Stuff Black People Hate

Sunday mornings in Spring are my favorite time of year, assuming I’m not hung over from the night before. On these mornings, I wake up before dawn and go running around the monuments on the Mall as part of my training regimen for the dance season.

Figure 1: Ah, the serenity of it all

There’s nothing more relaxing than my 9 mile Sunday morning run. The smell of dew and flowers in the air, birds chirping, squirrels and chipmunks everywhere, mature trees, the illuminated marble beauty of the monuments, the red sunrise…the terrified shriek of the inattentive white woman I just spooked.

This is the third motherfucking goddamn time this shit has happened to me, and for some reason it’s always involved a white woman being somewhere she shouldn’t be at a time she shouldn’t be there engaged in some activity that just screams “EASY FUCKING TARGET!” I’ll be running, usually in the dark just before dawn or just after dusk, and some white chick will be walking alone in a secluded and extremely dark area where she is talking VERY loudly on her cellphone and paying attention to absolutely dick.

Figure 2: A danger to herself and everyone else

Next thing you know, I’m within six feet of this fucking idiot, she finally hears my footsteps, turns around to see a large black man running up behind her, SCREAMS!!!!, throws all her shit up in the air, and sends me sprinting away from the area before some cop assumes I’m a rapist and I wind up getting shot in the back like that dude in Glory.

One such incident occurred while I was in college and I was running in the dimly lit corridor that connects a parking lot with one of the residence halls. It happened again when I was running in Rockville some damn where. And finally, it happened yesterday - and this one was by far the worst.

During the previous two incidents, I a.) was jogging and b.) saw the dumbass chick before the shit happened. This time, however, I was in a full sprint down the length of the Reflecting Pool (which is lined with mature shade trees and is, therefore, VERY dark) and I didn’t see or hear the woman. I’m about halfway down the pool when I suddenly hear “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

I think I’m under attack by a whino or a homeless dude, so I respond to this reflexively by shrieking out a war whoop, drawing the small dagger I keep strapped around my forearm during my nighttime runs, and charging in her direction (thanks Dad). When I finally make out who she is, she is frozen in fear…but with the cellphone still stuck up against her empty head.

I stop, stare at her in disbelief, sheathe the dagger, grunt angrily, and jog off.

Figure 3: Police composite sketch of me fleeing the scene

I will never understand why white women (and asian and black women, to a lesser extent) feel they have both the need and the right to walk around alone in the dark while chatting away on their cellphones. The three spooky negro incidents I’ve mentioned above renders the argument that women are master multitaskers completely fucking false - when a woman is on her phone, she completely loses all peripheral focus even if she’s in danger and has ample warning*.

I can hear the counterarguments already: “BUT CHRIS! WE’RE ON THE PHONE SO THAT IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO US, SOMEONE WILL KNOW!”

1.) You shouldn’t be in that situation in the first place. There is no reason to be walking around at night in unlit areas by yourself in a major fucking city**

2.) Your friend on the other end of the line can’t help you. If that friend didn’t immediately say “GET THE FUCK OFF THE PHONE SO YOU CAN PAY ATTENTION” and hang up, then your friend is as dumb as you are. As she hears your cries for help while you’re being mugged in an alley somewhere, she’ll run around her dorm for ten minutes hysterically yelling “OMIGOD DOES ANYBODY KNOW THE NUMBER TO 911?!?!?!”

Ladies, especially you white ladies, put down the phone and pick up your ears and your pepper spray. Better yet, stop walking around in the dark at night by yourself for no fucking reason. Stop going to frat parties and accepting drinks handed to you by a guy that’s hiding a bottle of pills behind his toga. Stop needlessly putting yourselves in dangerous situations and acting surprised when bad shit happens to you. And most importantly…

STOP RUINING MY SUNDAY MORNING RUN.

*The Reflecting Pool is about 200 yards shy of being 1/2 mile long. The woman was spooked right at mid-length, meaning she had 1/4 mile of my hard breathing and heavy stomping to hear me…if she hadn’t been on the fucking phone.

**I know I’m guilty of this too - after all, I was also running around by the Reflecting Pool in the dark. I am also not a frail, inattentive, and easily spooked white woman. I am 6′3″ tall, I weigh 190lbs, I am already running, and I am armed with knives. I’m not the type of person anyone wants to rape or mug. I can run anywhere I want.

God created rain to tell black women they shouldn’t straighten their hair.

Figure 1: “Hi! I’m a moron!”

You’ll notice that black women who wear their hair naturally don’t seem to worry all that much about what water (the most abundant…thing…on the planet) will do to their hair, and this is what makes these girls fucking awesome. Many women who straighten their hair, however, are an intolerable burlap sack of boring because they can’t do shit since it might fuck their hair up. The following is an abbreviated list of fun shit that black women with straightened hair can’t/won’t do because of water:

• Run around in a rain storm
• Go snorkeling, swimming, or scuba diving
• Participate in a wet t-shirt contest
• Go outside on a humid day
• Save your life if you fall off a boat
• Exercise (is there a correlation between this and straight-haired women buying empire waist tops? Decidedly yes.)
• Join the Navy

Our women will go to extraordinary lengths to keep their newly straightened doo in place. They will actually sleep for eight entire hours with their heads propped up on their hands to keep the hair from getting matted on the pillow. Working out at the gym, they will take 5 minute rest periods between sets to keep from sweating. They will bathe instead of showering. They will stay inside the house for days at a time during streaks of humid weather. They become more and more isolated from society, eventually developing cabin fever and mild to severe psychosis. This causes them to club innocent and defenseless baby seals for no goddamn reason.

Figure 2: Hope it’s worth it, you fucking asshole

A woman that’s just come home from the salon is in a very delicate mood. She’s ecstatic that her hair is done and she looks beautiful, but at the same time she’s on the razor’s edge of entering a homicidal rage. If you don’t notice the fact that her straightened hair is now parted on the left side rather than the right, or that she just paid $70 to have it shortened by one damn inch, you are a fucking asshole to her. You play spades with Hitler. You are an inconsiderate keg of certifiable fuck juice and deserve to be drop kicked down a flight of metal stairs.

Men are particularly prone to accidentally setting off the straight-haired woman because, unless you don’t have any hair, we’re perfectly happy no matter what the hair looks like - so we don’t really pay attention. We don’t give a shit if you wear it up or down, or feather your bangs (whatever the hell that means), or put it in a french twist (whatever the hell that means). All we care about is that a.) the hair is there, b.) it’s not a wig, and c.) it’s free of dirt, insects, food, and stank. Save your $150 and buy some friggin’ crotchless thong panties for us to rip off instead. Dammit.

132 innocent and defenseless baby seals we bludgeoned at the hands of crazed salon escapees while you read this article.