Dear White People . . . I Have the Right to Be Angry

*If you are my friend and you are White, – if this offends you, contact me.  Have the difficult conservation with me.  If you aren’t willing to have a conversation with me about this, we aren’t really friends.*

I’ve started to see every white person I don’t know as the enemy/a threat.  I’m not exactly sure when it first started, but it was probably around the time that Mike Brown was murdered.  I didn’t grow up afraid of White people. Even though my mother made sure I knew the history of the United States, I lived the first 32 years of my life believing in the goodness of all people, regardless of their skin color.

I THOUGHT I understood racism.  I thought racism was dying out, and racism was just based on old ideals, in the south. I thought as we spent more time conversing and getting to know each other, racism would die.  After all, “Some of my BEST FRIENDS ARE WHITE.” They love me and I love them. They’ve never treated me any differently because I was Black*.

Racism is the herpes of -isms. Sometimes you forget it’s even there. But then, there is a flare up that very lewdly reminds you, “Oh Bitch, I NEVER Left.” It’s been there, lurking under the surface just waiting to ruin your whole got damn day. Be it the random white dude who won’t let you over on the freeway, to the lady checking your math, right after you give her the total, about money She Owes You. Or even, The News.

Before Mike Brown, I felt like the bad apples would eventually see the error in their ways, and we would all live together in harmony. Post-Ferguson, when people I’ve known my whole life wouldn’t stand up and speak up, I was . . . lost/hurt/angry/frustrated/devastated/other words that mean angry.

Why aren’t you fighting for me and my people? Why aren’t you in the streets, and talking to your family members about what is going on in the news? How could you even let the words come out of your mouth, “Well if he wouldn’t have . . . “

Strangers were livid about the collective rage coming from Black Millennials. They were livid that we were standing up for ourselves and being vocal about injustice. I’d never seen such ugly comments on internet articles. The wave of unarmed children, women, and men, killed by police officers, that followed Mike Brown’s murder has done nothing to illicit rage in some my White Counterparts.

They keep killing my people! Even children in the park aren’t safe! My skin color puts me in immediate danger every hour of every day! I’m afraid when I drive at night to get pulled over by a cop.  Help Me! Speak Up for Me! Can’t you see my pain! HELP ME!

It was at this point I realized the real issue.  The ROOT of Racism, is WHITE. PRIVILEGE. {a term for societal privileges that benefit people identified as white in Western countries, beyond what is commonly experienced by non-white people under the same social, political, or economic circumstances.}

Add to that a sense of Entitlement, and we are all pretty much fucked.  Because YOU don’t want the status quo to change.  You are safe, comfortable, and happy with the way YOU are treated in the world we currently live in.  In your bubble, nothing is wrong.  Because you don’t worry about your children when they go out to play, why should you notice/protest that I have to have that worry?

Enter All Consuming Rage.

I am WORTH your concern.  How DARE you live a life of blissful ignorance, with my people’s blood running in the street?!?!?!?! My Life Matters.

BLACK. LIVES. MATTER.

That’s not a fucking Slogan. It’s a truth. And the fact that your response is, “All Lives Matter,” is not only insulting, but Bullshit.  The correct phrase should be, “All Lives that Mimic My Own Matter.”

I’ve started to re-evaluate everything I ever knew about the people around me.  I’ve started to look at certain situations, and ask new questions. I find myself assuming motivations, before I start a conversation to actually understand motivations.

Then I’m pissed again, because that’s what YOU do. It’s why I’m angry in the first place. The difference between me and YOU, I catch myself.

I do the FUCKING WORK. I take the next step, acknowledge my hurt/pain/fear and it’s affect on the situation, and try to make sure I’ve done everything to understand your point of view and/or educate you.

I’m tired. I’m  FUCKING Exhausted.

Because I have to do my work, your work, and extra work.  I’m So Damn Tired. Why won’t you do the work? Why won’t you talk to the people in your life that refuse to listen to me? Help Me Please!!! I’m so tried of carrying this burden on my own.

{I went to the doctor because I was feeling off last week.  My blood pressure was 200/148. That’s no hyperbole. This is why I’m tired. It’s a miracle I haven’t stroked out yet.}

And this has caused my current mindset to be, “If you aren’t For Us, you’re Against Us.”

I have the right to be angry.  The fact that I haven’t started fighting people in the street is a testament to my fairly decent upbringing, and my need to keep my job. Stop telling me why I should turn the other cheek.  Stop telling me it’s going to get better, especially if you aren’t actively working to make it better.

I’m done trying to be nice, and quiet, and calm.  I’m Fucking Angry.

Do something, or shut-up. Point. Blank. Period.

 

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