These are the opinions of one person and are not meant to educate readers on how to think but to simply encourage readers to think. The article is divided into separate passages, each with its own topic, all of which told from the African American perspective. The article explains the perspective of the minority through individual opinions. It is divided into seperate situations that give a glimpse into how those aspects of society could be viewed and how they affect certain people.
Why are My Peers Acting This Way?
So it’s Tuesday, and my sister and I are chatting by ourselves in the living room. We talk about school, but I should’ve counted how many times the words “kill myself” were repeated or just the the general mention of suicide. We were discussing the way we and others think. Our peers are in such a depressive state. So many negative comments and dark jokes. I still remember how in class weeks ago, one student had said something along the lines of: “I realized that the world’s such a terrible place that I wouldn’t mind dying anymore,” and the teacher was a bit concerned, but we all sort of chuckled it off thinking "same"...well at least I was. My sister told me about all the examples of kids jokingly claiming they’re going to kill themselves after a test or jump off a building. I’ve heard comments about asking if anyone has some rope and those sorts of “jokes.” I myself somtimes say how I’m about to jump out the window or die a slow and painful death.
When did our minds become so naturally morbid?
A Family Anecdote
Personally, I think many of us may just be thinking pessimistically in general. Not much seems good about this world the more you think about it. Today, my family was talking, and without even realizing it, the topic of discussion would switch from one terrible thing about the world to another. My dad was reading the ingredients on his yogurt, and the discussion moved to genetically engineered foods and the poisonous types of chemicals they put in the production of foods. We concluded that there is no choice but to grow everything yourself.
The conversation touched on the wars in the Middle East, which led to bad situations in Africa where there are corrupt government and chemically polluted rivers flowing through villages. At some point during the conversation I concluded: “So we’re all just going to die, and deal with it,” and everyone immediately agreed.
How hopeless can we get?
I was told that “the only guarantee in life is death” and “accept death.” It all seems so miserable. So increasingly miserable. The topic then turned to funerals. To maintain my sanity and introduce some sort of optimism into the conversation, I suggested giving presents whenever someone dies. Everyone at the funeral can just bring gifts and dump them in the casket, so when we walk by it to pay our respects, we can grab a gift. The conversation ended with a laugh, but the morbidity and weariness of the discussion left me blank and reflective.
I didn’t appreciate how everyone agreed in the inevitability of death. It confirmed that they think the same thing as me, but that torments me and leaves me in a weird spot. They can just say it and move on; I can’t.
I hate how we have to accept everything wrong with this world and just let people spit in our faces and abuse us but act like everything is fine. I understand not being able to do anything about it, but how is that a sane reaction? How can you be fine knowing what a cesspool the country is? Oh well. Those two words should become my motto. Those two words contain so much despair and symbolize defeat. Those two words are a compromise to all the screwed-up aspects of this world that we have to deal with as humans who share this earth with evil people.
Reflection
I think the biggest issue may be the fact that I have to continue life like usual when every other day I learn about some brutal act performed on black people years ago or the regressive state of some third world country or the ways in which scientists are further screwing up the natural state of things. It’s no fun. It’s far from pleasant.
My very existence makes me a target of so much discrimination.
Black females: the most hated, wronged, disliked, put down, overlooked, disregarded and disrespected type of being on the earth. And I have the pleasure of being one of them.
The Media
Haven’t we all been hurt subconsciously to some degree? Are all people not mentally abused in some way? Do the popular TV shows not tell us who is beautiful and who is ugly? Do the songs not degrade women and over-sexualize their bodies? Do movies not question the existence of God or doubt his power? Do employers not discriminate against certain groups? Do textbooks fail to idolize white people and degrade everyone else? Does the media not spew hatred towards certain groups? Are we not all abused in this way?
Injecting my thoughts with these tormenting factors of life is the best way to get me irritated. And don’t forget that you see this crap every year, every month, every day; this is right in your face screaming to be noticed.
“Fat is ugly, blacks are stupid, Muslims are terrorists, tall and skinny not short and chunky, drugs are cool, money is power, shoot as many blacks as you like, don’t let the Mexicans in, not all lives matter, let the poor suffer, and don’t worry we’ll keep reminding you each day.”
That’s life for ya. Simply amazing. And yet I still want to live.
How can I still want to live in this world?