Casual racism is the fact that I have 3750 followers because white people don’t want to have to hear their anti-racism directly from People of Color.
facts on facts on facts
I bet they ain’t gonna reblog this one!
So, I am reading an article entitled “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack”,which is teaching me what an asshole I am for having made the conscious decision to be born of a French woman and a Canadian man. Currently, I’m on a list that a white person has written, of the several ways that she observed personal privilege that her “African American friends” have not.
[5. I can go shopping alone most of the time, pretty well assured that I will not be followed or harassed.] ok so I have this image. It’s of a grocery store in Brooklyn, and for every African-American [but not the Haitians, or the Jamaicans, or the etcetc, because that’s not what the author meant, at all] are being followed by two white people, who are trying to be sneaky, hiding behind aisles, stacks of cereal boxes, but mostly failing like the white cumbersome non-ninjas they are. So in my grocery store, there’s about a hundred black folks, and therefore roughly two hundred white folks following them around, and then they get annoyed at the colours that aren’t their own, and they start harassing them, throwing tangerines and bananas at them [fruit of the race war, of course] … This comment suggests to me that the author believes that non-white people, when they go outside of their homes, to shop for food or clothes, are not assured that they won’t be followed or harassed. This boggles my mind. Maybe that’s my white priviledge speaking. I’ll have to talk to some non-whites that I trust [that trust me]. Madness.
[8. I can be sure that my children will be given curricular materials that testify to the existence of their race.] I am imagining a small child, of Chinese parents, sitting in a room full of little arrogant cocky scowling white kids, reading through a history text book and looking at a map, screaming and pulling his hair out crying “WHERE IS CHINA? DO I NOT EXIST? WHAT AM I?!” and the teacher [a damned whitey] patting him on the head condescendingly telling him that in due time, his existence will be believed only as a fable to teach the world about the importance of safe driving. … So schools don’t recognize the existence of other places? Other continents? Is that why people of the USA are called Americans? Why not go a step further, instead of trying to take credit for the representation of three whole god-damned entire continents, why not replace “American” with “Earthling” and tell everyone else, all the non-whiteys that they aren’t Earthlings too? Madness.
[21. I am never asked to speak for all the people of my racial group.] I am imagining an Indian guy [from Eeen-deee-Ah, not a Cree or Cherokee or Mohawk or Black Foot or Hopi or etc] asking me to be a part of his final university thesis about white people as a race as misunderstood by the rest of the world, focusing on our feelings of fear of accusation of racism, as opposed to the obvious racism in virtually every other country on the planet. He asks me why I don’t start a club on campus, to join amongst the Black Students Association, or the African Student Association, or the Aboriginal Students Association, or the Afghan Student Association, why not a Canadian Student Association? And to that, I respond “I’m already in one, it’s called ‘Canada’”, and we then explored the idea of clubs as a way to feel included in a place that rejects, but also the way that people like me can’t say, ever, EVER, that I’m proud to be white, that I can only talk about Canadian pride in terms of snow and beer and bears and bullshitty stereotypes and the best healthcare in the world, but not on who we ARE, and for that reason, you’ll never see a Canadian Student Association in the same way that just the sound of White Persons Student Association causes weird feelings of awkwardness and guilt and SHAME. And we then went on, for another three hours. … Except that happened a couple years ago. MADNESS. [He got an A.]
[26. I can easily buy posters, post-cards, picture books, greeting cards, dolls, toys and children’s magazines featuring people of my race.] Ah, so this person hasn’t been into a toy store since 1922.
[27. I can go home from most meetings of organizations I belong to feeling somewhat tied in, rather than isolated, out-of-place, outnumbered, unheard, held at a distance or feared. 28. I can be pretty sure that an argument with a colleague of another race is more likely to jeopardize her/his chances for advancement than to jeopardize mine.] I am imagining a white person, ANYWHERE ELSE. China? Somalia? Iran? The white person is arguing with the Chinese/Somalian/Iranian person, and holy fuck why am I even arguing with Tumblr. *sighs tiredly*
I shall declare a declaration.
White Privilege is being able to write a list of 50 white privileges based on the idea that I never leave the USA, because we all know the USA is the only real place on earth. Ask the kid from Point-8, he knows China doesn’t exist. White Privilege is having your head sawed off because you trusted that the seeking of knowledge and the proclamation of war as a negative action would protect you from racism, since that racism doesn’t exist. White privilege is thinking that my pain is still legitimate, that my fears are still legitimate, that my dreams are still legitimate, and that my challenges are still legitimate, even though others still have it worse. White privilege having a comfortable enough life to see OTHER suffering, and care, and be offended on behalf of them, of having the resources and willingness to help them. White privilege is having the urge to have been born ANYTHING ELSE so that I don’t have to hate myself for the guilt that I carry because I was born into privilege, so that my accomplishments aren’t associated with my privilege instead of my efforts, and so that I can be PROUD of WHO I AM.
Fuck. Tumblr makes me tired.