It really pisses me off when a white person says nigga. They say "Oh don't worry, I'm not racist!" Um...yeah you are. So am I. I know we hate to talk about it and believe me, I get it. My little sister's black. I don't want to admit that sometimes I act racist. Sometimes I shy away when I see a black dude wearing his pants a little low walking past me on the sidewalk. Granted I shy away from any person walking by me on the sidewalk because I am well, shy. I'm sick to my stomach afterwards, I beat myself up for it, but it still happened. There is always going to be some part of all of us no matter how small that deals with racial issues. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that's ok. There's no part of it that's ok. Every single one of us has immense value no matter our culture, skin color or background. Which is why our tendency towards racism is something we have to keep on actively fighting against, that we have to be constantly on guard for. Together. But pretending it's not there, using the lie that you're some sort of super human who doesn't deal with racism so you can say stuff like Mother Fucking Niga in order to look pseudo cool is not helping. So please, please consider the words you say. Consider our background and the history of those words. Whites (my ancestors) bred people of color like animals, picking out the strongest and healthiest to "mate" making the healthiest children to work in their fields. That makes me want to puke. But it happened. And you know what those whites called these human beings? You got it, nigga. So dear God, white person, take a second to think.
I AM RACIST AND SO, WHITE PERSON, ARE YOU
I AM RACIST AND SO, WHITE PERSON, ARE YOU But We Don't Have to Stay That Way Love Letter For My Sister Alright. Before we dive into this SUPER fun topic let me start with the fact that you are being made new every day. You're not going to be allowed to stay where you're at in your racism. You are beloved. For the first time -practically ever- I'm not being sarcastic. You are so beloved. I don't know who you are (hi Mom!), but that doesn't matter. I need you to know it and believe it before we continue. Because this is not actually fun. It's actually really shitty . If you don't believe beloved this could be dangerous. Don't get stuck. Please. Right now we're part of the problem, but we don't have to stay that way. How did this whole thing come about? I had one sentence in my head. I had to face my racism. Sitting cross-legged on my bed I put on a random Spotify playlist. ("Sum Me Up" case you...
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