If you call yourself BIPOC, you are are racist
Black, indigenous, people of color...what a stupid and redundant term that is.
White teachers in lower income, multi-racial schools get called “racist” on a regular basis. For me, now that I’ve been teaching for some three years at the same school, I often get a pass. In fact, the other day, one of my Mexican students said I could have a “Beaner pass.” That means I have the right to call Mexicans beaners, a term of racial discrimination when used by anyone but a Mexican. A term of endearment when used by Mexicans on Mexicans.
As a cracker myself, I know the truth. I’m not a beaner so I probably shouldn’t use that word. Having a trace of Irish ancestry, I rather identify as a narrowback bogtrotter or a Paddy!
So far, I haven’t gotten a pass to use the N word. I doubt that one will ever be granted. That’s the sacred secret ingredient that only those initiated into the lucrative world of victimhood have the right to use. If your skin color isn’t dark enough, you best bite that pink tongue. I get it. Lots of bad crap happened to black people at the hands of what we now call white people. But then again, history shouldn’t be overlooked:
The slave trade was already in existence in Africa before the Portuguese started purchasing black people from other blacks.
There were more white slaves in Africa (barbary coast slave trade) at the time of the Transatlatic slave trade than there were black slaves in America.
Out of approximately 12 million black slaves who were brought to the new world, only around 300,000 were bought in America. The rest were taken to central and south America, where all the unrest is today.
America fought a civil war and lost more lives to free the black slaves than there were slaves that were originally brought to America.
The Irish were treated poorly when they arrived in America. They were called semian apes. They were called a menace. They were red-lined and not allowed to buy property in certain areas.
Italians were called Dagos and endured humiliating treatment in America. Watch Cabrini for a good idea of what Italians (now considered white people I guess) went through.
Polish people (about as white as you can get) were called pollock. I still have an Irish/Pollock joke book from the 70s when I was a kid.
So, I’m not really sure what a white person is, only that I am one of them. And I know that I’m not a BIPOC, even though I have more color than anybody. My hair is blond; my skin that’s been exposed to the sun is dark brown; my eyes are greenish grey; my beard is white; I have moles that you don’t want to know the color of; when I was young I had some red hair; my blood is red and it boils sometimes wondering when people are going to finally get over themselves.
Your race doesn’t matter. If you call yourself a bipoc, you are a racist and you can kiss my lily white...
This struck a chord. I’m in full agreement with what you’re aiming at here—there’s something corrosive about sorting people by race and grievance. It may have started as a path to inclusion, but it’s hardened into division, keeping us anchored to old wounds instead of moving forward. Your essay reminds that civic identity—being American—should matter more than skin color or historical grievances. That’s not about erasing the past, but about refusing to be defined by it. We share the same stakes in this country, and we’re at our best when we stand together—not in categories, but in character. Thanks for saying what needed saying.