The Age of Sensitivity: What are we still allowed to say?

Decades of cultural evolution have shaped a society that values respect, inclusion, and fairness more than ever - and rightly so. No one should face discrimination for who they are or where they come from. There’s no place for racism, bigotry, or exclusion. Full stop.

But has our pursuit of progress taken cultural sensitivity too far?

Seconds after arriving on stage, Eddie Murphy launches into a set laced with gay slurs, racial impersonations, and jokes about the ‘good ole days’ when you could smack your wife. (insert shock emoji here)

The year is 1983 and the show is Delirious, Murphy's first stand-up special for HBO. It received rave reviews at the time and even won him a Grammy the following year. Eddie was just 22 years old, and the show made him a global superstar.

I watched it again recently for the first time in 30 years, and yes, parts made me cringe and some of the content was outdated. But it was still undeniably funny. More than anything though, it revealed just how much things have changed.

It took 13 years for public backlash to catch up. Amidst a growing gay rights movement, Murphy publicly apologised for the slurs and the hurt it caused. These days, he speaks out about the evolving standards of comedy.

Then vs Now

Today, a show like this would never be made. Since 1983, naming a race has become racist. Hiring staff must ‘appear equal’ by meeting quotas on gender and diversity. Kids get participation awards so no one feels left out. Schools tiptoe around Mother's Day and Easter hat parades, lest someone should feel excluded. Even ‘Merry Christmas’ is weighed before it's wished.

Much of this reflects positive progress, but some feels like overcorrection.

When inclusion overrides humour, or when safeguarding feelings begins to rewrite basic freedoms, we have to ask - have we tipped too far? Have we created a hyper-sensitivity around language, identity and opinion to a point where even well-meaning comments or obvious satire can become lightning rods for outrage?

Many comedians still tackle controversial material, but bold, anti-woke humour often sparks instant backlash these days - and sometimes even gets them cancelled.

Kevin Hart lost his Oscars hosting gig over decade-old tweets. Stephen Colbert ignited a cancel campaign and Dave Chappelle was condemned for similar lines of deprecating satire. These are comedians, whose profession it is to make jokes and poke fun, and sometimes it’s confronting.

I’m not defending hate speech and I’m not suggesting derogatory comments should be supported or that hurtful words don’t mean anything.

I’m posing the question - do they need to mean EVERYTHING?

Outrage culture has made people easily offended and opinions aren't allowed to just be anymore. We label, pile on, cancel. If someone doesn't agree, they must be ignorant or dangerous. We are not allowed to roast stereotypes or say anything negative about anyone, because it’s now considered shaming, racist or unequal - and that’s not healthy.

Social media fuels the outrage and algorithms amplify division. Nuance seems lost in favour of fury as keyboard warriors spread their hate. Everyone has a platform now, but not everyone uses it with grace.

Shaped, not defined

I was raised by immigrant parents in an Anglo suburb of Sydney, and I didn’t speak a word of English until I started school. I was teased, overlooked and told I had a ‘funny name for a pretty girl.’ I never saw anyone ‘like me’ reading the news and I was taught that a ‘good’ Muslim girl didn’t voice opinions. I later worked for companies who had tea ladies and male-only lunchrooms, and I probably got paid less than my male counterparts.

I’m not claiming my stories carry the generational weight of slavery, colonisation or dispossession. I'm not weighing in on my parents’ or ancestral experiences. I’m simply saying that I too carry echoes of moments in my life that signalled ‘I didn’t quite belong’.

Did these things define my views today? No.

I’m fiercely pro-choice. I believe in equity and acceptance, and I stand by those vilified simply for being themselves. I honour how far minority communities have come and the resilience it took them to get here.

But I also believe tradition still holds value. That rules have merit even when they don’t always deliver universal representation. That the best person for the role is the one who should get the job, regardless of DEI (diversity, equity & inclusion) weighting. That the uniform of a school should be universal regardless of personal choice. That identity and resilience can be taught in tandem.

Wokeness isn’t the enemy - but in our effort to elevate voices that were historically silenced, we’ve swung so far that we’ve drowned out tradition, respectful opposition, and sometimes even common sense.

As I write this, I wonder who my words will offend.

I welcome the conversation ...without the pitchforks.

This article was originally published in Darling Magazine