Too bad, so sad…giving the smackdown 2: The Race Police

On this episode, we highlight a poor unfortunate soul who seems to be stuck back in the 50s. Let the fun begin…

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Rec’d March 1, 2006 on Myspace:

hey whats up.I looked through your profile and theres no other sisters or brothers (am I a fucking sellout, because I. CAN’T. STAND. THIS? My sister lives in E. Orange with my grandfather. Do you not get the notion of incest, people? I’m sure that this guy would think that I should date a “brotha”. I’m sorry, my love of proper vocab usage can’t separate the two. Gah.) in there.all your friends are white.dont take it the wrong way im not racest cool pics

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My, my…where to start. I’ll put my response in outline form. I don’t wish to tax such a brain trust. I sent:

1) You’re wrong.
2) If you find it remarkable enough to have to say something, than you are racist or bigoted in some fashion.
3) You know me well enough to judge me because…?
4) Thanks for the compliment, I suppose.

Aaaaaand blocked.

So, the 18 gazillion other people on my friend list that are quite, I don’t know, BROWN or LATINA or LATINO or ASIAN, I’m sorry to inform you that you have now been de-colorized by the man. No, no, stop wearing what you’re wearing and go directly to J. Crew!

Thinking like this limits our growth as Black people. If your natural curiousity is supplanted by the need to quantify your friends and acquaintances by thier skin tone, either you’re a sad sack or a MAC makeup artist…and I would only want to know the latter.

His quantification leads me to jump to some assumptions, many of them no doubt unfounded. He probably would hate that I date diversely. He would scoff at my educational background, my speech, and the fact that I sound “White”. He would laugh at my music. He would laugh at my clothes. He would quietly amuse himself and think himself slick quietly mocking my friends while they stand in front of him.

I know all of this because I’ve successfully avoided it in the past.

Such smallness of thought shows wanting for life experiences that take a person out of thier comfort zone. I thank Goddess every day that I was lucky to have a mama that made certain I left E. Orange on a daily basis in order to see a better world than what I saw outside of my window. I never expected the boogeyman, so I’ve never seen the boogeyman.

I was lucky. Perhaps he wasn’t.

If Black people…people of color in general…can’t bring themselves to rise above being the Race Police, we are doomed from this day forward.

And hey, don’t Black women have enough to deal with? We have to deal with men on the DL (said to be contributing significantly to our high death rate due to AIDS…what a dubious, sad honor), single motherhood (not me!), and actualizing our dreams while juggling 3 jobs (it’s fun. I did it once, and wanted to kill myself). We won’t talk about the lack of good stocking colors, jeans for bubble butts, and hairstylists who won’t gel your hair into a solid cap of finger waves.

So, yeah.
Too bad, so sad. Weenie.

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~ by isiskali on November 28, 2006.

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