Thread: Please, just bend over...
- Join Date
- Jun 2009
- Join Date
- Jun 2009
07-25-2009, 11:55 AM
- Join Date
- May 2009
I'm curious, how do you know he's black? I looked at the site and could not find any biography of the site owner; not that one would have proved anything considering that a mom from anywhere America, her daughter, and a friend created a fictitious web presence to further their own goal...but I digress.
BAck to the original question, how do we know the website owner is black?
SonnabendGuest07-25-2009, 11:58 AMYou live in a red state. I pay your bills junior. Your state depends on the $$$ from my state.
07-25-2009, 11:59 AM
Is the President a racist?
We have no better source than his own words.
"That’s just how white folks will do you."
"I was trying to raise myself to be a black man in America, and beyond the given of my appearance, no one around me seemed to know exactly what that meant."
"I had learned not to care. I blew a few smoke rings, remembering those years. Pot had helped, and booze; maybe a little blow when you could afford it. "
[of note: Barry and the “Choom Gang”]
to "never emulate white men and brown men whose fates didn't speak to my own. It was into My father's IMAGE , The Black Man, The son of Africa, That I'd packed all the attributes I sought in myself, the attributes of Martin and Malcolm, DuBois and Mandela..".
"I knew as well that traveling down the road to self-respect, my own white blood, would never recede into mere abstraction"
"I had begun to see a new map of the world, one that was frightening in its simplicity, suffocating in its implications. We were always playing on the white man's court, Ray had told me, by the white man's rules"
"I learned to slip back and forth between my black and white worlds. One of those tricks I had learned: People were satisfied so long as you were courteous and smiled and made no sudden moves. They were more than satisfied; they were relieved -- such a pleasant surprise to find a well-mannered young black man who didn't seem angry all the time."
"There were no cigar chomping CRACKERS like Bull Connor out there."
"There was something about him that made me wary,” Obama wrote. “A little too sure of himself, maybe. And white."
"There were enough of us on campus to constitute a tribe, and when it came to hanging out many of us chose to function like a tribe, staying close together, traveling in packs," he wrote. "It remained necessary to prove which side you were on, TO SHOW YOUR LOYALTY TO THE BLACK MASSES, TO STRIKE OUT, and name names"
"If nationalism could create a strong and effective insularity, deliver on its promise of self-respect, then the hurt it might cause well-meaning whites, or the inner turmoil it caused people like me, would be of little consequence."
on nationalism: "whites are responsible for your sorry state, not any inherent flaws in you. In fact, whites are so heartless and devious that we can no longer expect anything from them. The self-loathing you feel, what keeps you drinking or thieving, is planted by them. Rid them from your mind and find your true power liberated. Rise up, ye mighty race!"
"This process of displacement, this means of engaging in self-criticism while removing ourselves from the object of criticism, helped explain the much-admired success of the Nation of Islam"
"...all the black people who, it turned out, shared with me a voice that whispered inside them-“You don’t really belong here.”
"The emotions between the races could never be pure; even love was tarnished by the desire to find in the other some element that was missing in ourselves. Whether we sought out our demons or salvation, the other race would always remain just that: menacing, alien, and apart."
"You do not work hard enough, Barry. You must help in your people’s struggle. Wake up, black man!"
"Change won't come from the top, I would say. Change will come from a mobilized grass roots. That's what I'll do. I'll organize black folks. At the grass roots. For change."
"and we’re never so outraged as when a cabbie drives past us or the woman in the elevator clutches her purse, not so much because we’re bothered by the fact that such indignities are what less fortunate coloreds have to put up with every single day of their lives-although that’s what we tell ourselves-but because we’re wearing a Brooks Brothers suit and speak impeccable English and yet have somehow been mistaken for an ordinary ******. "
"To avoid being mistaken for a white sellout, I chose my friends carefully. The more politically active black students. The foreign students. The Chicanos. The Marxist professors and structural feminists and punk-rock performance poets. We smoked cigarettes and wore leather jackets. At night, in the dorms, we discussed neocolonialism, Franz Fanon, Eurocentrism, and patriarchy."
"The stories that I had been hearing from the leadership, all the records of courage and sacrifice and overcoming of great odds, hadn’t simply arisen from struggles with pestilence or drought, or even mere poverty. They had arisen out of a very particular experience with hate. That hate hadn’t gone away; it formed a counternarrative buried deep within each person and at the center of which stood white people-some cruel, some ignorant, sometimes a single face, sometimes just a faceless image of a system claiming power over our lives. I had to ask myself whether the bonds of community could be restored without collectively exorcising that ghostly figure that haunted black dreams."
..."from the leadership"-sounds like words from Nation of Islam to me.
"...being black meant only the knowledge of your own powerlessness, of your own defeat. And the final irony: Should you refuse this defeat and lash out at your captors, they would have a name for that, too, a name that could cage you just as good. Paranoid. Militant. Violent. ******."
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