It's the argument, "Hate the action, not the person." And we are all talking about Trump, in some fashion or another. I've heard of people darker than I speaking about how they look at every white person, like they might have voted adversely. While it's a catch 22, if a white male doesn't vote for Trump, who did they vote before? Dr. Stein, Governor Johnson? Ms. Clinton?
The challenges with which we are faced, are exponentially more nuanced than anything we have ever encountered. Their solution requires finesse. I can't say I know exactly what that is, or how a solution manifests. But I've heard others echo a sentiment: it takes faith.
I was raised by two white individuals who voted in a manner inconsistent with individuals aware of the cultural repercussions of such a situation. I've watched a white woman attempt to cast demons from me, and heard a white man tell me I am unfit to live in Minnesota. Hate the action, not the person.
It takes faith, they say. Though if one were to take the Bible at it's word: they would say, it takes hope, love and faith. The greatest of which, it was said, was love. Though my question is ... well, it's not really a question any more; it's difficult. The argument this evening being: she is, "filled with Christ's love." There is no room for the devil. Thus, anything she does is bathed in the blessing of Jesus Christ, our collective Lord, and Savior. I won't go on to say what she, or they, might have done; for all appearances I was given most every opportunity most kids could hope. I even traveled internationally in my youth! All said and done, for an orphan from Colombia, I was doing rather well.
Slowly I came to realize that this second to last allegation was a snag. If I were to succeed, I would be considered a credit to those who had adopted me. If I were to fail, it would be as a credit to my ethnicity, and my race; to be brief. While the opportunities for failure surrounded me. We have allowed society to grow in a manner which unsustainable. Rather than encouraging innovation and exploration; we have shackled these words, and others like them. Society has pinned them like butterflies, and defined what they are. It is a disservice to ourselves, and consequently, our children.
Truth be told, I've been fighting since the day the adoption of finalized. I wouldn't be here if I hadn't. Whiteness is tricky; and it certainly isn't safe. Every conversation was an interrogation; exploring the "other's" experiences, mining ideas to fuel their innovations. I've just used two specific words in a crass phrase. Unpacking it, I do not propose that such intentions are explicit. Though I must acknowledge that by process, the white male often is given credit quicker than any other of a diverse group. It is not proposed to be viewed as a trend, or confined to certain communities: it is a culture-wide, science-deep, manner of interaction that is reinforced by most everything in the media.
The solution isn't to bash white males, nor to ignore them; it is to open our eyes to all of the other possibilities. It takes faith, and it takes hope, to love ourselves. And this means to believe in our selves, outside of the white gaze. Hate the action, not the person. But moving on from this, what does it take to not repeat the action, if it is all you've ever known? If all I've ever been told, is that white expectations are the arbiter of what might be; what does a world without such a litmus test look like? What might be possible?
It is a tragedy that society has come to such a place, wherein a race war is not so much explicitly, as implicitly, needed. Though as others have pointed out, the war is not a war between races, but rather a war within a race, the white race. Faith allowed me to believe in my self, hope kept me going, and love is the prize.
I do not know what happened; how, or why? But there is a disease within the white race, there is a lack of value which is propped up by an inflated ego. This ego is fed in most every market humanly accessible. This is why skin whitening products are popular in certain geographic areas, and other procedures are popular elsewhere. Whiteness, in it's ubiquity, abdicated it's definition, in exchange for the definition of perfection. Herein which resides our paradox: the white man, alone, knows what perfection is, and so becomes the definer, the creator, of his own being. Connotative in pattern, a preeminent example of hubris.
For it is in this capacity, that the plague is so susceptible to spread. Hubris makes one immune to exploration. Knowing is the end of possibility. Not knowing, the beginning. It takes faith to make that first step into the beyond.
Moving away from knowledge, a trail is formed in our wake.
Something else is possible.