Let’s face it: we’ve done a lot to improve race relations in America, but we still have a long way to go. While Black people aren’t stripped naked and paraded around only to be sold to the highest bidder anymore, we still must deal with the harsh reality of racism. No matter how hard we try to ignore the blatant disrespect we receive from white people, it still has an effect on our lives.


Black people aren’t the only ones who suffer from racism. What about the white people who don’t believe in prejudging a person because of the amount of melanin in their skin? Canadian writer Shannon McDeez had a lot to say on the subject. She wrote a piece entitled “Hey White People, Stop Making People Hate White People” where she rails against the horrible racist jokes her drunk uncles and inebriated friends used to tell. McDeez even recounts a story of going to a party and being so uncomfortable after hearing racist jokes that she convinces a guy to drive her home. Check out an excerpt:

I settled in with a group of girls I clicked with in my creative writing class after we discovered our mutual desire to bang our smokin’ hot hippy teacher. They were friends with the jocks and I was just happy to have some humans to eat lunch with and dudes to flirt with. For the first time in my life, my entire social circle at school was 100% white. This wasn’t any sort of factor for me until I got invited to something called a bush party. Car loads of kids invaded this guy’s barn and proceeded to get as drunk and stoned as possible, as quickly as possible. I loved getting fucked up so I was all for it. Until I started really listening into the conversation.

Thankfully, none of my core crew were participants in any of the following, but I was devastated just the same. The racist jokes and comments were absolutely rampant. Innate hatred dripped from the lips of certain partygoers to the point at which I looked around for the makeshift cross they were planning to burn on someone’s lawn later. I will never forget this party because it brought all of the news stories, all of the KKK figures and all of that morbid hatred that, to me, existed only inside my television and historical literature, to within spitting distance from my mouth. It was at this moment I realized that I, by birthright alone, could potentially be associated with this. It terrified me because I took pride in my generation as being history’s most progressive. We weren’t. The pot-induced euphoria faded from my body and was replaced by an urgent desire to get the hell outta dodge. I found the young man I had been flirting with for weeks and convinced him to drive me home.

Check out the rest of McDeez’s piece over at The Table of Truth. What do you think about what Shannon McDeez had to say? Do you agree with her or not? Sound off in the comments.


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