Sometimes I look at social justice discussions going on in the mainstream and intentionally piss myself off so I can get a good idea of the general shit show that is.
I've seen a lot of dumb shit from allegedly intelligent people, criticizing white people for not having any black friends in their circles... but it's like... are white people supposed to just arbitrarily adopt black people into their friend circles to juice up the numbers or whatever? To fit some minimum quota?
It doesn't matter what you are. Gay/bi, black, trans, asian, normal, whatever. You should feel insulted by the current attitudes that have cropped up as of late. I mean, for fuck sake. People will lump "gay" in the same category as "disabled" and act like both are such weak, fragile little creatures that need constant protection. Like they're children.
Not to mention the constant turning of minorities into accessories. These people talk about getting a black friend the same way that Paris Hilton gets a little dog and carries it around in her purse. Like you're just supposed to have one so you can point and nod and be like "yup! I'm such a good person! I hang out with black people!"
I'm at the point where if you say the words "problematic" or "privilege" to me, I immediately disregard anything you have to say because you're just brainwashed. Growing up, I had friends who were black, white, asian, native american, gay, straight, whatever. None of us gave a fuck what the other one is. Watch old game shows from the 80s and 90s. People of all different backgrounds were running around on Double Dare, having fun, giggling, having a great time and not one of them was hyperfocusing on the other's differences. People are just people. It doesn't matter what you are, it matters who you are, and if you're so obsessed with identity politics that you dehumanize people by reducing them to nothing more than their labels, I don't think you're a very good person.
Anyway. The point of this raCcoOnomicon entry is about a place I've come to call Needle Village. The single most ghetto place I've ever lived, where most of my friends were of varying other colors. I knew a black girl who my white teacher told, and I'm not making this up, "would melt before all the white kids if the sun got close enough to the Earth."
There was this giant black kid named Darius who kept telling me about cool rap songs he liked, and there was even a burly Eskimo child.
I don't have any stories about him but it's so rare that you meet a burly Eskimo child.
I call this place Needle Village because when we moved there, my mom told me "you have to watch your step around here. There are syringe needles everywhere and condoms." She was right. Walking around the area, you would literally see used syringe needles that were used for drugs just lying in the grass, as well as condoms just strewn about. There was a crackhead lady who couldn't hold still and my mom got into shit with her because she would not shut her mouth calling her out on it. Like, legit. I had girls in my class yelling at me telling me my mom doesn't know what she's talking about, saying shit like "MY MOM DOESN'T DO CRACK!!!" and I was just like "...okay." Like what the fuck do I care if your mom does crack?
I remember the neighborhood boys had a pinecone war once, where they all were just running around outside like they were Army soldiers hurling pinecones at each other. I walked out there to see the ruckus, my mom literally grabbed me and said "do NOT go out there." I was like "why?" and she was like "because you'll get hit with a fucking pinecone, stupid."
So after the war, a lady cop came to our front door and asked to speak to me. I walked out nervous as shit because I was afraid she'd be able to tell I wasn't fully white and unload six bullets into my chest. But she was totally nice to me. Thank God she didn't know.
I answered a few questions about the pinecone war (which is the exact words the cop used) and was on my way. Later on, it was night time and I went out for a walk. That's when I heard some sniveling and crying going on above me. I looked up into the tree and there was one of the kids who lived around here, hiding up inside the tree crying his eyes out. I looked up and said "...you alright?" and he screamed "RAHHAHHH!!!", cried harder, leapt out of the tree like Spider-Man and ran home.
I felt bad because that kid taught me how to play Yu-Gi-Oh. He had value in my life story. But apparently during the pinecone war, someone had thrown a rock and it hit him in the face. No joke. Fucking hilarious.
There were some other incidents too.
A guy ran through our backyard to escape the cops once, a child-protective services agent came to our house because I jokingly threatened to kill myself with a colored pencil and I guess my advanced millennial humor just didn't fly with teachers during that era.
I was ahead of my time.
I mean, the teacher that narked on me was the same one who got mad at me for pretending to smoke a cigarette (it was a blue mechanical pencil). I lied and said I was just chewing on it, she was like "you're holding it between your fingers!" and I'm like "I like holding sticks like that." and she was just like "oh okay." But then I went back to it, she walked up, grabbed me by the upper arm and said "you puffed!!!"
This lady was a fucking retard. I signed the permission slip for the swimming class we had so I could go through it, but then I got all weirdly insecure about it and decided I didn't want to do it anymore. So I approached her desk and said "hey... I know I uh, already signed the permission slip but like... can I opt out of the swimming class?" and she looked at me and said "oh, no! You're already enrolled. You have to do it now." I felt sad, but I shrugged and said "okay" and went to turn around and go back to my desk. But that's when she stood up, wrapped her arm around my shoulder and said "alright class. Sarah just came up to me and asked if she could avoid the swimming class because she's insecure about having to wear a swimsuit in front of you. But we're not going to make fun of Sarah, are we class?" and all the kids were just like "uh no?" and I just looked out at all their shitty little faces and I never so badly wished that 9/11 #2 had happened to that classroom.
That swimming class was wack as fuck anyway because I started out with a female swimming instructor, which made me feel pretty safe and comfortable, and then they randomly switched everyone around halfway through so I had some zitty dude instead and I fucking hated it. When a nice lady is in charge of you you feel safe and protected, when it's some dude with no shirt on you just feel like you're gonna get molested.
Not to mention I suffered a concussion on my first day of swimming class. I came out of the locker room, slipped on a puddle of water and cracked my head on the concrete and had to sit out the first class.
My head has taken more shots than Tila Tequila looking for love.
Anyway. That's the story of Needle Village. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go smoke some crack.