While I waited for all my colleagues to finish writing the texts for the book we set out to publish together, the quarantine ended and the world moved on to a new, surprising, very effervescent topic that sparked much controversy, the racism in the United States. We all debated the subject online, and after a while, I decided to write a small article on this subject, viewed through the lens of a blonde who resonates with the hidden effects of discrimination.
The Complaints of a Blond Caucasian
For those who think I’m racist and I don’t understand The Afro American movement.
When I was between 14 and 18 years old, I was repeatedly abused by the police. Not only the police, but the abuses of the police shocked me more. When a bandit reshapes your face, it doesn’t seem abnormal, it’s within acceptable limits, but when a policeman drags you by the hair through the central square in your hometown and no one intervenes, when your parents don’t believe you either, because they say that if that didn’t happen to them, it can’t happen to you either, or worse, when the blame is placed on you, telling you that you had a dubious behavior, it doesn’t fit in with what you learned in school or you read in the fairy tales with charming princes. Yes, he dragged me through the public square by the hair, next to the statue of Matei Corvin because I refused to have sex with him. Because I was 14 years old and I didn’t know how to put on proper make-up, like any girl at the beginning of her youth, the policeman considered that I was a whore and that I could also offer him sexual services, not only to clients. Which clients? I was born as bad as a devil and I didn’t give in. I fought with him, I screamed, I argued. He slapped me so hard that I still hear my ear ringing.
A friend of mine, less courageous, who didn’t dare to fight back, was raped by the same policeman for 24 hours in a village next to our hometown where the policeman, named Jean, together with a famous bandit from that time, took her. Those who smile or raise their eyebrows, know that yes, 24 hours, with lunch and toilet breaks. Sensational man, isn’t he?
That was the beginning of our adolescence. Abuses continued. We were abused by customs officers, teachers of philosophy, biology, sports coaches, theater directors who cornered us in offices, gyms, classrooms, and wherever they could, intimidating, hitting, or in the worst cases, raping us. Then, around the age of 18, the abuse stopped. We were too old or already too smart after countless attacks, and they weren’t capable to intimidate us easily anymore.
Why I understand the expression: „If you cannot avoid a rape, find a way to make it pleasant.”
Tired of so many abuses during adolescence, the only thought I had in mind was to get married and avoid the world’s aggression. I fell in love with a celebrity from my hometown, I managed to become his girlfriend almost by forcing him and six years followed in which I consented to repeated „rapes”. Don’t get me wrong. He didn’t force me to have sex with him, on the contrary, I forced him to have sex with me so that he would accept me next to him. I preferred to be a prisoner of a relationship and have sex with one man, very handsome, nothing to complain about that than be free and always harassed by all sorts of aggressive individuals that I deeply disliked. I sincerely believed that I loved my boyfriend immensely. 18 years later, a psychologist cleared my mind. I didn’t love him, I was looking for protection and I self-hypnotized myself by alchemizing fear and turning it into love. The psychologist was right, how normal is it to romantically love a man who could be your father? He was 21 years older than me. And I didn’t stop there, because the fear I alchemized, turning it into love was too great and I married an even bigger celebrity to feel even safer. A celebrity this time only 15 years older than me, but things have remained the same. Don’t get me wrong this time either. These two celebrities are wonderful people, but it would have been more normal for me to have them as teachers rather than husbands. After 18 years of such relationships, I was exhausted and very late I realized that I was paying too much for my safety. That’s why I understand perfectly the expression “If you can’t avoid rape, find a way to make it pleasant.”
About blond women, or better said, about women in general, but I will only write in the name of the blond women.
No one understands better than Caucasian blondes the fight of African Americans, maybe that’s why many blondes and other women as well, have joined their fight. I would ask you what resonates with you when you march with them at demonstrations? What hidden drama brings you close to them?
I already hear you saying it’s not the right time to bring up the issues of blondes. It is never the right time for this subject. There is no room for blonde women to complain! I want advertising space at least! I want a moment, thirty seconds, in which I also have the right to open my mouth and make my problem known without anyone making fun of me, but I never succeed because there are much more serious problems in the world. I have no right to complain because of the color of my hair or skin. All my life I’ve had to listen to jokes about blondes, all explaining directly how stupid we are. Are they jokes? Yes, endless jokes that I was forced all my life to read and listen to, and people expected me to laugh when they made me an idiot right to my face, moreover, I often find myself playing the role of an idiot to stay in character. What do I actually do? I avoid aggression. I consent to a different kind of rape, this time emotionally.
Nobody knows that everybody terrorizes the blond women, at least emotionally. Bullied! It’s a fashionable word nowadays, isn’t it? Nobody cares about the fate of the ‘bullied’ blonds every day emotionally, physically, mentally, harassed just like the rest. Forever! It starts during childhood, it goes on during adolescence, and when the fat boys and the nerds escape the terror and harassment, we, the blondies, go on being humiliated forever. You may say, like all the other. True, but we don’t have that space for complaints because everyone thinks we’re fine, this is normal, and what else should we expect, right? Therefore, the blonds have two options. Either they put up with this situation and find some methods of survival, or they will have to spend the rest of their life protected by a man, a father, a brother, just like the Islamic women. On the other hand, the world is outraged by the Islamic woman’s condition, by the fact that she has to wear burka all her life. I have never seen anyone outraged about the blond woman’s condition because everyone assumes that she is fine. At some point, comes the time for the blondie to find a job. She is, after all, a free being that has all the rights in modern society and she is even considered privileged, the representative of „white supremacy”. Usually, the managers are men, and together with the job offer comes the dinner invitation. How many dinner invitations have a manager to offer? Does he invite to dinner all the candidates for the job? Why the blonds are always the ones who get dinner invitations? It’s flattering though, you may think. It depends. I think that in order to be efficient in a job and to be a prostitute at the same time, two salaries should be considered. Usually, the two qualifications do not match. If the manager is a woman, the blonde will not be favored too much, she will not take the job so as not to arouse envy and jealousy in the group. This is our problem, of all women; we hate each other. They say that the human being evolved so much because people organized. I say that men organized, only they did it. We, women, didn’t organize at all. We could kill each other for the attention of a man.
I have come to envy African Americans because they have each other, because they understand their problems in a community, while we are each on our own.
It can be commented that apart from the jokes about stupid blondes, everything I said happens to any woman. I’ve heard this expression thousands of times, everything I say seems to happen to anyone and it really happens, it’s like a drama competition.
And when we get older, we are ignored again, ridiculed or asked for money, because everyone thinks that blondes are rich. Simply because they have blond hair and white skin, people assume that the blonde is rich. If you see a blonde Caucasian who is still smiling, who has not dyed her hair black, who has not gained fifty kilograms and who is not yet an alcoholic to cope with all the aggression that happens to her every day, you have probably encountered one of the strongest beings on Planet Earth.
Lives matter instead of black lives matter
I don’t think we’re fighting the right enemy. Abusers exist in all shapes and colors. Our real enemies are our outdated concepts. Our real enemies are the abusers, not the color of their skin or hair.
As for the fight, neither the violent nor the non-violent one works. The Tibetans have been fighting non-violently for over 60 years and have not changed their situation, the others are fighting sometimes violently, sometimes non-violently, and yet nothing changes. I am shocked that in this millennium we are still debating such issues, and such atrocities can still happen. It’s like we went back in history centuries ago.
I’ve recently read the book “Kora” by Tibetan writer Tenzin Tsundue. Although I know the Tibetan problem well, after reading his book, for the first time, I thought about their situation in a different way. The writer tells how they, as children in India, were taught from an early age that they have a large R from the „refugee” written on their foreheads, metaphorically speaking. Who taught them that and why? Teachers and their parents? The Indians who looked at them as refugees? Either way, it seemed horrible to me. Someone labeled them as if they would have labeled some jars. They put an R-label on their foreheads, and they are like little soldiers following the instructions of their predecessors. Maybe if no one labeled them, those children would have simply become human beings, not refugees and they could have chosen a different destiny for themselves.
Our parents and teachers taught us the old concepts, but we are the ones who should teach them new concepts. If we continue to fight the past, we will have very little time left to build a different future. I can be seen as a blonde Caucasian, a privileged person, but the prison of the mind is the same for everyone, only on different levels and issues.
In my opinion, other people are not enemies. The real enemies are the outdated concepts we inherited, and we carry them on our shoulders as if they were our own burdens. Blessed are those who inherit a bag of money. Woe to us who bear outdated spiritual heritage.
What I have written so far is addressed only to mediocre beings, to those who don’t have a special talent and don’t manage to stand out from the crowd. I don’t have a special talent, I am ok in everything, but I haven’t shone in any way, and the white color of my skin was not necessarily an advantage. Those who are really talented and who really want to succeed in life don’t stop because of the color of their skin. I was a big fan of Whitney Houston. A woman born with such a voice cannot be ignored. I worship Barrack Obama. A man with such intelligence cannot be ignored. I heard someone saying that he was part of the elite and he’s an exception, but I read that he was a simple man, the son of a Kenyan, his grandfather is still in Kenya, but his intelligence made him the president of the United States of America. His intelligence, not his skin color. Therefore, it is possible for those who are really special. And I would continue with the examples, I could extend my examples to all races, nations, genders, and religions. I just want to say that not all white cops are like Jean or the American police officer whose name I didn’t bother to remember, and not all African cops are flawless. I often remember the Rwandan civil war that shocked me deeply. Racism is common to all, that’s why I repeat, we fight against people when we should fight against concepts, education, inheritances.
What I really hate at the moment is that thanks to this drama competition, we all turn into victims in order to get as much attention as possible. I’m not surprised because we live in a society that venerates failure and ignores success. Wherever I go, I discover facilities only for people with problems. No wonder we have such a competition to become a victim. If you are not a person with disabilities, if you are not in the care of the state, an old man, a sick person, a person from disadvantaged categories, you do not receive discounts anywhere, not even to see Gioconda at the Louvre Museum. A successful person has to pay the full price for the ticket. “You have to have a problem if you want someone to help you”, a lady once told me, “or you’ll end up under bridges, homeless”. Yes, but when we end up under the bridges, homeless, we get social assistance. Isn’t it profitable to become a victim?
I want to fight for success and ignore all problems. I want the borders to be erased, nationalism to be abandoned. I want any remarks about another person’s race, nationality, sex, or religion to be outlawed. I want it to become illegal to make a remark about someone’s body, opinion, place of birth. Preserving national and racial identity is a call to conflict if we do not do it only to preserve diversity.