Imagine growing up white and male in America.
Everything you hear and all your extrasensory reinforcement teaches you that you’re better. You’re better than a non-white and you’re certainly better than a female.
Then you notice that women can have babies which, on the surface, seems like a bonus.
I mean, the ability to make more people, how can that not be a plus?
But then you’re led to understand – sometimes biblically; you know, “In sorrow thou shalt bring forth children“ – how making babies may not be so wonderful.
Then you meet Dejuan, the Black boy, in grade school or maybe you even know him from the neighborhood.
He’s a faster runner than you are, he can play football, basketball, and baseball better than you can and even the little girls; all the girls, Black and white, seem to like him more than they like you.
Dejuan’s funny; he’s got a quick wit, a ready smile and natural charm.
“Not to worry,” Pop says. “That boy’s got no future. Eventually, he’ll end up in jail.”
Or Pop is kind enough to inform you for the first time of just how “intellectually inferior” Dejuan is.
At the time, this may make no sense because right then, Dejuan may even be getting better grades than you are.
“Give it time,” Pop warns.
And you know what?
Pop is right. Eventually Dejuan’s grades do start to drop off and the law is something he begins to have an issue with and Thank God For It.
You were beginning to worry.
How’d those happen, Pop?
“Liberal media,” he says dismissively. “So-called progressive, inclusive, politically correct, multi-cultural bullshit.”
Seems fair, but how long will it last, you wonder.
And the girls that were once indifferent toward you all seem so angry now.
You, who haven’t done anything.
You, who only wants some pussy and would deal with anything, even marriage, to get some.
You, who’ve been made to feel that just by existing, you’ve somehow become her enemy in particular and the enemy in general.
I mean, this isn’t what you were told would happen when you grew up.
You were told that they would be on the bottom.
Yet every time you look around, they seem joyous or furious, but in either case alive while you feel… nothing.
And oh, how you would kill to feel anything; even outrage.
Then along comes Donald Trump on his high horse with his big white dick yelling defiantly how he gets pussy and he’ll deport Mexicans and ban Muslims and you see a Messiah, finally; your own personal White Messiah.
He’s what you were raised to believe that you should be.
And here also is that emotion you wanted to feel. And it’s liberating!
It is outrage, it is joy, it is fury, it is everything!
So enough already with the women that hate you or the Blacks that have already had their Messiah, it’s time to get yours.
And if anybody can’t understand this emotion, this hunger, this desperation, this desire, this need, then they must really think that Black Lives Matter more than all lives do.