On ‘Tendernism’ And The Repeated Colonizing Of Black Excellence And Creativity

In order to understand the story of tendernism, the viral sensation of rib meat falling off the bone, and the efforts a white business owner has gone to try and steal the moment, you have to understand the history of Black creativity and white theft. 

It’s a story that is as old as time. 

From music to language to dance to food, to facial features and buttocks, Black folks just can’t have nothin’. And before I start sounding like Dame Dash (whose message I believe is pure, but he could use a lot on his delivery) and start claiming that white people are culture vultures, (they are) who stalk Black creativity waiting for a moment to pounce on their ideas and popularize them on Jimmy Fallon. 

Fine, that is the story of Addison Rae, who became famous for performing TikTok dances created by Black people, only to soullessly duplicate them on national TV as if they were hers. But you get the point. 

Which brings us to Unc, whose government name is Walter Johnson, and Destination Smokehouse. Unc came to us the way we learn about most of the world nowadays, through social media, and his video was simply him in front of ribs, or brisket, or some kind of smoked meat. 

The bit always goes the same; there is a small monologue somewhere in the middle of, “I’m getting tired of trying to tell y’all,” and the annoyance of “y’all still don’t know nothing about this here!” And then the magic: Unc would lift the bone with barely a wiggle, and the meat is so tender it falls back to Earth, shattering even scientists’ perceptions of how it was done. The result is Unc stomping away, in disbelief and disgust, because it’s just too damn good.

“That’s tendernism,” Unc explains. And the whole thing: the setup, the magic, the stomping on the floor, all of it went viral. Everyone wanted in on the action. 

Comedian Desi Banks did a video with Unc, and so did social media personality Jordan Howlett, aka Jordan the Stallion (the reviewer who throws his glasses when he just can’t take how amazing something is). And then something got funny around the time that TikTok food critic Keith Lee visited the Murrieta, Calif., restaurant. 

Lee tried the food and gave the restaurant a positive review, but he was there for one reason–the one reason everyone even knows about this place–he wanted to meet Unc, aka Mr. Tendernism himself. 

Lee wanted to tip or gift Unc $4,000 to $5,000 in cash, which is what he’s known to do. There was only one problem. The restaurant security stopped him. Social media was confused, and the questions came fast. Why does the restaurant have security? Why wouldn’t they let him see Unc? Why did they stop him from giving Unc money? Why did it feel like Unc was being guarded from his own moment? Why couldn’t he see the man who made the place famous? Then the truth slipped out, and suddenly it all made sense.

Despite the lines, despite the viral fame, despite being the reason people even knew Destination Smokehouse existed, Unc didn’t own the restaurant. He works there, and his actual role is murky at best. The man whose creativity turned meat falling off the bone into a cultural moment wasn’t the one benefiting from it in any meaningful way.

And there it is.

The owner of the restaurant is a man named Nicholas “Nick” Yepremian, who’s been trying to siphon Unc’s viral fame by appearing in videos alongside him and talking so much that all of Unc’s charisma has been dried out and aged. It’s one thing to know that Chuck Berry is the precursor to Elvis’ hip shakes, but it’s another to watch the colonization of creativity in real time.

Tendernism wasn’t just about meat falling off the bone. It was about Unc. It always was. So wait until you hear this part: Destination Smokehouse has even tried to steal the word “tendernism” from Walter Johnson. 

A federal trademark application for the word “tendernism” was filed on Jan. 8, 2026, by Diamond Smokehouse Enterprises Inc., covering clothing items such as t-shirts and hoodies. A trademark application (even if it’s published) doesn’t yet mean the term is officially protected — it must be examined and approved by the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office first. 

But, it’s important to note that the current filings do not list Walter Johnson (“Mr. Tendernism”) as the applicant; instead, they list a corporate entity (Diamond Smokehouse Enterprises Inc.).

So this is just another moment in the history of the theft of Black ingenuity, generating actual value that someone else is positioned to collect. 

This is a Black story. It’s the story of “Mbube,” the simple Zulu chant that was stolen and rebranded as “The Lion Sleeps Tonight.” It’s the story of the light bulb and the traffic light, and refrigerated trucks. This is Henrietta Lacks’ story. It’s the story of the automatic elevator door.  It’s Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Little Richard, and Fats Domino’s story. It’s the story of hip-hop. This is the story of the Super Soaker. It’s the story of Black people creating the magic but being locked out of the register. It was about a man becoming a brand while not owning his own name.

This is the part of the story folks want to pretend is accidental. A misunderstanding. Bad communication. But history tells us otherwise. The pattern is too familiar. The playbook is too clean.

Black creativity creates the moment. Someone else owns the building. Someone else controls access. Someone else decides who gets paid.

That’s tendernism too. Just not the kind anyone wants to celebrate.

SEE ALSO:

Harvard and White America’s Creepy Obsession with Hoarding Black Remains

Why White Folks Are Grieving Over Destroyed Relics to White Supremacy