Why is it that American society will demonize any black person who kills a white person (and especially a cop), yet when a white person shoots up a black church, all pains are taken to ensure his due process (and chance of getting away with what he did, due to mental illness)?
Why does this society always go on about black on black crime, yet not consider what happened down there in Texas with that biker gang white on white crime? Why, because a few Hispanics, and maybe one delusional black person was there? What about these theater and school shootings? They're killing white people as well...
Why is it that when the subject of white supremacy comes up, we have to hear the oft-spoken line of "not all white people" (is this a variation of the No True Scotsman argument), but when generalizations about black people are made, if we pipe up and say "that doesn't apply to me," it's blown off?
Why is it okay for a white person to get offended at a black person speaking of their experience with racism, or posting (one) "too many posts about racism," yet we have to listen to the hardships of white people, and definitely give support if they're a "friend"? Note: true friends do not get upset at the walks others have to take, just because they may see part of themselves in the impetus behind that struggle. Because that's what the anger boils down to.
Why are black people told to get over slavery, while having all the systems in place currently to keep some semblance of that time intact, but we go over the Holocaust at any time, and we're still remembering 9/11 and Pearl Harbor?
Just things I'm wondering today, as I look at connections I'm about to break. If you are truly someone who cares about me, you don't shove your opinion down my throat because I tell you about my EXPERIENCE. You are essentially calling me a liar, and insisting that I need to fall in line with what you want. And I don't care what you've done for me, that's not any justification for denying my reality.
People disturb me. Just answered the door to two suit-clad boys getting money offerings for the local theocracy...they were so surprised to see a black face at the door, that it took thirty seconds (during which they probably went over a mental map of the neighborhood) to ask if my in-laws were home. My polite response elicited a sigh of relief.
I hate this country sometimes.
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