“There are no more monsters to fear.”

“And so, we have to build our own.”

Build our own indeed, Dodge.

Let’s be real, this commercial, like every commercial, is intended to get our dicks hard. And I’m projecting maleness onto the viewing audience because…well, because that’s how these things work, right? We’ve built a world of monsters, where everything is encoded with the privilege of the rich white male perspective, who is trained to respond to Dodge’s marketing with appalling, greedy salivation. But this intended response, the dominant reading of it, is not limited to the rich white male demographic; we all fall into that category. We all share that vision of the world.

Dodge is absolutely right. We don’t face the monsters of our ancestors. And yet, Dodge is absolutely wrong. We do face the monsters of our ancestors. These monsters prey on our collective psychology. We have inherited the monstrous heritage of white supremacy in this country, and yet we continue to pretend that such demons do not haunt us, lurking and stalking us in every corner of lived experience. The rich white male never has to see this monster, of course; worse, everyone else is not meant to see it. They are left with the enduring pain of feeling it, and because they can’t name their numbness and their fear and so bring it into the light, they know only the most curious paralysis, seduced as they are taught to be by the shadows on the wall.

Those shadows, what the likes of Dodge are complicit in manufacturing, are our gravest monsters. They are the lies masquerading as truths that keep us from fighting back.

What is it that we feel coming in the air tonight? Perhaps one day, justice.

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