An apology from white americaA Story by America FaarozonSo let's say you had really wronged somebody. Let's say you'd wronged a lot of somebodies. How would you go about apologizing to them if you wanted to apologize. How would you do it? It would seem that no matter what you said it could never be enough to make up for what you did. What if you really wanted to? What could you possibly say that could make up for …. Because those ancestors of yours, they're rotting in hell for what they did and their only way out is up. Only the prayers of their descendents will raise them up. Now they have to depend, for they want to ascend, and their misery is too much to bare. Mothers of mothers and fathers of Fathers of Fathers of Fathers of Fathers of Fathers. ….the actions of our ancestors white america they bought slaves. Gave a good lot of money then they made them behave. They made them behave. They kept them in line. Any means by which they had to… And they're burning in hell for it. Except hell is not the underground fire dungeon you might expect. It's right here. With you. It's right here beside you. We're everywhere. We out number you ten to one. It's the house across the street. It's any place where no one meets for the dead occupy the earth. When I was thirteen I used to spend every Wednesday afternoon sitting in the lobby of a chiropractor's office listening to black people talk about racism. Watching white people cry as they spoke about racism. Watching heated discussion between black and white people. Sometimes there was yelling. Sometimes there was crying. And sometimes, there were hugs. My mom had started a local chapter of the The Institute for the Healing of Racism. I don't believe it's around anymore. But I think it's high time it made a comeback. Because racism is not an easy thing to heal. It is a disease deeply ingrained into the fabric of our society. Looking back I now realize how lucky I was to be privy to such gatherings at a young age. Even though I was the only kid in the room, sometimes I spoke too. I spoke about how I felt sad that the black kids at my school didn't want to be friends with me. I spoke about how the black kids sat on one side of the cafeteria and white, hispanic, asians, sat on the left. No one made them sit that way. They just did. And the black kids enforced it. The air conditioner was on their side. I grew up in the swamp lands of america. Where the air is hot and thick. And the racial tension is even thicker. It seemed to me that most of the black kids at our school hated the white kids. Hated whites in general. And with good reason. Had you grown up black in the south, you'd hate white folks too. I came from a town where most whites were still bummed out that the south had lost the civil war. Yeah…..it was like that. I vowed to get the f**k outta there the day after I graduated high school. And I did. For many reasons. But mainly because of the humidity, cockroaches and racism. All three were disgusting and all three were not subtle but extreme. Sometimes it was so humid, it felt like you were walking thru jello. Every pore breaks out in sweat the second you step outside. It's horrible. And I'm pretty sure the cockroach is the state bird cause some a them fuckers are so big they leave a bruise when they slam into your forward late at night while you're trying to get your key in the door. But really, the thing I hated most was the racism. It was just so heart breaking. The geneologist buffs on both sides of my family say their were no slavers or slave owners in our family tree. And to that I say…..sure there weren't….. America has no bigger problem than racism. I'll say that again. America has NO bigger problem….than racism. And I think it's high time we talk about it. All of us. If you're American , you experience racism. Daily, weekly, 10, 20 times a day. For some it's hard to tell where one ends and the next begins. We have to talk about racism. We have to talk about how we feel. For we all feel a lot. And this disease, it needs healing, and the healing is talk. We have to talk to each other, have to listen to our tears, have to share our pain and sorrow, our anger, our fear. We all fall on different sides of the story. We all play such different roles, have such diverse experiences, have so many things to feel. White people have to turn their guilt into action. I have a hard time with that. Our white supremacist society has made me supremely uncomfortable for a long time. I don't know how to change it. I used to argue with racists...tried to get them to see. But I gave up. And I got scared. For nothing is scarier than a racist. So I hid. I'm still hiding. For the masses are sick and insane. I've build my own world. It's so small it can fit nearly anywhere. In my world, I do research and search for answers. I write and I write, thing that no one will ever read, but I write to find the answers and to find the best ways of explaining those answers. In my solitude, I have discovered a great deal. And I long to come out of hiding and share my findings with others. But this society seems so intent upon its disfuction. So content with it's delisions. And so i pray for courage. I long to be the voice of healing that will heal white america of racism. I feel I have a responsibility to use my white face to try and break through to other white people. They already know American society bends in their favor but they feel too ashamed admit it. Too guilty to look into their own heart and peek behind their fear. I think I was enormously blessed to have an upbringing where racial unity and unraveling racism was seen as a worthy and essential cause. I wish that all children could have such an upbringing. Maybe they can. © 2020 America FaarozonAuthor's Note
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