They Are Mean

They are mean. They take no moment to consider their own brutality. They tell us to work hard, like they did, so their american dream could also be ours. When we instead resist helping bolster their infrastructure of invasion and occupation, they label us as lazy. They are mean. Nordic mean. Their police are our enemies. We are taught as much by their mean and challenging stares. Their shaved heads remind us that it will always be about race.
They say we have “a perception” of a dual system of justice, yet in our neighborhoods there is a “zero tolerance” policy of enforcement… all while their disingenuous billboards preach “tolerance”. They are mean. They should not be here. They killed and raped every Indigenous being into submission and now strut around claiming cleanliness, godliness and goodness, but all they are is mean.
So it is living in the belly of the beast while the Wasicu takes and takes and takes more fat.
What can we do? As Russell Means has said, it begins with decolonizing our minds. Yet, I realize there is more to it than gaining awareness. We must also de-americanize our own appetites. We must cease bellying up to the table to slop up gravy with the invader. We must get out of the rapist’s bed.
The Wasicu was very effective in maiming our ability as Human Beings to function. This is due more to the ravenous appetite of the Wasicu, than to its efficient planning and execution of genocide/cultricide. It so happened that their raping, plundering, and mean ways had a two-fold effect for them: it fed their appetite while simultaneously causing rampant dysfunction within our People.
They are amuck. They are loosed. They thrive at the expense of the host. This tumor is mean.
They despise us. They see how beautiful we are under the fat and scars and pain, yet they do not nor will they ever, see that same beauty within themselves.
Hecetuwelo.
Wanbli WiWohkpe