Another day, another king sized helping of black outrage.
I don’t chide my community’s suffering with a light heart; but with a heart heavy from the weight of exasperation- four hundred years of it, to be precise.
Playing the role of antagonist in this week’s episode of Minority Misery was none other than career villain Piers Morgan.
In a brilliant bid to further the cause of cultural sensitivity, Piers singlehandedly defused the media storm surrounding a group of random white girls and their drunken recital of Gold Nigga- sorry Gold Digger.
Piers lays the blame on a thoroughly confused Yeezy
The ladies- and I use that in the loosest sense of the word- performed a rendition of the Kanye
hit, notable only for its remarkable lyrical accuracy.
It seems the excitable bunch were more than a little eager to let the world know who Ye’s proverbial Gold Digger was not in fact ‘looking for’.
Piers being, well Piers, came to the only conclusion that any sane person would come to; blaming the entire episode on the rapper.
‘Cause obviously that’s totally not offensive. Nigga is like a term of endearment. I mean I’m sure that’s what Piers calls his mum.
Nothing like some good old fashioned racism to get the party started
I’m going to be honest here; I am not mad at Piers.
If the truth be told I don’t care a jot what he thinks of me or any other black person for that matter.
Do I find Piers and the actions of his group of girls gone wild to be extremely distasteful? Yes I do.
It should be apparent to anyone there is something deeply sinister behind any attempt to justify the use of a word that is a synonym for degradation.
The women in question fully understood the twofold way in which their use of that word further undermined the status of black people.
There is very little doubt in my mind that reducing black men
to non-human entities and giving voice to a wider narrative in which black men habitually demean black women, was a source of enjoyment for them.
Piers when he realises no one is giving him attention
But what troubles me more is the way in which the opinion of a certified fool has black people in a state of perpetual feather unruffling.
Piers is a professional troll at best and a seasoned scab picker at worst.
Morgan goes straight for the achillies heal, aiming his parting shots at the queen of bark backs; black twitter.
And we fall for it each and every time.
Perhaps it’s time we traded in the visceral thrills of socking it to the ‘man’ (or Piers for that matter) for a healthy slice of logic.
For the world in which we ignore the persistent pokes and prods of Piers; is one in which his innate fear of irrelevance is fully realised.