Nigger

"Fuckin niggers".

"Excuse me"?

"Aww come on don't call me a racist cuz I'm not."

"What? You just called that guy a nigger"

"Calm down, he wasn't calling all black people niggers. There's a difference".

"Yeah, see you're black...those people back there were niggers".

"Yeah man, anyone can be a nigger. See nigger comes from the word niggardly, it means
someone who's ignorant, anyone can be ignorant black, white, asian, mexican".

"How was that guy being ignorant, he just cut you off in traffic. That isn't being ignorant, that's just being a bad driver. The only reason you called him that was because he was black".

"Oh my god, here we go. Look we aren't racist, now I know some racist guys. I went to a camp where guys were talking about being in the Klan...those guys were racist".

"......"

I held back. I never mentioned how niggardly means miserly, not ignorant, or that nigger is derived from a completly word for that matter. Instead I sat back and barely put up a fight while I was enlightened on the differences between blacks and niggers. I sat for forty minutes and listened to the mindless philosophies of two boys who thought Jim Crow was a brand of whiskey. It hurt, not their words, but my complacency. It hurt that I sat and just listened, that I didn't open my mouth and shut up the fools that spewed their racist virtole. I let them continue on unchecked, every now and again I would butt in and attempt to shed light on their ignorance, but for the most part I sat...shocked at my first encounter with actual racists.

I would say that in my defense I was 20 miles from home...that I couldn't have let my anger rise to the surface lest I be ejected from the car on a busy highway...I didn't want to be left stranded for telling them the truth. What could I have done? I didn't know where I was, I couldn't have found my way home. No, it was best for me to just sit back and take...it would be over soon...if I just say back and took it everything would be fine. I would say that in my defense...but what kind of defense is that? How could I justify selling my soul for a ride home?

I didn't mention it the next day at practice...see the two brilliant gentleman who gave me a discourse on why Blacks deserve to be poor were on my tennis team...and me bring the only freshman and one of only two Black people on the team...I didn't want to cause trouble...so I just shook it off and hoped that I'd never be in that position again. I didn't want to be the angry black guy, I just wanted to play tennis.

That made me a hypocrite though...because off the court I was Malcolm fucking Newton. I had an afro that would put Cornel West's to shame, perfectly shaped with an afropick proudly jutting from the top. I carried around a copy of the autobiography of Malcolm X where ever I went, and I quoted the communist ad nauseum. I brought up my mother's Black Panther days as a validation of my militant positions...simply put, I was a fraud.

It was easy to be militant in public...when I could take on the racist capitalist oppressors in front of a crowd. I could quote Huey Newton as long as I was safely in the eyes of people who could applaud my sterling defense of Black people and Black culture. But behind closed doors, when I was alone and friendless, when the time came to stnad strong in my convictions I sold out. I was more Fred Savage than Fred Hampton.

That was over four years ago. And I've grown...I've learned...I've strived and failed gain redemption. By no means would I sit back and allow that situation occur again without putting up a fight, two years after the incident I confronted one of the people again...but I still feel this pain in my soul. Not only because of what I did, but because of what I see and hear today. Everyday I see Black people who are not only silent, but people who except the things that are said about them. I see Black people who see themselves as niggers. Who believe the myth of black inferiority...who play in to the self fullfilling prophecy.

I see people who believe in every stereotype known to man, who still believe in the myth that "if you're white you're alright". And I try to help them...not just to help them but to clear my concious. I try to share with them the knowledge I have...of the potential they have...of the beauty that exists in our people...but to know avail. They play in to the role of the thug, of the shiftless Black man, of the "welfare" queen, of the nigger. They just sit back and accept it...like I did.

What is to be done about this? Is it enough for me to simply chastise my friend when he says things about his own people that would shock David Duke? Is it enough for us to leave such people behind and move towards a better future ourselves? Certainly the answer can not be to cast off those that "embaress the race"...they are still our brothers and sisters...after all you can't choose family. But is the reverse fair? Is it our job to educate the world? Our any of us so much better than others that we are in a position to point a finger? At times I feel as if I'm not even fit to uplift my self. But then I must remember that I can't expect myself to be anything more than a man...and men stumble at times. I can only expect the same from anyone else. But that's why men have brothers...to lift them up and help them when they fall.

I often feel as if I can't pick myself up let alone support the weight of others...but though that have supported me have been lifted up themselves. It is difficult to live a life trying to uplift others....but i can tell you from experience that nothing can be as painful as sitting back and taking the abuse.