I had a moment today where I was able to finally sum up what racism and more specifically “white supremacy” means to me. As a worldly individual, the concepts of racism and white supremacy have always escaped me. I was raised by open racists who fled Chicago in the early 70’s as the tide of change swept the city and burbs. The color of the neighborhood shifted, and I remember the shift… when I began learning Spanish my parents sold our freshly custom-built home for the great white north that is Wisconsin. I remember Janet, my friend from Ecuador who spoke no English and I, no Spanish. But they were teaching Spanish on Sesame Street so it was happening. The shift from white to… wherever it ended up. I don’t know the rest of the story of the neighborhood my parents to raise me and fled in racist horror. I just don’t know. But I do know that what happened in that neighborhood in Chicago didn’t stop just because my parents were afraid of people who didn’t look, eat or worship like they did. Nope, the shift followed them, perhaps even proceeded their arrival because it wasn’t long before I had friends from every corner of the globe, in every shade imaginable imported to my fancy little tourist town. While the vast landscape was predominantly white, there was a significant growing ethnic flavor that would fully blossom by the time the calendar turned to 2020. Which means, that not everyone espoused my parents ideals for white supremacy and racist agendas. As I washed dishes this morning, I listened to Michael Che and laughed and laughed at his news report on SNL. I missed Leslie Jones and then began to realize slowly how utterly stupid white supremacy was. Had I followed my parent’s footsteps I would have missed such treasures and gifts in my life. My first female love had black children. My first roommate in the military was black. The woman I loved fully before I married my husband was black. My godchild, is black. My life would have been a pale hollow shell had I chosen such a gross narrow path. How empty my plate would have been. How cold my bed. I am hoping that racism, white supremacy dies with my generation. May we not choose the same paths as our parents. Let’s weaken the branches on white supremacy and realize once and for all that it is truly a rotting branch on our tree. Hollow, shallow and good only for food for bugs and mycelium. Die white supremacy, die.
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AuthorMarihemp is a Mystic Archives
January 2024
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