Today, I am aware that I am black. No longer can I hide inside the race protectant bubble I unfortunately built for myself growing up. Today I am aware that, like many others who don’t fit the Trump “formula”, I am being watched more. Today I am fully aware of the horrifying racism and discriminatory hate trying to divide our country.
“The burden of the brutalized is not to comfort the bystander.”
I challenge you to stop asking, “What are you?” and start asking, “Who are you?”
Would my life be a heck of alot easier if I was white, of course? Would it be easier for me to have gone to a historically black university; probably. However, you can’t just retreat into your own race forever. That’s what I wish people would understand.
“Gender inequality is not our culture, it is a tradition. Traditions can change. They should change. If traditions never changed then America would still have slavery.”
Maybe you shouldn’t post racist slurs on Snapchat? Or anywhere?
“Make America Great Again,” Donald Trump proclaims. For people who believe that life was better ten, twenty years ago — that is a tempting promise.
What bothers me is that right now is that the political discourse in this election is veering toward a redefinition of what it means to be an American.
There’s a paradox in our society in which we all pine for that special someone who will set our souls on fire but then we decide that that person must be a certain shade, height, age, gender, and have a specific eye color.
Ultimately, I’m all for satire and thoughtful political humor — but #BlackOlivesMatter isn’t a satire. It’s just appropriating a major movement to make cash and get a few laughs.