The Things That Jax Had To Learn...

One of you slow bitches in the back grab me a pacifier because I have gone soft around here. I couldn’t live if I had a black or brown child that still insisted on leaving the bunker that I would have built into my home to protect them from the absolute fuckery that I have seen in the last 3 months. I know factually it would drive me to a stroke and drop me off curbside.

I was speaking with some friends of mine, James and Annette, and they have several young men that are tiny little versions of my friend. Their eldest, Jax, has been my little partner from the time he was old enough to have a picture of him snapped. However, I felt like I had died in a deeply hidden cavity in my chest when James informed me that they had begun to speak with not only Jax but every little man in their house because they have to know how to handle themselves if the situation happens to them so they aren’t shot down in the streets.

I will tell you now that I’m crying as I type this. To need to explain to this sunny smiled and bright boy that someone may mistake the tone of his skin for him not being the A student, well behaved, and excellent son that he is…I’m sorry, I am having trouble with the correlation. I think of the big pearly smile he’s always flashing in one of 5,982 photos I have awwed over every time I run into his father, and that young man should have no worries larger than the time he’ll get when he runs the mile in PE.

He shouldn’t need to know that there are people that will harm him simply for what he looks like. He shouldn’t need to know that his father, an over the road driver, faces death every single day simply to put food on the table. He shouldn’t need to know that his mother, an upstanding Christian and former Corrections Officer, has dealt with being blue and black, and faced hatred and discrimination on both sides of the line. Honestly, how are they supposed to get it right, since apparently she was wrong on both ends of the argument?

That could cost him his life.

I ask that you please see the sweet kid that is probably beaming those pearly whites. I ask that you please see the smart young man, he'll certainly be saying his "yes ma'ams" (his mother will have his rear, otherwise).

Please, look at Jax and see my small fry, the sweet boy whose Daddy shows off a million pictures of him because that's his heart.

Please don't see a young black man.

Please, when you look at Jax, see the great young man that he is.

Seeing as how I’ve known this young man since literally his birth, I feel like I should maybe try to get some answers, because I sure as hell don’t have any. I’m sad, I’m pissed, I’m disgusted, but mostly I’m over this shit. If you Nazis want to hate everyone but white people, I’ll tell you what: They have some airlines that will drop you in Greenland. Or Sweden. I think you can pretty much go all year and see nobody else but the pasty white folk you think everyone should be.

I’m going through my closet right now for my extra luggage. If any of you assholes needs a suitcase, just give me a buzz. I’ll have the bag sitting at the front door. You can have it. Trust me, a small price to pay to be rid of your asses.