I can’t honestly see myself as a racist because most of my spare time is spent cheering for black athletes to succeed. Of course, I hope others fail miserably. I can just imagine the holes even intellectually flimsy liberals might find in this, but it remains the case for me.
I know black people like me when we encounter each other.
The only real fist fights I had as a kid were with blacks. My last one was in my thirties on a basketball court in the upper west side of Manhattan. I visited this court for so long that eventually I was playing with the children of my first teammates.
I have nothing important to say about race but I have always wished I was less of a Methodist and more like them, stupidly always defining them only as Baptists with rhythm. They seem to all be in a club into which I am not allowed. That’s OK because I would not trade places. Their lives are too hard. White is safer because we have advantages. I worry they will never get out of their mess.
Sex will most likely save us because we will mingle our genes eventually defeating our differences. It is comforting somehow that we find each other attractive enough to accomplish this. I figure love will conquer all as they say.
I miss the camaraderie most now. Men can only get so close. They have to have an excuse like sports or treating women whom they don’t know, like objects.
Maybe disliking other races is the only way we have to make friends.