Like dirt, and mushrooms, and slugs, and other disgusting things, racism has been around for a long time. So long, in fact, that our culture is ingrained with it, our sensibilities steeped in it like foul, toxic tea. We’re so deeply entrenched in some things—the preference of blue eyes, light skin, and narrow noses; the hierarchy of language; the abhorrence of “ethnic”-sounding names—that sometimes we don’t notice how many of our likes, dislikes, and behaviors are symptoms of the absorption of white supremacist notions. But some things you know are racist, and any damn fool with half a brain knows they are racist. They’re….you know. Racist.
According to this fine human specimen, driving around with a lynched effigy of President Obama behind his truck is not racist, “absolutely not.”
These are the kind of people I refuse to compromise with. You are a racist. Own it. Claim it. Wear it on your shirt. Get a tattoo. I don’t know a single American who isn’t aware of this country’s shameful history with lynching. Don’t play dumb. It’s not cute, nor is it convincing. Look at the picture I included with this post. This is our history. It’s been written about, taught, raged against, immortalized in film, drilled into our psyches.
Don’t pretend it isn’t there. Don’t say racism is dead. Racism is a zombie, rising from the grave, as long as cretins like you exist to keep ripping our hearts out with your teeth.