making terrorist threats, so it is best to say nothing to them. Better to rape a
black woman walking in the hood at 3AM than a white woman, don't even
think about touching a strand of her pretty blond hair!
photo Adam Turner
The white supremacy bikers and skate boarders think with the same sick mythological construction as others addicted to white supremacy. But the white supremacy bikers are especially arrogant in their addiction to white supremacy, instead of seeing themselves as bikers, they think they are superior to cars, that cars should bow down to them because they are white, especially those living in the hood that gentrification has bestowed them.
Now we must acknowledge that black bikers have none of the arrogance of the white supremacy bikers. For the most park, black bikers never get in front of a car and think the car or rather the driver should submit to them solely because they are white and not only rule the roads but rule the world. Black bikers know they don't rule the roads or the world. Black bikers have common sense, no matter how much they are addicted to white supremacy.
But the white supremacy bikers would never admit they are addicted to white supremacy even though it was through their inheritance that they were able to remove the blacks from housing in the hood in order to claim it for themselves. They are in denial about the fact that only white privilege allowed them to move into the hood and displace the blacks they claim as allies in their fake pseudo liberal progressive persona.
These fake liberal children of the KKK will even Occupy Oakland with the Blacks, march with them in protesting police violence yet go to their new homes in the hood where blacks once lived until the whites or neo-whites, i.e. children of the old whites, hipsters, et al., have come to settle so they can be in close proximity to San Francisco's financial district or the new technology centers of the SF or Silicon Valley, since they can yet afford housing prices in San Francisco or in the Valley of the neo-colonized brain children who dominate the start up companies and entrepreneurs of generation billionaires.
One has had to literally fight the white supremacy bikers in the streets, most recently while we were unloading to teach at Academy of da Corner, 14th and Broadway, downtown Oakland, proclaimed by the people as the Black Arts Movement Business and Cultural District, from 14th and Martin Luther King, Jr. Way to Alice and 14th and beyond, including Lake Merritt and Laney College.
A white supremacy female biker, the worst kind in her gender loving supremacy, approached me as I stopped at 14th and Broadway to unload books at Academy of da Corner. She informed me I had almost hit her. In truth, I didn't see her due to an eye injury. But as I said above, if I were a biker, I would be more concerned about the car with two thousand pounds of steel and plastic coming at me rather than impose my ass on a bike to the car. But, no, the white supremacy bikers think they control the roads and streets and we low life ghetto rats should submit to them. Her boyfriend, another biker, joined the conversation against me as I unloaded so I had to call him a bitch motherfucker too and tell him to kissx my black ass. I repeated what I'd said to her, "I think you need to watch the cars rather than focus on the cars watching your white ass on your bike."
They departed, but my day at Academy of da Corner was hardly over. Hour by hour, I must encounter the mentally ill from every ethnic group. A mad Latino asked me for the time. I told him to turn around and look at the clock atop City Hall. He refused to do so and said he wanted me to give him the time. I told him he was not going to work me, suck my energy. Look at the clock. He declined and walked across the street.
A former street child came by so grown up and womanly I didn't recognize her, but she persisted until I did. She said, "Marvin X, look at me, you don't remember me, I can't believe this. Remember when I used to dress like a boy? Remember when I was homeless?"
Then I remembered her. But looking at her, here was a full woman before me. Girl, what happened to you? You into dick now?
She said yes, I have a boyfriend. I don't do that gay/lesbian shit no more. They can't say nothing to me. But Marvin X, you taught me in your Mythology of Pussy of Dick that I own my pussy and I can give it to whomever I please. Recently I did and the nigguh been buggin me ever since.
You mean you gave the nigguh some pussy and he got sprung?
Well, you can say that, but I got a boyfriend, but it was one of those moments when a girl do what she wanna do.
But now you done sprung da nigguh?
Guess so, that nigguh won't stop text messaging me.
Well, I'm just happy to see you have developed into a beautiful young woman, after foster care, homelessness, street life, etc. You look beautiful to me.
Thank you, Marvin X. You know you've been my teacher since I was fifteen.
I am pleased to see some of my street children survived, but they were some of the most talented in the first place, poets, singers, artists, musicians. Imagine, some of these children who gather at Frank Ogawa Plaza/Oscar Grant Plaza are those lost and turned out on the way to grandmother's house, children of foster care, children who've never known their father and/or mother. Can you imagine not knowing your father or mother? And some parents were same gender loving persons. One young man said, "Hey, Marvin X, my mother is a lesbian, so how you think I felt when I went to school sports events with my mother and her women? My friends asked me what the fuck was going on? But I love my mother, just know that, Marvin X!"