Skip to main content

All-white doesn't mean all is right.

I keep seeing that meme "I wish Black lives mattered to black people" being shared. It disgusts me in so many ways. A friend, whom I think highly of, shared it this morning (screenshots posted below). He's a police officer. He's black. It saddened me to see it coming from him. But it proves something that I've long thought to be true. Black police officers view us the same way as their white peers. This friend proceeded to tell me how another of his black friends had moved to an all-white neighborhood. He said his friends' children love it because they can play without being bothered by other kids. Another thing he said was that he has to look both ways before he leaves his home and that it had nothing to do with crossing the street.

I was pretty disgusted. It made it seem as if moving to an all-white neighborhood made it all better, as if ‘all white’ is the standard...as if 87%of white people aren't killed by other white people. As if white males aren't the highest perpetrators of violent crimes (This is fact. It can be proven. Don’t fight me on this). As if America’s most notable serial killers aren’t white men. Never mind the fact that young white males are leading the charge in mass shootings. Statistically speaking, now that his friend has moved to a white neighborhood, there is a greater chance of him and his family being victims of crimes.

This friend spoke about how on his “video feed” at work, he sees the most violent things. I’m assuming he meant those committed by black people. As if the system isn’t already rigged against us. As if that same system hasn’t placed Black people in a jungle and forced them to adapt by any means necessary. Now pause. This in no way excuses the criminal actions of those in Black communities who are committing these violent crimes. I’m speaking on the fact that while white men commit crimes, Black men are the criminals.

That means that when one of us commits a crime, it makes all of us criminals. However, when a white man commits a crime, a white man, solely, committed the crime, not the entire white community.  This friend even went on to say that it’s a shame that a daughter can call her mother a dirty bitch—as if this is a black thing only—or how one brother can stab another over a turkey leg. Stabbing or killing a person over food is not exclusive to the Black community as can be proven here, here, and here.

He went on to mention how Black people sometimes refused to be witnesses to crimes or testify in court. I find that hypocritical. Yes, the Black community has a toxic no snitching policy, but so does every police force in America. Prove me wrong. That blue wall is a strong one and can NOT be penetrated. Go on. Prove me wrong. I’ll wait.

He gave me his opinion with the option to respond in kind. I chose to respond with facts. That false sense of security that his friend has in his new all-white neighborhood is a very dangerous mindset. All white doesn’t mean all is right and to even hint at anything different is malarkey.




Displaying IMG_20160508_205845.jpg
Displaying IMG_20160508_205845.jpg

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Nah, sis. You're just being ig'nant!

I can tell most of you have never been to jail. I have more than once. First time I was a teen without a care in the world. Second time, I was a wife and mother of two. My youngest baby was still a newborn.Titty milk was still leaking from my boobs. And while I was in there for less than twenty-four hours the second time, that ish damn near drove me mad. To be away from my kids and not know one way or the other when I was going to be released and to be locked in with women who bragged about stabbing, beating, and hurting other people for fun? The guards didn't give two shits that I was in there for a non-violent offense. They didn't give a sh*t about me wanting to call my husband and check on my kids. They treated my black arse just like they treated the women who were in there for doing mess I will never be wild or crazy enough to do. It was then I realized that while I was willing to throw hands, I was in no way a young woman with nothing to lose anymore. Being away from my…

Black Film Review: Only 4 One Night

So last night/early this morning, I had the unfortunate chance to watch the movie Only 4 One Night, starring Brian White and Karrueche Tran. It was over an hour of my life that I can't get back. To make matters worse, I was in the kitchen pouring myself some libations when the opening credits were rolling so I didn't get to see that child molester, Chris Stokes, had directed this movie. I didn't find that out until after the fact. The premise goes a little something like this: Brian and Karrueche are happily married, the perfect couple. Karrueche's sister suffers a great loss, ends up in their guest room. Karrueche has to leave to go support her and Brian's son. The sister is left with the husband...and you know where this is going. But listen, the movie was basically a rip off of all the other movies about crazy women becoming obsessed with men after sex or just becoming plane ol' obsessed. If you've seen Obsessed, Single White Female, Hand that Rocks the C…

Excerpt from All the Things I'm Missing at Home: Heat level: Hot!

“Make me feel like a woman…” PiƱa’s words collided with the male prowess in me. It wasn’t necessarily the words; it was the way she had said them. It was as if she was pleading with me, tugging at the animalistic sexual desire that she’d stirred up from the moment she responded to my email. “Your poem yesterday,” she said as I pulled her in close to me. “What about it?” I asked. “Did you mean it?” “Which part?” “You said you wanted to touch me and stir something within my soul.” I wrapped my arms around her, placed my hands intimately atop her backside, then slid them down to palm and grip her with enough aggression to let her know I wanted her. She moaned a bit, more like purred. I felt the shiver that settled within her. She smelled damn good, like brown sugar with a hint of something else I couldn’t place. My eyes never left hers. The more she talked, the more I wanted her. I knew she could feel my arousal pressed against her. “I meant it, but in a sense that once I got the chance to be …