Lanterns: Dear Social Justice Warriors...

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Dear Social Justice Warriors...

Dear Social Justice Warriors:

May we take a few moments on the subject of cultural appropriation? I'm terribly confused, and seek only to learn how and when I must check my privilege, having been born to white, religious, conservative parents -- oh Universal Mother, help me! Of late, I can only imagine the carnage I've left in my wake, as I've stomped all over those around me with my obvious and disgusting advantage.

This realization is sickening, and I'm eager to remedy what I can, though I'm plagued with thoughts and mental images of my past misdeeds. The transition has left me homebound. I don't know what to wear or what to eat anymore. Even my home mocks me -- I didn't build it, and it's an embarrassing spectacle, announcing to all that I have succumbed to the privilege of my birth.

I'm unsure about my clothing. Is wearing blue jeans appropriating western culture? I feel so dirty wearing them now. My shoes are all wrong: clogs (the Netherlands), boots (Italian), galoshes (English), sandals (Latin American).

Everywhere I turn, my privilege is taunting me!

Naturally, this revelation depresses me, and I look to comfort food. Alas, it too jeers at me! How callous I've been! Munching tacos, savoring spaghetti and meatballs, noshing on ham and cabbage, pastry, beef, and broccoli, chocolate -- I couldn't fathom how wrong it was to enjoy the deliciousness of the world's gourmets. I thought I was embracing the culture, helping immigrants to be accepted, sharing in the bounty of their heritage. I mistakenly believed that it was the great and natural result of the American "melting pot." I've been so blind. I never stopped to think how any of my actions affected those "others."

How can I go on?

I am nothing more than a usurper, a bastard child of entitlement. As I look out the broken window of my trailer, I am overwrought with outrage -- this is what's wrong with America! How dare we have a crappy metal roof over our heads, a beat up pickup in the front yard, duck-taped sheets, and blankets on our windows? Who gave us the right to scratch out a living, oblivious to the oppression and persecution of our neighbors? How can these wrongs be righted? I'm so very humiliated by my rank in this world. Who am I? Please help!

Sincerely,

Befuddled, Flummoxed, and Unhinged in GA

 

Written by Julie Custer

1 Responses

This is too cute! And I'm glad you're finally coming to your senses ;)

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