It was probably the first Republican debate that was the final nail. Or maybe it is the resurgence of trouble in the black inner cities. Don’t know. But I needed a pause for refreshment.
As the American Empire circles the drain, the cacophony of trashy language and a trashy culture grows too loud to bear at times.
Maybe it was the “INSERT YOUR RACE HERE people matter” lines that never seem to quit. Maybe it was people going postal over the death of poor Cecil, a lion. But something pushed me over the edge today.
Sometimes I have to withdraw into my own little cultural cocoon to regain my sanity. So I retreat to my race. Or spend a few moments watching buildings blow up.
Yes, I’m hopelessly racist. I checked in the mirror and I’m still bagged in a white wrapper. Albeit it’s getting pretty saggy and wrinkled. We white folks don’t age well. And, I’ll admit to thinking like a lot of white guys do and seeing in the world through the eyes of whiteness.
No, I don’t consider anyone less than human because of the color of their skin. Nor do I think of them as less than the very image of God, no matter what language they speak or how they celebrate their holidays. My Lord and Savior occupied the body of a very non-white person, and a finer man has never lived. So hang a piñata up and swing at it, or sing Kawanza songs. I might not find either very interesting but I don’t think any less of you for engaging in your preferred customs. Provide me a couple of drinks and I might swing at the piñata, too. Or dance to the Mariachi music.
My racism is the simple recognition that there are different races and cultures. And while the individuals are just that, the collective group is open to judgement. As you will and for what you will.
Most of my kind have become the official and popular target of abuse Everything that doesn’t fit the progressive vision of world utopia gets blamed on me and my ancestors. Especially the males, for we are apparently an abusive and privileged class. Or so I am told, frequently.
But all the efforts to bash the white guy and turn society into one gray mass have failed. All the diversity programs in the world has done nothing more than accentuate the differences. Inclusion programs have failed—black and latino Americans are making it clear that they want to dorm together and have their own graduation ceremonies at the colleges and universities. Gee, make special “race” days and speak incessantly about how important their particular races are and then wonder why they would rather be around their own kind? And more power to them.
It’s not an issue, really. In fact, it should be encouraged if only because it’s natural. People gravitate to the groups they feel more comfortable with. And always will.
As interesting as I find other races and cultures, I haven’t found one I’d rather spend most of my time with. Just not as comfortable as I am with people from my own background. Not that they are not welcome or that I don’t enjoy people from other races and cultures.
It’s natural to find some races of people more attractive than others, and there’s no accounting for taste. And it comes and goes with the time. We are passing through a period in which America has been attracted to the races of the Far East. Asian news reporters are popping up all over the place and far outnumber the percentage of them in the population. Apparently a good portion of viewers who are not Asians find them to be attractive newscasters. Or maybe it’s the increasing fascination with all things Asian.
A similar phenomenon has been going in Asia for decades, as orientals seek plastic surgery to make their faces look more Western, as in white. Now this ought to get your attention—it’s happening in reverse on the West Coast as California plastic surgeons report Western-looking clients wanting their faces to look more Asian.
I’m not getting surgery anytime soon. I’m not a great-looking white guy but I would make a horrible-looking Asian.
And I’m proud of the white race. It’s contributed some amazing things to the world as we know it. In fact, most of the items that make your life as modern and comfortable as it is today were invented by some white person. Most of the so-called miracles of modern medicine and science are thanks to primarily to white people. Industrialization, the power that turns all such ideas into usable products in quantities that really mean something and at prices we can afford is the development of pale-skinned males. No offense to the ladies intended.
I mean no offense to anyone who is not white, of course, and I am thankful to the men and women of other races, indeed to entire races and cultures that have contributed to the welfare of all humanity. Great cultures have arisen in parts of the world I will likely never see. And my life is better for it. I’m married to a wonderful person of a different race and culture. Many of her qualities are connected to the fact that she was raised and educated by a very different, but valuable culture.
Historical Mid-Eastern buildings draw my eye. Japanese gardens are mesmerizingly beautiful. The food of India is incredible. But nothing beats a slice of apple pie with vanilla ice-cream.
For today, I’m resting in my whiteness and celebrating the pale-skinned, freckled, hairy, over-sized humans who spread through Europe. They left behind some pretty remarkable things that sooth my poor white soul. Like the Blue Danube Waltz. Played in a setting of extraordinary beauty and elegance and danced to by men and women in dignified attire.
So, for today, take your diversity and stow it. This over-privileged white male is lost in some the most beautiful music this world has ever known. Courtesy of some European white guy named Strauss. Sure, I’ll be glad to listen to a bit of your ethnic Inuit drum songs afterwards, although I’ll reserve the right to change the station after a bit.