racist citizens. They ask where the line is because they want to be assured that while some things may be wrong, like wearing blackface or styling cornrows, other things, like impersonating a person with an accent or making a ‘mildly racist’ (if there is such a thing) joke, are still okay; those things are on the right ‘side’ of the line.Ìý

There’s a very specific sub-genre of what I’m talking about that exists within comedy. White comedians (and this includes writers, actors, and entertainers of all varieties) want to make clear that they would neverÌý»å°ù±ð²¹³¾Ìýof actuallyÌýwearingÌýblackface, but that they might craft a jokeÌýwhich purports toÌýsatiricallyÌýcritique, and therefore condemn,Ìýblackface. This is markedly apparent in the acclaimed NBCÌýseriesÌý30 Rock,Ìýwhich recently came under fire for its depictions of White characters in blackface on four different occasions.Ìý30 RockÌý ‘got away with it’ for so long because of the wayÌýthat blackface is utilised, not as an act of overt racismÌýbut as something that the show’s most ridiculous and ignorant White characters wear, enabling the more intelligent, and well-adjusted White characters designed to represent the audience to react in horror. In this sense, blackface in comedy functions as a double-edged sword, because, by positioning blackface as something which only the ridiculous would do, the show circumvents the repercussions of putting these otherwise deplorable representations on our screens. ItÌýinvites us to laugh, not at Black People, but at the White People who wear it, and the outrageous notion that it is, in any form, acceptable. The problem, though, is that blackface, irrespective of its context or the joke it is in service of, is a visual marker of violence against Black People, particularly violence in the form of comedy which punches down and exploits its Black subjects.Ìý

I know many people will disagree with me; they will argue that my analysis is the very reason weÌýneedÌýa line, so as not to invade upon our most treasured and unimpeachable commodity: comedy. My question to those people, then, is why is it so important to debate whether comedians – and people more broadly – should be able to tell racist jokes? The world has proven time and time again that it does not operate in binaries; it is entirely grey. Our morality is shifting, our values evolve, and they do soÌýbecauseÌýthere is no line. Everything exists on a spectrum, and inherent to that spectrum is a movability, and a capacity to recognise that whenÌý30 RockÌýused blackface, it shouldn’t have.Ìý

To clarify, I’m not talking about cancel culture – the supposed abolition of any people or things we deem problematic – I’m talking about the conversation that happensÌýaroundÌýcancel culture, as we all despair over the destruction of the how-ya-goin-get-fu**ed attitude that has historically underpinned Australian culture and its attitudeÌýtowardsÌýpolitics,Ìýsex, race, class, and all manner of things. Not all of us are racist, but all of us want to benefit from the banter and the jokes and the sketches and the talk shows and the commentary thatÌýareÌýracist. We don’t want those things invaded by the permeation of anti-racist values. We want things to stay as they are, as they always have been. We want a line that creates a clear and recognisable distinction between funny and cancel-able. What’s more, we want White People to draw it, and in doing so, we want to reinforce the same cultural narrative that has plagued this world for centuries: us versus them.ÌýÌý