©2020 by Michael Raysses
Monday was a not a banner day for the Karens of the world. In case you’ve been living in a bunker without internet access these past few months, a Karen is a mocking slang term; it’s shorthand for white privilege as expressed by white, middle-aged women possessed of blinding entitlement. They’re renowned for asking to speak with managers of restaurants and retails stores to voice complaints, and then making demands based on those complaints.
But the latest, most famous Karen didn’t call a manager—she called the cops.
The Karen in question is actually an Amy. Amy Cooper, to be exact. This past Monday she became infamous for walking her dog in Central Park without a leash, contrary to park rules. When a bird-watcher, Christian Cooper (no relation), came upon the unleashed canine, he asked Ms. Cooper to leash her pet. She refused; he repeated his request. When it became obvious that she wasn’t going to comply, Mr. Cooper began videotaping her with his phone, which riled her no end. At that point, she approached him directly and told him to stop taping her or she would call the police and tell them “that an African-American man is threatening her life.” Mr. Cooper quite calmly encouraged her to do so.
The video went viral, and though no arrests were made, Ms. Cooper was fired by her employer on Tuesday. And the poor dog in question was surrendered to the shelter he was adopted from while the dispute is being addressed.
Thus attuned to the antics of Karens, I saw yet one more story on Monday in which a different white, middle-aged
woman grossly misbehaved in yet another park in which she verbally attacked a Hispanic family for playing “Mexican music.” After cursing at them while questioning their taste in music, she was pulled away by a companion as the aggrieved party was gracious enough to merely shout enthusiastic goodbyes.
I had reached my tipping point with the species known as Karens. I posted this last incident on my Facebook page, using the term in my introduction. Later I received a complaint from a friend named Karen, who felt my usage was degrading to anyone who shared the name, herself included. I apologized, explaining that the whole phenomenon was brought about to shed light on toxic white privilege and its consequences. My friend felt that was no excuse.
So I asked myself why should the Karens of the world (there are 1.1 million in the US alone) have to suffer the slings and arrows of nominal coincidence? I balanced their need with that of exposing white privilege, certainly a worthy cause.
But what name could replace Karen? It’s a no-brainer, some might argue quite literally.
Ivanka—the ultimate Karen.
Here’s a name whose most famous example loves acting as a spokesperson. She is a brand ambassador
extraordinaire. Whether it’s touting the success of a failing property to get people to invest in it or putting her
name on petroleum-based garments made in sweat shops and then selling them in Third World countries at
inflated prices, she’s the absolute embodiment of white privilege. And the perfect remedy for ailing Karens, worldwide.
How confident am I of my solution?
I’d bet my name on it.