Things I Didn’t Say to a Black Racist Bicyclist

Note: In the comments, a few identitarians suggest I made up this story. I understand why they think it’s odd — I thought it was odd when it happened. If I was going to make up a story about meeting a black racist, I assure you, I would make up a story about an angry person yelling and maybe throwing something. People want racists to fit their cliches. But the reality is racists of all races range from polite to homicidal. Most are usually closer to civil than violent.

I was pedaling home from the dentist early this afternoon when I saw a young man on a bicycle coming my way. I noted a few things about him—he looked about twenty, he was black, he was playing music from a radio or an MP3 player—as I gave him my usual nod and a smile.

He said, “Don’t say hi to me. I don’t like white people” in a matter-of-fact way as he rode by. My first reaction was a mental shrug. I am not young and my idealism has been tarnished by reality, so having a black racist say something dismissing to me because he only sees race does not make me burst out in what has the sexist name of “white girl tears”. It doesn’t even make me particularly sad, and most of my slight sadness comes from my failure to shout, “I don’t like them either!” People who thought of themselves as white made anonymous death threats to my parents and bullied me in school because my family was involved in the civil rights movement. Today, I just pity people whose understanding of the world is literally skin deep.