So I got into a very lengthy argument about racism and pro wrestling last night, because of course I would. Why wouldn’t I? When a promoter books wrestling stories that don’t merely depict racism, but actively are racist by casting the racists as just and good so as to make the racist audience happy, never once challenging them but rather glorifying their attitudes, that’s racist storytelling. Seems simple enough.
Not for this troglodita, who can’t seem to help but try to educate me on the difference between character and creator like it’s something I wasn’t accounting for right away. Complete with violent epithets because he can’t handle being wrong.
So if you’re feeling like getting annoyed but watching an idiot get calmly and repeatedly put in his place in a way that the rest of the community clearly approved of by the upvote totals, enjoy.
I’m sure y’all will ask me why I was so patient with the dumbfuck here, and probably the best I can say is that it was for the benefit of anyone who happened to read. The guy himself - hopeless, can’t even read my comments and comprehend them on a basic level. He’d struggle for a D in my class.
I feel like I’ve been dealing a bit with people who don’t know how to read recently. One of my students even thought Langston Hughes’ poem “Mother to Son” was a happy poem, and several seemed to struggle with A Raisin in the Sun once I was no longer holding their hand.
Educating white folks on race is exhausting and not terribly successful work, as I’m sure y’all know full well.