I Am Bee Mice Elf

“It ain't what they call you, it's what you answer to.” ~W.C. Fields

White Trash and Niggers

Written By: IAmBeeMiceElf - Aug• 15•13

It is said that children are like clay.  All our actions and words will mold that child into the adults they become.  The less than positive impressions we make on them will forever be the scars they show to the world.  Charles R. Swindoll said “Prejudice is a learned trait. You’re not born prejudiced; you’re taught it.”  It’s funny, the things we teach our kids to fear or hate because of how those things were impressed on us when we were children, taught to us by our own parents.

This picture has popped up on my Facebook newsfeed several times now.  While I have not seen anyone “defend” the family in the red SUV at Tim Horton’s, I know there are people who agree about “dirty bikers” and cross the street or hold their pocketbooks and children a little closer when they see these “dirt bags” coming.

dirty biker

Original Link as far as I know. 😀

To the family in the red SUV at Tim Horton’s today.
Yes I am a big 280 lbs guy with motorcycles and a full of tattoos, I am a welder, I am loud,
I drink beer, I swear and I look like I would eat your soul if you stare at me wrong.

What you don’t know is that I have been happily married for 11 years, my kids call me daddy, I am a college graduate, my mother is proud of me and tells everyone how lucky she is to have such a wonderful son, my nieces and nephews are always happy to see there m’nonci Luc, when my daughter broke her arm I cried more than she did. I read books, I help people, I go out of my way to thank war veterans and I even cried at Armageddon…

So next time I smile and say hi to your little girl and you grab her and tell her “No no dear we don’t talk to dirty bikers” remember that even tho you hurt my feelings this “dirty biker” would be the first person to run into your burning house to save your little girls gold fish so she wouldn’t be sad!!!!

Maybe you feel “justified” in your prejudice.  Maybe you use the term “nigger” because a black person done you wrong.  Maybe your “white trash” neighbor was a drunk who beat his wife and kids and kicked his dog.    These are the things that were impressed upon you, and that is the scar you want to give your children.  Hey, they’re your kids, you can screw them up any way you want.  The thing is, the only thing that makes your impression “truth” is your belief in it.  What? Well, if I don’t think bikers are white trash, it’s because it was not impressed in my clay, it is not “truth” for me.

MY “truth” is, when my family needed help, the only ones who could, or would, do ANYTHING, were “white trash” and “niggers”.   After many years of living with a physically and emotionally abusive alcoholic, my mother met one of the greatest men I will ever have met in my life.  The joy and elation was short lived, as, he was diagnosed with cancer and went through chemo until the day he died after an agonizing, painful death.  His adult children proved to be (without exaggeration!) the physical embodiment’s of Satan on earth – going so far as to shut the gas and electric in the house we were living in and calling the insurance company and telling them not to pay my mother the piddly, just enough to bury him, insurance policy because his cancer was a preexisting condition.

My mother, was working full time, getting NO child support, and raising 2 teenage girls and a tween, completely on her own.  Struggling single woman living alone with 3 young girls is prey to real scum bags (aka NOT “white trash bikers” and “niggers”) – the perfect opportunity to exploit and manipulate someone in need.  THE BEST part is that, we were far from “in need” of anything this particular scum bag could give us.  We had each other, we had family who would never let us fall, and we had “white trash” and “niggers” to back us up.

It started with the whistles and cat calls from his house to ours.  He was the park manager and he lived in the trailer across the street with his wife and kids. (yeah, yeah,,, go ahead, a defensive white trash blog from a girl who lived in a trailer — fuck you, I had a roof over my head and it was paid for with dollars from an honest days work, and there’s NEVER any shame in THAT!) …. He would whistle at my 15 year old girl friends.  He would tell my mother she could skip the lot rent for “favors in lieu of”.  He had a key to our mailbox (in case we moved out in the middle of the night with our key, or some dumb shit like that,)

We called the police – he didn’t break any laws.  We called the park owner – they’ll “talk” to him.  Of course he denied it – his wife and kids backed him up.  He would have his friends come over and sit in lawn chairs facing our house (so we couldn’t, and didn’t want to, sit outside), he would get his daughters young friends to try and pick fist fights with us (as if he was fighting us vicariously through them and they couldn’t press charges because we were all underage, not that we ever took the bait.)

ENTER: “white trash” and “niggers”… on motorcycles, in classic cars, in old white trash beater cars, on foot — they popped the trunks of their cars to display arsenals of rifles, handguns, shotguns — maybe a machine gun and grenade or two ((the statute of limitations have long since expired and they were probably legal then, it was the mid 80’s)) They sat on our porch, on their bikes and in our house.  By the time the trail of road dust had settled and beers were being cracked open — across the street, blinds were closed and curtains were drawn.

The next day, when everyone had gone –  the scum rose to the top — “What are you gonna do now? Your biker friends aren’t here! Your nigger friends aren’t here?”   So that night…. and every night – until the day they moved out, quickly and unexpectedly, a month later – our “white trash biker” and “nigger” friends came over and protected my family. I firmly believe – you always find exactly what you’re looking for.  What I find is that class has NOTHING to do with money and “nigger” is usually used by the white people who define the word.

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