In a society driven by technology, it’s all too easy to treat people like we treat our streaming services or magazine subscriptions—simply something we can cancel when it no longer suits us.
I was canceled. Like a bad sitcom entering its sophomore season, I was dumped by the network and sent packing. It came out of the blue, and I frankly don't think I handled it well.
Here’s the situation. I was at a deli and I was reading while waiting in line. Just as I was about to step up to the counter and order my Italian sub with hot peppers, a young woman stepped in front of me and started to order. Now, I try to see the best in everyone, and I try to live by that old Roman adage, “I am a man and nothing human is alien to me,” so I assumed this young lady meant no malice, and perhaps she didn’t know there was a line. So, I leaned forward and said, in a normal, polite tone, “Excuse me, but there is a line.” This girl didn’t even look at me, over her shoulder, she said, “ I know.”
It took me a second to digest this. She knew there was a line, and yet, she stepped in front of it and started to order. I was a little shocked, but still willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. So, I said, “Excuse me, miss, there is a line and you just cut ahead of everyone.” This time, she turned and looked at me. Her look was the complete encapsulation of all the anger, hate, and dissatisfaction she had accumulated thus far in her young life. All of that focused on me. Then she said, “What?” That’s all, one word, “What?” After a second, I said, “Well, what you’re doing is impolite and rude to the rest of us.” She looked closer, like I was an alien trying out my newfound English skills and not being good at it. “What’s your point?” She added to her initial inquiry. “The point,” I said, “is that there is protocol, decorum, and human decency.” She said, “There’s also me being hungry now.” With that, she turned and ordered.
My fellow deli goers didn’t engage; they saw something familiar in this girl and opted out immediately. I did not. After she ordered and started to move to the pickup section, I said, “Well, that was very rude, and you should be ashamed.” She wasn’t. She pulled out her phone, stuck it in my face, and said, “You see this honky, he’s trying to tell me I’m rude because I knew what I wanted and stepped up and got it.” She then put her phone away, looked at me, and said, “You’re gonna be famous.” She started to walk away, and I said, “You need to apologize to all the people in line.” She stepped back to me and in a very aggressive whisper said, “You’re done. You’re fired. YOU’RE CANCELED.” Then she picked up her order and walked out.
I was stunned. I looked at my fellow sandwich orderers and thought they might offer some advice. They all suddenly got very interested in their phones. They wouldn’t look at me. I had no idea what to do. It was shocking that a stranger, a rude, rule-breaking stranger, had just reduced my life to nothing with a word. I was canceled. The worst part was that I didn’t know what to do. Did I just leave my job? Did I move to a subbasement, walk down, and vanish forever? Did I put on sackcloth and ashes, carry a bell and walk the streets chanting, “Cancled, unclean, canceled unclean?”
I got my sandwich and started walking home. I realized, on my walk, that this woman had no power in my life, that she couldn’t just end me with a word and a wave, and that I, despite her rude behavior and her entitled actions, was not canceled. Not that easily.
Oddly enough, when I got home, I had a letter from my cable company telling me that I had forgotten to pay my bill and my service was canceled. Odd coincidence, but the power of social media and cancel culture is such that for a second, I thought, maybe I am canceled.
This experience, while jarring in the moment, revealed something I hadn’t quite realized about the way we navigate the world today. In a society driven by technology, it’s all too easy to treat people like we treat our streaming services or magazine subscriptions—simply something we can cancel when it no longer suits us. The rise of cancel culture, especially online, has made it possible for people to be “canceled” with little more than a tweet or a social media post. But in real life, it’s not so simple. People aren’t algorithms or subscriptions. We don’t come with a “cancel” button, and relationships—whether personal or professional—are messy, complex, and filled with nuance. So, how did we arrive at this place where canceling has become the default response to conflict or disagreement? And more importantly, how can we move away from this mindset and start being human again, embracing the messiness and imperfection of real connections?
The Digital Age and Relationships
In the age of social media and digital connectivity, our relationships have become increasingly commodified. The act of connecting with someone—or disconnecting-has—has been reduced to a few clicks, taps, or swipes. We live in a world where relationships are often treated like digital services or subscriptions, disposable when no longer serving our immediate needs. It’s easy to forget that people, unlike the digital platforms we use, don’t come with the option of “unsubscribe” or “cancel.”
The ubiquity of social media has made this a natural progression. Platforms like Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter were designed to encourage interaction, but also to curate experiences that match our preferences and reinforce our existing beliefs. They create filter bubbles, where we are surrounded only by content and people who validate our worldview. This system, which was meant to enhance social connections, instead fosters isolation and the illusion of seamless, effortless relationships. If someone doesn’t align with your perspective, you can simply mute or block them, effectively shutting down the possibility of any meaningful connection. And because these interactions are happening behind screens, there's often little accountability for the way we treat others. The anonymity that the internet provides allows for a level of detachment that makes it easier to disengage with someone, to sever ties without truly considering the consequences.
The convenience of this approach encourages the idea that relationships are simple and transactional. After all, digital platforms operate on the assumption that we can optimize our lives by constantly refining our feeds to align with our preferences. Why wouldn't we apply this mindset to our relationships? If someone isn’t “working” for us—whether it’s a friend, a colleague, or even a family member—the easiest option is to remove them from our lives. Just as we would cancel a subscription that’s no longer providing value, we cut off the people who no longer fit into our carefully curated existence.
But this creates a dangerous precedent. People are not algorithms. Relationships are not services. While a digital subscription can be canceled and forgotten, human connections have depth and complexity that can't be reduced to simple inputs and outputs. Every person comes with their own history, experiences, and emotions, and relationships require emotional investment—something algorithms can't quantify or handle. When we treat relationships like disposable digital services, we lose sight of the human element. We forget that people change, they grow, and that sometimes, the best connections are the messy, imperfect ones that challenge us to grow alongside them.
The digital age’s embrace of instant gratification plays into this. We live in a time when information, entertainment, and connections are all available at the push of a button. But that same technology has also made us accustomed to easy fixes and immediate results. When things get tough, the solution isn’t to work through the discomfort or miscommunication; it’s to disengage and find something else that better suits our needs. The idea of “canceling” someone or something has become synonymous with resolving conflict, bypassing the emotional work required to understand, empathize, and compromise. Instead of resolving differences, we’re trained to shut them down, to close the door on uncomfortable feelings rather than confront them.
At the heart of this issue is a growing discomfort with vulnerability. Real relationships, the ones that matter, require vulnerability. They require the willingness to engage with people even when they frustrate us, hurt us, or challenge us. The digital world, with its focus on curated perfection and algorithmic connections, rewards the opposite. It encourages us to hide behind screens, to mute the things we don’t want to hear, and to keep people at a distance unless they meet our immediate needs. It becomes easier to turn someone off, to ignore the discomfort of conflict, than to face the hard work of emotional connection.
But this detachment creates a dangerous cycle. The more we treat relationships as transactional, the harder it becomes to engage authentically. We become conditioned to expect instant resolution, when in reality, relationships—especially meaningful ones—are never that simple. True connection isn’t about finding people who fit perfectly into our algorithm of comfort and agreement; it’s about navigating the messiness of human interaction, learning from conflict, and understanding that people aren’t disposable when they don’t immediately meet our needs.
In short, we’ve been trained by technology to treat people as interchangeable. But in real life, the stakes are much higher. When we take the time to invest in people, to engage beyond the surface level, we start to see relationships for what they truly are: opportunities for growth, understanding, and shared experiences. The digital age may have made it easier to disconnect, but it’s also made it painfully clear that relationships—real, lasting ones—cannot be reduced to the transactional, fleeting nature of a digital click.
The Illusion of Instant Gratification
In today’s world, instant gratification has become the norm. With the tap of a screen or the click of a mouse, we can summon almost anything we desire—food, entertainment, information, and even human connection. Streaming services let us binge-watch entire seasons in one sitting, social media offers immediate feedback and validation, and online shopping delivers packages to our doorstep within hours. The digital age has conditioned us to expect quick results, and we’ve become accustomed to the feeling of instant pleasure or relief from discomfort.
This mindset, however, has significant consequences when applied to real-life relationships. At its core, instant gratification is the desire for a quick and easy solution to our wants and needs. While this might work well in the context of shopping or entertainment, it doesn’t translate effectively to human interactions. Relationships—whether with friends, family, or colleagues—require time, patience, and effort to nurture and grow. They are not instantaneous, nor should they be reduced to quick exchanges that fit into our immediate needs.
But how did we get here? The rise of technology and its constant stream of dopamine hits has conditioned us to value speed over depth. Social media platforms, apps, and online games are designed to hook us in, providing constant rewards—likes, comments, notifications—that keep us coming back for more. We’ve internalized this need for fast, frequent reinforcement, leading us to expect similar responses in other areas of our lives.
This expectation has seeped into our personal relationships as well. The moment someone disagrees with us, challenges our beliefs, or makes us uncomfortable, our first instinct is often to disengage, mute, or “cancel” them. We no longer have the patience to work through the discomfort, the misunderstanding, or the challenge. Instead, we’re trained to move on and find something-or—someone—easier to digest. It’s a vicious cycle, one that makes genuine connections harder to attain, and, more importantly, harder to maintain.
In real life, instant gratification is not a viable way to live. If we are to have meaningful, lasting relationships, we must accept the inherent messiness and complexity of human interaction. People take time to understand, to forgive, and to grow alongside. They are not items on a wishlist that can be purchased and discarded at will. True connection doesn’t come from a quick fix or the instant pleasure of being “right” or validated. It comes from vulnerability, from putting in the effort, and from being willing to sit with discomfort in order to foster deeper understanding.
Instant gratification, while tempting, doesn’t lead to fulfillment. It leads to a cycle of emptiness, where we chase fleeting pleasures at the expense of lasting joy. When we treat people as instant solutions to our needs, we rob ourselves of the opportunity to experience the richness of human relationships. Instead of rushing to disconnect when things get tough, we should lean into the discomfort, do the hard work of understanding, and allow our relationships to develop in a way that’s both real and meaningful.
The Rise of Cancel Culture
Cancel culture, in its simplest form, is the act of collectively rejecting or boycotting a person, brand, or idea after they’ve done something deemed offensive or controversial. While it may seem like a recent phenomenon tied to social media, the roots of cancel culture can actually be traced back to a long history of public shaming, ostracism, and social exclusion. What’s changed in the digital age, however, is the speed, scale, and public nature of these cancellations, which now happen with unprecedented immediacy.
The origins of cancel culture are often traced back to the early days of social media. Platforms like Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram gave everyone a voice, creating a space for individuals to share opinions and hold others accountable in real-time. In the beginning, this was seen as a positive force—social media allowed marginalized voices to be heard and provided a platform for social justice movements. Hashtags like #MeToo and #BlackLivesMatter gave people the tools to organize, raise awareness, and demand change.
However, over time, the power of social media began to evolve into something less constructive. The very platforms that once helped facilitate important conversations and hold powerful people accountable also gave rise to a new kind of mob mentality. When someone said or did something that went against the majority opinion—or violated the “rules” of social media decorum—the response was often swift and unforgiving. In this environment, canceling someone could feel like a form of justice, a way of policing behavior without the slow-moving processes of legal systems or traditional authority structures.
But unlike traditional forms of justice or accountability, cancel culture operates without due process, without room for nuance or forgiveness. In many cases, someone’s entire reputation and livelihood can be ruined over a single misstep or even a single tweet. The consequences can be immediate and irreversible. In a world where mistakes are amplified and amplified again by social media, it’s easy to see why cancel culture has become so pervasive. The fear of being “canceled” often drives people to avoid controversy or to conform to the loudest voices, further reinforcing a culture of silence or self-censorship.
One of the reasons cancel culture has become so widespread is the perceived anonymity of the internet. It’s easy to comment on or criticize someone from behind a screen, where the social consequences of our actions feel less immediate. This creates an environment where people feel empowered to pile on and attack others in ways they might not in real-life interactions. The public nature of social media allows people to feel as though their judgment is justified by the support of others, amplifying the impact of canceling. But while it may feel like a collective effort, the mob mentality often leads to dehumanizing others, reducing them to a single mistake or a controversial opinion, stripping them of their humanity and their ability to learn or grow.
The rapid escalation of cancel culture in today’s society is also tied to our desire for simplicity in an increasingly complex world. As we discussed earlier, technology has conditioned us to want immediate answers and quick resolutions. When someone does something we deem wrong, the easiest solution is to eliminate them—cancel them, remove them from the equation, and move on. This fits neatly into the digital culture of fast fixes, where things can be swiped away with a click.
However, this simplification of human complexity leads to a dangerous oversimplification of morality. The black-and-white view of cancel culture ignores the gray areas of human experience—the things that make us human. Mistakes, growth, and redemption aren’t part of the equation when the focus is solely on punishing someone for a wrong. In this environment, the possibility for change or forgiveness is erased in favor of immediate justice, and relationships become more transactional than transformative.
Cancel culture’s pervasiveness is also linked to its performative nature. Social media platforms reward visible actions and loud declarations of righteousness, meaning that calling someone out or participating in the cancellation of a public figure can often feel like an act of virtue. But in truth, this kind of social justice often lacks depth. It’s about maintaining appearances rather than engaging in meaningful dialogue or transformation. It’s easier to say “you’re canceled” than to take the time to understand the context, examine motives, or offer an opportunity for personal growth.
What makes cancel culture even more insidious is its tendency to spread beyond the public figures it was originally targeted at. More and more, ordinary people are being subjected to cancel culture for things they say or do, especially when their actions are captured on camera or shared online. The line between public figures and private individuals has become increasingly blurred, and the consequences of being “canceled” can extend beyond social media, affecting personal and professional lives in ways that can be devastating.
In many ways, cancel culture has evolved into a form of modern-day ostracism—an attempt to erase individuals from the public sphere, often with little regard for the complexity of their actions or the potential for change. It’s an attempt to exert control over what is acceptable, often using social media as a tool to enforce that control. But the reality is that this kind of one-size-fits-all justice doesn’t work for people. It strips away the ability to grow, to learn from mistakes, and to repair relationships.
Brands and Cancel Culture: Navigating the Tightrope
In recent years, cancel culture has expanded beyond individuals to include brands and companies. A single misstep, controversial statement, or public relations blunder can ignite a firestorm of backlash, leading to calls for boycotts, public shaming, and, in extreme cases, the destruction of a brand’s reputation. But brands face a unique set of challenges when it comes to cancel culture. While individuals can often bounce back from a mistake or even an extended period of public backlash, brands operate in a more complex ecosystem, one that requires the careful balancing of public perception, customer loyalty, and corporate values.
Can Brands Be Canceled?
Absolutely. Brands are under increasing scrutiny from consumers, particularly in the age of social media. With every tweet, Instagram post, or marketing campaign, brands are essentially putting themselves in the public eye, inviting both praise and criticism. A slip-up can snowball into a full-blown crisis, as seen in cases where companies were accused of being tone-deaf, culturally insensitive, or unethical.
Take, for example, the backlash many companies faced during the Black Lives Matter movement. Brands that failed to speak out on issues of racial injustice were accused of being complicit or tone-deaf, while those who did speak out sometimes faced accusations of opportunism or performative activism. The response wasn’t just about the statements brands made, but about the values they were perceived to hold—or fail to hold.
How Can Brands Avoid Being Canceled?
To avoid cancellation, brands need to be hyper-aware of their public image and how their actions align with their stated values. Authenticity is key. Consumers today are more conscious of corporate behavior than ever before. A brand that portrays itself as environmentally conscious, socially responsible, or inclusive must back up those claims with tangible actions. Anything that appears performative or hypocritical will be scrutinized and, more often than not, called out.
Brands must also be quick to listen and respond to feedback. Social media has given consumers a direct line to brands, making it easier than ever to voice concerns. A brand’s ability to engage with its audience in a meaningful and empathetic way—whether through social media, customer service, or community outreach—can go a long way in preventing a crisis from turning into a full-blown cancellation. Proactively addressing concerns and being transparent about mistakes can help mitigate damage before it gets out of hand.
Importantly, brands should stay true to their core values, even when faced with pressure. The key here is consistency. If a brand has built a reputation around a certain value—say, environmental sustainability or ethical production—it must maintain that standard across all its actions. Inconsistent or contradictory behavior is one of the quickest ways to lose consumer trust, which can easily lead to cancellation.
Can Brands Recover from Being Canceled?
Recovery is possible, but it’s not guaranteed. For a brand to bounce back from cancellation, it needs to do more than just apologize or make a public statement. Consumers today demand accountability, and they expect brands to demonstrate that they’ve learned from their mistakes. This can mean making structural changes within the company, publicly addressing the issues that led to the backlash, and committing to long-term improvements.
Take Nike’s partnership with Colin Kaepernick, for example. When Kaepernick became a polarizing figure for kneeling during the national anthem to protest racial injustice, some called for a boycott of Nike. However, the brand stuck by its decision and continued to back Kaepernick, despite the public outcry. In the end, this move helped strengthen Nike’s relationship with its core audience, particularly younger, socially conscious consumers. Nike was able to recover by standing firm in its values and demonstrating a commitment to social justice, though, of course, this is a case where the brand’s response aligned with its audience’s expectations.
For brands to recover, there must be a genuine effort to rebuild trust. It’s not just about a statement or a hashtag; it’s about consistent, authentic action over time. Recovery is possible, but it requires a long-term commitment to doing better, which includes listening to consumers, acknowledging past mistakes, and making meaningful changes.
Should Strong Brands Worry About Being Canceled?
While the fear of being canceled is real, strong brands need to focus on staying true to their values rather than worrying about every potential controversy. Brands with a clear identity and purpose are more resilient to cancel culture because their audience knows what they stand for. A brand that has built trust over time, especially one that has weathered challenges in the past, is less likely to be quickly discarded at the first sign of controversy.
That said, brands cannot afford to be complacent. They must be vigilant and stay attuned to the cultural and social environment in which they operate. Brands that are flexible, responsive, and willing to learn from their mistakes are much more likely to navigate cancel culture successfully.
However, focusing solely on avoiding cancellation can be a slippery slope. It may lead brands to become overly cautious, afraid to take risks or take a stance on important issues. This could result in a brand that lacks authenticity, which can be just as damaging as a misstep. Strong brands should instead focus on being transparent, empathetic, and committed to continuous improvement.
Ultimately, cancel culture presents both a challenge and an opportunity for brands. While the fear of being canceled is valid, it also presents an opportunity for brands to be authentic, transparent, and engaged with their audience in a way that builds lasting trust. By staying true to their values, listening to feedback, and responding with humility and accountability, brands can not only survive cancel culture but thrive in a world where authenticity and social responsibility matter more than ever.
The Real-World Disconnect
While cancel culture may thrive in the digital world, real-life relationships don’t operate on the same immediate, transactional terms. In the virtual realm, it’s easy to hit “unfollow” or “block” someone and move on to the next thing. It’s a quick, seemingly efficient solution to conflict or discomfort. But in the real world, things are far more complicated. Human relationships—whether friendships, family bonds, or professional connections—require time, effort, and, most importantly, the ability to navigate the gray areas.
In a face-to-face setting, the dynamics of conflict change. When someone offends or frustrates us in person, we can’t just click a button to erase them from our lives. We have to engage, confront the issue, and, ideally, work through it. It’s a far messier process, but it’s also one that offers the opportunity for growth, understanding, and reconciliation. The real world demands something that social media rarely does: vulnerability.
Consider the differences in how people behave online versus in person. Online, we are removed from the emotional weight of our words. Disagreements often escalate because there’s no immediate face-to-face feedback; there’s no body language, tone, or nuance to temper the response. In contrast, when we confront someone directly in real life, the stakes feel higher. There’s a genuine possibility for misunderstanding, but also a better chance for meaningful resolution. The conversation might be uncomfortable, but it’s an interaction that can lead to growth if both parties are open to it. In the digital space, however, the anonymity of screens makes it easier to lash out or “cancel” someone, with no real effort required on our part.
This is where the real-world disconnect begins. The instant gratification of canceling someone online doesn’t translate to the emotional investment of real-world relationships. It’s easy to disconnect from someone who challenges our beliefs, but how do we deal with that same person when we see them in the grocery store or at a family gathering? The effort involved in navigating these situations—whether it’s acknowledging misunderstandings or simply allowing space for someone to change—forces us to confront the complexity of human relationships. It’s a challenge that requires patience, empathy, and, ultimately, a willingness to engage.
The problem with cancel culture is that it often overlooks the potential for growth. It treats people as static figures, defined only by their mistakes or missteps, without considering the possibility that they can change. In real life, people are not defined by a single moment or a single action. We are constantly evolving, learning, and adapting. Relationships that matter require an understanding of this fluidity and a willingness to accept others, even when they fall short of our expectations.
In a world where cancel culture often feels like a quick fix, the real world reminds us that lasting relationships require hard work. They demand that we engage with people on a deeper level, beyond the surface of what’s immediately acceptable or comfortable. This doesn’t mean tolerating toxic behavior or allowing harmful actions to go unaddressed—it means accepting that people are more than the sum of their mistakes and that there’s value in working through difficult conversations and uncomfortable moments.
In the digital space, it’s easy to dismiss someone with a few clicks. In the real world, it’s far more challenging, but it’s also where the true opportunity for growth lies. We need to recognize the value in these real-world, messy, emotional exchanges, rather than retreating to the safety of online cancelation.
The Call for Human Connection
If there’s one thing we’ve learned from the rise of cancel culture, it’s that we’ve become increasingly comfortable with detachment. The ease of canceling people online, of dismissing them with a click or a post, has made it feel like our relationships can be simplified, stripped of the messy complexities that make us human. We’ve built a culture around speed—instant validation, immediate gratification, and the belief that if something doesn’t work for us, we can simply move on to the next thing. But here’s the truth: real relationships don’t work that way.
Human connection, at its core, is about vulnerability. It’s about embracing the messiness of others—their flaws, their growth, and their imperfections. The problem with cancel culture is that it asks us to reject that messiness, to see people as disposable when they fall short. But if we take a step back and examine what really makes relationships meaningful, it becomes clear that the real value lies in our ability to navigate those complexities. It lies in our willingness to lean into discomfort, to work through disagreements, and to give people the room to grow and evolve.
This is the great challenge we face in today’s world. In a society that thrives on speed and instant responses, it’s easy to forget that lasting connections require time and effort. Relationships—whether romantic, familial, or professional—aren’t about finding the perfect person or the perfect moment. They are about shared experiences, understanding, and the willingness to engage in the hard, sometimes uncomfortable work of communication and growth.
But that’s not easy. The temptation to cancel someone when they challenge our views or make us uncomfortable is always there. It’s much simpler to dismiss someone than to confront the complexities of what they represent. But doing so robs us of the opportunity to learn from others, to grow alongside them, and to experience the depth of human connection. The key is in embracing that messiness—the disagreements, the growth, and the vulnerability—and using it as an opportunity to move toward greater understanding and empathy.
In many ways, cancel culture is a reflection of our own discomfort with conflict. It’s easier to cut ties than to engage, to retreat into a world where we only interact with people who agree with us. But if we want to build deeper, more meaningful relationships, we have to push past that discomfort. We have to be willing to engage with people who don’t always align with our views, who might challenge us, or even frustrate us. Only then can we truly appreciate the value of human connection in all its complexity.
At the end of the day, the real power of relationships lies not in their perfection but in their imperfection. It’s in the moments where we fail, learn, and grow together. So, instead of retreating into cancel culture, let’s embrace the hard work of human connection. Let’s take the time to truly understand each other, to forgive, and to build relationships that are richer and more meaningful because of the messiness we share.
Summing Up: The Power of Human Connection
As I sat at home that day with my Italian sub in front of me, something started to shift inside me. At first, I felt like I had been cast aside, dismissed by a stranger in a way that felt incredibly final. The power of her words, “You’re canceled,” echoed in my head as I questioned whether my existence had been reduced to a moment of conflict. The digital world had conditioned me to think that a single action, a single misstep, could define me. But later that evening, as I walked through the streets, the weight of her words started to feel less powerful. She didn’t have the authority to cancel me, not really. And in the larger scheme of things, I realized, she never could.
In the digital age, it’s easy to fall into the trap of viewing ourselves or others as disposable. Social media has taught us that we can click away from someone’s life as easily as we can swipe a screen. Cancel culture, as pervasive as it is, often gives the illusion that one mistake can erase a person entirely. But the real world isn’t like that. People are more than their mistakes, more than their flaws. We all have the capacity to learn, to grow, and to change.
The moment of “cancellation” at the deli may have stung, but it didn’t define me. It didn’t define my worth, my identity, or my potential for growth. In the end, it was a reminder that real relationships—those that matter—require more than just a quick fix or an easy solution. They require time, empathy, and, above all, the willingness to work through discomfort and conflict. We don’t “cancel” people for challenging us, for making us uncomfortable, or for being imperfect. We engage with them, we listen, and we grow together.
So, yes, cancel culture is real. And yes, it has its place in holding people accountable for actions that harm others. But in our personal lives, and in our relationships with others, let’s not forget that people are not disposable. We are not algorithms to be turned off or on with the swipe of a finger. We are human beings—messy, complicated, and ever-evolving. And it is through embracing the messiness of human connection that we find the truest meaning in our relationships.
In the end, the woman at the deli couldn’t cancel me. She couldn’t erase me with a word or a wave of her hand. And neither can anyone else. Because the real power in life isn’t in the ability to disconnect. It’s in the courage to stay engaged, to face the complexity of relationships head-on, and to keep showing up—despite the messiness, despite the discomfort, and despite the urge to simply walk away.
