I’m angry. (shrugs shoulders here)
Today, I was reading one of my favorite blogs. The blogger is a white woman, a teacher, who writes simple, quirky posts about her experiences, her life, and that of her family and students. It’s funny. It’s entertaining. It’s educational without the limitations of a 60 year old teacher who hasn’t had sex in years and takes it out on her students. I like it!
As I was reading her posts today I became very angry. About 10 years ago God led me to learn why Africans in America are oppressed and how our oppression came into existence and so I feel some responsibility to use my craft of writing to educate and inspire others to take action against our oppression.
I am angry because I have to read about how black men are shot to death because they were looking for assistance after they’ve been mauled in a car accident or about how a black boy was raped by two white men and the news/media blamed him after they tried to paint him as a thug who “deserved” it or even how a black boy has allowed the deviants who now control rap music to lure him into killing his mother for the insurance money simply so he could “flauge” on Facebook and in videos. [This run-on sentence is representative of the many, many types of racism we experience across the country.]
I am angry that I can’t simply write lighter notes about my experiences and make witty banter about nothingness–that I have to educate my people about the oppression that we experience at the hands of another race who simply does not know or care about our history, well-being, or rights as citizens.
Don’t get me wrong. I am actually glad that God chose me to be an educator and writer, I’m just upset about what it is that I have to educate others about. And, it is not only fair to me as a writer, but it is not fair to Afrikans in America who have to deal with the facts that I write about.
J. Prince, Princepality 83