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Y’all know I love my house metaphors, so I got another for you to illustrate how fucking ridiculous people sound when they say that talking about/trying to correct racism is “divisive.”
Why? Cuz some people still aren’t getting it and I’m an idiot and still have hope. Anyway...
Why? Cuz some people still aren’t getting it and I’m an idiot and still have hope. Anyway...
Say you have a house. You’ve had it handed down for many generations, and it includes a family that were once slaves, who are now paid to live there and help out. They aren’t paid much, but it’s the only home they’ve ever known at this point, so they stay.
This house also has a big, unsightly crack in its foundation. It’s so unsteady that over the years, it’s even cause the walls to start to separate. You’ve found that if you don’t even look at the wall, though, that it doesn’t affect you much.
But that servant family lives in the basement, and the foundation issue is causing problems for them. Massive problems. So they try to tell you to fix the crack in the foundation. It’ll take time, but it’s their home, too, and they’re afraid. This only pisses you off.
“I don’t have any issues moving around my house.” You snap. “It’s not that bad.”
But you also hear from neighbors and friends constantly about how dangerous that crack is. They keep trying to tell you that one day, your house will fall without fixing the foundation.
But you also hear from neighbors and friends constantly about how dangerous that crack is. They keep trying to tell you that one day, your house will fall without fixing the foundation.
“Why do you have to cause trouble?” You whine. “You bringing up the crack is just making me feel bad, and it’s riling up the help, and we were totally fine until you started talking about it again. My whole foundation isn’t cracked. Why are you LOOKING for damage in my house?”
Eventually, that live-in servant family loses a child. They’re crushed by some cement that shakes loose. Sobbing, the patriarch begs you to fix the foundation. His other two children are heartbroken. His wife can’t sleep.
You tell him that these things just happen, that you read somewhere that servants tend to position themselves where they can be crushed by fallen cement. You ask him why he’s coming after you, when you heard somewhere that servants die more from shaking hands than fallen cement.
Over the next few years, the servant family loses two more members: his wife and another child. Every time your house sags, someone dies. The father is now left with just his two children. After the loss of the last child, he starts screaming at you.
He says he’s been begging you to fix the crack in the foundation, that he’s tired of you watching his family die and blaming it on them. He says that he feels that you’re taking advantage of the fact that he can’t afford to move. He yells that it’s his house, too. You puff up.
“Why are you trying to start fights?” You cry. “You’re just trying to make everyone feel sorry for you. Things are hard for ME, too. It’s hard for everyone. And we can’t start moving forward until you let go of the crack in the foundation and STOP TALKING ABOUT IT.”
I could go on, but let’s be real: in this situation, you’d have tried to fix the crack in your foundation fucking YEARS ago. So why are you turning a blind eye to the SAME fucking unsightly, destructive crack in the foundations of our country?
It is NOT divisive to discuss what has been a problem for ages. It is, however, divisive to gaslight people for daring to make you think about things that might make you sad, because some people are actually gonna want to do something, and they’ll get sick of your avoidance.
When you love your house, you show pride in it. You don’t stand for structural damage. You demand it fixed immediately. This country is your home. Move to make the hard move and fix the foundation. I promise you we’re not fooling anyone by pretending it isn’t there.
