Yes, it’s true. Tucker Carlson is right. I hate white people.
This secret was revealed earlier this week when Carlson’s show had a segment on “Major Websites Running Bigoted Articles” and chose to spotlight The Root. And in that spotlight, each of the articles he referenced as examples of this hate was an article I wrote—including (but not limited to) “White People Need to Be Better People” and “We Need a Reset Button or Something for White People.”
I have been trying to keep this information concealed for years now. I’ve secretly hated white people since a skating party in 1992, when a white girl named Megan Lipslinker laughed at me when I fell in the rink while attempting to jump around when House of Pain’s “Jump Around” came on. Since then, my hate has done nothing but grow and become hungrier, like a guy at Old Country Buffet who’s hungry as shit but can’t eat because the server hasn’t given him clean silverware yet.
And like most other hungry things—and, well, most other things that need to stay alive—it needs to be fed daily, and this is what I do to keep my hate healthy.
- Wake up each morning and punch a laminated photo of Benedict Cumberbatch I keep underneath my bed. Once a month, I replace that photo with a picture of cottage cheese.
- Brush my teeth in the mirror but with black toothpaste. And by “black toothpaste” I mean “a black dry-erase marker” because fuck those white-ass MAGA teeth.
- Walk my dog, who I’ve named Bactaf, an acronym for Biting All Crackas Today and Forever.
- Prepare a bottle of milk for my daughter and then add a gallon of chocolate syrup to it. It is unhealthy as fuck? Of course. She will have Type 2 diabetes at 4. But you can never be too young to reject anti-blackness and anti-black-ass cow’s milk.
- Use the bathroom, which is my favorite part of the day because I get to wipe my black-ass ass with white-ass toilet paper.
- Drink some water. Hating white people is hard work, and I need to stay hydrated.
- Sit in my office and listen to Kanye West’s Yeezus on repeat. Not the entire album, though—just the line, “HURRY UP WITH MY DAMN CROISSANTS!”
- Imagine that I am in a room with a croissant-carrying Kellyanne Conway.
- Recite the Lord’s Prayer with my family. But instead of ending it with “Amen,” add, “And then kill whitey.”
- Go outside and curse at them white-ass clouds.
- Have a conference call with the other secret white-people haters in the greater Pittsburgh area. We stopped meeting in person because we just couldn’t find a venue that didn’t have white-ass wall paint.
- Spend the majority of said meeting talking about landscaping.
- Skip breakfast because breakfast is a European invention intended to break niggas fast, like slaves at the auction block. We don’t want those white-ass breaks. That’s why we win all the marathons.
- Eat my own midmorning meal consisting of three Oreo cookies without the MAGA filling and a glass of purple Kool-Aid with brown sugar.
- Watch Candyman and take extensive notes.
- Get in my car, roll down the windows, drive around the city and throw couscous at white people jogging.
- Go to Costco because I usually run out of couscous by 2 p.m. and I need to stock up.
- Log on to Facebook, ironically like pictures of white people smiling and leave ominous messages underneath saying, “It’s almost time.”
- Get some Burger King for lunch and then punch the shit out of the Burger King’s cheesing ass.
- Write for The Root.