There’s been a lot of talk these last couple of weeks about “hipster racism” or “ironic racism”—or, as I like to call it, racism. It’s, you know, introducing your black friend as “my black friend”—as a joke!!!—to show everybody how totally not preoccupied you are with your black friend’s blackness. It’s the gentler, more clueless, and more insidious cousin of a hick in a hood; the domain of educated, middle-class white people (like me—to be clear, I am one of those) who believe that not wanting to be racist makes it okay for them to be totally racist.
Examples of Hipster Racism According to Lindy West:
Thanks, Jezebel. I will be sure not to wear my large-framed eyeglasses over my Klan hat, like your graphic on an anti-irony and anti-racism article so artfully depicts. I’ll also be sure to tell my black friends that race is “made-up” and “arbitrary” like” Santa Claus” so they no longer have to worry about sickle cell anemia.
Next week on Hipster Sexism:
“Women can’t be lawyers.” -Ruth Bader Ginsberg
Next week on Hipster Classism:
Next week on Hipster Ageism: I’m going to buy rocking chairs and live-blog my knitting party. Where all my friends with scoliosis will most certainly complain about the colored folk.