Y’know, I should walk away. Let go and let God. Put the folks who claim I am really racist on the list of things I cannot change. Instead, I am going to go there. So it goes, I’ve been declared really racist.
Search this blog. Scroll through facebook.com/knogeek. Look through my other social media. Hit the web sites I own. Find the place where I’ve said that a certain ethnicity is less than another. Identify the hate speech you find. When you find it put your evidence in the comments below this post. I’ll wait.
I really look forward to the comments. Somebody will find something. It’s how it goes. The triggering premise is that I am really racist. So those who believe this must confirm what they already believe. Facing a lack of evidence they’ll invent something. The ad hominem attack must affirm the orthodox narrative that I am really racist. No other option is possible.
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“When did you stop being really racist?” Uh huh. “Are you now or have you ever been really racist?” I’m that guy. The one who will agree that I am really racist in spite of no evidence to affirm the claim. Why? Because what would be the point of arguing with someone who is so full of angst and rage that their brains are on full stupid? Can’t find a reason to argue with a raging snowflake? Thought so.
Why? Why would I allow myself to say that I am really racist? It’s an absurd move. I said it because the option to be anything else has been taken from me. Simply because I have the genealogy I have and because my Dad succeeded in pursuing the American Dream I am declared bougie and thus, really racist.
Lately, the fashion is to declare white people to be irredeemably really racist. We were born in racism and we will die racist. Nothing we do or say can change that. No number of hours in unconscious bias training sessions will remove the stain on our souls. White people are really racist in their very nature.
The Cross of Calvary
Fight or flee? Neither. There is no point in fighting someone who is so drunk on blue Kool-Aid that winning an argument with them is harder than teaching a pig to sing. Flee? That’ll go well. Our sins have a bad habit of following us wherever we go. So, an invisible third must be found.
I’ll tell you the invisible third I have in a bit. But before that, some back story. I have a two year beef between me and a user in this space named CaptWhite. About two years ago I stumbled upon Ms. White’s declaration that I was probably not a “real” Christian, mayhaps “really racist” and definitely sketchy. She didn’t know my heart and wondered if, under all that passive-aggressive talk talk about grace lay an evil man who hates black people.
CaptWhite has triggered a fair number of posts in response to her declaration that I am sketchy if not really, really racist. So here we are. Black Lives Matter and fellow travelers are filling the headlines with Maoist proclamations that white people are innately evil and thus, deserving of what the group perpetrates against them. CaptWhite seems sympathetic to their cause and their actions. This implies that I, being white, could be seen as really racist and deserving of retribution. Woo.
Here is what’s worth 1500 words of a rant about racism: you stole my freedom to tell my story. I’m not allowed to have any story of my own. It must be a story assigned to me based on approved tropes about white people. These tropes are rooted in the hatred and jealousy of a drunk and opiate-addicted Karl Marx for his peers. As a WASP I am deemed to be privileged and thus, a member of the bourgeoisie. My assigned story is an accusation that I am somehow responsible for the collective misery of everyone who isn’t white.
There are only a couple of things that will make me want to fight. One is not being heard. I don’t care if you agree with me. It’s actually more fun if you don’t and can make a convincing argument. What does piss me off is failing to listen to me. I want to be heard. I get pissed off when I feel like my story isn’t getting across. The other thing is feeling desperate that I am surrounded by those who only want war. I was raised to never fight. I was bullied because I wouldn’t stand my ground. So opponents who just want injury or death scare and anger me.
I know little of BLM save for what filters through to me on social media and what I’ve read on their web site. There is that and what CaptWhite has said on her facebook page. The trigger for me was another post from CaptWhite where she would not allow replies. This is how I felt her post–she is free to say anything, even something hurtful to me, and I am supposed to just suck it up. I am not allowed to be heard.
It’s been 19 years. The last time I hit my son’s Mom was in December of 2001. In 2002 I made a promise to my son to never speak ill of her. Out of that promise came a commitment to practice giving grace first and to only desire Christ. I’d like to say it’s been a solid walk since. It has not. I lose it once in a while. I forget my promise and begin to be seduced by the impulse to break my commitment.
Why would I agree that I am really racist? Because of the cross. Because Christ martyred himself on the cross and took sin and death with him to Hell. Martyrdom is the invisible third answer between fight or flee.
I can continue to devote myself to Christ and to shedding any desire that keeps me from Him. I can also give grace first to everyone and especially to those who are enemies. Jesus’ church so deeply hated him that his church leadership demanded that the Romans crucify him. He is my example.
Die to Live
By that example, it doesn’t matter what I am accused of. My task isn’t to win the battle against those who malign my reputation or hold anger in their hearts against me because of a story imputed to me. My task is to follow and desire Christ.
This is a “do you trust me?” moment in my life. On one of my more desperate moments Jesus asked me if I trusted Him, “Yes.” “Then shut up! Stop whining about what you don’t have and what you can’t do.” Then my phone rang and it was Darlene. She needed a ride to the grocery store. Read the post about her for the full story. Darlene is a big reason why I have what I have today.
Today, there is a war between heaven and hell underway. Maoists, Sendero Luminoso, and their fellow travelers got a the green light to foment a Communist revolution in this country. Groups like BLM and Antifa are the infantry in this uprising. Christians are an enemy of the revolution and thus, on the target list. So, yeah, really racist and an enemy of the revolution, YAY!
Not yay. This sucks. Am I really racist? I hope not. To be really racist I’d have to give up my commitments to Christ and to my son. I don’t believe you can be a sincere disciple of Christ and be really racist. But that choice has been taken from me. I’m not allowed to be anything but really racist.
There is a lot more in common across humanity than we sometimes admit. The archetypal heroes tale recurs around the world. Most of us live the seven stages of life spoken of by William Shakespeare in, “As You Like It.” The normie life I was raised in featured a two-parent home and a father who worked a good union job until retirement. If there is one divide it is between parents and children. You are a child until one night, the lovemaking conceives a baby. That night, you cross over into the realm of parenthood never to return. Except for that, the arc of our lives is rather similar whether you live in Manhattan or in a Zulu village. Life for the working man hasn’t changed much since the Roman Empire. We are not so different.
And yet the Maoists insist that there must be a difference. They need the proletariat and the bourgeoisie to perform their respective parts in the absurd play called Social Justice. There cannot be justice or peace.
No Justice No Peace
The peace of Christ is a threat to the Maoists. This makes me a threat to anyone loyal to Maoism. Good times. This is the end . . . So . . . I try to avoid preaching. I’m not going to end on “you should do this.” You should do you. I’ll keep practicing my faith, letting go of anything that interferes with my desire for Christ and His peace. My haters are gonna hate. My prayer is that we quit fighting and start hearing each other.