What It Does to You

Two women of color are sitting on the bus behind me, talking about how hard it is to get up in the morning when you stay late. And as I eavesdrop, I think, “Isn’t it just like them and their kind to do a stupid thing like that?”

But there’s no sense in thinking that way, none, because at this very moment I’m running an hour late because I stayed up late last night. I don’t think it’s stupid, either; I chose to take my time this morning rather than go to bed early. Staying up late is something I richly enjoy. In short, it is my instinct to criticize black people for doing what I love to do, because they are black.

So that’s racism and what it does to you: it (and therefore I) so despises the other that it will do anything to mock, or condescend, or hate.


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