Opinion: What Is It Like to Be a White Man in America?

In my previous article, "Why Are Americans So Racist?" I decided to explore the anti-white sentiments going around during these violent protests. All my quotes shall remain anonymous for the posters' safety, as well as my own. Anti-white racism, as of right now, is becoming an acceptable form of expression by a myriad of different people; generally speaking, I'm concerned as I watch these patterns from history repeating themselves.

As these patterns of the birth of racist movements continue to grow in existence and transparency, part of the growth is also silencing the targets of the racism. One of my favorite arguments I'm seeing from self-proclaimed anti-racists is, "All lives matter is a racist statement," and in conjunction with everything else I've been reading I'm not sure people are very self-aware, if at all. I'm scared for what the future holds for not only my country, but myself as a fair-skinned man, when people cannot stand up for the value of all lives at the same time.

This all began with the murder of George Floyd, an issue of police brutality and negligence that was quickly turned into a veritable race war.

There is a very big issue in America as it concerns defining terms and phrases, especially as it concerns racism. Too many people, somehow, still think that you cannot be racist against white people. Even further, asking them to define racism, they cannot seem to separate themselves from the, "white vs. black," narrative that the racist American media pushes every opportunity they get to do so.

So, what is the actual definition of racism? The definition of racism is:

"The belief that different races possess distinct characteristics, abilities, or qualities, especially so as to distinguish them as inferior or superior to one another. Prejudice, discrimination, or antagonism directed against a person or people on the basis of their membership in a particular racial or ethnic group, typically one that is a minority or marginalized."

Now let's break that down a little further by snipping out a piece and putting it in big bold letters here, "typically one that is a minority or marginalized."

As it concerns the topic of police brutality, the type of police brutality we saw with George Floyd, I didn't see a white man killing a black man until the racist American media turned my fellow Americans into racist anti-racists. What I saw was a police officer high on his own power, power he shouldn't have been allowed in the first place, kneeling atop a defenseless American as his complicit team watched on. I saw a piece of the marginalized minority in America being murdered for no reason, and that marginalized minority are those of us who have experienced police brutality firsthand.

Now when I sit here calling for the police and the world as a whole to recognize that all lives matter, that we have a police brutality issue here in America and around the world, I have to sit and contend with being silenced because my skin color automatically deems me a racist in the ignorant perceptions of an increasing majority. I'm part of the marginalized minority here in America, as a white citizen because people seem to care so much about race while claiming they're anti-racist, and I don't want to be silenced because of my skin color. I want to speak out against police brutality against all races, and the division and derision those in power sow among us.

The first time I ever had a run-in with the law was in junior high, about 6 AM in the morning as I awaited the bus to school with all my friends, and a cop just so happened to be rolling through our all-white suburban neighborhood. Though I don't think it should matter, I am going to play into this anti-racist game people are playing and say that the officer was Hispanic. As he rolled by, slowly and glaring out of his passenger window that was now rolled down as he approached, my friend thought it would be funny to say, "Smells like bacon!"

Before we could even laugh, the cop did a burnout up the street and did a skidding 180, rushing back to pull his car up onto the curb. Stepping out of the car he was already yelling, "Who said it?! Huh, who said that?!" and everyone clammed up but the officer.

"Oh, so you're brave enough to talk when I'm driving by but now that I'm here you're too scared, huh?! Everyone sit the f&%$ down on the curb!"

Two of the kids there, both white females, failed to comply because they were going to leave to get their parents. The officer grabbed them both by the arm and, essentially, threw them into a sitting position. One of the girls fell to her back, spilling the contents of her purse all over the ground upon impact.

This cop, now seemingly filled with the satisfaction of having thrown around a couple of white girls, proceeded to lecture us on how we spoke to the cops. Granted, no one had said anything except, "Smells like bacon!" but he continued to yell until someone rolled up and asked if we were all okay. The cop said everything was fine with a smile on his smug face, but he could tell the driver wasn't buying it, so shortly thereafter the cop got back in his car and left.

His last, weak quip was, "I'll be keeping my eye out for all of you, watch your backs!"

My next run-in with the law came in high school, a privileged competitive school where crime was a foreign concept to most kids outside of drugs and underage sexual relations. You see, our campus cop, Lance Christensen, had an absolutely unhealthy obsession with finding narcotics and other illegal things on children that he hid behind a veil of feigned concern. He had it out for me after the first time he ever falsely accused me of being on drugs, and my subsequent pursuance of consequences for his actions.

It was freshman year and it was time for finals, I had been forced by my abusive mother to stay up the night before using my prescription Adderall and I had been studying all night. First off was biology class, which I aced the final for despite my weary state, and it's the same class that Lance will accuse me of never having attended. Next was study period, which I decided to sit outside for and get some sun rather than go into a class; my friend Kyle, a homely but respectable boy, would join me in studying.

There I sat with my math book trying to make sense of FOIL and PEMDAS as it concerned quadratic equations, where Kyle was studying his history book. Up rolls the good ole yard duty who says, "You guys look really sick, you need to come with me," and so did we hop on the back of their lazy-person golf cart and get hauled off to the office. Upon arrival I was taken to Lance himself, while my friend Kyle sat with his secretary.

As Kyle sat with the secretary, she asked him, "You don't look too good. Are you on something?"

Kyle, a kid known to detest drugs and alcohol, responded sadly but kindly, "I'm just ugly, ma'am," and that was the end of their conversation with him.

While Kyle was being told he looks terrible, a horrible thing to say to a kid let alone judging someone by their appearance to begin with, I was sitting in the office being accused of things I did not do by Lance.

During this debacle, being questioned as a minor without representation, Lance accused me of: Selling drugs, possessing drugs, being on drugs, skipping class, smoking on campus, and encouraging my friend to lie to an officer of the law. All of which were false accusations on the grounds that both myself, and my friend, looked tired and disheveled. Of course I denied all of it, and explained my mother had made me take Adderall the night before to stay up and study and that I was in biology class that very morning.

Fast forwarding they tried to drag me out of school in cuffs, to take me to the hospital for drug testing, but my dad showed up and stopped that mess. Nothing was found except my prescription medication in my system. Reporting all of this ridiculousness to the school got Lance a few slaps on the wrist and made him focus his sights on me even harder.

Six more times Lance would have me dragged out of class, into his office, and/or forcibly searched for no reason other than he did not like me; he would find nothing, and accuse me of getting rid of evidence I never had. I wasn't the only one, either; this is how he regularly found small infractions that he would then conflate with others for his own reputation. Watching your friends get dragged out of class for no reason, with no apologies, and then people celebrating Lance keeping the school safe was a common occurrence at our school.

These false accusations, arrests, and subsequent denial of blame on Lance's part led to multiple suicides of students who attended the school. They never wrote down their grief, the grief caused by this disgusting excuse of an officer, but they spoke to those of us who really cared for them. Adolescent suicide is just another product of police exercising their powers where they shouldn't have any.

The last experience of mine I would like to touch on is one of what many could accurately call racial profiling. It was on my way to school once more, this time it was senior year, and I had just stepped off the public bus and started heading toward the mall. A strange place to go for school, I know, but at this point I was in independent study and the chosen domicile of the study was within the mall.

Just as I started heading up the drive toward the mall a cop was pulling in across the street, and he gave me a glare before burning out up the road and into the parking garage. He emerged on the other side and pulled his car up onto the sidewalk in front of me. After radioing for backup, this Hispanic officer asked, "How's it going, where you heading?"

"On my way to school," I responded reluctantly. I knew this wasn't a normal stop, so I was ready to comply with anything the officer wanted.

"School at the mall?" he questioned as he walked toward me and I responded in the affirmative, "That's weird, why don't you have a seat on the curb for me?"

Only having books and pens in my possession I asked him if I could just empty everything out and have him search me so we could get this over with.

"Yeah sure," he responded, "but let's wait for my partner first."

His Hispanic partner arrived shortly thereafter, and with my stuff sprawled all over the pavement I was asked to remove my shirt. This was extremely uncomfortable, and seemingly inappropriate, but I followed the instructions.

"We are going to take a picture of your defining marks, okay?" they asked, and I responded in the affirmative as if I had any other choice. They posed me strangely, getting pictures of my scars and blemishes, making me look like a fool as the morning commuters stared while they drove by.

"Thanks, you're free to go!" they ended with abruptly.

"Wait, but why did you guys stop me?" I asked, having just been made a fool of for what seemed like no reason.

"We had a report of a home invasion in the area. The guy was white and wearing a beanie. You matched the description is all."

I understood, if not also felt a bit violated and profiled, why they would stop me. Having been made late to school I asked them for a ride up to the mall, and for them to talk to my teacher. They refused the ride but said they'd see my teacher, which they never did and I got in trouble.

Profiling is an all-races issue, a human issue, not one that belongs solely to the "colored" population.

From what I can observe within my own life, because I in no way want to speak on behalf of others, is that being white in America becomes a social crime whenever the media wants it to be. Speaking out as a white man, it becomes a social crime whenever you want others to not be racist against white people. Being white becomes a social crime when you want all lives to be valued, not divided on the grounds of race.

Of the thousands of posts, comments, and memes I have read, I have only provided you with but a sliver of the racism I am witnessing. If I could, I would provide the calls to violence against white people that are coming from organizations backed by both public and private funding. Alas, I would be banned if I included the most prominent and hateful things being said.

Think about that for a second, I can't even speak out about the racism because my chosen platforms won't allow such language to be used. Increasingly, we are seeing social and media platforms silence all of its users they decide don't toe the line of their agenda. All the while the racism can go on unabated, because systemic racism is about dividing every race.

Do you want to be anti-racist, truly and utterly, for the good of all people? Are you willing to do what it takes to stand up to racist people? Can you handle the responsibility of staving off racism in all its disgusting forms?

Stand up and destroy racism against every race, and condemn any that would seek to use race as a means of division and derision! Systemic racism is targeting everyone!

Though I may go out and protest, writing is the only place I truly have a voice right now. People want to stand on my throat so that I can't speak, simply because of my skin color; and I'm tired of pointing out the systemic racism only to be told my white skin makes my opinion valueless. It's upon you, the anti-racists, to stop seeing the world in color and put the blame where it belongs.