"On that day three years ago, he said, his sister Rachel Dolezal, 37, told him she was starting life anew in Spokane, Washington, where she's now head of the local chapter of the NAACP and chairwoman of a police oversight committee."
claiming questioning Dolezal's entry into Howard University, a historically black college, may have come at the expense of a natural born... African American person of color.
Ezra Dolezal came to visit her from Montana, where their parents live. His adopted sister was on her way to becoming one of the most prominent faces in Spokane's black community.Someone on twitter is
"She told me not to blow her cover about the fact that she had this secret life or alternate identity," Ezra Dolezal said Saturday. "She told not to tell anybody about Montana or her family over there. She said she was starting a new life ... and this one person over there was actually going to be her black father." (read more)
5 comments:
A new life of making false claims to police and pretty much anyone else she could find.
"Someone on twitter is claiming..."
That phrase reads to me as "disregard the rest of this sentence".
When she claimed she was born in a teepee, people should have seen it.
But I do love the black reaction of a white woman trying to get in on all the black privilege. How dast she?
At least the militant blacks have more sense than the Gaystapo. If everybody declares themselves an alternate gender, then all the straights can start blacklisting (or is it gaylisting?) all the same sex psychotics.
I've been thinking about Fred N lately. Fred N (I won't use his last name here) and I were high school classmates. Fred showed up at the start of freshman year. He was short, non-muscular, a decent runner, and played a weird game called soccer that none of us had heard of, no less seen. And Fred had an unusual accent. Couldn't identify it. One day someone asked, out the the blue, "where the hell are you from?"
"South Africa" was the answer. His family wanted out of South Africa, fearing for their lives. His father found employment near here, they sold everything, moved here and bought a modest home. There were quite a few cultural differences, plus his parents made Fred pound the books so he could get into a good college. It worked; Fred got a free-ride to study engineering.
Fred and I wound up at the same U. While he was studying engineering, I was studying non-sobriety. We took a class together; it was called "African Studies" or some such. It was a bunny class for both of us, we thought.
The first day of class revealed that there was Fred, me and maybe 30 Bobby Seale wannabes in the class. The instructor opened with a question about Africa, and Fred's hand shot up. Called on, he gave a thorough answer that lasted maybe 10 minutes, included political, economic, political and geographic references. He got a LOT of sneering, angry looks. The instructor asked Fred how he knew all that, and Fred said "because I'm an African-American"
There was much swearing, yelling, and threats of violence that this white boy would claim to be African-American. But he was. His family roots in Africa traced back to the 1600s. They had farmed, owned businesses, practiced law and medicine, imported and exported, taught school, and so on for many generations in South Africa. No other student in the room was an immigrant, nor had anyone traveled to Africa. They knew nothing of Africa, including being able to identify any of the nations.
But they were African-American, you see, and Fred wasn't, in their judgement, because his skin was the wrong color. And because he didn't buy into the phony notion of African culture propagated in America.
A dean called Fred into her office and suggested he might enjoy a different elective, hinting that a change would be good for his well-being. He changed classes. I dropped the class altogether.
Fred N was a genuine African American although his skin color was not what was expected, and therefore ruled him out of the club, at least by the Panther-like standards in that class. Rachel Dolezal was a pretender, a wannabe, who for some reason was able to convince others that she is down for the struggle.
Skin color seems to not be the marker of authenticity anymore. Now authenticity is based on who you are happy to hate. Which was Dolezal's camouflage.
If Obama still had a mother I suspect she would act a lot like Rachel Donezal.
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