"I was not expecting this phone call today. This is a financially strenuous time, while I was raised by two white people who spent thirty years teaching me how to hate this state."
A woman from the University called, apparently my Perkins Loan is coming due, and I missed a payment. They always sound so cheery. I realize that Employment was up for the month of February, but that doesn't mean that the number applies to -- never mind.
Either way, I'm bringing these conversations to the forefront, because I'm sick of acting as though I ought hide them. I don't get jobs because management hates me, damn near all the time, every time. Hate being the inverse of love - I was tokenized often as a child. It was, and remains to be, a very violent experience - only the husk of my existence seems to serve any purpose for others. My husk often looks good, and I've trained it to act even better when intrigued.
Eventually management fucks up, and often enough the darkest, or more expendable one, becomes the burden-bearer. When I fail to play this role, management's frustration often becomes exacerbated by the frequent fact that I had most likely attempted to curtail the issue, but was dismissed. Or sometimes, what is worse, the laborers and I were aware of the issues, but we had collectively agreed that it wasn't safe to bring to management's attention. Society has perhaps trained itself to identify and exploit scapegoats in this manner?
I do think that Minnesota has put itself in a purposefully asinine position: undeniably one of the largest employment gaps between races, and one of the best welfare programs. It is as though one is done in order to offset the effects of the other, and so, allow toxic narratives to persist; maybe even enabling them?