no

lucha

I wear the mask of racism and claim to not be a part of it as I benefit from its insidious ways.

It is not of Christ to do so. With Jesus at my side I deny or hide from the existence of racism.

With the cock of Peter waiting for me to deny I am a part of racism and that I benefit daily from its corrupted grip I wear my mask.

The mask that says, NO. The mask that hides my true nature. The mask that all but burns crosses on lawns and hangs people in trees because of the color of their skin.

I am more civilized than that. I remain silent. I keep quiet. Afraid that I shall be exposed and lose the edge I have and be exposed as a racist.

My mask hides the smirk behind the smile on my face as I go sans impunity to places I shall not be judged. With privilege in my heart I roam. Choosing to mark my skin and bleed my heart to causes over the struggle of people’s right to live free.

Liberty colors my mask. My mask protects my right to hate, my right to benefit from the misery of others. My mask feeds my family at the expense of black skinned mothers caught in a cycle of poverty that must exist in order for the good times to roll.

My mask hides the crying eyes that are aware of this. My mask hides the anxiety and fear as I ponder the inequity and privilege must end. My mask cannot last forever.

My mask must end.

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