Oh, Ray… or, What Happens When You Love the Wrong Things

So I was wrong.

Ray-ray said he was praying–hence the bended knees as opposed to the bended knee.

Oh. Aight. I’m saved, so I am well versed in saying, “I’m sorry; please forgive me.” It’s kinda our thing. So: I’m sorry. Please forgive me.

But I haz questions.

What were you praying for? It could not have been for black lives; your black ass has made it right clear that you couldn’t care less about the black bodies being beaten, abused, murdered, and disrespected here in these United States of America. It could not have been for the black people who have lost their lives and their families who have lost loved ones to a police state made just for those of us blessed with melanin. Your prayers must not have been for our children, who spot police card like white people bird watch.

And more importantly: Who were you praying to? Because no god I’ve studied–be it reason or science or Allah or Buddha or my personal Jesus–would ever condone the continued terrorism under which people of color (an most especially black people) all over the world have suffered in the name of whatever white folks is calling racism (e.g. Fascism, nationalism, patriotism, colonialism, capitalism, et. al.).

But see, I get it. I do.

Nothing is more intoxicating than validation from those in power. Nothing is more worthy of worship than acknowledgement that you have worth. And these folks have made you think that because they have pinched off a piece of their wealth and given you a little hush money, that you have been washed in the blood of the dollar and have been made as white as…well. Listen.

Still. Nigga.

I felt bad for you. Really. Because you dropped to your knees in submission and service to those NFL owners and their any given Sunday congregants and instead of applause, they burning Ravens’ gear and stalking your statue–even after you told them you wasn’t “Kaeping.” Because as good as the money, the second level access, the proximity to whiteness may seem to you, money doesn’t save completely. Only Jesus does that (fight me). And that same white hot anger of mobs past has now been directed at you. Now black people can’t stand you; white people want to harm you. And you have lost your soul.

Last question: what does it profit a man to lose his soul? Is there enough money, enough white proximity in the world to measure to the value of what you lost? How do you look at yourself every day? Are there enough old white guys reassuring you to cover their taint long enough for you to rest?

I made serious fun when this went down because Gemini and that evil twin came out but my serious side really does consider the lesson in Ray’s life. This is what it looks like when you get blinded by whiteness so much that you forget that you aren’t. You aren’t an owner. You aren’t an equal in the eyes of the system. You aren’t a real human being because you’re Black.

You get used. You become isolated. You are thrown under the bus. They are toasting their slight of hand in places they never invite us to and he is bearing the load, another black sacrifice to the god of this world: money.

Identity > Ideology.

Let this be a lesson to us all.

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