Without Peer

I had a  run-in recently with some hard-headed, willfully obtuse neo-separatist bigots. The Black kind, (I don’t even talk to the White kind). I had made an assertion earlier that I should be spoken to as a peer, as an equal, not typecast as a White troll because I’m identifiable as what’s referred to there as ‘Albinic.’ That’s what some people are calling White people now.  It’s touché for ‘Mongoloid’ – which is the word for both a race of people (Asians) and mental retardation. So that’s the new racial ‘science,’ the new spin on European skintone is that it’s caused by a genetic disorder. Unhealthy, malfunctioning DNA. Albinism.

Okay, after 600 years of being constantly maligned as inferior subhumans, you don’t talk like that to a Serb.

Not unless you’re ready to be in for it.

Persecuted Albino

And I thought about it and realized that I don’t have any peers. Not that I know of yet. I would love to find some, often anguish for lack of any, but so far this outlier has not yet hooked up with one.

To be my peer, someone Black would have to have been raised by a parent who was totally obsessed with Serbians, hated them with a passion and talked about them non-stop, but was, confoundedly, giving you an inordinate amount of attention and covert approval whenever you found a way to effectively refute everything he was saying. By the time you were 18 you had refuted every Anti-Serb argument known to man.

Okay, we’re on point #1 and already, how many Black people do you know who can claim that? I mean, you know I’m just kidding.

refugeesThen you would have to have married a Serbian refugee 20 years ago, who would be regaling you with horror stories about what they’ve been through. About the day the cops stopped a harmless old drunk Serb in the street, put a noose around his neck, tied it to the bumper of the squad car, then dragged his body through the Serbian part of town for a couple of hours to let everybody know what time it was. And you listen, and listen and listen because there’s something hypnotic about it to you. It resonates. And damn it, you just really care about people who’ve been through things like that. That’s just the way you feel about it.

bealsYou feel that way because, unbeknownst to you, your grandma was a very beautiful Black woman so White looking she got snatched up out of a whorehouse and married to a Croatian fascist Ustasha in hiding who treated her like a slave.

You don’t know about the Black part, but the slave part was unmistakable in any configuration. It was his child, your parent, damaged by that racism, who ranted about Serbs and was placated to hear them defended. You are one of those people who, whether by DNA, or instinct, or a Sixth Sense feels immutability down to your least corpuscle that people like that are very special, very precious and worth any kind of effort. And being the grandchild of a slave, you have oppression issues of your own to deal with.

So you spend twenty years paying loving attention to this PTSD’d Serbian refugee. Concurrently you adopt special-needs Serbian war orphans. You defer your own ambitions in order to enable the ambitions of your partner, and hurtle those children through every kind of therapy, remediation, tutoring, whatever, known to man to try and give them a real life after all they’ve been through. That’s what encompasses the middle portion of your lifespan.

Ko To Tamo Peva, the movie

And all the while all of this has been going on you have been paying rapt attention to everything about Serbs you can find, many thousands of hours, going all the way back to when you were a child getting attention for refuting hateful talk about Serbs. Movies, music, history, philosophy, literature, the arts, current events. You become fluent in the language and are obviously well-versed in the culture. You convert to the Serbian-Orthodox church.

Then you find out who grandma really was and that  you’re really Black. And you hit the ground running because you’ve been talking about all the same shit all your life. That’s who you’ve been loving all along.

Okay, that would be my peer. That would be someone who had the same reference to Serbs as I have to African Americans. That’s who would readily and fully understand where I’m coming from.

Then it occurred to me that since I have no peers I have an obligation to teach.

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