Tacogate: How a Simple Joke About Spice Levels Became a Far-Right Meltdown
In the ever-shifting landscape of American politics, where even the smallest statements can be amplified into full-blown controversies, a recent video featuring Vice Presidential candidate Kamala Harris and Minnesota Governor Tim Walz has sparked a bizarre, if predictable, meltdown among Trump supporters. This meltdown, dubbed "Tacogate" by some, centers around Walz’s humorous admission that he’s not a fan of spicy food. But instead of accepting the comment as a lighthearted anecdote, right-wing influencers and media outlets have seized on it, twisting it into a manufactured controversy about alleged anti-white racism.
The incident started with a casual exchange during a widely-shared YouTube video where Harris and Walz talked about food, music, and their hopes for the future of America. In a brief segment, Walz jokingly declares himself a "white guy taco" aficionado, describing his preferred taco as consisting of ground beef and cheese – essentially devoid of any spice. Harris, amused by his declaration, asks, "Do you put any flavor in it?" Walz, seemingly unfazed, responds with a playful nod to Minnesota’s reputation for bland food: "No, they said to be careful and let her know this, that black pepper is the top of the spice level in Minnesota."
This innocuous and seemingly lighthearted exchange, meant to highlight a regional stereotype in a fun and self-deprecating way, was met with outrage from a certain segment of the political spectrum. Ben Shapiro, a prominent right-wing influencer, took to X (formerly Twitter) to quote-tweet the clip, declaring that "it’s funny that white people hate spices!", attempting to paint the conversation as a racist jab at white people. Shapiro, known for his penchant for overblown outrage, then added a "fact check" to his tweet, claiming that "Europeans liked spices so much that they literally got involved in several hundred years of war in order to determine control of the spice trade." This blatant attempt to link a simple joke to a complex historical context only amplified the absurdity of the situation.
Shapiro wasn’t alone in his crusade against Walz’s taco confession; Matt Walsh, a known anti-trans activist, joined the chorus of outrage, declaring that the comment was a "blatant anti-white racism." He went so far as to compare the situation to a hypothetical scenario where Donald Trump would have unleashed a "nuclear meltdown" by joking about "black guy tacos". This deliberately inflammatory comparison, rooted in a false equivalency and racial stereotypes, further highlights the right wing’s tendency to weaponize accusations of racism to deflect from actual issues and distract from the broader political conversation.
The "Tacogate" controversy even extended to the realm of conspiracy theories. Mike Cernovich, a notorious purveyor of conspiracy theories, claimed that Walz was lying about his spice preferences. He pointed to a 2016 recipe by Walz that included "mild green chilies and onion powders" as evidence of Walz’s deceit. This absurd attempt to "expose" a supposed lie about spice levels underscores the extent to which right-wing media is willing to twist and distort facts to fit their own narratives. To anyone with a basic understanding of cooking, it’s clear that "mild green chilies and onion powders" hardly constitute a fiery spice-bomb.
It’s also worth noting that the frenzy surrounding "Tacogate" arose in the context of a broader political landscape that is increasingly characterized by division, distrust, and the weaponization of accusations of racism. Trump’s political strategy, built on anger and fearmongering, has created an environment where any disagreement or difference in opinion is quickly labeled as an attack or a sign of "cancel culture." This environment, fueled by right-wing media and influencers, creates fertile ground for the amplification of perceived offenses, even those as innocuous as a joke about spice preferences.
While the right-wing media outlets and influencers were busy attempting to paint Walz’s comment as a racist attack, a counter-narrative emerged. Comedian Andy Richter, known for his wit and sharp observations, took to Bluesky, a social media platform gaining traction, to mock the outrage, suggesting that "as a white guy, can make white guy taco jokes. If you do it, it is a painful reminder of almost four weeks of oppression." His playful commentary underscores the absurdity of the "Tacogate" controversy, highlighting the right wing’s tendency to overreact and find offense where none exists.
The overwhelming response to "Tacogate" from the majority of the public was one of ridicule and disbelief. People saw the manufactured controversy for what it was: a desperate attempt by Trump supporters to distract from the real issues and to deflect from the growing momentum of the Harris-Walz campaign.
The truth is, this "controversy" wasn’t about spices, tacos, or even race. It was about a desperate attempt by the Trump camp to distract from their own failings and to undermine the credibility of their opponents.
The Harris-Walz campaign, in contrast to the Trumpian strategy of division and fear, has focused on a message of hope, unity, and a vision for a better future. Their focus on positive change and their emphasis on common ground resonates with a broader segment of the electorate, particularly those who are tired of the constant negativity and divisive rhetoric that has become synonymous with Trump’s brand of politics.
As the election approaches, we can expect more manufactured controversies and attempts to distract from the real issues. But in the face of the "Tacogate" fiasco, it’s clear that the right-wing’s focus on manufactured controversies is backfiring. The public isn’t buying their manufactured outrage; they see it for what it is: a desperate attempt to cling to power while ignoring the real problems facing the nation.
