I am a white person. But I’m not one of those – you know – like, a white white person? My friends often pay me the compliment of telling me that I am not “really white,” and I am quite proud of my not-really-white whiteness.
Especially because I have just read the story that has finally put me over the edge. I’ve decided that I have put up with my association with “these people” for too long, since I read this story in Jezebel about a yoga studio in Santa Barbara which
recently held a “Ghetto Fabulous” yoga class. In preparation, students were instructed to wear cornrows, snapback caps and heavy lipliner along with their lululemon leggings. Who knew gang signs could be so cute?! The invite promised to provide “various costumes” — there was a do-rag giveaway, attendees said — and “guaranteed belly laughs.”
Look, I realize that I am always going to be white – there’s nothing that can be done about this. But from now on, all of you terrible white people living in rich, insular, void-of-any-hint-of-self-awareness, über-white communities – I denounce you. We may share the same vaguely-European, over-privileged, oppressive history, but pigmentation is the only thing that we have in common now.