I agree, it is not the color of skin.
I am now a “cultural racist”..it is the black ghettto culture I hate. Just as the KKK culture on the other side, or the white Nazi culture.
I work with many black people and what I feel is while I am friends with some, there is always a barrier that I am not black and so I “dont really understand.”...and I don’t understand what they or their parents went through.
That is particularly difficult for me, because first of all, I was raised in a family that never was racist and second my own parents and grandparents suffered their own political nightmares before they came to America. That makes me very angry..and maybe I will start to say, “Hey, I am not “ALL” white people and you don’t have a corner on the market when it comes to suffering in the past.
thanks for your post.
Their parents are 140 years old?
“...maybe I will start to say, “Hey, I am not “ALL” white people...”
In a civilized situation that might work, but I have come to the conclusion that where I hail from or what side my ancestors fought on in the civil war won’t mean a damn thing if the ferals are on the prowl.
Well stated.
I have friends of all ethnicities. I’m not making this up. I always look at it like this: you ever notice how people’s skin is the color of dirt? Pale like caliche, brown like loam, red like Texas sand, dark like gumbo clay. It’s all good. I know people with every color of skin there is, some of ‘em I like, some of ‘em I wonder what their thinking process is.
Anybody, whatever their complexion, ever jumps me and tries to harm my woman is gonna go to their Glory as best I can arrange it.
I’m a white woman working with predominantly black inner city ghetto dwelling ‘at risk’ teenage girls at a placement facility. They come in angry. Angry at the way they have been treated by their own ‘family’. They feel white people don’t understand the violence and abuse they deal with. And, they’re probably right for the most part.
These girls try to change and learn to make better choices. But when it’s time to go home....they are scared. Scared they will get sucked back into a world they desperately want to let go. They struggle feeling strong enough to make that change. Many intentionally get extended in the facility too stay longer because of their fears. These teenagers see and hear things nobody should have to. Some come in too far gone. They fail. You see it in their eyes and hear it in their voices—they want something better for themselves but they never find that place of change or strength. I should pray more than I do.