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where some anger comes from

It occurred to me while walking to the store for cold medication: 

some of my anger comes from my perceived helplessness/impotence. 

For all the tone policers out there… 

For all the privileged assholes who don’t get it…

To a certain extent, do you not realize that I actually understand (better than you, most likely) just how little power and ability I have to stop whites from getting Filipin@ tattoos? 

Do you not realize that some rage filled rants on the internet is about the most I can effectively do? (not knocking the importance of what we do on the internet, ‘cause we make a difference even just by doing this much)

Especially as a person who grew up in the diaspora and is currently, for the most part, cut off from my family? From that fundamental connection to my culture? A person, who, because of various white supremacy shit doesn’t speak Tagalog and probably never will? 

You think I don’t get it? 

You think I don’t understand how silly and trivial I seem to you? That you laugh at my rage and giggle at its impotence? 

I. Get. It. 

I also get that I’m right.

And that someday (if whites manage to not destroy the planet), you’ll loose and you’ll get your comeuppance. 

Laugh. Mock us. Continue to whitesplain our rage away… 

We are sharpening knives in the shadows. 

And…

One day. 

Your time will come.