I’m Not Racist: The Kid I Bully is Black


Woah woah woah, let’s not go around here calling anyone a racist. That’s a pretty loaded term, rife with centuries of historical wrongs, colonialism, and sheer ignorance behind it. Let me clear the record – I’m not a racist. In fact, the kid I bully is black! How can I be racist, then? The bullying circles are full of structural racism, and I’m the only one socially conscious enough to find a black, gay, transitioning, disabled student to set my sights on. Some people think that we shouldn’t bully him because “his life is bad enough already”, but we’re not in the business of handing things out. If you want to become a contributing member to society, you’re going to need to suck it up.
This is just the easiest thing to do – there’s sooooo much material. It’s like seeing a rabbi, priest, and black guy literally walk to a bar. You just threw me an underhand pitch and I’m swinging for the fences. And by that I mean I’m taking your lunch money. I don’t call him racial slurs because I’m a racist, but because I understand the historical implications of the terms towards you ancestors and people. When people come up to me and call me a racist, I can’t help but scream internally. You just don’t get it!
I didn’t want to have to reveal this for fear of my bullee reading it, but I’m actually a Social Justice Warrior. I’m a member of the Black History Club, I watch BET, and I’ve been using hashtags to undermine the Oscars. So put that tobacco that was historically picked by black slaves in your pipe and smoke it. 
So whenever someone says something that appears to be clearly racist and discriminatory, take a step back and think for a second – do I, without a shred of doubt, know this person to be racist? If you don’t know, then you’re a hypocrite, judging people by what they say or do, instead of what they think about themselves.