Nonwhites living in the West are giddy:
One, she’s technically right. Two, shit that never happened. Those sassy rejoinders are a genre of fiction. Three, they relish their stroke of good fortune of being alive when Whites have a government boot on their necks. Four, people aren’t designed to mix socially across race. Five, I wonder how common it’s becoming, to loathe the sight of a nonwhite just being there, where we wish to be ourselves. Tradition, such as boys’ baseball league, is profaned when shared with foreigners. Six, this is a transitional moment in history. The question is, a transition what. Seven, all races will revert to what they’ve been for thousands of years.
Also, you might know a good one. Yet he feels profound satisfaction at what he sees as the cosmic justice of racism being (at this flash-moment in history) crushed while nonwhites’ most depraved iniquities against us are being indulged. This notion of “racism,” to a White person, is associated with the idea of guilt over cruel treatment of an inferior being. To a nonwhite, “racism” is simply a reminder of the differences between us, for which they despise us: