I’m a mid-forties woman, born and raised in the South. I have dogs, pitbulls actually. I have a common Southern last name, given to me by my ex-husband; his people were from Alabama.
That blurb there, that’s where the similarities between myself and those other white folk ends. I don’t play tennis at the country club like my ex-husband’s second wife does. You won’t catch me anywhere near the Junior League event calendar, the DAR meeting hall, or anywhere else those types of people gather.
I’m not that kind of white.
I don’t have anything in common with those people. I don’t need to kayak and base jump for adrenaline rushes. I can get that same rush trying to get in and out of my neighborhood at 3 a.m., depending on what night of the week it is.
I’m not the kind of white who calls the cops. I know better. At best, they don’t help. At worst, they find something to charge you with and now you know exactly why you shouldn’t have called them.
I don’t answer the door without a warrant. Even then, I probably still won’t answer. If they’re coming in, they’re coming in.
That said, you won’t catch me saying dumb shit like, “what white privilege,” or “being white never did shit for me.” I know better than that. I know because I’ve been able to stand in a crowd of people while cops harassed a Black man and say shit like, “Man, that ain’t necessary,” and lived to tell you about it today.
I Have a White Brother
My kid brother, he’s that other kind of white. Was a cop, married a doctor, and they live in a neighborhood that is called upscale. Kayaks, mud Jeeps, solidly Republican.
It’s odd to me because we came from the same mother. The difference is my mother had the ability to marry-up by the time he hit adolescence. He doesn’t remember paper food stamps and wasn’t tossed out at 15. Evidently, that makes a big difference in the formative years.
He doesn’t read my column. I don’t think he finds much use for my version of social justice. Truth be told, he doesn’t find much use for my version of white.
We’re not the same.
I’m Not Arguing Privilege With Those Who Have It
You’ll never convince those white people that nepotism is when your stepdad got you your interview and you got the job. They think that is merit-based hiring.
They’ll swear they understand racism because the Hispanic guys at the job are allowed to speak Spanish and they don’t understand what is said at the lunch table. What about that time they were passed over for the promotion for a Black guy? So what if they missed 17 days of work for being hung over in the year preceding?
What does that have to do with that DEI bullshit?
According to them, everything is meant to hold white men back now. What about their right to get drunk and say the N-word and not face any consequences? Who made all these rules that hold them accountable? Immigrants and women and uppity Black folk, that’s who.
Why should they give up their comfort and livelihood so someone else can catch a break? If they have to share privilege, what makes it so special?
Even When You Try to Show Them
An ex of mine, the MAGA I wrote about before, told me a story of reverse racism against his son.
In the fourth grade, his son had a teacher who was trying to give an example of racism against Black children from the past. In the exercise, she called upon certain kids to read aloud as the other children clapped and hollered and made it impossible to focus or be heard. His son was called upon to read aloud,and then went home upset about it and told my ex how humiliating and degrading the exercise was.
My ex, oblivious to the point of the exercise, and exhibiting his deeply rooted racism, went to the school and verbally assaulted the teacher for making his son feel bad and humiliating his kid, never once considering the point of the lesson was just that.
That was school every day for those Black children in the not-so-distant past. His son couldn’t take 30 seconds of it.
Sadly, he wasn’t being intentionally obtuse. His racism was that strongly rooted. He simply couldn’t believe a Black woman would have the audacity to show his kid how other children might have felt in the past, and why we shouldn’t treat people that way.
They don’t want to learn another way. They don’t believe anyone else has the right to feel accepted and welcome because then their child has to learn why we don’t treat other people as second class.
The nerve of those people, treating a white boy like he wasn’t entitled to be heard.
They Won’t Be Swayed
I’ve tried to be logical or appeal to some form of empathy in them. I’ve come at it from every angle possible to educate these folk. It doesn’t register with them, not even a PowerPoint slideshow as a visual aid helps.
When racism is the root cause of the issue, I know from experience that it’s a waste of time and effort. I don’t even try to talk to MAGA’s. It’s a pointless exercise at this junction, and they’ve let me know they’re trash right out of the gate.
I’m not that kind of white. I don’t have anything to say to a hateful, racist dirtbag. I just steer clear of their trailer park and mind my own business, because I don’t want to be mistaken for their kind.
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Previously Published on Medium
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