The late Flip Wilson would don a wig and a dress to get into character to play Geraldine – the original sassy black woman with the terrible attitude. Geraldine would dismiss her rude statements and shabby actions with the famous punchline, “The Devil made me do it.”
Flip wasn’t a trans anything. He was a comedian using drag to get laughs. Flip wasn’t trying to convince you he was a woman. The joke was Flip pretending to be a (certain kind of) woman. It wasn’t political. It was entertainment.
We are witnessing a perverted version of Flip’s Geraldine skit today. Highly placed black people are getting into character to pretend to be victims of a political conceit called White Supremacy. To play this character the political class of blacks have created a narrative of black experience that goes something like this: 1619 -> slavery -> Jim Crow -> MLK’s assassination -> discrimination -> racist retrenchment -> Donald Trump – > Jim Crow reborn in a police state supported by racists so indoctrinated into racism they don’t even know they are racist.
It is all pretend. The black elite get to dress themselves up as victims and deliver punch lines in which White Supremacists have replaced Geraldine’s Devil. Instead of possessing black bodies to make them misbehave it is supposed the White Supremacist possess systems that prevent black people from doing good or living well. White Supremacists cheat black people of resources and opportunity. They deprive black people of clean water and clean air. They cause the high rates of diabetes, obesity, and heart disease in the black population.
It is a show but it is not entertainment. It’s demeaning political theatre.
To get into a character who believes in White Supremacy you have to be a person who believes in Black Insignificance. You have to look past the legacy black people have created in America – war heroes, bankers, religious leaders, musicians, scientists, statesmen, sociologists, inventors, athletes, entertainers, and, yes, even slave owners. To follow the script of White Supremacy and recite your lines with fervor means you have to change out of the historical character of a people who beat all odds to carve out a unique heritage in the most consequential nation in history and change into the servile co-star of a show lampooning your own humanity.
In the words of Chuck D. – Nah, I ain’t with it.
I spend long weekends in a town that as of the last census is 96% white. I haven’t received so much as a dirty look. Where are all these racists the capital B black political class assures us are ransacking America? I know for sure they aren’t in the ghettoes. I’ve lived in places that haven’t seen a white face in generations. I have relatives still living in places like that. They have to take a long drive to see white folks. Yes, I’ve met white bigots in my life. Typically, they were downscale or sheltered whites who couldn’t prevent me from crossing the street much less keep me from housing, employment, or political activity. Mostly, I think they hated me because I wasn’t the Nigger of their dreams. I dressed well. Spoke well. Had a white collar job and didn’t care about them at all. They’ve been few — loud sometimes and annoying but few.
So just where are all the powerful racists? It’s odd that the most privileged blacks seem to encounter the most super charged racists in organizations run by the Left. In universities. In senior management of large corporations. In media organizations. In sports leagues. In blue state political machines. Well, it’s not odd really. It’s predictable. The biggest enthusiasts for the White Supremacy Show after all are white leftists and their fangirls in the black elite.
It’s like this: when blacks (being a moral people) finally got a political voice they sent their best to the political whorehouses to clean them up. Instead of being righteous beacons of light the best and brightest became employees of the brothels. Now these whores need to blame their moral and political failures on someone so they flatter the John in bed next to them and he is happy to play along for one more electoral ride.
We knew Flip wasn’t Geraldine. Flip would be back in a suit after the commercial break. The growing problem for the gentrified black elite is they’ve worn the makeup, the wigs, and the dresses for so long they’ve settled into the role. They’ve forgotten who they represent and forgotten the dignity they were bequeathed. They’ve forgotten you can make a living without lying on your back.
“Watch it, Sucka!,” Geraldine would shout when a man overstepped his bounds and got fresh with her. She didn’t take guff from anyone.
There is wisdom in Geraldine’s act you Capital B blacks could stand to learn.