Dear Substack,
SubStack’s catching strays over author representation. I’d like to offer a solid gold life jacket.
Advertising and academia taught me one thing: a little tokenism goes a long way. I’ve smiled in brochures for Princeton, Columbia, and my old agency, and I’d do it again. It always precedes improvement in my standard of living.
Right now, it sounds like you could use that. The old guard’s painting you as Gab for grad school washouts. Panic’s the national sport, so it’s working.
The stickiest accusation is that you mostly buy out white writers. There are two roads ahead of you: bare-knuckle boxing the largest newspaper on Earth, or publicly giving a black writer a wheelbarrow full of money. I, touched by your story, am willing to accept that wheelbarrow.
In theory, I’m an up-and-comer. I have several recent and upcoming features (New Yorker, etc) a debut book next month, and several public vandalism headlines/charges. I even teach at America’s most expensive school.
I’ll address the three natural questions:
Why me, specifically? I asked first. And despite my “overeducated clown” niche, I have a basic grasp of professional consistency.
Am I joking? Yes, in the modern style containing my real opinion.
Why a wheelbarrow? As far as I can tell, it’s a standard unit of measurement in tech spaces.
In short, one wheelbarrow buys you a black friend, satirical variety in the op-ed barrage, and a public counterpoint to the “wordy InfoWars” label.
Think about it. Others have burned more to gain less.