You can’t turn on the radio lately without hearing someone talking about too many young black men being killed. Too many lives cut short.
And most certainly, I agree. What is so very disappointing to me is that these passionate cries for something to be done are in reaction to the shooting of Trayvon Martin. Why haven’t I been hearing these cries in connection to the gang violence that prematurely ends the lives of so many? Why no outcry about all of the black on black homicides? Where are the marches for Allen?
Why the fixation on race?
And Mr. President, really? Did you really just say that all black people look alike? As if any individual is interchangeable with another because of some shared genetics? As if appearance is what defines the value of a human being? That’s one of the more racist things I’ve heard.
I feel no need to trot out my own tolerant credentials because I have none. I don’t have any black friends. I don’t have any hispanic friends. I don’t have any white friends.
I have friends. They are individuals and of particular value to me because of who they are. They don’t need an ethnic adjective to be special to me, to be a part of my tribe. I don’t need to fill some affirmative action quota because I’m concerned about the content of your character and not the color of your skin.
Sure my friends come from a variety of ethnic backgrounds. Not a one of them is black or white. I had a big box of Crayola brand crayons growing up, you can’t fool me. Everyone I’ve ever met is somewhere in the range of beige to brown and you generally had to blend a couple of the colors to get a good match. Huh. There might just be some kind of metaphor in there.
Are we different? Sure. Just this weekend, I said, “There are certain benefits to being 1/4 Filipino.” Want to know what that benefit was? The fact that my sunburn would be a tan in just a couple of days as opposed to what a sunburn does to my red-haired husband.
But that doesn’t follow the narrative, now does it? You know, because all of our problems will be solved by stirring the pot. Sigh. I guess it’s time to update the definitions again.
A careful examination of the facts, witness statements, and applicable laws. Stirring up a riot on the basis of a superficial categorization.