Was This A Regression on My Part?

A comment at Black @ Michigan:

Racism is a mental illness; it is in the marrow, encoded in every person from birth and in every institution in this country. It is simply unavoidable. Racism is like breathing. In fact, they are synonymous.

I had a thought the other night. Racism is like an Oreo cookie: Superior facade, concealing an inferior core. A superior person doesn’t have to stack the deck in their favor, doesn’t need to discriminate, doesn’t have to horde, mistreat people who are allegedly less than.

A superior person doesn’t need white affirmative action in a thousand different shades. However…

An inferior, shame based being does.  He does need the tanning salon; he does need the discriminatory lender.

How do you get the superior-inferior-white-person to tear down the facade of superiority – whether consciously or unconsciously held – when it will expose the sham at their core?  How do gain the strength to expose the hoax in your heart?

To admit racism is to admit dependence on an incredibly cruel and inhumane system that barely makes white folk feel human, let alone superior. That’s why they gotta keep taking, taking, taking, buying, buying buying, stealing, stealing, stealing.

Then — they project their theft onto us, project their nihilistic shit on us, analyze US!

I believe whites already know the Big Lie at their creamy center, but they are not willing to do the necessary work to reclaim their truest selves.  Or are they?

3 Responses to “Was This A Regression on My Part?”

  1. “Racism is a mental illness”

    I can’t read past that. Just can’t. I really freaking wish you hadn’t said it that way.

  2. Okay, let’s throw this out there; what the hell. I wonder what part of an attitude of superiority by white people might be, in fact, rooted in class rather than race. But to understand that, you’ve got to dig around a little bit and folks (of any kind, IME) don’t enjoy doing that too much.

    That isn’t to say classism is a whole lot better, especially since classism in America, especially in the cities of the coasts and the deep South, is so inextricably intertwined with race and racial history.

    When I see some young hip-hop kid in Chester with his jeans down to there, his boxers flying high and his tee-shirt eight times too big who saunters across the street like it’s a sunny Sunday afternoon when he’s walked against the light, I don’t feel like beeping at him because he’s black. I want to beep at him (and get out of the car and smack his smart, little ass) because he’s ignorant, rude and inconsiderate and I’m sure his mother must have taught him better and I am a mother, God-damn-it!

    But I don’t beep at the black kid in Chester who slows my progress to the diner because I understand where it’s coming from. Here is someone who feels he has no validity trying to exercise a little control over something in the world before he dies (before thirty, in some cities). These kids don’t feel they have a future. It’s not, for me, a race issue but a class one that restrains me. But the likelihood is, if I were to beep, being a middle-aged, very white woman, it would proobably be interpreted as racist in its motivation.

    Wow…now I’ve dug myself into something that’s over my own head at 11:15.

    Just throwing some ideas into the breeze.


  3. “I believe whites already know the Big Lie at their creamy center, but they are not willing to do the necessary work to reclaim their truest selves. Or are they?”

    They know. Willing to do the necessary work: some are, some aren’t.

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