America and Its Regularly Scheduled Racism
It’s been over a week since we’ve witnessed the racial terror that transpired in a small central Virginia college town — a place I called home for four years as graduate student at the University of Virginia. We saw tiki torches and polos defending the white and shining armor of the Old South. We realized that the Old South is just a misnomer — it’s the South. Perhaps that’s even a misnomer — it’s not the South or the North — it just is. Remember, people from all across the country came to celebrate depravity and faux racial superiority. And violence. Did I say violence? Anyway, yes, people all across the country, from every nook and cranny, came out to support people we thought didn’t exist. And when I say “we” I don’t mean “we” of course.
Some people in this country thought they didn’t exist. However, for those with my amount of melanin, we knew better. Much better. The hatred and disgust bubbles quietly underneath and only those on the bottom can feel and see it. Our ears are close to the ground. We heard the train coming centuries before people posted about it on Facebook. Before people screamed “why?” into the abyss of ignorance, comfort and apathy. They never asked why until it was in their faces. Perhaps they didn’t know it existed. Perhaps we have to believe them because we believe in humanity. But either way, it didn’t matter until it was seemingly their problem — though it still isn’t. In fact, brown faces were mainly absent in the fight against good and evil that day. And make no mistake, their valiant efforts are appreciated. “If you’re not outraged, you’re not paying attention,” she said before she was rammed with hate and centuries-old lies and fairy tales of a racial hierarchy. But this is still our reality. We can’t eat sheet cake.
But we’ve known for far too long that this was a reality. We knew that these people didn’t appear in the two thousand and seventeenth year of our Lord. Or their Lord. But it’s not the people that we’re worried about — it’s the stories and myths. They were told and ingrained in this society — they had to be — so as to be palatable. Our existence is one of anguish and heartbreak — not spirituals and warriors. We had those — don’t get me wrong — but mainly heartbreak and death. A lot of death. Of course, I’m talking physical, but there is also the slow mental, spiritual and emotional death over and over again. With no fan fare or headstones. No songs. Life just stopped the second it knew it was in bondage. We may have not been buried for decades after our death. Corpses walking around and planting the roots for this great country of ours.
And so this is our legacy. One filled with pain. Yet we are some of the strongest people ever. We have to believe that. One, because it’s true but secondly, because we won’t survive if we don’t. So we can’t focus on reality. Our mind is always focused on the future as we’re constantly reminded of the past. But if the present is where we are now and we used to be there, then there is hope for later, right?
Sure.
Believe that. America will go back to its quiet racism today and it will hurt. But it will get better. We have to believe that, because we’re alive.
