Former National Review writer John Derbyshire, really outdid himself this time and wrote his way right out of his job. I’m not a National Review fan, but kudos to them for saying he went too far and showing him the door. The author of the book titled “The Case Against Women’s Suffrage” took off his mask, or what there was of it, and exposed himself for the venal, racist person he is. In a recent column, after bemoaning the fact that he couldn’t use the “N” word and whining that blacks can use it without fear of being labeled racist (well I guess not!), he told the world how he teaches his children about race, specifically the rules for dealing with black people.
(10a) Avoid concentrations of blacks not all known to you personally.
(10b) Stay out of heavily black neighborhoods.
(10c) If planning a trip to a beach or amusement park at some date, find out whether it is likely to be swamped with blacks on that date (neglect of that one got me the closest I have ever gotten to death by gunshot).
(10d) Do not attend events likely to draw a lot of blacks.
(10e) If you are at some public event at which the number of blacks suddenly swells, leave as quickly as possible.
(10f) Do not settle in a district or municipality run by black politicians.
(10g) Before voting for a black politician, scrutinize his/her character much more carefully than you would a white.
(10h) Do not act the Good Samaritan to blacks in apparent distress, e.g., on the highway.
(10i) If accosted by a strange black in the street, smile and say something polite but keep moving.
(11) The mean intelligence of blacks is much lower than for whites. The least intelligent ten percent of whites have IQs below 81; forty percent of blacks have IQs that low. Only one black in six is more intelligent than the average white; five whites out of six are more intelligent than the average black. These differences show in every test of general cognitive ability that anyone, of any race or nationality, has yet been able to devise. They are reflected in countless everyday situations. “Life is an IQ test.”
Mr. Derbyshire obviously isn’t acquainted with many people of color, because if that were the case, he would have realized just how ugly and ridiculous his hateful screed is. So I have a few tales to tell him about my personal experiences with those dangerous darkies. He’d probably discount them because hey! I’m a woman and according to him, I shouldn’t exercise my right to vote. But given his predilections, I rather doubt he’d be a fan of Addicting Info anyway.
I grew up in Baltimore Maryland, a city with a large black population. I never saw black people unless it was from the bus, traveling through “those parts” of town. However, I had an uncle who was a Jesuit Brother and one weekend he made the trip from Philadelphia and brought with him a woman and her daughter from his parish. The woman was black and her daughter was about my age. I was excited because we had colored people (that’s what they were called back then) visiting. In retrospect, I know the entire neighborhood was on tenterhooks, convinced that this woman and young girl would somehow do something terrible that would culminate in the destruction of Glenoak Avenue. Meanwhile, I learned that these people were no different from us. The girl – I don’t recall her name because it’s been so many years – and I and my sister went up to our room and played with dolls and talked about girl things. She was just like all of my other friends except her skin was darker.
Years later, when I was in high school, desegregation happened and my school, a Catholic high school, had its first and at that time only, black student. Her name I remember. Michelle Johnson. I wondered what it must feel like for her, being the only black student in a school of several thousand.
A few years later, I got to experience an inkling of what she must have felt. At least I hope her experience paralleled mine. Due to circumstances beyond my control, I was remanded to secretarial college, which was a huge and nasty joke on me and early on, I decided that it was not my thing always being the rebel, instead of going to classes, I went around the corner to the Pixie Pizza Shop with another friend who shared my disdain for all things secretarial and danced to the tunes on the jukebox with the blacks boys who worked there. Oddly enough, they never killed or raped me. Actually, one of them asked me out and I said yes.
Of course I lied to my mother, who although a very progressive woman, wasn’t quite that progressive. My date and I and my friend Sharon and her date, also a black boy, went to an all black club. Sharon and I were the only two white faces in the joint. I’ll admit we got a few looks – but they weren’t hostile, just “what are you doing here?” – and not for one second did I feel threatened. It was a real Hairspray (the John Waters film) moment. The boy I was with was just like any other date I had except his skin was darker than mine.
Later on, when I was married, my new husband and I and our neighbors drove to a beach in Pensacola Florida. We didn’t realize that although the country was desegregated, nobody bothered to tell the South. One weekend we set out for the beach and finding one, drove up the road leading to it. It was a black beach. Did those nasty Negroes attack us? Did they kill our husbands and rape the two females? No. They did laugh and point at the Yankees who didn’t know the rules of the road in Florida at the time.
I’ve got so many stories but they wouldn’t matter to someone like Derbyshire, who considers anyone not just like him to be subhuman and not worthy of the same freedoms afforded to those who are white. I’m glad he’s lost his job and I wish it would make him stop and think. But a man who would teach his children hatred, a man who would posit that although he thinks women should have the right to vote but really shouldn’t exercise it because the country would be better off if they didn’t – that is a man so lost in negativity that I don’t think there is a way back. He steadfastly refuses to realize that there is no “us” and there is no “them,” there is only all of us in this great American experiment together and attitudes like his are a recipe for failure. To him, I have only this to say: We shall overcome.