Well, that’s it for me. I did my best with it, you see, but I just couldn’t make it happen–not this time around. I tried–I felt like I had a lot of support. South Carolina, Arizona, Oklahoma–those were all places I felt like I could make something happen. I thought if I could get a spark there, I might be able to keep my part in this race up. Turns out though, I just didn’t have what it took. And then the money dried up–as it tends to do in these situations. But, there it is, sometimes you just have to take your medicine. So, there’s only one thing left to do.
I’m dropping out of the race.
The white race, that is. Yup, I think I’ve gone as far as I can go carrying the Caucasian banner. I put a lot into it, but I just never got anywhere with it. I had no rhythm, I was no good with electronics, I was Episcopalian. I liked bland food, I listened to NPR, I wore sensible shoes, and I drove a Volvo. But in the end, I just didn’t have what it took to stay in the race.
Not that it’s the easiest race to stay in, mind you. I mean, it’s woefully misnamed, first of all. We’re not white, really. I mean, I admit, I’m closer than a lot of others, but even my pasty hue does not really qualify as white. When you’re a kid and you draw your family, did you reach for the white crayon to color in the skin? No, you went for peach or maybe orange (but with oh so light a touch). How I envied the kids that could color their family with confidence in burnt sienna. And when they held up their pictures, their mom and dad looked like their mom and dad, while mine had the complexion of an Orange Crush.
I’m not going to say that we didn’t try every thing we could to stay on top. Our centuries of oppression of all other races was, clearly, a misstep. I can only think white people of ages past thought that by making ourselves an exclusive club with special privileges we would enjoy the “cool kids” effect seen in many high schools. We would become the envy of other races, they would pine to be a part of our race, to hang out with us at malt shops, to eat at our lunch table. But then, just as in high school, once they broke through that wall into our midst, they realized that we were really pretty lame and they went off and joined the track team.
And, let’s face it white people, we are lame. Black people invented jazz–which is really cool. White people invented Neil Diamond. Asian people invented Buddhism–a fascinating, introspective spirituality that promotes tolerance for all people and faiths. White people invented Dianetics. American Indians taught us how to grow healthy, nourishing corn to sustain us through the tough winters. White people wrapped it around a hot dog and sold it at a baseball game. Let’s face it, we’re a disaster–we ruin everything we touch. For every sleek, fuel-efficient, inexpensive Honda, there’s a Dodge Dart.
So, I’m throwing in the towel. I’m throwing out my Kenny Loggins albums. I’m throwing up my… my… well, whatever it is we white people eat. Jello or something. Either way, it’s all gone. I’m joining the Inuit race. There’s not many of them–real growth market.
And I deeply resent the oppression of all you white people.