I'm not Racist but.....

Have you ever heard that phrase before? Have you ever noticed how the next thing to come out of the mouth of the person saying it, is usually a racist remark? Why try and mask your ignorance and bigotry with that bullshit preface? If you're racist and/or making a racist comment (which usually means you're a racist), why start off with "I'm Not a Racist". You clearly are!

For example, today at the park where I take my son everyday, there was a new mom with her child. Many of the "regulars" weren't there so I didn't hesitate to strike up a conversation with the New Mom and have our kids play. She informed me that she wasn't from the area, but liked to come to this park because it was much nicer than the ones in her neighborhood. Foolishly, I asked what was wrong with her local park. And I got "I'm Not Racist....but the park near our house is mostly blacks." Ok, so what's wrong with that, I asked. To which she replied, "No no don't get me wrong, I'm Not Racist but....they all looked like gang members and probably had guns". Seriously. I'm not making this up. I politely informed the woman that this was South Florida and the 95 year old woman crossing the street over there probably had a gun. I also said to her that just because the people in her park were black didn't mean they were gang members. Again she replied "Oh I know! I wasn't saying that to sound racist. I'm Not Racist..........but they were all playing basketball and acting all thuggish." Clearly, I wanted to bang my head on the nearest swingset, but just stared blankly and said "Oh". I had made my point and tried to enlighten her as to the *ahem* gravity of her errors, but no. She was a racist in denial, and that was that. Needless to say, when some of the other park "regulars" began showing up to play with us, I saw her skitter away with her son and leave. You see, the children and families Dante and I usually play with are black (oh no!) and I guess New Mom thought we'd start a gang and throw signs. Now that I think of it, Dante's pants were a little baggy today and his friend Rocco had baby tattoo band-aids on his knees. GANG! RUN!!!!!!!!

Another example occurred right in my back yard a few days ago as I was playing outside with Dante. My neighbor and his wife were outside and came over to the fence to say hello. Their neighbors on the other side had just moved away and I asked them if they knew if anyone had been looking at the house. Wait for it! The wife replied "Oh we saw one woman over there and We're Not Racist...........but thank god she was white!" Um, ok. Who the fuck cares what color the people are?!?!?! All I am concerned about is are they clean, quiet, and friendly? So I said to the neighbors, "What does it matter if they're black, white, green, orange, blue or purple? All that should matter is that they are nice people and good neighbors!".

So the next time you hear someone preface their sentence with "I'm Not Racist", be prepared for some ignorant, racist shit to come out of their mouths.

Let’s Get Things Clear.....

Yesterday hubby and I took Dante to Dave and Buster's. It's a restaurant/arcade chain and we like to go there to play the games. Dante likes to run around and "play" the motorcycle or car games. I say "play" because he's only 14 months old so he really just holds on to the handlebars or steeringwheel and goes "brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr". Anyhow, Hubby and Dante were chasing eachother around and I was hiding behind games letting D catch me, when I noticed an elderly couple (probably grandparents) and the rest of the family doting on Dante and smiling at seeing he and my hubby playing. They were having a blast watching him, and then when Dante found me and I popped out of my hiding place, I heard the older couple say "Oh my god look at the mother!" and it passed on to each member of the family, "Look at the mother!" "Look at the mother" "Look at the mother!". Now, instead of smiling at a happy family playing with their son, I could see them shaking their heads and saying "what a shame", "oh how awful". No joke. I HEARD them say it.

Was I holding a butcher knife and threatening to slice my son's throat? No.
Was I hitting him? Nope.
Was I wearing skimpy inappropriate clothing with curse words all over it? No, actually I was in jeans and a plain t-shirt with my comfy sketchers and my hair was in a ponytail.

No, it wasn't my behavior that made these people all of a sudden change their minds about the happiness and well-being of my child. It was the fact that my hair is bright red and my arms are tattooed from shoulder to wrist. I'm assuming that is what, since I wasn't doing anything else other than playing with my son and husband.

So let me set the record straight for anyone who has ever "shaken their head" when they see that an Aging Goth Chick or Punk Chick or Rockabilly Chick is a mother with funny hair and tattoos. We're still good mothers. Our appearance has nothing to do with it. Will our children grow up and want to look like us? Who knows? I don't wear cheesy hippy clothes like my mother. Who is to say that Dante grows up and is a complete fashionista and only wears Prada and Armani? My job as a mother has no bearing on what color my hair is this week and how many tattoos I have.

end of rant.

Winnie, my friend

This is Winnie-the-Pooch. I adopted her when she was 6 months old. Winnie died today. I loved her very much.

Winnie-the-Pooch 1992-2007

Justified Racism?

One of our Jack Russell terriers got out this afternoon. We have no idea how as our backyard is fenced. We think it was when Randy got home from work and Dante and I met him at the door. Both Salad and Carrots ran to the door to greet him and I suspect that Salad came back in while Carrots snuck out. That was at 4:30 pm. At 6, I went to feed them and I noticed only Salad was on the doggie beds. Thinking Carrots had sneaked onto the couch in the den, I went in there to find her. She was gone. Missing. Instantly Randy and I hit the streets. Dante in Randy's arms and me with the leash screaming "Carrots! Carrots!' throughout the neighborhood. Quite the visual.

We searched for an hour and nothing. So, I took Dante home, thinking that Carrots may have "gone home" like a good dog would, but then I realized I was talking about Carrots and "good" is not in her repertoire. Randy continued the search.

Around 7: 30 Randy called the house from his cell phone. He had found Carrots. She was across the railroad tracks in the part of town the racist idiots call "Brown Town" and was running through the graveyard. Mind you, our backyard overlooks another part of the graveyard and we always walk through it, so I think that is how Carrots was lured. She must be a Goth dog.

Anyhow, Randy was frantic on the phone, telling me to get over there IMMEDIATELY as he had cornered Carrots but she was hurt and that there were a bunch of people threatening to shoot him for being in "their" graveyard. I called my mom and she went to get him as I wasn't going to bring Dante to this situation.

Randy was trying to get our dog. He wasn't there defiling anyone's graves. He was called "Cracker" and threatened with physical violence. Why? He asked the men to help him and explained to them that he was trying to get our dog and these people said "We don't give a fuck about you or your dog". They even threw stones at him and Carrots. My mom arrived on the scene and quickly corralled both Randy and Carrots into the SUV, but what the hell?!

This is everyone's neighborhood! Are these men saying that if I am walking around the graveyard and I venture across the tracks that I am now an intruder in "their" land? Because of my skin color? Is it justifiable racism because of the hundreds of years of discrimination they and their ancestors have endured? Were that true, should I go around calling every German a Nazi for my ancestry lies buried under the green grass at Auschwitz and Dachau? Or should I call every Russian a murderer for the millions of Jews killed in pogroms?

I don't know what to think. Carrots is home, albeit her paws are a bit cut from her adventure. Randy is home safe, although we thought he'd suffered heat stroke from chasing the dog. But had my mother not shown up, would those men really have shot my husband and dog based solely on his skin color?