Art and Life

Dear White People

Brianna Valentine

Dear White People,

I grew up in the suburbs so I’m like, totally not racist, in fact, some of my best friends are white. 

But I mean, you guys can get kind of….I don’t know, but you know what I mean, right? 

Like, I totally love you guys, but I mean, if any of you ask if I’m from the ghetto one more time, I’ll lobotomize you.

And frankly, I don’t care if we are friends, coming up to me and saying “Sis, I heard this really funny black joke the other day, you don’t mind right?” is not okay. I can guarantee I’ve heard it, and a thousand other variations of it. 

And I’m getting tired of you introducing me to everyone as “your black friend” or “my sis” we are not related.

And stop randomly touching my hair without consent.

And teachers. It really is not all that hard to pronounce my name. Three syllables. No trick pronunciations. 

If you call a black person attractive stop qualifying it with “for a black girl.” Stop looking over to me “discreetly” when a history lesson is about slavery or the Civil Rights movement, news flash. We are the same age, I wasn’t there. Stop saying that I look like both Barack Obama AND Will Smith. PLEASE stop telling me how “I’m the whitest black girl you know.” A black person can be more than one thing, and is you call me “one of the good ones” or “a credit to my race,” it’s beyond infuriating, but if you do see me as that STOP trying to talk me into agreeing with you about your opinions on Barack Obama’s two victories or affirmative action. Speaking of affirmative action, stop assuming that I got into college because of my melanin. AND STOP ASKING IF YOU CAN USE THE N-WORD AROUND ME. THE ANSWER WILL ALWAYS BE A RESOUNDING NO. 

But, seriously, I’m like totally not racist.