I was as freaked out by this as I was at Paranormal Activity and when my Arabian jumped a 5-foot square oxer for the first time.
A peek inside, shows us gems like this:
…if you are a drug dealer of color and are ready to move on to other work opportunities, you should check out the MBA program at your local university. Having already proven your entrepreneurial skills, you will be given a full scholarship. You will probably drop out before you complete your degree, but as in the tradition of Harvard Business School, that will be because you have been offered a fantastic position at a successful firm. This will leave lots of job openings in your former field for white drug dealers to get their start. However, if you are a white drug dealer, you will need to take more serious precautions against arrest. Before, you could just hide behind a copy of the New York Times and watch as the cops cuffed and booked the brown-skinned man across the street. But your skin no longer serves as your get-out-of-jail-free card. You won’t get less time or lighter sentences either. Basically, the free ride on your white horse is over.
At first blush, such a world may seem like a good thing. But for us Oreos, it most certainly is not.
Without double and difficult standards, how do we know what we’re working toward? If my natural nappy roots were suddenly the norm the nation over, how do I explain to my lungs, the years of having them slowly eroded from breathing sodium hydroxide fumes. What happens when my White People to the Rescue loses relevance because we no longer need them to save us? I have loathed so many things about me for so long…would I even be able to learn to love? The standards create the yardstick and scales I used to measure and record my BMI: Black Meting Index. With nothing to be better than, I would be nothing more than an RBP.
Thankfully, Ayo’s story is just that, a story.
Has anyone else read it? And did you have the same night terrors? Let us know what you thought.