The Campaign for White Males

 “Are you sure you want to do this?” asked Sally.

“I can’t say no. I’ll lose my job,” said Brianna. “Besides, it’s a huge opportunity.”

“I have no idea what I’d do in your situation.”

Brianna’s advertising firm, known in Trentwood, New Jersey simply as the Firm, had been chosen for a vast advertising campaign to redeem the reputation of white males. This meant that all the copy writers were competing to come up with a slogan, THE slogan, that would be the basis of a planet-wide effort. Whoever won would rise to the top of the Firm and likely become wealthy, an advertising legend.

Sally and Brianna had grown close as part of a local group working to bring affordable housing to Trentwood. Only one small complex had been approved—opponents had claimed that anything more would ruin the city’s character as it evolved from an aging industrial town to a hub for advertising and financial services.

Brianna had brought Sally her first batch of slogans intended to bolster the credibility of white males. The two lounged on moderately comfortable wooden chairs in Sally’s kitchen / dining room / living room, as they sipped nervously on chamomile.

“I jotted down about fifty ideas,” said Brianna, “but these are the best.” Sally glanced at the list:

White Males – Nicer than you think.

White Males – Not so bad after all.

White Males – We try harder.

“Honestly,” said Sally. “I think the whole thing’s ridiculous.”

“That’s not for you to judge. Just tell me if these are any good.”

“I’m not qualified,” said Sally. “I’m a social worker, not a creative person.”

Sally often wondered why friendships across the color line were shockingly rare in her mixed neighborhood. Of course, gentrification meant a social gap, but the neighborhood had a number of professional Black people and more poor whites than was commonly known. What had brought Brianna and Sally together? Did it matter that Brianna could easily be mistaken for Italian or Jewish? Still, with her Irish skin that burned easily in the summer sun, Sally could never be seen as anything but white.

Brianna admitted that she felt some guilt at struggling to help a group that had been responsible for colonialism and slavery and wasn’t always so helpful even today. Still, she’d already been part of a campaign to make Omni Coal and Oil appear socially responsible. Was this any worse?

It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there. Or, more accurately, a humans-eat-humans world. Besides, if Brianna didn’t work on these campaigns, she had told Sally, someone else would, probably someone with less scruples than she. She was using what money she had to help her family, with a smidgeon left over to donate to socially useful causes, including Defenders of the Planet, which had taken Omni Coal and Oil to court.

“I had an epiphany at 3 AM,” Brianna said on the evening of the second day, back in Sally’s apartment. Brianna’s must have been even smaller or she would have invited Sally over at least occasionally.  

“We’re an in-your-face culture, so why not an in-your-face advertising campaign?” said Brianna. Besides, she explained, subconsciously there’s great admiration for white males, from William Shakespeare to George Washington to Jeff Bezos. The campaign would capitalize on that. “Plus,” said Brianna, “It’s much more fun to brag than to be humble.”

“Even if you’re bragging for someone else?”

“Somehow, it inspires me.”

“I still think the whole thing’s ridiculous.”

“Do you want to take a look or not?”

The new crop was much more entertaining:

White Males – Wealthy beyond belief!

White Males – We’ve got the Bling that makes you Sing!

White Males – Inventors of the scientific method!

White Males – As a matter of fact, we do own the Planet!

“These are great!” said Sally. “In a horrifying kind of way.”

On the third day, Brianna changed her strategy once again. “I realized that, if I want to be chosen, I need a slogan showing that white males have learned humility, but that their ingenuity remains crucial to the human endeavor.” Of course, the slogan couldn’t spell that out too bluntly, but had to leave the impression on the subliminal mind, the primitive instinct that advertisers play like a harp.

Silently, Sally read through the third batch:

White Males – Forever humble, forever helpful.

White Males – Part of the gorgeous human mosaic.

White Males – Seeking the future, exploring the stars.

“These are even better,” said Sally. “I think you’re going to win it all.”

On the evening of the fourth day, Brianna phoned to tell Sally that she’d turned in her best ten. Now it was up to the top brass to decide.

“Good luck!”

“I’m going to lose,” said Brianna.

“That’s ridiculous. Why are you always down on yourself?”

“They’re never going to pick a Black woman to run a campaign for white males.”

“They’re a business,” said Sally. “It’s in their financial interest to pick the best, so they’ll pick you.”

“They didn’t pick me in New York City’s equity campaign. They’ll never pick me for this.”

“These are better. Besides, the Firm’s chief executive is a Black woman.”

“That’s just a PR move.” As Brianna had said many times, the Firm’s white, billionaire owner called all the shots.

On the evening of the seventh day, Sally finally heard from Brianna. The phone’s nagging ring interrupted Final Jeopardy, where Sally had been rooting for a Hispanic woman from Newark.

“I knew it,” said Brianna’s tired voice. “I’m a loser once again.”

“Are you sure?”

“The Firm announced it. They picked a young guy, Dallas Smith.”

“What was the winning slogan?” Sally couldn’t help but ask.

“White Males – Moving humanity forward.”

“How bland. Yours were much better.”

“I’ll never get ahead. Never.”

“It’s racism, pure and simple. You should sue.”

“I can’t prove anything.”

“You should quit.”

“And do what? I need the money. My mother needs the money. She’s not well.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Sally. But Brianna had hung up. She must have been too upset to continue talking.

And Final Jeopardy had ended. Sally never did find out who won.