When The Racist Is Someone You Know and Love…
Katherine Fugate

I am sorry I didn’t read the whole story. I get impatient some times. It probably comes from a little bit of ADD and a little from reading mostly short news and tech articles, mostly online. In any case, I’m not sure how I ended up on *this* particular page. I was definitely *not* looking for (yet) another narrative about somebody else’s unfortunate experiences while growing up and while grown up.

It’s not that I intentionally *avoid* learning about others and their experiences — good or bad. It’s just that I intentionally look for news, information, and other tidbits of data that helps me to learn things that I do not already know.

Uh, well, yes, I already know a thing or two about racism and dysfunctional home life.

Number One: my father was (he died) an alcoholic.

Number Two: I have been assaulted at least 6 or 7 times by hateful, White-hating brown-skinned people. Maybe more. I forget. I don’t keep track.

What’s the point? To elicit sympathy? I don’t need sympathy.

Convince others?

Ha. Yeah, right. How many people *really* do *not* believe that gravity exists? Seriously? Do you think for half a minute that any more than one out of a gazillion freaking people are going to really *try* to jump up — off of the earth — and try to not come back down until they *want* to?

Ha. Yeah, you know what I’m talking about.

Gravity exists. We all know that.

And, guess what? There are probably only slightly more people that actually do *not* believe that … racism exists.

So, assuming you are aware and perceptive enough to realize exactly what I’m talking about — that the overwhelming majority of people just … *know* … that racism exists — I have to assume that you have other motives in writing this piece. Like, maybe, uh, well, I’m not sure. I skimmed to the bottom, trying to glean some salient “money shot” point you were trying to make.

Racism exists. Dysfunction (of some sort) in virtually *every* home exists.

For me, it is hard to imagine *any* reason for *my* going around telling my unfortunate encounters with racism. I just don’t see what would be gained except, possibly, incurring the wrath of racists who are Black (or otherwise dark-complected) or some sort of apologist for racism directed *towards* White people.

I know that may sound pretty farfetched to somebody who is *actually* ignorant of the fact that Blacks are racist, also. But, then again, maybe what you said is true — that “no one” likes to be called “racist.” Even Black people.

So, for what it’s worth, even with my own personal experiences being a real victim of racial hatred and violence, I’ve *never* felt the need to broadcast my victim status for any reason. It’s not that I’ve never shared my experiences and told the stories (all 6 or 7 of them); I have, and I will, if it is in context and is something that can benefit or add to a discussion.

But, I have read enough history and seen enough on TV (and that was decades before the relatively recent trend of obsessing over the obvious fact of its existence and the perceived expedience of White-bashing) to know that racism exists and will continue to exist whether I talk about it or not.

My talking about is not something that I believe will make a difference.

Why? Well, it’s simple, really. I don’t hang out with racists. I never did. I never will. In fact (and this is where it may get uncomfortable, for some people) I never really felt that racism was a real problem — even when I was being discriminated against (literally) by the “Plus Two” Affirmative Action policy implemented in Washington state for promotion purposes.

That’s right, certain minorities (they used the euphemism “protected groups”) with barely-passing test scores were routinely being called up (up to 2 per position opening) from a given promotion register for interviews, in spite of the fact that there were some times *dozens* of better qualified (by test score) and, ostensibly, more worthy of promotion. My point is that, in spite of it not being fair and self-evidently discriminatory, I didn’t harbor any angst or antagonism towards the lesser-qualified Blacks and other “protected” groups for getting promotions that were *not* merit-based.

I basically just shrugged and said, “that’s fucked up!”

We all knew it. Most who benefitted from this sort of racial discrimination were nice enough. I can’t say that I would have turned down a promotion that I, myself, didn’t personally deserve. You know, take the money and run.

But, uh, well, my point is that, even though “racism exists,” and as much as some *may* want to piss and moan (and bitch and whine) about “RACISM … RACISM” in America, we still have a country where— if we are *really* intellectually honest — we had a former president who, though HALF White, *chose* to “identify Black.”

Uh, WTF? Yeah, racism — though it obviously exists — is soooo bad that somebody who *could* choose to indentify White chooses … *not* to?

The big question is, why the hell would somebody do that unless … there is an element of racism that some times works *in favor of* certain races?

Or, alternatively, “why would somebody do that if racism is *really* so bad in America?

How many times has Obama been physically assaulted for being … half Black? Zero?

If the worst that happens to the overwhelming majority of people of color — in America—is the experience of “feeling” … “icy stares” and “attitudes” and “contemptuous looks,” then is it any wonder why the World’s Number One Destination for people of *any* color has been, is and will continue to be … [wait for it] … the good ‘ole US of A?


I can’t really remember meeting any racists or being exposed to racism, personally, until I was a repeated verbal and *physical* victim of it where I currently live. Most of the people I grew up with in Wisconsin were White. None (as in N-O-N-E) of them were racist. Oh, did mention that NONE of the hundreds of people I met and grew up with and freely associated with through all my years (17) growing up in Wisconsin were racist — at least from what I could tell?

But, of course, there are those dolts who equate Whiteness with Racist.

But, please, let’s not even go there? OK? I’m assuming that everyone who reads this is an adult. Grown up. NOT racist. OK?

We all KNOW that you can NOT tell a “racist” from the color of their skin, right?

What really matters, to any human who is even partially enlightened and reasonably intelligent, is the “content of their character.”

Speaking of which, when I grew up I saw and heard TV coverage of MLK discussing civil rights issues, for the life of me, I can’t remember him ranting about whether or not racism existed. He knew it existed.

We *all* know it exists, today.

But, if my memory serves me, he was focused on the way things SHOULD be. Then.

Now, it’s no different. Even though I’ve been called racial slurs numerous times, I don’t rant about “racism … racism … racism …” ad nauseam.

I keep on keeping on. I continue to treat people the way a gadzillion of “us White people” were taught to treat people: “like I want to be treated.”

And, guess what?

Did you guess?

Race and ethnicity has nothing to do with it.

I — as a White person — have probably been victimized worse and more times than 99% of the minorities in America, at least in the last forty years or so. So what? What am I supposed to do? Be angry? Shout? Tear down a statue? Break some windows?

Or, maybe I should use a nuclear device to destroy the Great Pyramids of Egypt (in and of themselves a most egregious example of a “blatant symbol of racial oppression”) because my … [wait for it] … distant … distant ancestors were among the … [wait for it] … S-L-A-V-E-S that were tasked with building them?

Oh, boo hoo hoo.

Racism exists.

Personally, I get it. Racism is bad.

This, just in: MOST people in America realize that not only does racism exist, but … yes, it’s bad. OK?

I wish people would be more like Rosa Parks and MLK.

If somebody actually *does* … in fact … try to discriminate against you in tangible ways (you know, “make you sit it the back of the bus”), speak out.

Stand up.

Sue them.

Otherwise, please, just STFU. You make me sick.

Petulant, whiny … snow flakes.

Until *your* jaw gets broken by a “sucker punch” from somebody half your age of a different race who subsequently brags about “hitting some fucking ‘[insert racial slur]’ in da park,” you aren’t even in the same league as me, in terms of actually having something to bitch about. Seriously.

Racism exists.


The question is: Are YOU, personally, a hater?

If I saw the kid (although he must be at least 35 by now, as it’s been several years) who broke my jaw, Dion Alvarez, today, somewhere, walking perhaps … I wouldn’t be even slightly inclined to sneak up behind him and hit him with a fucking sledge hammer. Ha. No. I’d not want to hurt him at all.

He already hates White people. Why would I want to make it any worse?

I’ll leave it to all his brown-skinned buddies to “stand up and speak out …” even with a shaky voice.