Once upon a time, to be “woke” was to be aware. To be sensitive to the injustices in the world—particularly racial, economic, and social. Rooted in African-American Vernacular English, “stay woke” was originally a call to vigilance, a warning to stay aware of the structural forces of oppression. But like many culturally significant terms, it has taken a long, strange journey through the cultural meat grinder, emerging on the other side with a meaning almost unrecognisable to those who first used it.
Today, “woke” has become a term of derision. It is routinely weaponised by commentators on the political right as shorthand for a certain kind of perceived overreach: hypersensitivity, virtue signalling, and the censorship of ideas. What was once a mark of consciousness has become a punchline. But how did we get here? And more importantly, is there a way to reclaim the word—or do we need something entirely new?
From vigilance to villainy
To understand this trajectory, it helps to consider the insights of linguist and cultural commentator John McWhorter. In his book Woke Racism, McWhorter outlines how the word “woke” evolved into a creed-like ideology embraced by what he calls the “Elect” – a class of progressive thinkers for whom anti-racism has become a religion of sorts. While McWhorter is deeply critical of the excesses of modern woke ideology, he is also clear about its origins. The early use of the word was not pejorative but a powerful tool of consciousness-raising, born from the Black experience in America.
As McWhorter notes, language is fluid, and meaning often shifts depending on usage and power. The transformation of “woke” from an awareness of social injustice into a symbol of ideological extremism wasn’t organic—it was strategic. The political right, particularly in the Trump era, understood the potency of culture war narratives. By co-opting “woke,” they created a caricature of progressivism that could be easily attacked.
The trump effect and the rise of mockery culture
Donald Trump, in particular, has played a central role in this cultural regression. His political ascent was built on a backlash to perceived political correctness. His rhetoric, often dismissive and inflammatory, gave permission for a kind of public crudeness to re-enter the mainstream. Complexity was abandoned in favour of soundbites. Nuance was traded for outrage. In this context, “woke” became an easy target: a label for anything that required intellectual or moral effort.
Yet despite this weaponisation, the spirit of what “woke” once meant remains important. We still need a language to describe the moral imperative of being alert to systemic injustice. The idea that it’s a virtue to care about racism, sexism, ableism, homophobia, or climate injustice shouldn’t be controversial. But when “wokeness” is used to mock those very concerns, we risk erasing the necessity of these conversations altogether.
Certainly, there are examples of the overuse or misapplication of woke ideology. A university speaker being disinvited for a decade-old tweet. A children’s book removed from shelves due to the lack of diversity in its illustrations. These moments invite ridicule and understandably so. But focusing solely on these extremes distracts from the core value: fostering a more just, empathetic, and equitable society.
It is easy to forget that the alternative to being “woke” is not neutrality but ignorance. To reject the idea of social awareness entirely is to imply that injustice is either solved or irrelevant. Both are dangerous assumptions. Consider the rise in hate crimes, the persistence of racial wealth gaps, or the disproportionate effects of climate change on poorer communities. These are not woke fantasies; they are empirical realities.
In the absence of “woke,” what do we say to describe the people who do care? The activists fighting food deserts in urban communities, the teachers adapting their curriculum to be more inclusive, the corporations trying (however imperfectly) to reflect the diversity of their consumer base—are they all just “woke” in the pejorative sense? Or are they trying to engage with a world that is complex, diverse, and in desperate need of more empathy?
We are in an age where people are tired. Tired of culture wars, tired of being told they are either heroes or villains in a moral play they never signed up for. But tiredness is not an excuse to retreat into apathy. If anything, it should spur us toward a more mature engagement with the world’s challenges.
Rebuilding language, restoring Balance
This is where the reclaiming of “woke” becomes not just an aesthetic or semantic project, but a political one. We need language that encourages us to care without being paralysed by fear of saying the wrong thing. We need frameworks that help us grow in understanding, rather than trap us in ideological echo chambers. That doesn’t mean agreeing with every tenet of modern progressivism. It means acknowledging that awareness is better than ignorance, that compassion is better than cruelty, and that sensitivity to others is a strength, not a weakness.
We also need to differentiate between legitimate critique and bad-faith argument. When critics dismiss “wokeness,” are they engaging with the ideas or simply mocking a stereotype? Is their issue with the cause or with how the cause is communicated? These distinctions matter. They help us move from reactive to reflective conversations.
Research shows that people often agree with the goals of social justice but are put off by the language used to discuss it. A 2021 study by the More in Common project found that while most Americans support equality and inclusion, they recoil from what they perceive as divisive or moralising rhetoric. This suggests the problem is not the values but the packaging. Reclaiming “woke” might then involve less about using the word itself and more about embodying its original meaning in ways that are thoughtful, inclusive, and unassuming.
There is a deep irony in the fact that many of the same people who criticise wokeness also call for a return to traditional values—values like kindness, respect, and accountability. These are not mutually exclusive. The original call to “stay woke” was precisely a call to live by those principles, particularly when it came to recognising others’ suffering and responding with dignity.
So, can we reclaim the word “woke”? Perhaps. But even if we can’t, we must preserve what it stood for. We must resist the urge to swing from one extreme to the other—from blind outrage to cynical indifference. We must make room for a new cultural vocabulary that welcomes nuance, encourages humility, and honours our shared humanity.
In the end, the goal isn’t to win the culture war. It’s to build a culture worth defending.
References:
- McWhorter, John. Woke Racism: How a New Religion Has Betrayed Black America. Portfolio, 2021.
- More in Common. “America’s Hidden Tribes.” 2021. https://www.moreincommon.com
- DiAngelo, Robin. White Fragility. Beacon Press, 2018.
- Williams, Patricia J. The Alchemy of Race and Rights. Harvard University Press, 1991.
- Coates, Ta-Nehisi. Between the World and Me. Spiegel & Grau, 2015.
