Since we always seem to expect it of non-whites whenever they have a small sample of their demographic act like a bunch of assholes…
Here we go. This is for the record.
I, Aaron Fortkamp, a predominantly Caucasian male, categorically and unequivocally denounce the actions of the self-proclaimed white nationalists in Charlottesville, Virginia. Though I feel like it should be fairly obvious, this tangle of morons does not represent the vast, vast, vast majority of the white male population. We view their opinions as nothing short of inane, backward, and utterly uninformed. What’s more, we recognize their antagonistic display as an attempt to incite violence under the guise of a peaceful demonstration, which makes them shitty, shitty people.
Like, especially shitty. Epically shitty. World-class shitbirds. Every last one of them.
Furthermore, we would like to affirm that we do know the difference between an angry mob intimidation torch and a late-summer barbecue tiki torch.
I suppose, all things being equal, I should also have to put forth a plea for nonviolence in future dealings with members of our culture. Please do not single out people for wearing obnoxiously plaid shirts, socks with sandals, or khakis when they’re not even at work. These are not markers of a warring, violent ideology. These are merely examples of traditional costuming passed down the generations. Like, at least two generations.
And while I understand the impulse and the intent, I do not believe border walls surrounding New England, Appalachia, the Midwest, Phoenix, much of the rural South, and suburban housing developments everywhere would be cost effective or produce the desired results. Nor do I believe in the efficacy of a travel ban to or from our ancestral European homelands and Canada. These are stupid ideas. Stupid, stupid, stupid ideas.
Did you ever see one of those big baseball brawls? You know how those happen, usually one dude gets hit by a pitch and all his hackles get raised and he starts pointing and shouting and then charges the mound or doesn’t, but either way the benches clear and the teams come together, all wearing their respective colors, and either a massive fight breaks out or it doesn’t. When it does, it’s not just the one guy fighting the entirety of the other team. It’s two or three guys wearing his same red shouting at two or three other guys in blue. This is the critical juncture. This is the tipping point. After these side-bets get escalated into fisticuffs, then everyone on the pitch is involved, whether they want to be or not. About a third of the people are eager to prove their side the manliest, another third are willing to defend whoever sports their same color on his back, and the last third thinks none of this shit is worth it and tries to stay out of the line of fire without looking like they’re trying to stay out. It’s these last that result in the end of the fight, the cessation of aggressions, as they disperse and dodge enough punches and create enough space to allow the authorities to come in, the umpires, coaches, sometimes security, and separate the primary combatants.
When the fight doesn’t break out, almost invariably it’s because the guy in red got held back by another guy wearing red. Same team. Either that or the person who took the original offense thinks better of it himself. He will never be so easily persuaded by the gentlemen in blue rushing onto the field like a wave.
I don’t know how to solve terrorism. But I do know that the onus is not on the terrorized. We cannot expect black people to stop racism any more than we can expect bombing villages in Afghanistan to end Islamic extremism. Or not even bombing, even handing out flowers and cash and chocolate and sex, that wouldn’t work either. But especially not the bombing.
These white nationalist shitheads are our responsibility. I don’t know how to stop their hatred, to alleviate their perceived offenses, but until they figure out their own issues, it is up to us to stand between them and their quarry. To get in their faces, before they can get into others’. To meet their volume, to match their numbers, to stamp down their aggression.
Charlottesville, I offer you my apologies. I will do better next time.