It is terrible to live in fear; that’s why I believe that no one should die because they cannot afford health care. That’s why I support the Black Lives Matter movement. That’s why I believe the detention and deportation of immigrants, which decimates families and riddles children with anxiety and terror, must end. That’s why I believe climate change is real and we have an obligation to leave a healthy, fertile earth for our grandchildren.
Until I realized that I’d started writing everything from e-mails to recipes in 140-character bursts. I had stopped consuming news for the sake of my own edification, and started consuming it for the production of snark — and those delicious, validating RT’s. And I had gotten into a bad habit of threading really good story ideas into hugely popular Tweetstorms, giving away what is arguably my best skill — funny, goofy political analysis backboned by righteous indignation — for free.
The only way to get your friend to stop telling racist jokes is to hope that she’s just kidding, which means her racism has no practical effect on anyone, ever. If you confront her about being a bigot, it’s likely you’ll wind up in the worst possible position: not friends with a racist.