Signs

More and more of these signs are popping up as I run through Elkins Park with Cass: “Hate Has No Home Here” all along Beech Hill Ave. Subtle, I guess. I assume it’s meant to be comforting to the other, yet non-political, arguably a structural antagonism at this point. Must be nice to have such a small magnitude of skin in the game.

What they should say: “Hate Has No Home Here, but the general complacency, loathing and heir of superiority we’ve always had, remains.” Shit has to be signed into law for folks to notice, niggas need to be getting bagged and tagged, lives physically altered in such a way that even your pet goldfish might raise an eyebrow, before folks consider putting a sign on their lawn. Or some poetry in a few windows. Mass emails about the Social Justice Network at school. Sure, they were cute at first, but then, reaching their peak around the time 45 signed that executive order, I couldn’t help but think about how these folks could be getting their people instead.

Vaguely liberal women married to or fucking structurally incongruent humans (see, 45 supporters), folks with those jovial, yet racist, sexist, homophobic as shit family members who they got nothing but love for, and tenured professors with closed mouths and the like are really the problem. Basically, you can either get your people, or quit the false allyship. Throw away those fucking safety pins. Shut down the SJW network. Rip down the signs in the windows, trash the ones in the yard. Stop tryna blur lines and shit, ya’ll aint Robin Thicke.  

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