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Part six, the final post in the Incomplete Thought Series is me expressing happiness to not have an extra layer of fucked up-ness in the daily struggle of being black.
I read a post from a sister that I am in a social media group with and it’s sad. She said her white mom was a racist, but can’t admit it. She fails to acknowledge that black women have been on the receiving end of all misogyny and racism. How is this possible? You have a half black child and are a racist? How did you sleep with the child’s father, decide to have his child, raise it, and still have hate in your heart for half of what is your child?
I know I’m black, but she has to grapple with trying to identify with being the oppressed and the oppressor. Glad I’m Not Biracial.
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