You think you've heard everything, all the racial struggles, but you haven't. There is one racial struggle that is silenced and overlooked, one no one wants to acknowledge. Those suffering must watch what they say, what they do, what they wear, everything, because everything can be construed grotesquely to make them seem like they're out to get everyone. The shuffle along like little puppies, flinching when someone raises a hand. Scolding is constant, even when they haven't done anything.

This, my friends, is the constant struggle of the Caucasian minority. Yes, I said Caucasian minority. Where I live that's *exactly* what I am. A minority. In the nation we're not minorities, but in certain pockets of cities we are, and we're abused.

Our ancestors, for the most part, were stupid, arrogant assholes. Enslaving, beating, raping, and suppressing a race for the color of their skin. They looked down upon people because of how they were born and raised, things they can't help. When the slaves were freed by the great man, Abraham Lincoln, they were still suppressed. They couldn't do a lot of things Caucasians could. They couldn't even live where they wanted to in most places. Our ancestors harshly suppressed them for hundreds of years.

But those ancestors are. Not. Us. I cannot stress that any more.

Everybody fucking talks about how we judge people all the time and hurt them cause they're different and all this shit, but read that sentence over. They say it as if we all do that crap.

And that my friends is called HYPOCRISY.

Of course, it's not everybody, but it is the majority. If I say something, anything, someone somewhere could easily twist it into a racist comment and suddenly I'm laying bloodied and bruised in a gutter. I have to keep my mouth shut and my eyes glued in front of me as I'm walking along.

I'm not a prejudice person. On the contrary, I am very adamant in my stand against prejudice. I feel like marching in the Gay Pride parade, because, let's face it, the non-heterosexuals are today's African-Americans of the sixties. They can't adopt or even marry for Christ's sake.

But I digress....

It doesn't matter that I'm extremely passionate about Civil Rights. Oh nooo, I'm white. The majority of this fucking nation doesn't give a flying fuck.

I used to go to a Catholic School. It was nice, I guess. My mom wanted me and my sister to go there so bad that when there was no room in our grades she had us held back.

The only problem was, my sister and I were so outnumbered. Now, from this you might surmise that I associate myself with my race, but that's not true. It's just that the majority of people where I live do. I tried to fit in, I really did. The only problem was that I wasn't Filipino.
The school was populated by bigots. The amazing part was that it was an elementary school! The parents were really involved (they had to be, otherwise they'd have to pay a fine) and they all looked down their noses at us.

I joined the school volleyball team in the fifth grade. My mom ran it and she made sure everyone got equal play. She didn't look at color or even skill. Everyone was going to play the same. Well, the other parents didn't like that. They bitched and moaned and made my mom burst into tears.

The basketball team was a whole different ball park, no pun intended. My mom wasn't coaching, rather a Filipino woman by the name of Beth. I barely got any play. The only time I did was when the other center was too tired to play.

The next year was even worse. I didn't want to play basketball at all, but my mom wanted me to. So I did, for her. We had a new girl that year, another tall girl. Guess what position she played? Yep, center. I looked at the clock one time and literally got ten seconds play in the whole game.

I hate basketball to this day.

The worst part is, my mom reminded me the other day that it used to be my favorite game. I was blinded so much by my hatred toward bigotry that I'd even forgotten the memory of loving a sport.

The only thing that keeps me proud of my heritage is an annual event. The Portuguese Fiesta. I know, it's lame, but it's true. It's just that when you live in a place that's full of people telling you you're worth nothing, that you're crap, lower than dirt, then it's tough to keep your head up high. But when I go to that annual gathering of people just like me, facing the same problems.... I just feel so close to them, even though I don't know a lot of them. I guess they all feel the same cause you could be meeting one for the first time and they'll give you a warm hug and smile as if they've known you forever. As if you're someone. As if who you are is special, not crap.

I love them all, even the ones I don't know.


You know.... If anyone thinks I'm racist for this, reread it. If you still think so then I have one word for you........ Scroll down...