My father taught me to be racist. He gave me perspective, day in and day out: a loathing contempt for people not like himself. We lived just outside of Los Angeles, so he had no shortage of facts to provide. Evidence is ample in a large city for anyone looking to be angry and blame someone. And a bigot is someone who believes multiple conflicting opinions, depending on whether or not it serves their own needs.
My father grew boisterous over Martin Luther Coon day, the only name he’d accept. It infuriated him that some “dead nigger” was a reason for people to be lazy and stop working. Despite the various Holidays he himself would use to lounge around. He loved Kung Fu movies and hated Asian drivers. My father was a very vulgar, angry person. And I held out hope that he was just a bigot.
I am a hopeful and loving person, more so than many others; holding out for degenerates to turn their lives around, stubbornly holding on to see the good in the bad, well past forgiveness. It’s a flaw in me. It still exists down there, but it’s grown beaten and exhausted through years of reality. I still foster a hope that all men and women can come together in a unity of love and peace. Older me knows better.
Growing up during the Rodney King Riots, watching the madness and chaos only an hour from my front door, playing out in some sick rating splurge for sensationalists, it changed me. Heroic stories of roof Koreans fighting off crowds of looters just eight miles away caused dream. The majority of my bullies were black. I didn’t keep any black friends. Growing up, as far as I knew, black skin equated shady, nasty dealings.
Gradually, time and life sowed doubt in my mind. Are black people all just hooligans?
Over the last year, we’ve had various riots over police shootings. Tell me… how many of those innocent dindu muffins were affluent, wealthy doctors or lawyers on their way to an expensive dinner with other wealthy people? How many of those gunned down souls were cancer researchers, Nobel Peace Prize winners, or highly lauded artists celebrated by entire communities?
How many of them have long criminal histories?
I still hold hope. So long as they want to rise up from the muck and place themselves into civilization, then I always hold hope.
I don’t like genetic arguments that a race’s genes are somehow superior to another. That buys into the bullshit “born this way” mentality which allows people to shed personal responsibility. I think genetics are a map and the actual journey is what shapes a human. The most beautiful exhibit of mankind is the triumph over seemingly impossible odds. People with broken bodies learn to walk. People with stunted minds grow to brilliance. People change by act of hard work and sacrifice. A part of me seeks redemption in all people.
Every corpse on Everest was once an extremely motivated person.
I came to the conclusion a few years back that the root problem of hating black people is that black people don’t exist outside of words. No one is black. No one is really white, for that matter. Race is the great distraction, it’s a superficial argument for me. I’m not white. I’m the child of Californians, who came across as stowaway boat thieves from Ireland, and eventually crossed the country via the Trail of Tears. My roots chase Gaelic settlers who resisted British bastards at every turn until their dehumanization; settlers who were driven to famine and poverty, enslaved and then fled to the new world. My blood carries at least a handful of names, entire family lines, some a thousand years back.
I don’t comprehend white or black. We are heritage bearers of many bloodlines that weave together.
Blood… blood is not the enemy. Genes are not the enemy. It is culture. As Terrance McKenna once said: Culture is not your friend. Culture does not care about you. Culture serves itself.
Black culture is a fabrication. It was built as a rallying point for the disenfranchised, to give identity while America ended slavery. Black identity was used to help facilitate them from the dehumanizing life of slavery and into civilized life. But hundreds of years later, it hasn’t moved on. It’s just gotten worse. The hidden hands who fabricated black culture need a color word to control the minds of citizens. And it’s working. Black is a word, just a word, and you can fit whatever nonsense you want inside those five letters. There’s no Nigerian heritage or Brazilian tribal ancestors, no Jamaican history or Anangu traditions. No matter your bloodline, heritage, or history, you are Black.
Wipe it all away. Repeat one word. That is your new identity.
Black culture erases whatever heritage a person has and overwrites a new singular identity. Black. Not a skin color, not a genetic thing. There are white-skinned Blacks, Asian Blacks. Black, black, black. It’s a fabricated social construct. Black. Erase all of your identity and history and essence on this world. Take a rank and file with everyone else.
This is why I reject White culture as well. It’s a similar attempt.
I won’t let them remove my Irish and Scottish ancestors or their lineages. An attempt to put Italians and Germans and Brits into one pile, the fable of White, is meant to stir violence. Same as the Black. These activists who champion against the Imperialist White Patriarchy only want to replace it with their own Fascist Black Matriarchy. Same shit, different assholes.
Control. Black Culture is control.
Black Culture is a disease. And it isn’t some benign skin rash. It’s a cancer, eating away at the heart of civilization. An indoctrination of poverty stricken, reckless, stubborn, and dense criminals who shatter family structures and proliferate violent destruction. It’s regurgitated by a thousand rappers and propaganda movies: beat women and sling drugs. It incites the destruction of other cultures, especially White. It celebrates criminal activity, assuring its cult-ish adherents that whatever they do, there is no such thing as reverse racism.
Crime is rampant in black communities everywhere they go. Black Culture must be eliminated for the sake of our safety and our children’s future. It exploded during the end of segregation, that period of time in which America tried to quarantine the plague mentality and reintegrate former slaves into civilization. It exploded again during the nineties. Los Angeles was a festering boil primed to pop and it leaked vitriolic sickness out across the entire state, across the country. I lived that. Now, in the infancy of the digital world, it explodes again. Now, these festering Culture boils are growing in every major city. They’re popping, one by one, as toxic Black Culture seeps into reality and manifests itself as riots, looting, rapes, and murder.
If each person with dark skin wants to trace their lineage back to celebrate their bloodline and roots, I support them. If they want to aspire to nobles and merchants and esteemed learned princes, I support them. I don’t care if you were Kings and sheeeit. All that matters is what you are doing in this moment. Not being the dregs of criminal shadows, not assuming that the difficulties of everyday reality are because of a single color word. Pay homage to the wise kings of history, power to you. Stay away from the drug-dealing, murderous thug Kings of early Slave Trade who sold their own citizens to slavery for quick riches. Prove that you’re better. Become something better than a word: “Black”.
And stay the hell away from any culture that has a single color to remove your blood and family.
Stay away from “Black Culture”.