When I was in college, I was listening this one time as a rabidly anti-white conversation swirled in the air around me.
By now, I’m sure that most of you have heard the argument, but at the time it was new to me so I was startled and shocked.
It was all about how white people weren’t “human” because the word “hue” means color and white people have no color and therefore they have no soul.
All of a sudden, another non-committal guy who had, like me, just been listening along and nodding absently, spoke up loudly.
“Not Bruce Willis!” he said. “This may be true about all the other white people in the world but my man Bruno’s got soul!”
Bruce Willis??? I thought.
If the entirely of the white people hinged upon soulfullness of one Bruce Willis, I was ready to condemn the whole race to hell.
Especially since this conversation took place years before Sin City.
If there’s one time when white kids become more admirable than Black kids it’s when they demonstratively show love for their hordes of Black heroes.
It’s no biggie at all to see a bunch of white kids in their LeBron jersey’s arguing about who’s the best MC or taking Hendrix in a similar argument featuring Clapton and Santana.
Meanwhile, if you’re Black, chances are that quite early in the game you mentioned one of your white favorites and got a look of such disgust and contempt from your contemporaries that you knew better than to ever do that silly mess again.
So you probably went underground with your tastes and for the first time in your life, became as irrational as a White Supremacist watching the NBA draft.
So what did you do?
Did you summon the guts to confront your friends and say, “Look, I love me some Lady Gaga and that’s just the way that is”?
Or did you, remembering that Black American celebrities like Eartha Kitt were issued “Honorary White” passes by the then-apartheid government in South Africa, make your white favorites “Honorary Blacks” in the apartheid of your own mind?
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