Dona E. Bowens

I’m just going to go ahead and admit something—I’m afraid of White Men of America, henceforth known as WMoA. Not scared like you’re scared of a Pitbull because those sonsabitches look menacing AF. (Spare me the Pitty Pity, they are menacing looking), but scared in the way you’re wary of a chihuahua. Cute, quirky and non-threatening until one day, you’ve got the thing on your lap and for no good reason that you can discern, lil chihuahua up jumps and bites your left nostril off during an episode of The Price Is Right.

I’m scared of WMoA like that. Those mofos are unpredictable with a tendency to maim. You think I’m trafficking in stereotypes? Ok, let me ask you a question, during the next mass shooting, who’s the most likely suspect? A WMoA or a Sista? Someone flips you the bird in traffic. Is it most likely a WMoA or a Sista? Who would you rather babysit your children? A WMoA priest or a Sista?

I rest my case. So, knowing all the danger associated with WMoA, I decided to get a summer job at a golf course where WMoA go to bond and plot new ways to steal from the poor and colored people of the world. I’m working in the lion’s den because I like living on the motherfucking edge. I look at my WMoA colleagues and think, “I can’t BELIEVE all you dudes voted for 45 and probably will again.” (Seventy-three percent of WMoA did go with 45, I ain’t lying.) I can’t wrap my head around how you can support 45, and all that he reps, and then turn to my Black ass an be like, “Let’s take one of these carts for a spin and see if we can get it up on two wheels.”

I went for the spin, got paid for it while thinking, “What’s the likelihood that this WMoA might ram us into a tree during a flashback to his time in Fallujah?” I gotta keep the head on a swivel around WMoA—history has taught me that. Smiling in your face while simultaneously taking away your voting rights.

My repatriation back to ‘Merica demands that I face my, let’s call it a wariness more so than a fear, of WMoA. Because, no matter how they cry about being “replaced,” they still hold power—and they have the guns to prove it.