I am a racist. Sorry, but that is the sad truth.
You see, I have been thinking about my thoughts. And comparing those thoughts to what powerful people say and write about such thoughts. And there can be only one conclusion. That I am racist.
For instance, enforcing our laws seems sensible to me. Laws such as entering this country illegally. Laws that say this is our border. You cannot come across without our permission. It is racist to think this way. So I am told. So we are all told.
Sanctuary cities seem illegal to me. Racist!
Allowing people who are here illegally to bring in lots of relatives. That seems not a good idea. Racist!
Someone suggested we allow more people to immigrate who have skills we need. Instead of more people with skills we do not need. Or more people who have very few skills. That just seems like maybe a good idea. Racist!
A wall seems sensible. After all, people do stream across our border. And Mexico’s wall in the south works. And Israel’s wall reduced illegal arrivals by 98 percent. Racist!
Closing the government over DACA? That seemed a bit extreme. Racist!
If I say a few countries are pretty disgusting and dangerous places to live? Racist!
If I think students should be accepted for universities according to their abilities? And not according to their color? I am racist.
If charter schools seem like a good idea in inner cities? Because their students perform better than those in public schools? I am a racist for entertaining that idea.
Vouchers have allowed kids to escape abysmal public schools. Voucher-thinking makes me racist.
Suppose unemployment among minorities falls. Suppose I notice it. That makes me a racist.
Suppose violent-crime rates are through the roof in some neighborhoods. And I mention that. Well, what a racist thing to say.
If I suggest maybe, maybe we might reduce the number of immigrants we allow. The figure now is 1 million per year. I am a racist for suggesting that.
If I suggest that Americans are dreamers too, I am a racist.
If yoga is my thing, I have to realize it is racist in nature.
If I question Obamacare in any way, I am a racist.
If a congress woman claims she is Native American and I question this, I am racist.
If I suggest NFL players should do their protesting for social causes during their own time? And not during working hours? I am racist.
If I wonder why the new African-American Museum made no mention of Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas? Well, I am racist for sure.
If I happen to notice there are fewer African-Americans playing Major League Baseball? You guessed it.
If I buy “To Kill a Mockingbird” or “Huckleberry Finn” for my grandchild, I am racist.
If I find hip-hop “music” bores me, I am racist.
If I like watermelon, okra and fried chicken, I am racist. If I don’t like them, same thing.
If I say “Hey, that boy can jump!” I am racist.
Suppose I shout “Go Indians!” Or “Go Browns!” Or “Go Redskins.” I am racist.
In a way, I feel like Rodney Dangerfield.
Remember the fable of “The Little Boy Who Cried Wolf”? He cried wolf so often his cry lost its meaning. It seems to me that the word racist has suffered that fate. Steamrollers of political correctness have crushed all meaning from the word.
I did not leave the English language. The language left me. I suppose I am racist for recognizing that.
From Tom…as in Morgan.
Find Tom on Facebook. You can write to Tom at tomasinmorgan@yahoo.com.