We are so lost at times.

There are some deep rooted issues of self-hate in the black community. Although this isn’t news for many, it’s always seems to rear its ugly head in the most awkward moments.

Like most African-Americans who grew up the nation’s most segregated city better known as Chicago, I lived in an all-black neighborhood. The only diversity was seen at school and with the Koreans and Arabs who owned the stores in my neighborhood.
But something also developed in the wake of this: self hate. Before I went to college at Southern Illinois University, I actually believed that black people were more ignorant than any other race. Boy was I lost.

I have heard other black people say numerous times out of their mouths, “I hate black people.” And really mean it!

How have we gone from “Black is Beautiful” to “I Hate Black People”? When I hear things like that it reminds me of what I learned in my history classes about how the slave owners would frequently pit slaves against each to divide and conquer.

Recently I heard one of my black co-workers admit to that while we’re at work. The sound of that made me cringe. But the first thing I thought was, “I’m glad he didn’t say nigga.” That’s how you know shit is ridiculous.

I feel like the self-hate in our community emerges in various forms on a daily basis. So much so that I’m going to make it a reoccurring post on the Veronicolumn.

This isn’t something I’m looking forward to but something that continues to reveal itself time and time again.

Maddened & Exasperated  

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