27th
Alternates:
I study Public Enemy lyrics constantly and I still don’t understand this holiday.
Judging by all the white people at the mall, I’d say Black Friday has been exactly the conciliatory success it was intended to be.
Until all white people celebrate Black Friday, there can be no justice. (Justice void where prohibited by law.)
Until all white people celebrate Black Friday, the wounds of the past remain open.
This couldn’t have been what Malcom X had in mind.
Malcom X had to die for this?
One deleted tweet and 20 minutes of deliberation later, I’m convinced I can’t pull off any version of this joke. Not that I don’t love them all. I just don’t think there’s enough context - no sufficient number of nested quotation marks - to adequately convey the joke’s satirical nature and target. Specifically, it’s about suburban white kids who don’t feel racist as they’re growing up, but don’t yet (and may never) understand the subtle racism inherent in being raised as a member of the dominant culture. (Hint: if you remember being taught about “tolerance” and “acceptance” of other groups, you were taught the language of superiority, but maybe not how to embrace difference.)
Problem is, how does the uninitiated reader know if I’m overtly racist, subtly racist, unconsciously racist, or miraculously unscathed by the racism of the environment in which I was raised - especially in just a tweet’s length? It’s like the “faux-sexist” joke you think your mother-in-law will laugh at - because, after all, we’re all enlightened people here - that then bombs, forever souring an important relationship: It’s just not worth the risk.
So to anyone who caught that one up there during its 4-minute existence on Twitter, I’m sorry. That was bad judgment on my part. I’m trying to work through it. Thanks for your patience.
