3/1/92 OK I will admit that I don’t know much about Malcolm X. Paul Mariah says he was a separatist, high up in the Black Muslim movement, and when he no longer wanted separatism, they assassinated him. He was like Martin Luther King, but with more guts, more fire, says Paul. I dream about the assassination of self. I had a dream. Now it takes a somewhat macabre and humorous twist. Malcolm X blowing himself up in a public bathroom. What a colossal waste. King, too cool to intervene, or to take sides.
And I’m pissed as hell about all this multicultural crap dividing us, making us enemies. I relate to the oppressed easily. I am Irish, I know firsthand of oppression and xenophobia. Susan says we need a workshop on how to deal with the sensitive egos of men, when we women, both Black and white, are forced to tippytoe around them. All their male supremest bullshit. It’s the women who are oppressed, not the men. Why the hell are we women supposed to be so discreet, and not rock their ego boats, why don’t they learn to not offend us? Why are we supposed to be the bootlickers? I find it offensive that I’m supposed to learn the appropriate new language to deal with Roberto, a Black Latino, when he isn’t required to do the same of me, or other women. That is not equality. Nor is it a case of cultural sensitivity. It is not a neutral meeting ground.
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