October 26, 2015
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Sure, I could have simply hauled off and walloped that guy with a left hook while hoping he didn’t have five accomplices waiting in the shadows. But that’s easier said than done when you”re a white felon with a shaved head and a long history of issuing politically insensitive public statements. So there I was, acutely aware that I could lose my life within the next sixty seconds, fretting about how it would look to the world at large if I got into a street scrap with a black male despite the fact that he’d been actively harassing me.
White male privilege in 2015 means that if I get into any altercation with someone who isn”t white or male, I am presumed guilty. It’s happened to me with women. And with anti-racist skinheads. And with a black dude who tried breaking into my car. In each case, I was not the instigator, only the one who fought back. But being unapologetically white and male worked against me in every case.
Such hard personal experiences lead me to feel that anyone who seriously thinks “white male privilege” exists in 2015 is either a liar or a moron”probably both. The way the deck is stacked these days, being a white male is a disadvantage that hobbles you Harrison Bergeron-style in any dispute with someone who isn”t a white male.
When I think of all the taxes that are bled for me in a doomed ‘n’ dimwitted quest to achieve “social justice” at my expense…and when I ponder that modern media and academia are on an unfettered defamation rampage against all things white and male…it sometimes feels as if all of life is a soft mugging.
The next evening I sat on a bench in Manhattan’s Washington Square Park and watched rats chasing cockroaches. Little rats, too”not much bigger than mice. They’d leap out from the bushes toward small scuttling roaches. Sometimes they’d catch them and scurry away with them in their mouths; sometimes they’d scamper away empty-handed. Such is life in a big city teeming with biodiversity.
