I'm ANGRY.

I have spent most of my life under the apparently mistaken impression that the civil rights movement was about convincing people to stop treating me differently because I am black. This now appears to be an unfashionable position.

The modern trend seems to be convincing everyone to become extremely aware of race at all times, preferably while yelling. I realized this while watching the reaction to the Karmelo Anthony verdict.

Not the verdict itself, but the reaction.

The verdict was a court proceeding. The reaction was what would happen if you fed twelve gallons of aviation fuel to a leaf blower and pointed it directly at the nation’s remaining supply of racial goodwill.

Almost immediately, the internet filled with declarations that the jury was “all white.” This was an interesting development because it wasn’t. This presents a challenge for the narrative engineers. In previous eras, a fact that contradicted your argument was considered a problem. Today it appears to be considered a minor administrative inconvenience. The jury contained a Muslim woman, several Asians, and a Hispanic man. But apparently “They were all white.” I assume this was determined using advanced academic mathematics I am not qualified to understand.

This same mathematics allows people to explain that race is a social construct right up until they need it to win an argument. Then it becomes a rigidly defined biological category again. (Science is amazing, isn’t it?)

Then came the claims that Austin and his friends had ganged up on Karmelo. This was also fascinating because that didn’t emerge during testimony. No matter. We live in a golden age of flexible facts. See, if the old facts stop producing the desired amount of outrage, new facts can be harvested from the internet and brought directly to your home.

And then things got genuinely scary. One prominent personality announced: “You don’t want to fuck with black people, because we might fucking kill you.”

Now, I would like to pause here. Because I am black. And this was extremely useful information for me. I had somehow reached adulthood without realizing I was supposed to be threatening people. This wasn’t in the handbook of “racial behaviors” I was issued at birth. I was under the impression that my responsibilities consisted primarily of paying taxes, worrying about my blood pressure, and trying to remember where I put my car keys. Apparently I have instead been participating in a campaign of racial intimidation without even knowing it.

This explains why I keep losing my “Black membership” card. The thing that scares me is not that people say this nonsense. America has always produced loud idiots, as it’s one of our great exports.

What scares me is how many people cheer.

How many people hear a statement that sounds suspiciously like a threat and decide it is wisdom. How many people hear racial tribalism and mistake it for racial solidarity. Because here’s the ugly truth. Every time one of these people opens their mouth, somebody who has never met me learns something about me. (Or thinks they do.)

They learn that black people believe violence is justified. They learn that black people reject evidence. They learn that black people only care about race. They learn that black people view justice as a team sport.

Now, I get to spend my twilight years proving I am not the person they just described. That is what makes me angry.

Not offended. Not annoyed. Angry.

See, the Americans in my generation (Gen X and before) worked themselves half to death trying to convince the country that we are individuals.

Individuals with different opinions. Different politics. Different dreams. Different flaws. But still, regular people. Now a collection of professional race hustlers seems determined to undo all of that so they can collect engagement on social media.

The entire enterprise feels like a man setting fire to his own house because he enjoys being interviewed by the local news. The worst part is that they think they are helping. They genuinely seem to believe that making every issue about race will somehow help. I don’t understand this. This is like believing that pouring bourbon into a lawnmower will improve fuel efficiency.

The theory sounds questionable from the start. The results are even worse.

I don’t want people to fear me. I don’t want people to excuse me. I don’t want people to hate me. I don’t want people to admire me because of my race.

I want the same thing I have always wanted. I want people to look at me and see a person.

Not a demographic. Not a historical grievance. Not a political weapon. Not a member of a tribe.

Just a person.

Every fucking time some loudmouth gets online and starts screaming “racial identity matters” more than evidence, more than character, more than truth itself, I find myself wondering how many more bridges they’re planning to burn before they run out of matches.

Judging by the reaction online, the answer appears to be:

Quite a few.