African American

When I was growing up (we grew up in north Detroit (12 mile) in a tiny suburb called Roseville) I was a lucky little bugger because my parents were as progressive socially as you could get. Their best friends were a gay couple—they showed me what true love looked like—and my mom being an artist and active in the arts community had a wide circle of friends and acquaintances from every imaginable walk of life.

Black kids made up about a 3rd of my elementary school and my parents had many black friends who were over to the house for dinner, overnight guests, etc. The reason I tell you this is not to show how unbiased and colorblind I am but, in fact, to do quite the opposite…I want you to know that I am prejudiced and that I make sweeping judgments about people without having ever met them personally.

It’s just that the color of a person’s skin never quite makes it as a characteristic I judge.

Liberalism, progressivism, socialism, elitism—stuff that you generally make a choice to be—are the kinds of things I make sweeping generalizations about. The color of your skin, your sexual orientation, height, wearing glasses, physical handicaps, etc. are things you didn’t choose so they simply don’t make the grade for me to judge you on them. I mean, why would I…or anyone? The point of judging you (see above) is to get you to alter that which is being judged…to get you to better align with my idea of reality.

If there is no possible way for you to alter what I am judging you on, what’s the point?

Anyway, I was reading an article on Black Lives Matter/All Lives Matter and it struck me a little strange; the world as it was when I was growing up to the one I live in today. We didn’t have the words African American so we just called black kids, black kids and that’s what they called themselves. We were white kids by the way, it’s what we were called and what we called ourselves if we needed to make a distinction.

The point is that we recognized that there was a difference between a white kid and a black kid but that that difference was as meaningless as that between a blonde kid and a redheaded kid…just kidding, we all know redheaded kids are weird! Ha ha, of course I’m not serious but neither should anyone be when they judge another person by the color of their skin. Yes, you’re not fucking colorblind, a difference exists…

…it just doesn’t goddamn matter.

And that I think is where everything went to shit. Once the progressive, politically correct class decided that in order to change racism they needed to give black people a new name—African American—they essentially gave their blessing for racism to continue. Because once you acknowledge a difference by camouflaging it, you agree that you’re hiding it, not resolving it.

And as long as it’s “hidden” then no one is going to step up to try to fix it.

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