I received your letter, and it only furthers the point I've been making since 2008: Obama's election has given you an unbearable sense of pride. All of a sudden, we're listening to Outkast, we're watching Spike Lee films, we're seeking out Cornel West interviews on NPR. Where was all this black pride in high school? When you were listening to Pinkerton and crying about girls on full blast instead of Bun B and crying about girls? I apologize for the attempts on your life ... that was perhaps a little too far and unwarranted, but the ego has gotten to be a little much. Your civil rights aren't even a century old yet, and already they're being shoved in my face. Need I remind you that, without me, we wouldn't be half as employable.
If only you'd cut that damn hair ... and while we're on the subject, I have never approved of the black pride pick. Quite frankly, it offends me. Can't we chose a more race-neutral means of styling our hair? The way we, or rather you, have it now, every one else is forced to think, "BLACK!" I'd like a little recognition too.
For once, I'd like a person to see us walking down the street and say, "Look at that tanned, handsome white guy over there," but that has never, and will never, be the case. Yet you insist on making new demands all because of a few, admittedly, rash attempts to lynch you in our own backyard. But it all stems from jealousy. All my hatred is bred from love. You get to be the cool one, the token one, the dash of ethnic spice in whatever white-washed group of friends you decide to join. I'll always be the "white half," the half that wishes we wore more scarves and sweaters, the half that decided to pursue a liberal arts degree while you get to be the cool half that makes fun of all those aspects.
What group needs a token white guy out here in the suburbs?
Also, we can stop playing Ultimate Frisbee. It even makes me feel like an asshole.
Forever Lame,
White Devil
White Devil
P.S. Am I allowed to say the N-word?
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