What does it mean to be racist in 21st-century America?
Over the last few decades—but especially in the last 10 years or so—the answer to that question has arguably changed. Where once being a racist meant actively harboring prejudice against someone of a different color skin, these days we hear a lot more talk about institutional racism. To be white, some argue, is to implicitly participate in a system of privilege and empowerment inescapably woven into the fabric of American society and culture. So much so that many, perhaps most, white people don’t even recognize that they’ve been the beneficiaries of centuries of systemic racial inequity—according to those who embrace this all-encompassing worldview.
That’s the argument put forth in the new Daily Wire+ comedic mockumentary Am I Racist?, starring that conservative media outlet’s star writer and podcast personality, Matt Walsh.
The film borrows liberally from the Borat playbook, with Walsh going “undercover” as an earnest white guy masquerading as someone who wants to embrace the anti-racist movement, even becoming a faux spokesman for it. Walsh’s fictional persona not only earns his “official” DEI (Diversity, Equity, Inclusion) certification from a website (complete with an official-looking DEI license). He also pays handsomely for professional diversity training from some of the movement’s leading voices. In addition, he talks with quite a few folks outside that movement—often using a “man on the street” approach as he randomly interviews strangers to get their perspective on racism today.
As he pretends penitence for his white identity, Walsh gives leaders in the DEI movement the spotlight to articulate their convictions as they relate to race—often skewering them in the inconsistencies that his crafty “undercover” efforts expose.
For instance, activist Kate Slate is the founder of the Anti-racist Road Map. She admonishes Walsh that he has to “do the work”—a phrase repeated throughout the documentary.
“What is ‘the work’?” Walsh asks.
“For white folks, the work is reallocating our resources and privileges to balance out systemic inequalities.”
Over and over again, Walsh interacts with representatives of this DEI worldview, often with Walsh subtly baiting them with questions that reveal their enthusiastic intolerance for seemingly anything related to white culture.
In one humorous segment, he talks with a white anti-racism expert whose daughter nevertheless identifies only with white Disney princesses. Walsh proudly says that his daughter’s favorite Disney princess is Moana, which elicits lots of affirmation from the woman he’s interviewing. But then he takes it a step further and asks if it would be OK if his daughter dressed up like Moana for Halloween, prompting the woman to back off reluctantly because she says that would be cultural appropriation.
Walsh dubs it the “Moana problem,” arguing that if a white girl only wants to be like white princesses, she’s a racist. But if she wants to appropriate the cultures of non-white Disney characters, she’s also a racist.
Seems like a lose-lose, Walsh deadpans earnestly.
And if there’s a thesis statement for this satirical mockumentary’s withering takedown of the DEI movement, that might be it. Almost everyone loses—save, perhaps, those who are profiting handsomely from this worldview’s radically critical assessment (at least, as it’s represented in this film) of 21st-century race relations in America.
Martin Luther King Jr. imagined a colorblind world in which a person would be judged by his or her character, not the color of their skin. The current Diversity, Equity and Inclusion movement has, as we see here, fundamentally rejected that perspective. Instead, it’s built on the presupposition of systemic racism—the belief that merely being white opens the door to a world of privilege established over the course of 400 years of American history. The film does a very effective job of fleshing out this worldview and unpacking some of its inherent contradictions—such as the “Moana problem” as detailed above. As such, it could be a catalyst—albeit a provocative one, as we’ll see—for deeper conversation about racism.
Near the end of the film, Walsh suggests that we can do better than a worldview that yields unending guilt for whites and perpetual victimhood for Blacks.
Walsh takes a trip to the South where he talks with Black people about their experience of racism. One person he talks to talks about finding God in prison while serving 14 years on a drug sentence. When Walsh asks an older Black business owner if he’s read any DEI books, the man says that the Bible is the only book he reads, and that loving each other is the only way to overcome racism.
A woman who delivers DEI workshops talks about growing up as a Christian, but she says that confronting racism means that we can’t be patient or kind (as Scripture instructs).
Someone intones, “God forbid.”
Walsh visits a biker bar to interview people about their views of racism. One man (whose girlfriend or possibly wife stands next to him) has a shirt on that features a dinosaur with a huge tongue, and the caption below the picture references a critical bit of female anatomy.
A dream sequence of sorts reimagines the initial allegations from actor Jussie Smollet (best known for the TV show Empire) about being attacked in Chicago by two men wearing MAGA hats who put a noose around his neck. In the dramatic (but also comedic) recreation of this event, there’s a bit of a scuffle, and Walsh, too, has a noose placed around his neck.
Walsh eventually launches his own faux DEI sensitivity training. The ninth step in his program is self-flagellation—literally—and he hands out all sorts of whipping devices to those who haven’t gotten up and left already. They don’t actually use them, as Walsh feigns shame at those who get up and leave at this point.
We don’t hear the n-word said aloud, but Walsh picks up a book with that title. He asks a bookstore owner what the appropriate way would be for him to call a book store to see if they had it in stock. She told him that he couldn’t say the word, but that he’d have to describe it (a conversation the film circles back to in a post-credits scene).
We hear eight s-words and seven partially censored f-words (we can tell what people are saying). Other vulgarities include five uses of “h—,” three of “a–” or “a–hole” and one of “d–n. We also hear two misuses of God’s name.
At an event for white women to get in touch with their inherent racism, Walsh (who’s masquerading as a server at the event) hoists a glass in the air and says, “Raise a glass if you’re racist.”
We see people drinking in a bar.
Walsh talks to quite a few DEI experts and authors. One young woman says that the only thing white people do is buy things and steal things.
We see a quote from Saira Rao, cofounder of the activist organization Race2Dinner that says, “This country is a racist transphobic homophobic ableist classist Islamophobic misogynistic dumpster fire.” Walsh manages to sneak into a dinner that she’s leading for eight white women (along with her business partner Regina Jackson), in which she says that the only solution for America is this: “The entire system has to burn” because racism is so deeply entrenched in the foundation of our country and how it operates.
Walsh tries to get people to sign a petition to change the George Washington monument to the George Floyd Monument, promising to paint it black and make it 30 feet higher. Many people enthusiastically sign the petition, while several staunchly refuse to do so.
Toward the end of the mockumentary, Walsh (still in character) secures an interview with Robin DiAngelo, author of the influential book White Fragility. In the middle of the interview, he asks his Black producer, Ben, to come on camera, and gives him $30 for racial reparations. DiAngelo is clearly bothered and shocked, and she tries to turn the conversation to overcoming systemic racism. Walsh, however, says that he can’t wait for systemic change—that he has to commit to individually right now, no matter what anyone else is doing. In the end, his words and actions cajole DiAngelo into going to her purse to get some cash herself to give to Ben, who jokes that he’ll never say no to someone who wants to give him cash.
In a particularly wince-inducing scene, Walsh brings his wheelchair-bound “Uncle Frank” before his DEI class to confront him about a racist joke he told years before. He invites his class to further castigate the man, with one young woman tearing into him with repeated (though partially censored) exclamations of “f— you.”
Walsh’s fake DEI crusader, whom he names “Steven,” is remarkably effective at getting an audience with many of the leading lights of the DEI movement. That said, he also lets us know exactly how he does it: by paying them. It costs the production $15,000 to get an interview with DiAngelo, for instance, who talks about the work she’s done for Netflix, Google and Amazon. (No doubt those companies paid her a lot more than that.) Others likewise cost thousands of dollars to secure on camera.
The point Walsh is trying to make? That being a voice for those who’ve suffered from systematic racism can be a very lucrative business—and that people have a vested interest in perpetuating the inequities they ostensibly address. Indeed, by the end, Walsh has established his own fake business and thus begun making thousands, too, demonstrating how relatively easy it is to translate guilt and victimhood into a viable entrepreneurial enterprise.
Walsh and his filmmaking team also try to demonstrate that there’s no real way to right the racist wrongs addressed. Several people even admitted that there’s no path for a white person to conclude the process of atonement needed because of their race and privilege.
All of these things could, as mentioned above, be a catalyst for deeper conversation about race among those who see the film.
Having said that, a fair bit of crass content sneaks in here, too. We’re hardly in the same content universe as Borat, which seems to have at least partially inspired Walsh’s “gotcha” strategy in his undercover exposé. This is a solidly PG-13 movie. But the harsh, bleeped f-words did catch me off guard a bit—as did the man wearing the shirt with a crude reference to oral sex. Those elements might invite parents considering taking younger children to this film to think twice.
Also worth pondering, I think, is the core approach Walsh uses here: going undercover and pretending to be something that he’s not to elicit an unscripted and uncensored response.
Most of those whom Walsh interviews think he’s one of them, because his schtick is pretty convincing. It can make for comedy gold, as the audience at my screening proved, laughing heartily throughout the film. (And, full confession, I laughed some, too.)
But it’s laughter at the expense of people onscreen who generally don’t know that they’re being duped.
It’s easy to argue, perhaps, that these folks “have it coming,” as the old saying goes. Still, the core deception here feels fundamentally meanspirited to me—the kind of treatment that Christians often decry when the tables are turned on us, and we’re on the receiving end of mockery.
And that’s worth talking about, too, as we continue to unpack the historical roots of racism and how we should or shouldn’t respond to them in our families, churches and communities.
After serving as an associate editor at NavPress’ Discipleship Journal and consulting editor for Current Thoughts and Trends, Adam now oversees the editing and publishing of Plugged In’s reviews as the site’s director. He and his wife, Jennifer, have three children. In their free time, the Holzes enjoy playing games, a variety of musical instruments, swimming and … watching movies.
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