Recovering “Racist”?

Dearest reader, I must warn you, today’s entry may be offensive, for that, I apologize in advance. In the hopes you can bear with me as I offer a raw, unfiltered, account of my current reality; Welcome! ——— My name is Olivia Mugenga, I am black, I date black, I wear black, I studied black, I eat black, I befriend black, etc. Some may describe me as “racist”. Racism is defined as “prejudice against a person on the basis of their race.” So according to that definition, their accusation isn’t completely unfounded. However, many scholars argue, and I agree, that within the US Context, a powerless minority group does not have the requisite influence to actually BE RACIST. The logic is, if racism is oppression, then mere dislike is irrelevant. In other words, if the Whites hated us but they did not have the capacity to affect our livelihood, civil liberties, etc. we’d be indifferent and we’d say, “do you, boo.”

I wasn’t always like this. I was actually raised in a very international setting. I grew up in Rwanda, studied at a Belgian School, spoke Kinyarwanda and French, had a Ukrainian Math teacher, sang in a choir led by a Tanzanian and one of my closest friends was an Angolan who spoke Portuguese, ma très chère, Nzola Dos Santos, who now lives in France: bisous là–bas! Then I moved to America to pursue my studies, the money was good, and my nation’s economy remained unfortunately weak. Therefore, out of self-preservation, I stayed. The longer I lived here though, the more I was confronted with the vampirical scourge of racism. Having no energy to constantly decipher who hates me and who doesn’t, my solution has been to disassociate with Whites.

It isn’t that I hate Whites. How could I? I, an advocate for human rights and strong adept for morality, integrity and faith? Rather it is that based on my observation, I am not sure what they are teaching them at home, but it appears a significant number of them grow to possess internalized-direct or indirect-dislike of blacks often masked as innocent discomfort. Clearly, they hated me, so I stayed away from them and long felt my response was justified. Two Problems. (1) It isn’t feasible, at least not in the US, much to racists’ dismay, we are too intermingled. (2) It is a disservice to self as I eliminated a big, beautiful chunk of the population.

Take Hannah LeMoyne, the best connection I have made this year. My colleague and soul sister with the most innocent heart, is, you guessed it, white! All things considered, the time has come for me to admit: I WAS WRONG! Yes, fighting for minorities will ever be a noble fight but insulating oneself on the basis of race, even as a trauma response, is prejudicial. Plus, I’m too sexy for that hate BS. Join me & raise your coffee mug to Hannah, my Favorite Hazel-Eyed Bandit.

PS: Still not about to worship the Bazungus as is the custom of many but I will keep an open heart; lest the oppressed become the oppressors.

One Love,

Liv