I love Kanye West and I am racist now

It is my overwhelming desire always…the one that sits at the bottom of my gut…to write.  Writing intimidates me, though and I won’t do it.  I am not easily intimidated, either, I must say.

Last night my 19-year old daughter and I were jumped by several black women and a couple black dudes at my home. The attacks came from the neighbors across the street.

I live in a predominantly black neighborhood.  I mean, it’s slightly mixed with some white, but mostly the whites are old folks who (I ASSume) lived here before the black folks moved into the neighborhood.

I really have never been racist.  Not even when the racist cards were stacked against me.

I was raised in South Louisiana.   I went all the way through school living in one of the most notoriously racist parishes.  I do believe Livingston Parish is, at least, one of the homes of the KKK.

Where I’m from, it’s completely normal when white folks are around other white folks to hear, more than occasionally, the word nigger in everyday conversation.  Maybe not as much with people like teachers, and such, but I shit you not, a few years ago I walked into the refreshment room at one of the biggest churches in my hometown and one guy was at the coffee pot telling another guy a nigger joke and not even telling him in a hushed voice.  I immediately turned around and walked out of that room, sans refreshment.  It really bummed me out. I quit going entirely to that church not too long after that, not so much for the racist joke I heard, but for their Armenian theology and infiltration of hypocrites.  Blah.  That’s so boring.

At the risk of being called by some of my hometown people, a nigger lover, I will re-iterate that for some reason that existed in me before I was me, there was born a color-blindness in me that defied all logic, given my upbringing.  I will give credit where it’s due and say that my step-mother completely forbade the use of the word “nigger” by either myself or my little sister.  She did not say it, herself, nor did her parents.  My dad said  “nigger” in at least half of every sentence I ever heard that man utter, until I quit talking to both he and step-mom in 2011.  I’m sure he still says it, though.

He hates black folks.

I remember in about 1983, I went for an outing to the mall with my step-mom.  She must have either been feeling particularly loving toward me, or was trying to get me into trouble, but she bought me a tan-colored t-shirt with Michael Jackson silk-screened on it.  It was that picture where MJ is laying on his side with his jerry curl and white sports jacket.  I was so excited about that shirt!!!  We got home and I put it on to show my dad.  I was 7 and oblivious, really, and was really confused when my dad became super-angry at me and started screaming at me in his scary mean dad way.  He made me take the shirt off and I was told he burned it.  That’s all I remember about that.

The second time I was raped, it was by a black guy.  I never told anyone, though.  I talk about it now but not telling it like it’s a big deal, but more like just saying it because it’s part of my story.  I never told anyone about the first time I was raped and how a white guy did it, either.  I don’t really see how color is an issue, except if I wanna garner sympathy from whites saying that a black dude raped me, but since I didn’t tell anyone I wasn’t getting sympathy and sympathy is the fucking last thing I want, anyway.

(Praise, Accolades and Book Deals Are Fine)

I thought the sentence I just wrote was funny because the first sentence of this train wreck was that I was unable to write.

Maybe I was using reverse psychology on myself.  I can’t stand to be unable to do a thing as long as the thing I am doing is within reason.

After last night, I feel like I’m a racist now  and it feels weird.  It’s an idea that is completely bipolar to me now.  Pardon the pun that’s not really a pun because I’m not really bipolar.  I guess I’m getting jaded.  It really does get hard, especially when I feel pretty strong racism from many members of the black community with whom paths cross with mine, here lately.

I love Kanye West.

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