One of the more obnoxious and tiresome aspects of white liberal cultural degeneration in the postmodern era is the tendency to assign moral superiority and progress to things that are ostensibly “black” and moral inferiority and backwardness to things that are “white.” I’m sure we’re all familiar with the phenomenon of a group of liberal whites sitting around engaging in a rhetorical contest with each other over who “understands” black people more, who is more in touch with the black community, who has more black friends, who listens to the blackest music etc.
Usually the winner is able to expose the other whites as being into things that are faux-black but marketed to whites, while he is into the “real” black. So the blackest, and therefore the most moral, white in this scenario is the one that doesn’t listen to “mainstream” hip-hop, but instead is into the more gritty “underground” style that is supposedly more authentically black.
(Protip: It’s not. So-called “underground” hip-hop is pretty much exclusively marketed to white teens, while black radio stations that black people listen to play the mainstream stuff. Merchant is crafty and understands how to get liberal whites to open their wallets.)
The recent passing of Nelson Mandela offered a fantastic opportunity for white liberals to engage in their favorite game of browbeating and morally one-upping other whites by proving themselves to be “blacker-than-thou.” A rather banal, pathetic and nauseating example of this comes to us from “Shaun” the front man of white South African alternative-grunge group Seether. I will quote in full so we can all see Shaun “Fake It” for his white audience. Feel free to TL/DR if it begins to turn your stomach.
“I can remember the moment I watched Nelson Mandela walk out of prison after his 27 years of incarceration. I was sitting in my uncle’s house, surrounded by family, and I was transfixed by a monumental moment in history that I couldn’t even fathom at the time. I was privileged to be witnessing history and the transformation of the country I had grown up in. I was watching my world change and I had no idea what was in store for me. It was 1990 and I was 12 years old – all I knew was that this was going to be fucking epic!
Suddenly, all the “Whites Only” signs on the beaches I’d been to as a kid started disappearing! Those obnoxious “Swartes Alleen” signs started getting pulled down. No longer were the whites of South Africa being handed the prime real estate of the beaches, or indeed, the country in general. Change was in the fucking wind!
The next time I went to school it was very different. I started 7th Grade (or Standard 5 in South Africa at the time) and I was suddenly exposed to, gasp, black kids in school with me. It was such a novelty, and so interesting and different. I had never seen black children in uniform, let alone at reputable schools. I had grown up with black friends my age on the farm in Thornville, Kwazulu-Natal, but we had come from such different backgrounds. This was a new beast, and I loved it! Here was my stuffy English government school in Pietermaritzburg that was suddenly accepting kids of all races. Black, Indian, Chinese… Everyone! Fucking weird man…
Just a year below me was a kid I loved. He was black and angry and didn’t give a fuck about the rules. He was defiant and refused to tow any lines. I loved him. His name was Anton Luthuli. He was Albert Luthuli’s grandson, I believe. Look that shit up. All I know is, I fucking loved his anarchist outlook. He was a badass. I’m sure he still is.
Anyway, that was a little history. I’m sorry I rambled. Here’s the fucking point…
Nelson Mandela changed my life, and changed the country I call home. He was an amazing man that achieved more than I could ever hope to. We, as South Africans, can never even begin to explain how much we loved this man. He was our father. Our grandfather. Our motherfucking “Madiba”. He was the reason any of us had hope to believe that we could break barriers and become more than life had restricted us to, based on socio-political standing. He made us all believe that we could be anything we believed in our hearts we were meant to be. He was a symbol of strength and unity, and he was the best fucking South African to ever live. I hope that I can be a tenth of the man he was. God, I’d settle for a hundredth.
Rest in peace, Madiba. Thank you for the way you changed my life. Thank you for the lessons I learned from you. Thank you. Thank you. There is a void in this world that will never be filled.
Hopefully he gets as much of a kick out of all the poser assholes who wrote their obligatory tweets of remorse for his passing as I did. There is nothing in this world that offends me more than fake fucking condolences. I only know how to say this in Zulu to show respect for a Xhosa man… Hamba kahle, Madiba. Ngiyabonga. Lala kahle.” —Shaun
So our friend Shaun has used the passing of the glorious leader he supposedly respected and loved so much as a platform from which to launch a verbal assault at other whites. This is not just his eulogy for Mandela. As bad as that would be, it would be more respectable than this. No, this rant is directed at other whites for having the audacity to try to horn in on what he sees as his territory of being the white most in touch with blackness.
As we can see Shaun is hitting on all the points here. He grew up around blacks you see. He broke barriers by daring to interact with them. He felt oppressed by his stuffy white school and the white cultural norms he was surrounded with. He was a special snowflake, but not a white one, in a world that just didn’t understand his black soul. And just in case there was any doubt that Shaun is the hands down winner of this round of the “blacker-than-thou” game, he leaves us with a few words of Zulu since white language apparently cannot express the depth of his oh-so-important feels.
Congratulations Shaun! You are the undisputed champion of this week’s round of “Blacker-than-thou: Mandela edition.” Liberal whites around the globe are no doubt shamed and chastened by your witheringly self-righteous verbal lambasting and writhe in their own bitterness and self-loathing, vowing revenge until the next round of the game. You can pick up your medal of courage at the kiosk in the lobby.