Dear Rod Blagojevich
I got on Twitter on Monday morning to see a hailstorm of tweets from people talking about Rod Blagojevich making some foolish statements about President Obama. So HE has the honor of being the recipient of my first sternly-worded letter in 2010.
Oh, and this is what he said, by the way: “I’m blacker than Barack Obama. I shined shoes. I grew up in a five-room apartment. My father had a little laundromat in a black community not far from where we lived. I saw it all growing up.” (Quote from NYTimes)
Well congratulations. You shined shoes growing up. Where should I send the Gold Medal of Suffering that you clearly think you deserve to get? Where should I send the documentary filmmakers to shoot the epic named “Blago: The Struggles of Childhood?” I’m not sure what your point was in spewing that ignorance you did. In fact, you had no point. Why? Let me break it down to you.
I had no idea someone had made you some kind of expert on the Black experience, and Negro-hood. No really. Who died and made you the spokesperson for Blackness? I bet it wasn’t Rosa or Martin. Last I checked, you were from Serbia, lack melanin, and haven’t spent a DAY of your life as a Black man. Am I wrong? Did I blink and miss the day your lineage was set free in the Underground Railroad by Araminta Ross the gun-toter (aka Harriet Tubman)? Naw I didn’t.
Also, I didn’t get the memo that one of the criteria for being Black (besides being melanin-blessed) was suffering. In THAT case, my middle-class African self better go turn in some kinda Black suffering waiver because my Colored-ness may be up for debate. Do I need to go appear before the Council of Black Verificators? So I gotta live Celie’s life, not Claire’s (Huxtable) to be Black. Please stop the madness.