From Woke to Roke: How the Republicans Embraced Cancel Culture

When Elon Musk commanded his millions of followers to “cancel Netflix for the health of your kids,” he wasn’t just making a parental recommendation—he was participating in the very culture war theater he and his allies claim to despise.

The term “woke” began in African American communities as a call to remain vigilant about racial injustice—to “stay woke” meant staying aware of systemic inequities. But in recent years, conservatives have weaponized the term, transforming it into a catch-all pejorative for anything they perceive as excessive progressive activism. In this framing, “woke” describes performative gestures that signal virtue without accomplishing anything meaningful: the corporate diversity statement that changes nothing, the land acknowledgment that returns no land, the pronoun in the bio that costs nothing and risks less.

Consider the archetypal example: a major corporation changing its social media avatar to a rainbow during Pride Month, then quietly switching it back on July 1st—and notably, never changing the avatar for their Middle Eastern accounts at all. This is performative wokeness in its purest form: a symbolic gesture designed to signal alignment with progressive values while requiring no actual sacrifice or structural change.

But here’s what makes the current moment so rich with irony: Republicans have embraced their own mirror-image version of this performative activism. Let’s call it “Roke”—a blend of “Republican” and “woke”—to describe the right’s adoption of the very theatrical, symbolic culture war tactics they’ve spent years condemning.

Rokeness manifests in grand gestures that generate headlines and signal tribal loyalty while accomplishing nothing of substance. Take the recent renaming of the Gulf of Mexico to the “Gulf of America.” This act changed exactly zero gallons of seawater, affected not one shipping route, and solved no actual problem facing Americans. It was pure performance—a way to demonstrate nationalist credentials through symbolic action. It’s the conservative equivalent of the land acknowledgment: a statement that signals values to the in-group while having no material impact whatsoever.

The Netflix controversy exemplifies Rokeness in its most developed form. Musk’s call to cancel Netflix stems from outrage over “Dead End: Paranormal Park,” an animated show featuring a transgender character. The show was already canceled in 2023 after two seasons. Yet this week, Musk urged a boycott, claiming Netflix was pushing a “transgender woke agenda” harmful to children. Conservative activist Robby Starbuck piled on, declaring that “no one should give this woke company another dime,” citing Netflix’s alleged hatred toward white Americans.

Notice the familiar dynamics: a call for collective action against a company for its ideological positions, demands that the corporation align with certain values, accusations of harm to children and traditional culture. This is cancel culture with a conservative accent. The targets have changed, but the tactics—the performative outrage, the calls for boycotts, the claims of protecting children from dangerous ideas—remain identical.

The deeper irony is that both the show’s creator and Musk are now engaged in the same performance. Hamish Steele’s show featured diverse characters in what supporters called a “brilliant show about kind, wonderful characters.” Critics saw it as ideological programming. Both sides signal their values through their positions on a children’s cartoon, both claim to be protecting something sacred, and neither acknowledges they’re engaged in the same theater.

Rokeness thrives on this kind of symbolic confrontation. It’s not about solving problems; it’s about performing opposition to the other side’s performance. When conservatives demand Netflix be canceled for featuring LGBTQ characters, they’re not proposing policy solutions for whatever they believe threatens American families. They’re engaging in the performative activism they claim to despise—the grand gesture that signals tribal belonging without requiring serious thought or sacrifice.

The transformation from “woke” to “Roke” reveals something uncomfortable: the performative style of modern activism isn’t unique to progressives. It’s how contemporary political tribalism functions across the spectrum. Both sides have discovered that symbolic gestures and outrage generate attention, enforce group loyalty, and feel like action even when they accomplish little.

The Gulf of America will still be the Gulf of Mexico on most maps. Netflix will continue producing content that angers both left and right. And Americans on both sides will continue performing their political identities through boycotts, cancellations, and symbolic gestures that let them signal their values without the harder work of actually changing anything.

That’s not woke or roke—it’s just modern politics. And it’s exhausting.