What is it inside the standard-edition white American that finds comfort, even satisfaction, in the sadistic treatment of others – especially Black people?

There’s a pattern here, and it’s not subtle. No matter the brutal act, no matter how unjust the outcome, the blame reliably lands on the Black body – dead, beaten, detained, dehumanized.

A Black man is shot 50 times by a cowardly police department – they say, “he shouldn’t have resisted.” What was his crime – breathing?

A Black woman is beaten unconscious by officers – they say, “she shouldn’t have resisted.” Was she supposed to stay silent while waking up?

A Black driver is pulled over and dragged out for having the nerve to afford a car: “He shouldn’t have resisted.” Apparently, existing while Black is an act of rebellion.

A Black teen is murdered for walking in a white neighborhood – “he shouldn’t have looked suspicious.” Translation: he shouldn’t have looked like Black life matters.

This isn’t justice. It’s tradition. It’s the normalization of white brutality. It’s a culture so committed to protecting white comfort that it has rewritten pain as provocation, and survival as threat.

And where is accountability? Lost – like garlic in a vampire’s throat. It can’t be swallowed, can’t be absorbed, can’t be acknowledged. The white gaze looks outward for blame and inward only for innocence.

But here’s the truth that chills deeper: White supremacy isn’t just about control – it’s about pleasure.

There is an unmistakable, ritualistic need to witness Black suffering – the sadistic satisfaction that comes from the terrorism of white pleasure. This sickness didn’t start with the plantation.

It roared in the Roman coliseums, where the masses cheered as bodies were torn for sport. It wore holy robes in medieval churches, where public floggings and torture were framed as purification.

It evolved into modern-day horror films and The Purge franchises – annual fantasies where all morality is suspended so that those seen as “less than” can be haunted freely, legally, joyfully.

And America?

It has never stopped rejoicing at the sight of Black blood draining into the streets of white privilege.

That blood is communion. That trauma is inheritance. That spectacle is addiction.

We, the Black community, are in need of more than justice. We need an exorcism – a global cleansing of the white hate that stalks our joy, our breath, our right to simply be.

And since white America insists on its innocence – swears its hands and history are clean – here’s a proposal:

Every American family gets audited. If your lineage carries no hate, no ties to lynching, slavery, segregation, police violence, or generational benefit from those systems – fine. But if it does? You and your family will be deported to the country your ancestors fled: England, Ireland, Poland, Russia, Italy – wherever your whiteness claims roots.

Let’s see how resilient your privilege is when you’re surrounded by others just like you – all scrambling for supremacy in a sea of sameness. No more America to dominate. Just the raw reality of your reflection.

And for the Black and Brown people performing for white approval – aligning with supremacy in hope of acceptance – you’re not exempt. You’ll be deported right alongside your masters. I’m not a fan of separating owners from their pets.

Le’t see how quickly America starts to heal without so much hatred polluting her soil. Remember how fast the environment began to recover when people stayed inside for just a few weeks?

Imagine the healing when centuries of hate finally leave the streets.

I already see the stars appearing again. And trees – no longer forced to carry the weight of Black bodies – standing tall in peace.

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