Clubhouse Struggle Sessions

Clubhouse has been all over the news as of late. Some call it a replacement to Twitter. Others less so. The social media network is one that allows people to join rooms and have a moderated conversation with a limited number of speakers. So far, so good, right?

Not so, says the New York Times - Clubhouse is a place that allows for “unfettered” conversation, and there’s nothing more dangerous than free speech, after all. But is Clubhouse the final frontier when it comes to free speech? Not really.

My experience with Clubhouse differs from the experience most liberal journalists have when they use the platform. They may complain that people are too free with their opinions and complain when they are shut down by the tech moguls who dominate the space.

In contrast to those experiences, mine was a struggle session. If you’re unfamiliar with the term, the word “inquisition” might give you an idea as to what it is.

I sat in a clubhouse room with the infamous “Pharma Bro” Martin Shkreli’s supposed romantic partner and confidante, the journalist Christie Smythe, in which she promoted her upcoming book and fielded questions and criticism from an audience mostly critical of her experiences with Shkreli. Following what amounted to a Q&A, I joined a separate room with some of the chat’s more colorful participants to talk about what she said, and how she was basically full of s***.

It was fun for a good hour. We talked, we bantered, and some members clinically diagnosed her as an unfeeling psychopath whose only interest in Shkreli was to promote a book and a potential deal with Netflix. The conversation moved on to how Shkreli saw her as a stalker when he refused to comment on their relationship. There’s a lot of truth to the saying “a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell” - and that was very likely the case with his relationship with Smythe.

But that didn’t matter to the group. The group was out for blood and it wanted to paint Smythe in the most delectable light possible. She was akin to an Instagram foodie post for a frenzy of hungry sharks.

When the sharks could no longer feed on her remains, they turned inward. They targeted me. One of the group’s members looked up who I was, and found out that my political views did not align with theirs. Thus began the struggle session.

“Why do you oppose Black Lives Matter? Do you hate black people?”

I don’t hate black people. Black Lives Matter is a political movement. A Marxist one, in fact. I said this, but it fell on deaf ears. To the group, I was a Nazi, a racist, a bigot, a White supremacist (despite being Asian, not that it matters given that Asians are now “White adjacent”) for my tweets about Black Lives Matter. I had been criticizing the group on Twitter that day.

For several long minutes, the group chided me for my views, questioning my beliefs, and asking me why I believed what I believed about the social justice movement. Why wasn’t I one of them?

What had begun as a friendly, if somewhat mean-spirited, conversation about two public figures turned into an inquisition of a member of the conversation group. Simply put, I didn’t fit in, and they needed to single me out as an “other.”

A member of the group - I can’t remember her name - spoke up amid the questions and accusations. She said, “I thought you all knew who Ian Miles Cheong was? He’s Twitter famous. He’s a conservative. I thought you knew that and you were all cool with it.”

She went unheard. Most of them had no idea who I was. Those who did remained quiet as the others spoke. She clearly went into the conversation knowing who I was and decided that I wasn’t as bad as she might’ve thought, given how I contributed to the discussion. But for those who only just then discovered my political views, I became an instant enemy.

When some members of the group tried seemingly in earnest to question the validity of my political views, I humored them with sincere answers. Unfortunately for everyone, but especially for me, their questions were drowned out by a couple of hyper-aggressive loudmouths who called me a Nazi and asked bizarre personal questions that had nothing to do with my views - or even their perception of my views. It just got very personal, and very uncomfortable - for all involved, I’m sure.

It was impossible to have any sort of conversation with those in the group, who sincerely believed in supporting Black Lives Matter, who were in the midst of explaining why their experiences mattered or how I was out of place to judge protesters and activists for their actions. After all, anyone would be empathetic to their beliefs if someone in the group isn’t calling you a Nazi and telling you to apologize for who you are.

“He’s not worth talking to. Nothing he says is going to be honest. He’s just here to troll you,” said one of the loudmouths. Well, when you put it that way, I might as well put on my red MAGA cap and troll you for all you’re worth.

“You’re right,” I said to the loudmouth. “I don’t care about you. Never did. You can play the victim and cry about your lived experiences, but it’s all entertainment to me. You’ll never change my mind. That’s what you wanted to hear, right?”

This caused members of the group to start leaving. I’d wasted their time, it felt like. They didn’t go away happy. I didn’t really give them what they wanted, except for maybe the loudmouth who got told exactly what she wanted to hear. Good for her, but was any of that good for conversation? Hell no.

If not for her, I would’ve sat in for yet another half hour and I could’ve even had honest conversations about the politics of social justice. They could’ve let me see their “truth,” and they could have seen mine. We would’ve gotten along - just as we did before one of them decided to look into me.

Was it the joke I made about OnlyFans early on in the conversation that outed me? Probably. But don’t expect me to change my sense of humor or tell me to stop joking about sex workers just because you happen to post nudes for five dollars a pop. Just don’t be a sex worker if you don’t want people to make fun of you for being one. Society, much less individuals, should not have to cater to you.

And that’s how it’s done. Want to overthrow a struggle session? Don’t apologize. Don’t bend your knee and play to their pleas for sympathy, or kowtow to their bullying. I knew what I was in for the moment the conversation turned hostile, and I played the group accordingly.

It’s impossible to have a conversation as a conservative. When your views are known, that’s all you’ll be judged by. Progressives don’t want to have an honest conversation. They don’t want to understand why you’re a conservative. They just want to be told what they want to hear. They want to be in an echo chamber and for you to reflect their confirmation biases back at them - all the while judging you for it and feeling smugly superior about themselves.

What they don’t tell you about struggle sessions is that the inquisitors have no interest in making you change your mind, or even accepting their beliefs. They want to intimidate, manipulate, and ultimately coerce you into apologizing for who you are. Don’t do that. 

You can follow Ian Miles Cheong on Twitter @stillgray