You are seething in anger and frustration. The boy, who is so Aryan that Hitler himself would have been more than proud to call him his own, stood up in front of the class and claimed that police violence against black people is justified.
"Why do you think that?" You ask, over and over again. "It's just common knowledge," he says matter-of-factly, "that black people commit more crimes than white people. Therefore, it makes sense that black people should be arrest more often." You know deep down in your heart that that is not true at all. You know that it is wrong to say it. But you look around, and you see your class sitting around and not paying attention to the argument. They seem bored, because this ferverous outcry by this Aryan kid is so common, and you can only offer your anger at his ignorance. This is nothing new to these people. Injustice is normal and insubstantial to them, because it doesn't affect them. This makes you hate the boy, but more so to your peers. You are the only who cares about this, because you are the only that is affected by this dangerous thought. You feel alone in this struggle. You are the only one here that is not white. You feel like an outsider wanting to fit in, like a beggar on the cold streets in December looking at a fireplace in a home. But you are blocked from doing so. You can scream and vent at this person forever, but no one will listen to you. Nothing will change. You are stuck, and you realize you have no where to go, no where to run.
"Why do you think that?" You ask, over and over again. "It's just common knowledge," he says matter-of-factly, "that black people commit more crimes than white people. Therefore, it makes sense that black people should be arrest more often." You know deep down in your heart that that is not true at all. You know that it is wrong to say it. But you look around, and you see your class sitting around and not paying attention to the argument. They seem bored, because this ferverous outcry by this Aryan kid is so common, and you can only offer your anger at his ignorance. This is nothing new to these people. Injustice is normal and insubstantial to them, because it doesn't affect them. This makes you hate the boy, but more so to your peers. You are the only who cares about this, because you are the only that is affected by this dangerous thought. You feel alone in this struggle. You are the only one here that is not white. You feel like an outsider wanting to fit in, like a beggar on the cold streets in December looking at a fireplace in a home. But you are blocked from doing so. You can scream and vent at this person forever, but no one will listen to you. Nothing will change. You are stuck, and you realize you have no where to go, no where to run.