Parades of proud people marched in Washington on the 4th, so proud they wore masks to hide their cowardly faces. Sound familiar? The Klan. You remember those rejects from laundry detergent commercials, white robes and all. Hoods with teeny weeny little holes to see through, small enough that no decent person would notice their nice neighbor was really just another piece of cow dung.
And what do we have doing the muscle work now? Federal agents. Right, I forgot — Second String Donny’s private ICE army, the ones he thinks will protect him in his little bunker after Air Force One runs out of fuel.
So White Nationalists take to the streets, masks and all. Must be Bobby-Bob over there. Confederate flag wavers too — what’s wrong with the good old Red, White and Blue? The land of Real Men, so proud they strut their stuff on Independence Day. And being the free nation that we are, we let them. Who cares that a little darker skin no longer feels safe on the streets. After all, why did we fight for integration, equal opportunity, equal rights? Why did we write laws against racial discrimination? Why did so many already die in the streets? Just to let these jerks loose again.
That’s right, freedom — we fought for freedom. But somewhere in there should be a guarantee of protection. And I don’t see anyone way up the ladder caring about protecting anyone anymore, except themselves. Have you seen that bulletproof barrier they use now? I’d have loved that contract. Bet it didn’t go to in-house cronies — not if he wanted it done right.
If it sounds like I’m climbing up on a soap box, you’re probably right. The more I sit here and write this, the angrier I get. We’ve already been through all this BS.
If you didn’t read my series on The Long View From 1964, I joined the National Guard in Manhattan Beach, California, November 1963. Had basic and engineer school in ’64, so my first summer camp got delayed by the Watts Riots of ’65.
Here’s the part I don’t dress up. In 1965, I was the enemy. I was the man. I was whitey living ten miles from East LA. I wouldn’t say I was a racist bigot but here is the thing, you grow up segregated, you grow up afraid, the black skin was different, the features were different, I’m being politically correct but the bottom line is really just fear. Intimidation works. That’s why hate works so well.
That’s the truth of who I was at nineteen. It took years, and a country tearing itself apart a few miles from my house, to teach me different.
Which is exactly why I have the right to say what comes next. Not because I was always on the right side. Because I wasn’t, and I changed anyway.
So do they really think everyone’s forgotten? Do they think all white people are racist bigots waiting to be reactivated? Do they think we’re going to sit around and let a bunch of insecure cowards in masks start another war? Because if you’ve been paying attention, that’s exactly what the playbook is calling for. Proud Boys. Masked ICE agents going after Latinos and anyone else less white than themselves. Listen to the speeches. Really listen. The barbs, the slurs, the put-downs. It’s the playbook, and it’s in play.
It’s a time machine, take your pick, Back to the Future or Days of Future Past, doesn’t matter. They’re trying to turn the clock back to when wives wore dresses baking cookies and pearl necklaces fixing dinner, and all she knew to say was “yes dear, as you say dear, would you like another beer, and oh dear, please fill out my ballot for me.”
Here’s what I don’t think they’ve figured on. Here’s the calculation they screwed up. We the people don’t want to turn back that clock. We don’t want to be racist — we already did that, and it cost us. We don’t want to hate our neighbor — we already did that too. We’re not doing segregation again, so don’t play those games. And when you push too hard, and I know you will, because you’re stupid enough to try — here’s what happens.
At some point, and I don’t know when or where, the minorities aren’t going to just stand up and fight back. The people are going to stand up with them, and squash you like a bug.
And this 80-year-old whitey, who used to be afraid of the very people he’ll be standing next to — I’m going to be right out there with them.
