“Racist Bingo!”: Part 1

It Matters If You’re Black or White
Cut Viciously by: Davita Cuttita

Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls. I have an announcement to make–I am Black.

And Scottish. And Syrian (Jewish). And Chinese. And Indian.

Yes, I know. I’ve been living this way my entire life–no one in my family is adopted and when we get together it looks like a UN meeting. But anyway…
Lately in the lovely fatosphere (yes, I know I’m not big but you don’t have to be big to show big people some decency) that I hang around in, there’s been a lot of talk about racism and issues surrounding people of colour and although I disagree with the title of the piece; I would like all of you, despite your race; to consult the following chart and mentally “mark” any of the things you have personally experienced:


Done? All right.

Firstly, let me reiterate that I really disagree with the title. I think it would be more appropriately called “Misinformed Comments by White People”. No, I’m not trying to be politically correct because I don’t give a shit about that; but not all white folks are stupid–they’re just misinformed/malinformed; whatever you wanna call it. They’ve never been coloured (I know some a ya’ll might be yelling King Poppity MJ’s name so loud right now that your throat is raw; but he DOES NOT, I repeat DOES NOT COUNT since that would just WAY complicate things in this article so let’s give the man his space just this once, please?) so sometimes the shit that comes outta their mouth is almost the equivalent of them tellin’ you to go pick cotton. I’m sure for the most part, they’re not trying to be offensive and don’t sit there like you never said anything to another culture that was ignorant; I’m sure we all have.

So I am going to give my opinion on this issue, I am NOT the Queen of Black People, I’m just one concerned University negro with some spare time.

OK–So, what was your score? I’m pretty sure I yelled “Bingo!” about five or seven times because YES, white people have said that entire card TO MY FACE many, many, many, times before. Since I cannot pick apart every single argument; I’ll just highlight the ones I find most disturbing.

“Race Doesn’t Exist–Except the Human Race!” or the DEADLIER: “I don’t see colour

Lord love a duck, I nearly had a heart attack! Okay, so what’s wrong with that? It seems nice enough, we’re all equal–everyone eats, sleeps, breathes, loves and basically have the same organs and everything else. So what’s wrong if another person doesn’t “see” the colour of your skin but still treats you decently?

Because they have chosen to ignore an important part of your identity as a human being.

They have consciously omitted a crucial component that verifies your very fucking existence.

There is no such thing as a raceless human being. There are no transparent people and the physical laws of the universe dictate that each human being must have some degree of skin pigmentation or lack thereof.

Growing up in Canada and clumsily learning “proper” English, I was constantly reminded by my family, society and others that I was a black girl. And that being black meant I had to work extra hard because some people don’t like the fact that my skin is a few shades away from milk chocolate. I held onto this and still do. I grew up in a ghetto where sometimes we had nothing to eat, the police were slow to arrive after shootings/murders/suicides, some people had to steal apples from the grocery store to feed their children and if you needed a mentor; the drug-dealer on the streetcorner would buy you a popcicle at the corner store and tell you stories as he played craps with his friends and cussed.

My area was mainly coloured children like myself from all over the world: Ethiopia, Pakistan, India, China, Korea—the list goes on. The few white people we shared the area with were friendly while a few were less than civil. I remember running through a park as an eight year-old child with other parents of colour as beer bottles rained from the windows of the apartment adjacent to it with the occassional gobs of spit as their children played idly, unaware of the danger, my two-year-old brother amongst them. I remember hearing the laughter and racial slurs pouring out the windows as the cops played dumb, “unable” to locate the apartment of the perpitraitors for hours.

I held my brother and I didn’t cry.

These were words I was all too familliar with as a young girl; nigger in particular.

I’d been called nigger in the grocery store by a female shopper as I sat quietly by the window, waiting for my cousin to finish up at the check-out. I’d been called nigger by the white kids at the swimming pool. I’d been called nigger so many times by so many different people I almost forgot what it meant—but I didn’t, and I never will.

I’m pretty sure if I was a little white girl my experiences would be very, very different. My entire life would be.

I cannot speak for all the other races that encompass my identity or anyone elses’ because I’ve lived my life as a black person, not a Scottish, Asian, etc one BUT when you acknowledge my blackness, you are acknowledging a very important part of my personal history. You are acknowledging my culture, you are acknowledging my history, you are acknowleding my ancestry, you are acknowledging my struggle, you are acknowledging the struggle of my people, you are acknowledging my unique beauty, you are acknowledging ME. All of me; not just the nice parts that have less controversial lingerings (such as my deeeeelishis bootay) but me in my entirety; my SOUL.

Each culture has it’s own customs, beliefs, structures and etiquette. Why do some people believe that taking this part of your identity out of your overall equation is understandable but ignorant. Yes, in the past people have looked at race negatively and used it to justify a lot of harm but they only looked at it superficially. We have finally been blessed with a moment in time where we can recognize the complexity, beauty, pain, history and preserverence of many races and share these experiences with more people than ever. The floodgates of wisdom and compassion are FINALLY open; instead of destroying these civilizations and examining their runes we can have open dialogues with them now and become more understsanding human beings and by refusing to participate in this by being colourblind, we’re “throwing pearls to pigs” as the old saying goes.

Don’t get me wrong: this does not make people who claim to be “colourblind” bad people and I’m sure that those who follow this ideal certainly don’t see it that way but there it is.
And if it’s so hard for you to look at a person and think “Yeah, they’re {insert race} and that’s OK” instead of going “Oh, NEVERMIND YOUR {insert race}NESS, you’re all right”, maybe you really need to examine one of the two following options:

1. to re-evaluate your consideration of other people and maybe get some coffee and good conversation going

2. to go fuck yourself.

It’s up to you, moving on….

“Pretends to Hate White People”

I’m sorry, WHAT!?!? This one kinda gave me the chuckles because it seems to happen more and more everyday. Like, everytime a new Soulja Boy or 50 track hits the airwaves, White on White hate hits record highs; hahaha where the fuck is Anderson Cooper when you need him? My boy need to be all over this shit with CNN. The other day I went out and my lovely Russian lover-la-dah turned to me and said “My friend really is a CRACKER he is SO WHITE” and to his surprise I turned to him and replied “So, what’s wrong with that?”

Hating on white people doesn’t do anything for anybody. Well, a few of us non-Whities might laugh but not because we think it’s cool (maybe one or two might find it cool, who knows) but because it’s ridiculous fuckery. What’s the point of hating on another White person if you’re White? White people have as much right to be proud of and yes, even unapologetic for their Whiteness. Don’t lie, I know there’s some Black people out there who if they woke up White THE VERY NEXT DAY would just be so goddamned thrilled that all this “nigger-what, nigger-who” bullshit was finally over for them and they could finally get a piece of that pie. And if that Black person is you, I must inform you that YES, your ass is stuck so read a book or summin’ and try to help us better the community and stop spending all that money on skin bleach; it ain’t happenin’!! And if you’re White, please: stop embarassing yourself any further; ya’ll already got Steve-O and Ashton Kutcher making EVERYBODY raise an eyebrow in what in fuckism, so just start spreading some love around; maybe it might trickle down our way in the next 400 years.


“Why Can’t I Say Nigger, Too?”

Let me ask you a question my fine White friend. Thanks a lot for reading this far by the way, I appreciate it but do you enjoy life? I’m sure it has it’s ups and downs; this is universal. Lord knows I have days where I’m either on Cloud 9 or begging for cyanide capsules but generally speaking though, would you say you’re satisfied enough to continue it for the next 30–70 years? If you answered no, please call a suicide hotline IMMEDIATELY, and get some help. I’m sure the vast majority of you answered “yes” so my advice to you is NOT to go into a crowd of Black people and say nigger because your life will probably end immediately. In the worst case scenario of course because in no way am I suggesting that Blacks are id driven brutes that can’t control their emotions.

However, in case you haven’t noticed, Blacks have “reframed” the word “nigger” into “nigga”; a term of endearment. Moreover, because of the powerful connotations still connected to nigger you may not use it if you are White. I didn’t make the rules but my understanding of it is as follows:

Let’s say you have a wooden hammer you use everyday but you never let your Mr. Jones use the hammer; ever. Why? Because this is the same hammer you use to break his fingers anytime he touches your shit. You use this hammer daily to keep Mr. Jones intimidated and bewildered. In fact, you use it so frequently that after a long day of beating the shit outta Mr. Jones, your hammer finally breaks and Mr. Jones pisses on the pieces for good measure. After much strife and many years pass, Mr. Jones’ grandsson goes and invents his own hammer–out of metal. He uses it everyday too but instead of using it to intimidate anyone, he lends it to friends, builds little nic-nacs and occassionally people might say he’s misusing his hammer; but it’s his hammer. Now tell me–should Mr. Jones’ grandsson lend you his hammer after you crippled his grand Pappy? Hell no.

So what exactly does nigger mean, you may ask. Simple.

Nigger is what you call a helpless, bleeding black human being in chains being taken to a nation against their will.

Nigger is what you call a black person you think doesn’t deserve the same respect, right to an education, freedom of speech and basic human decency you do.

Nigger is what you call that black person hanging upside down from a tree with their entrails exposed as a crowd of Whites laugh.

“That nigger is dead”

This is what nigger means—ignorant, scared, humiliated, unworthy and dead. I’m sure no good human being wants to call anyone that, ever. So keep your nose clean; there’s billions of words in the English language, I’m sure you’ll be fine if you can’t use a few.

This is getting pretty lengthy and I’m kinda tired, so I’m going to break it off here so I can live to fight another day. Feel free to say whatever you want. I’m listening…


~ by davitacuttita on March 26, 2008.

One Response to ““Racist Bingo!”: Part 1”

  1. I was going to talk about this today but I didn’t feel like it.

    And um..if you’re not the Queen what was with the memo?

    I am stupid tired but I will read this entirely tomorrow.

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