The great harmonica of social media. Amusing in some ways, chic progressives feel the heart of me and then read a post like this, which even with my blizzard taut nerves as they are, I did not have to write. Do I really feel this way about black urban norms? After 30 years of being a minority in it, yes. I destroyed myself at my own insistence, for which I cannot forgive myself, and now it's almost too late. I am nearly on the same trajectory as any other Presbyterian resident who gets ground up to a sausage puree-- only I am a little too young, and the building manager, the cheap Oprah imitator preying on my fears, isn't fooling anyone. I've seen Presby put countless residents away, and I shouldn't have had to live under this paradigm, and then a woman like Trudy, who completes a training course in occupancy, gets to terrorize a former career professional with over $30 grand in debt for a graduate education.
Racist? Yes, honest, intimidating, and furious, feeling persecuted for my life. It turns out I knew who the old woman was, by sight, and in a terse, clipped interaction told her to take me off her card list, that I wasn't family and was an atheist, and resented the Matthew quotations, and was trying to leave the corporation. She said okay, looking like the picturesque version of the sharecropper who migrated North. She'll be dead soon. I probably will be too, and hopefully my fury will find a way to punish the city housing authority, and I mean, inflict punishment.
I'll be gone soon, in any case. I'd rather become homeless than die caught between black-Korean tensions with outlier white trash winking about it to each other in code. People shouldn't be forced to live like this, and before Lyndon Johnson they probably weren't.
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