Earlier this week, the comedian, actress and entertainer known as Awkwafina issued a public apology to her Twitter and announced her exit from the platform in an apparent preemptive self-cancelation. Another one bites the dust, as they say.
The entertainer, whose real name is Nora Lum, was once a celebrated public figure and one of Hollywood’s most well-known ambassadors from the Asian American community, having won the Golden Globe for Best Actress for her leading role in “The Farewell” just two years ago. Though well-known for her comedic roles in movies such as “Ocean’s 8” and “Crazy Rich Asians,” 2020 marked Lum’s pursuit of slightly more serious roles and projects. But many still remember her as the entertainer whose shtick was using a “blaccent,” or African American Vernacular English (AAVE). That hasn’t been forgiven despite her recent departure from this particular brand of “comedy.”
The persona Lum embodied was indeed cringeworthy. Her use of Black slang and annunciation was certainly gratuitous, full of AAVE phrases like “gon’ be” and words with missing vowels. However, this type of spoken and written affect proliferates the internet — especially among millennials and Gen Z — so that it seems as though it belongs to everyone. The conversation around cultural appropriation versus appreciation is a heated one and brings into question whether Lum’s background from Queens, NY and her love of hip-hop justifies her cooptation of Black aesthetics. Perhaps the answer is a resounding “no.” But there seems to be a conflation of poor judgment with actual harm. Nowadays, we place such a premium on feelings, yet at the same time, we are quick to destroy a person’s career for mistakes from which they could easily learn.
We should all know by now that making a name for oneself by imitating “Blackness” isn’t a great look. However, this apologizing and litigation of whether the apology was good enough are totally unnecessary and absurd. Raking Lum over the coals for her indiscretions probably won’t result in her being shunned or blacklisted from the film industry — though she will probably need a bit of time to recover until “cancel culture” claims its newest victim. In the meantime, she is handing the reins of her account over to her trusted team of social media professionals until 2024, according to her Twitter bio.
In her statement of regrets — a tweet containing multiple screenshots of a draft from her Notes app — Lum seemed to follow the usual celebrity apology script, vowing to “listen and work tirelessly” to do better. This meticulously crafted, PR-approved wording that celebrities seem to always adopt in the wake of scandal is almost more nauseating than their supposed offense. At some point, we have to ask whether this culture of apology is really productive or in service to anyone. She might as well just apologize for simply being unfunny.
Our most primitive and vengeful human instincts tend to reveal themselves in these public shamings, which have grown increasingly common. They are the modern equivalent to colonial practices of punishment involving tarring and feathering. Social media has become the proverbial town square — rather than dousing the offender in tar and forcing them to roll around in feathers, the woke mob’s method of humiliation involves backing their victim into a virtual corner until an apology is issued, each word is subsequently picked apart and the whole thing is rejected. It signifies the implosion of a career and a complete loss of self-respect. While less of a literal mess, it is arguably just as undignified.
As celebrities and public figures grovel for forgiveness in a particularly merciless and hypocritical social climate, it often feels as though their public displays of remorse should have just stayed in the drafts. The best thing Lum could have done in this scenario was to simply not engage with or pay lip service to bloodthirsty, anonymous Twitter users. Once a concession is made, it opens the floodgates for even more ridicule. No apology is ever going to appease the social media mob. Don’t fall into the trap of becoming its next victim — just log off.
Melissa Newell is an Opinion Intern for the winter 2022 quarter. She can be reached at mrnewell@uci.edu.