Do you ever get angry that your white friends only have white friends? It’s that shallow rage that “they just don’t understand.”
Minorities walk a lonely path, and sometimes we walk together. That might give the illusion of strength but really we’re bonded together by weakness. We stay together to protect each other, because the majority is content to look aboard about above across against.
Together we’re strong but the majority is strong by itself. There’s an irony in there: the singular strength offered by a plurality.
You friend, freely get the security that we need five for. You cannot live our truth but you are certainly capable of labeling it a lie.
“It couldn’t be that bad. They’re just overly sensitive. I didn’t even notice. They’re reading into it.”
And then, to add insult to injury, it is unprofessional, childish, even animal-like to emote our frustration, our rage. We have to respond to worldly inethics with pure logic, immutable and unarguable.
But please, share your pictures of the rich and famous. Show me the gods you’ve forgotten to paint. Shove your beauty down my throat as I thank you for the opportunity.
