Bill Maher, Byron Donalds, and the Convenient Dismissal of ‘Ending Racism

Bill Maher is at it again. This time, the HBO host and self-proclaimed champion of “common sense” is celebrating the NFL’s decision to remove the "End Racism" slogan from the end zones of Super Bowl LIX. His argument? That the message was ineffective and only served to further entrench racists in their views. “If I am a racist, it’s just gonna make me more of a racist,” he said, as if slogans—mere words on a field—were ever meant to be the singular force that eradicates centuries of systemic oppression.

Joining him in the chorus of smug derision was Florida congressman and Trump lackey Byron Donalds, who chuckled along with Maher, mocking the very idea that the NFL would dare make such a statement in the first place. Donalds, a Black man who has all but auctioned off his integrity to the orange-skinned devil himself, continues to prioritize appeasement over principle, willingly playing the role of the “good conservative Black man” who affirms white comfort at every turn. His casual dismissal of the phrase “End Racism” is no surprise—his political career depends on his refusal to acknowledge its necessity.

But Maher, a man who built his career on sharp wit and supposedly unfiltered truth-telling, should know better. His arrogance drips through every word, as if his own personal indifference to the phrase renders it useless to the rest of society. Maher, of all people, should understand the power of messaging. After all, he’s an entertainer—a man whose entire career hinges on the ability to craft language that influences, provokes, and shifts public perception. It’s ironic, then, that he dismisses the significance of words when they serve a cause he’d rather ignore.

The Old Dog, The Old Tricks, and the Absent Mirror
Bill Maher, at this stage in his career, reminds me of an old dog who refuses to learn new tricks. More than that, he’s the kind of man who resists new mirrors—ones that might force him to reflect on his own complicity in the very things he derides. The assumption that a slogan like “End Racism” is useless simply because it doesn’t change his mind—or the mind of someone already committed to racism—betrays a fundamental misunderstanding of why these messages exist in the first place.
Let’s be real: If you’re a white man in his late sixties who still needs to be convinced that racism is a problem, an end-zone slogan was never going to be your Damascus road conversion. But what about the young Black child in the stands, watching players who look like him take the field in a league where their labor is valued, but their voices are often silenced? What about the high school athlete—Black, white, or otherwise—who sees that message and internalizes it as a fundamental truth rather than an empty corporate gesture?

Maher’s mistake is assuming that change must always be immediate, that if a single phrase doesn’t dismantle white supremacy overnight, it must be pointless. This is the same logic that fuels voter suppression efforts, the same defeatist rhetoric that tells marginalized communities not to bother fighting for progress because progress isn’t instant.

Performative? Maybe. But Useless? No.
I won’t pretend that the NFL’s “End Racism” campaign was some radical act of justice. It wasn’t. Like much of corporate America’s post-George Floyd reckoning, the phrase was easy to paint onto the field, easy to market, and easy to remove once the political winds shifted. But dismissing it outright—especially on the grounds that it might offend racists—is a dangerous argument wrapped in faux pragmatism.

Would I have preferred to see the NFL take a bolder stand? Absolutely. I would have loved to see the league make a commitment to hiring more Black executives, ensuring that Black quarterbacks are judged by their talent rather than outdated racial biases, or investing in the very communities from which it pulls its talent. But just because a slogan isn’t the revolution doesn’t mean it holds no value.
Maher, with all his self-satisfaction, misses this completely. He operates from the privilege of never having needed a slogan to affirm his humanity. The same man who once supported progressive ideals now scoffs at even the smallest symbolic gestures, not because they don’t work, but because they make him uncomfortable. And perhaps that’s the real issue here—not whether the slogan was effective, but whether men like Maher simply resent being reminded that racism isn’t some long-forgotten relic of America’s past.

Byron Donalds: Selling His Soul for Relevance
As for Byron Donalds, his eagerness to join Maher in ridiculing the campaign is just another example of his long history of political posturing. Donalds, a man who should understand the power of representation and messaging, chooses instead to serve as a mouthpiece for the very structures that keep people who look like him marginalized. Whether it’s defending the gutting of affirmative action, dismissing systemic racism, or cozying up to a man who built his political career on racist rhetoric, Donalds has shown time and time again that he is more invested in the approval of his conservative white base than in the well-being of his own community.

His joke about the NFL’s slogan wasn’t just cringeworthy—it was predictable. Men like Donalds are always willing to downplay racism when it benefits them politically. He is a convenient puppet for a party that needs Black faces to justify their regressive policies, a willing participant in the charade of racial progress while actively opposing it at every turn.

The Next Generation is Watching
Whether Maher and Donalds like it or not, change is slow, generational, and often starts with symbols. It starts with a child asking their parents why the words “End Racism” were painted on the field. It starts with a coach using that moment to have a real conversation with his players. It starts with a young athlete realizing that their presence on that field is part of a larger struggle for visibility, equality, and respect.

The NFL’s slogan wasn’t for Maher. It wasn’t for Donalds. It wasn’t for the men who already have their minds made up, who clutch their pearls at the suggestion that they should reflect, grow, or—God forbid—acknowledge that racism still exists. It was for the people who are still shaping their worldview. For them, seeing a simple phrase on the field could plant a seed that grows into something more powerful, something actionable, something that men like Maher and Donalds will never fully understand.
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So while the NFL’s slogan may have faded from the end zones, the conversation it sparked remains. And if a simple phrase was enough to unsettle men like Bill Maher and Byron Donalds, perhaps it was more powerful than they’re willing to admit.