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How Hollywood’s Obsession with Representation Made Me Racist

 |  ESTIMATED READING TIME:  2 MINUTES

Entertainment Without Labels

For most of my life, I watched movies and TV shows for one reason: entertainment. I didn’t care about a character’s skin color or gender. It was all about whether they had depth—whether they were well-written or just bland. Then, out of nowhere, something changed. Suddenly, directors seemed obsessed with representation. Every scene felt like it was checking off a diversity quota instead of focusing on telling a good story. The shift was so glaringly obvious, it became hard to ignore, and worse—it started to overshadow the actual content. And trust me, it was that annoying.

The Rise of Preachy Content

It wasn’t just about seeing more diverse faces on screen. It was how preachy it had become. Studios, with all their forced messaging, were ironically talking to audiences that already agreed with them. The ones they were really trying to reach? They weren’t even watching these movies, shows, or games! It’s like shouting into an echo chamber. And when I found out companies like BlackRock had their hand in pushing these agendas, I couldn’t help but wonder, “How did we get from making great films to this?”

Representation Never Bothered Me

As a Moroccan with Amazigh-Arab roots, I never cared about representation—at least not in the way Hollywood seems to think I should. I’ve always believed that, at the end of the day, we’re all just humans. Turning diversity into a fight just felt silly. That said, I do get a little kick out of seeing Morocco pop up in movies. Not because I’m desperate for representation, but because of the surprise factor. It’s like, “Oh, hey! They filmed this in my country!” Or, more often, “Wait, that’s a Moroccan license plate… but the movie claims we’re in Pakistan? Someone’s slacking on the details!”

And don’t get me started on celebrity worship. Even as a kid, I didn’t jump on the bandwagon of cheering for people just because everyone else was. Whether it was fans losing their minds over the King of Morocco or the latest Hollywood trend, I just couldn’t bring myself to care. Same goes for celebrities. Just because I admire someone’s work doesn’t mean I’m eager to become part of some creepy parasocial fan club. Admiration is fine, but I’m not about to live through someone I’ll never meet. That’s just… a bit much, don’t you think?

First-World Problems, Literally

The debates over representation have spiraled into a circus! Left versus right, alt-right versus alt-left—it’s like a never-ending ping-pong match, and honestly, it’s exhausting. Meanwhile, the upper 1% are up in their towers, pulling the strings while the middle class is busy squabbling over who gets to tick the most diversity boxes. Growing up poor taught me to keep my eyes on real priorities. All this commotion about representation feels like a first-world problem—like arguing about the color of your yacht while the ship is sinking. I mean, isn’t it a bit ironic?

The Burnout of Woke Media

Now that I’m 30, I thought maybe I was just becoming a snob about what I consume. I’ve got over a thousand video games sitting there, yet I barely play any of them. At first, I blamed it on fatigue, but now I see the real culprit: the avalanche of forced messages and agendas that turn my once-beloved pastime into a chore. Growing up, I could kick back and enjoy the dumbest plots without a second thought. But now? My critical thinking is on overdrive, making it tough to shut off that analytical voice and just savor the silliness like I did as a kid. Looking back, I’m grateful I grew up in an era when creators cared more about storytelling than pushing agendas. Art was made for the sake of art, and oh man, do I miss that!