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Most people think I am white. It has been this way all my life. I am actually half-asian and half-white. I was adopted by white parents at ten days old, so perhaps I have the vibe of being raised by a white person. It's very strange being half-asian raised, for all intents and purposes, as a white girl. I loved tofu from the first time I tried it at age fourteen back in the 1980s, when it was not easy to find in the local grocery store. The diet I eat tends to veer heavily towards asian foods. I buy Calrose rice in 20 pound bags. I drink tea, including green tea, like someone who was born in China, Korea, or Japan: without sugar.

I used to resent the fact almost nobody could pin me as even half-asian... that was before I learned to lean into it. About a year ago, I decided to create a TikTok account dedicated to covering the kind of basic occult knowledge that used to only be found in exclusive, faraway bookstores back in the day. I dubbed myself the White Witch of the Prairie, a nod to the majority that presumes I am of exclusively European genetic makeup.

Neither and both, both and neither

The trouble with being half is you end up being both races and neither/nor. I was always too white to be considered an asian person and too asian to be considered a white person. Our culture has a weird fetish for half-breeds (I also use the term halfsie) that pops up in cheesy sci-fi dramas. Halfsie characters like Blade and the Lycan-Vampire hybrids of Underworld are all too common as cinematic tropes. There's something special about halfsies, so they say, or at least there used to be. I was one of three half-Japanese children in my elementary school -- the other two were sisters who, unlike me, had a Japanese mom and white dad who did not abandon them at birth. You can imagine how this made me feel. I was lucky to have loving parents but I was always cut off from Japanese culture. It is a part of my psyche that was forcibly amputated. By the time I was in high school, half-breeds were everywhere. Nowadays, half-breeds are so common, if I go into any random public space, almost everyone in it is some kind of mutt. It is far more rare to have a single-origin background: you purebloods are the human equivalent of standard poodles and Korat cats.

In 1973, Cher came out with a song called Half-Breed.


My father married a pure Cherokee
My mother's people were ashamed of me
The Indians said that I was white by law
The white man always called me "Indian Squaw"

Half-breed, that's all I ever heard
Half-breed, how I learned to hate the word
Half-breed, 'she's no good,' they warned
Both sides were against me since the day I was born...


Cher is half-Armenian and lacks a single native American ancestor.   

In the same year, a half-Mexican, half-white woman calling herself Sacheen Littlefeather claimed to be half native American.  Littlefeather, whose government name was Maria Louise Cruz, declined Marlon Brando's Academy Award for The Godfather on his behalf.  She used the allotted time to deliver a cringeworthy speech ostensibly to draw attention to native American causes, having been put up to the publicity stunt by Brando himself, who skipped the ceremony. 
Liza Black, an associate professor of history and Native American and Indigenous studies at Indiana University and a citizen of the Cherokee nation said "Littlefeather was a troubled woman who made the stories of others her own."

Going back in time a little, who could forget halfsie Nancy Kwan as title role in The World of Suzie Wong?  Because of course the asian lady had to be made of sex, and the role could not possibly go to a woman who was entirely Chinese.  Kwan claimed not to have experienced racism during her long career of being repeatedly typecast as a submissive asian sex bomb... bless her heart.   Kwan was one who denied racism existed, and it seems like a sound enough psychological strategy in its own twisted way.  Was she just being stupid or was she playing 4D chess?  We will never get an answer.

New cringe overtakes old 

Kwan's complete denial of racism in general was far more sufferable than the halfsies of the current millennium, who use their non-white side as a bludgeoning rod.  Barack Obama, who is exactly as black as I am asian, has made a career of having his blackness shoved down our throats.  In his own words, Obama barely knew his black African father, who committed an act of bigamy with Ann Dunham, Obama's mother.  Barack Obama Sr. left his wife, Kezia, pregnant with their second child when he impregnated Obama's mother.  In short, the guy got around.  It hardly mattered; she asked him for a divorce when Barack Jr. was three and he did not contest it.  Obama's mother frequently delegated little Barack's care to her own white parents.  She then remarried and began creating Obama's halfsie siblings with the Indonesian man who would become Obama's stepfather.  Some of his youth was spent in Indonesia with the newly growing family, but he was later sent back to Hawaiian boarding school.  All in all, it isn't exactly a saga of racial oppression, now is it?  Obama's lack of qualifications for the Oppression Olympics (that having been President of the United States thing is highly inconvenient when you want to claim oppression) has not stopped him from producing a post-Apocalyptic Netflix film called Leave the World Behind that features whites persecuting blacks as its leitmotif.  I wonder if his chef felt persecuted?


Amandla and the nutcracker unsweet

Speaking of human caricatures, Leslye Headland's lesbian casting couch has been full of race-baiters and Oppression Olympians.  The literally blockheaded former Weinstein lackey has collected a bevy of starlets, all of whom are likely full of bitter regrets right about now.  You would also be sad if you slept with someone who resembled an overgrown Christmas nutcracker and not because you really wanted to out of curiosity.  Disney finally pulled enough stunts to become seriously uncool, and it is doubtful that its stockholders Blackrock and Vanguard can save it.  In 2023, Halle Bailey (who is completely black as far as we know) pitched a racist hissy fit in an attempt to cancel Argentinian interviewer Patricio Borghetti.  Borghetti said "None of us who were in that room yesterday were seeing the color of your skin” to Bailey, who quickly tore him a new one by screaming MICROAGGRESSION.  The cuck media quickly fell into line behind Bailey, who in true Emperor Has No Clothes fashion continued down the garden path of her own arrogant self-righteousness. 

Half-Mexican actress Rachel Ziegler followed suit and used her Snow Brownness as a battering ram, initially crying racism after her own trashing of the Snow White project sunk the ship and got her fired from the planned sequels. 

Amandla Stenberg's ancestors were Vikings on her rich daddy's side, yet that did not stop her from creating one of the most unintentionally funny anti-white racist music videos ever made.  In three minutes and thirty nine seconds, she teleported her entire acting career into the outer reaches of the Andromeda system without a spacesuit.  Though there's no accounting for bad taste, waking up next to the Igor to Harvey Weinstein's Dr. Frankenstein hardly seems worth the price of admission.

The final boss of racist half-whites is Megan Markle, wife of Prince Harry.  Megan has been hammering us with her supreme blackness since forever ago, claiming mysterious racist mutterings against her son, Archie, with zero receipts.  She claims to have been excommunicated from the royal family because of her race and not because her ego is the size of all of the former British colonies combined.  

You know I love to talk about the root of the matter and in all of the cases above, we are looking at extremely rich, privileged people who never had to work a day in their lives and probably never will.  It is not that anyone has ever thrown shame at these half-whites (and black Halle Bailey) that they could not handle but the fact they are ashamed of all sides of their ancestry.  Just as Dylan Mulvaney mocks femininity because he hates himself and women in general, halfsies caricature their non-white halves because they know they will never fit in with its "pureblood" members.  They try to out-black the blacks and out-asian the asians.  What you hate, you imitate.  They also hate whitey because it is socially acceptable and easy and they have indulgent parents.  For now, hating whitey is de rigueur, though I sense it won't be quite as acceptable in a decade. 

At the core of every one of the above egomaniacs is a terrified little worm who knows that someday he or she will be exposed for being a garbage individual who spent no time doing the work of the self.  If you know yourself to be a terrible person but cannot consciously deal with it, you will throw out a straw man in order to hide your weaknesses.  Race is their strong man.  







 



kimberlysteele: (Default)

As I have mentioned, I believe we are seeing the demise of wokeness and its demotion to cringe status.  Woke, which reigned supreme from approximately 2014 - 2023, took a nosedive when average people realized they could fight it by not allowing it to have their money.  Bud Light may recover from becoming a laughingstock, Target may nix its Satan-worshipping designers, and boys’ bathrooms may still have tampons (at least in Illinois), but it is clear that wokeness is going the way of the Tide Pod challenge and Tamagotchis.  Follow stupid trends, win stupid prizes, including death.  Woke has claimed its fair share of victims in its short rule, whether it was via the genital mutilations commonly known as bottom surgeries or the now-extinct careers of pop stars who virtue signaled one too many times.  

 

Now that the fever is ebbing, I think it is time we started walking things back.  

 

Language: Words We Were Not Allowed to Say

 

One way the Woke tried to cow the masses to their toxic astral pyramids was by commandeering language.  I will never forget when a vegan former friend tried to rain hellfire and brimstone on me for defending the word ritardando as it is used in music.  First of all, ritardando is not an English word.  Like many music terms, it is Italian.  Ritardando or (clutches pearls) ritard for short means to slow down the tempo or beats per minute.  The opposite of this term is accelerando, which of course means to speed up the tempo of beats per minute.   She actually tried to get me to stop using the word ritard in a strictly musical context!  Now look what she's done...

 

I think it is time to bring back the term “retarded”.  Retard is not malicious.  Like its musical counterpart, it means to slow down.  When a person is retarded, it does not peg them with a diagnosis; it only means that they learn slower than the general pool of people surrounding them.  For instance, I am retarded when it comes to learning how to dance.  I become easily confused when trying to put simple dance steps together in a series and I don’t move my torso, legs, or hips as easily as I move my fingertips and wrists.  I don’t even take issue with being called a retard; because each of us is special in our own way.  Do you see what I did there?  The facts on the ground are that WE ARE ALL RETARDS.  He or she who is not retarded should cast the first slur.

 

Also, I usually try to be more polite these days, but if I’m feeling crabby, I may just openly mock someone who wants me to use pronouns.  The whole pronoun thing pisses me off — the English language is hard enough without adding an additional layer of fantasy claptrap to confuse ESL learners, the elderly, and the kindhearted.  Any person who defines their pronouns and expects me to adjust my speech will heretofore be addressed as “it”, as in “It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.”  

 

I will no longer recognize the term “people of color” as a sensible utterance and will correct the person by saying “Oh, you mean non-white people?  How do you know their DNA by looking at them?”  Back in the civil rights era, the word “colored” was actually quite vicious and used to segregate the non-white people to the back of the bus and a special, separate drinking fountain or bathroom.   Person of color is just another word for colored and its use is disgusting; most times there is the clandestine hope that white people will be forced to the back of the bus or shamed as revenge.  As someone who often passes for white, I enjoy informing racists who presume I am white that I am exactly as white as Barack Obama.  

 

Oppression

 

If you want to send a wokester into a tailspin, ask them which side of the Israel/Palestine divide they are on and how they reconcile the atrocities.  No matter what side they are on, they are going to be confronted with the Jewish question and torn apart by trying to be two things at once.  Jewish Americans were the OG wokesters, and their money funded the media that put Woke on the map in the first place.  Nobody does white guilt better than the Jewish, amirite?  Wokesters tend to find out the hard way that money is super-important and that they don’t get along too well without it, just ask all those Ivy League graduates who are blacklisted from cushy positions in big companies because they went militant pro-Palestine last year.  

 

As ugly as it may get, I am going to start calling wokesters sexists and racists and call ‘em as I see ‘em.  Racism against white people is still racism and I am tired of it.  Another thing they don’t get to do anymore is to pretend that anti-white racism is nastier than anti-black or anti-Asian racism.  Nobody gets a free pass because they hate whitey instead of blackie, Apu, or Charlie Chan.  As someone who is half-white and half-Asian, I know what anti-white and anti-Asian racism looks like from up close.  I have even been discriminated against because I was too yellow for the white people and too white for the yellow people.  You seriously cannot win, even if you have an extremely heterozygous genetic makeup, so don’t bother playing.

 

 

I am not great at telling jokes, but I think it is time we started poking fun at each other again.  I don’t care if non-black people (though once again, how do I know their DNA?) use the N-word.  I hate that word, so I am not going to use it, but you do you. I have no problem with the lampooning of either of my races — white and yellow.  I am fine if someone wants to chuckle about Japanese kamikazes or inbred Pennsylvania crackers right in front of me.  It’s time to recognize the humor in The Jerk — Steve Martin’s opening line is “I was born a poor black child” and it is hysterically funny.  If you can get through the Thousand Miles Latrell scene of 2004’s White Chicks without so much as cracking a smile, I salute you, because I cannot do it.  It’s time to make Lisa Lampanelli great again. 

 

Those who cannot take it should not dish it, and the Woke have been serving us all unwanted helpings for a decade.  Want control?  Do Kegels.  Oppressed?  Grow up.  Offended?  Too bad.  As Candace Owens wisely said, “Life is tough, get a helmet”.  

kimberlysteele: (Default)

I used to get mad when other drivers, almost always male, would advance on my car from behind and then quickly swerve into an open lane in order to pass me. I often drive five miles over the limit, but it is never enough for Anxious Dude hot-rodding around the suburbs in his souped-up Nissan with a vestigial spoiler. After about six or seven years of the calming influence of the Sphere of Protection and daily discursive meditation, I noticed that suddenly what used to make me beside myself with irritation no longer bothered me. I don't find myself perturbed anymore by Anxious Dude because I now realize that his swerving and aggressive driving comes from a set of impulses that make him a man. For me, owning a car is almost pure bad faith and a curse that I have in part chosen because I did not move to a walkable city somewhere in Europe or the UK to escape American car culture as a young woman. For him, driving isn't so bad: he has a knack for it. He likes to go fast and drive recklessly. He's a boy and boys will be boys, vroom vroom.

Feminization

I got a sandwich to go at one of the many fast-casual restaurants that bless my area the other day. A portly young man with a beard retrieved the sandwich from the kitchen area. When he spoke, his voice was about an octave higher than what one would expect and though he wasn't dressed in an effeminate fashion, he gave me an entirely female vibe. Though it is possible he was transitioning, it is not the first time I have run into young men who don't seem to have any maleness about them.

In the book Our Stolen Future, scientist Theo Colborn speculates that chemical byproducts that mimic hormones are causing the feminization of animal and human populations. The chemical constituents of RoundUp from Monsanto end up in a polar bear in the Arctic; there is no escape for anyone on this planet. Endocrine disruption is the inevitable result, and endocrine disruption causes a laundry list of woes, including birth defects, stunted intelligence, autoimmune disorders, and infertility.

Fragile Males

Maleness is inherently fragile. Regardless of chromosomes, we all begin in the womb as females: for guys, their ovaries descend and become testes. The long process of becoming male is fraught with danger from Moment One in the womb. Males are always fighting. Male sperm fight to get to the egg... There can be only one, or maybe two in the case of fraternal twins. Then the male chromosomes assert themselves as XY. No staying within a homogenous XX lane for them! Enter plastic chemicals and the toxic soup of heavy metals, dioxin, and the latest miracle of MRNA quaxxines and it is a wonder that the human race is still a thing. If the male is not physically feminized to near-death in utero, there are plenty of well-meaning doctors who would like to inject him with an array of FDA-approved concoctions the second he emerges from his mother. If he survives, there's always someone who wants him to drink toxic baby formula and to get circumcised.


Wars

I hate organized sports. I probably would not have hated them if my idiot teachers from Grades K-8 had not forced me to participate in junior versions of them. Nevertheless, I was forced into sports every school day from age 5 until 17 because Gym class is mandatory in Illinois; it's actually Illinois law and we are the only state in the Union that has that law.

Sports are how society deals with males in absence of wars. Sports resemble small wars: two teams opposed to each other fight over a ball as symbolic resource. A sports fan once confided in me that he loved the feeling of belonging when he watched a game. Without sports, many guys don't have a tribe outside of immediate family. They are wolves cast out of the pack.

The modern incarnation of organized sports is a poor substitute for wars though because it is passive and based on spectatorship. The pot-bellied sports fan crushing his umpteenth beer on the couch stereotype exists for good reason. Organized sports are feminizing. They turn purposeful, earnest men into couch potatoes, alcoholics, and gamblers.

The Woke

Disney has been on a spree of trying to recapture its glory days by making its cartoon classics from the 80s and 90s as live action films. Disney remade Lion King this way -- basically it was an awkward, musical nature documentary... very weird. It enjoyed modest success nevertheless, especially in China.

The Little Mermaid is Disney's latest live action remake set to be released this week. Little Mermaid replaces the red headed, white titular character Ariel with a black woman played by singer/actress Halle Bailey. Halle Bailey was sent to do a promotional press junket in Mexico, where interviewer Patricio Borghetti graciously gushed about her beauty and captivating performance. Without any context or apparent motivation, Bailey viciously accused Borghetti of racist microaggressions and now refuses to do "unprepared" interviews.

Bailey is far from conventionally beautiful and obviously deeply insecure. Her invocation of racism is vile and disgusting, in my opinion, and as someone who is exactly as white as Barack Obama, I think people who manipulate white guilt in such a fashion should be permanently ostracized, disenfranchised, and ignored. Halle Bailey does not deserve a singing or an acting career if this is the way she is going to behave. There are plenty of young women far more talented, beautiful, and deserving than she will ever be. I could use one of my own rare talents decimate what's left of her career in a single word -- the only hint I will give is that it's a scathing reference to another creative work -- instead I choose to exercise restraint. Plus, she is doing a fine job ruining her career all on her own.

Men cannot win against this sort of wretch. If Bailey wasn't crying about race, she would be inventing other travesties whole cloth. Borghetti came back saying the comments he made were said with love. If I were him, I would have refused to say that worthless, race-baiting slag's name ever again. Halle who?

Sleeping With the Enemy: Men Who Hate Women

The fascinating thing about Don Juans and wannabe Don Juans is their hatred of women. I know many men who are as irritated by Sex and the City as there are women who hate organized sports and video games. The animosity comes from the portrayal of women as obnoxious Don Juans: it's not fun to look at that kind of self-hatred in the mirror.

In his book Bang, former pickup artist Roosh V spends all of one page on the sexual act, dealing with it in a vague and perfunctory way that suggests that for all his braggadocio, he wasn't all that interested in having sex with women. More telling is how few aging pickup artists have settled down with an elusive "dream female" waifu and had children. Roosh is 43 and despite having rediscovered the Christian faith of his upbringing, he has yet to heterosexually reproduce.

If you don't genuinely respect those with XX chromosomes as human and manifest this animosity spend most of your adult life attempting to trap them like an exterminator does to rodents, it seems you will have a bad time when the time belatedly arrives to live all the heterosexual values you pretended to espouse. Pickup artists are not homosexual though. That would be far too easy. Instead, they are autosexual, which is a euphemistic term for a masturbator with a god complex. A far simpler epithet and one I would like to coin right now is Narcissosexual. A Narcissosexual would happily have raucous sex with their own doppelganger if such a thing were possible, and the preferred offspring would be a Brave New World of self-clones. Hopefully Roosh V has left his Don Juan past behind and hopefully divine powers are helping him to ameliorate some of the damage he has done. There will be other Narcissosexuals who arise in his place and they will be just as gay with themselves as he was.

All of the above phenomenon are predicaments and they will go on unsolved as predicaments go. As for the effeminate male problem, I believe it is an issue of nature as much or more as nurture, and I will maintain my stance about destigmatizing teenage pregnancy in order to create a hardier, less feminized male of the species. As far as sports and wars, I am now at the age where I can choose to avoid all sports, and the only thing I can suggest is for those who have children to PLEASE GIVE THEM A CHOICE about sports, and pull them out of schools that force participation. It should probably be clear that to ignore Wokesters is my own personal policy, and I have even got to the point where I won't condescend to permanently sully their images with a well-placed witticism because they aren't worth my fire. Lastly, the pathetic spectacle of the Narcissosexual is hardly worthy of anyone's attention: just recognize them as the jokes they are and move on.
kimberlysteele: (Default)
 Dear Friend,

 

There are reasons why I have blocked you out of my life.  Right now, I am facing the consequences of your actions.  Your paranoia about a disease that has been statistically proven to kill fewer people than heart disease per year has nearly destroyed my business that is twenty-four years in the making.  That’s more than half my life.  You, who attained higher degrees at great cost yet have not been able to do what I managed out of determination, originality, and sheer chutzpah now sit back, demanding the eternal shutdown so you and your loved ones can obtain the communist welfare utopia you think you want.  

 

I did my best to keep my irritation at bay, but when your derangement over a legally-elected president exploded into its latest virulent form, I had no choice but to bring down the hammer of judgement.  You are, quite literally, ruining my life right now.  Like many Americans, I was just beginning to see a bit of financial prosperity when you cut the economy’s legs off with shutdowns and then riots.

 

To understand how we got here, I want to go on a journey into your psychology, a thing that you have almost no understanding of despite your general pretenses of being book-smart and expensive psychotherapist addiction.

 

Once upon a time, there was a senator from Vermont who rose to recognition on waves of the middle class economic frustration.  He was axed in a tragicomedy of high-grade corruption so obvious a third grader could have figured out the storyline.  The result of this cheating was the election of a charismatic Caesar, which if you knew anything of history, you would know is a common event during the decline of Empire. If you weren’t so mentally damaged, you might also know this outcome is better for you and the class to which you aspire than the alternative, which is mass bloodshed and beheadings of a fossilized elite a la Robespierre.  

 

You operate exactly like a person under a malign spell.  You still have not gotten over the results of an election nearly four years in the past.  Please let that sink in.  There has been plenty of time to sit back and reflect why your party lost and even more time to cultivate ways to do better by potential voters.  Instead of doing this, you have thrown a multi-year tantrum that began with lumpy pink hats.  The excuse at that time was sexual harassment of girls and women.  Part of the first #metoo phase was to pretend you are a witch and throw bad intentions at the alleged misogynist patriarchy; this summed up the zeitgeist adequately.  Your karmic punishment for these bad intentions is a blubbering, senile pedophile you’ve cruelly thrust into the debate chair.

 

The next phase of manufactured outrage was Russian collusion.  Projecting your own shadow, you cried about espionage and electronic manipulation.  Boy, did you get your rear end handed to you on that one.

 

After that, it was masks.  You’re still in this phase.  The mask is at once a virtue signal and the grown-up’s version of a binky: a sad, dilapidated totem that symbolically shields its wearer from being perceived as politically conservative.  That’s why you want everyone to wear the mask; just like you would like us to believe there are more than twenty people who want to vote for your demented presidential candidate, you want to enforce the appearance of political hegemony among people who have no interest in backing your party.  Holding the entire economy hostage isn’t enough.  Having the entire mainstream media in your pocket isn’t enough.  Since cable viewership is down, you have discovered you cannot force your way into the public consciousness via the television screen and its ads.  Only a person under an evil spell would be horrified by this, and horrified you are.  You would have George Orwell’s 1984 without envisioning the consequences, and because you are deeply afflicted, you have bankrupted yourself intellectually out of lust of result.

 

Like the aforementioned French 18th century elite, you are losing your heads due to an acute lack of self-analysis. 

 

Your final, desperate act is to play the race card.  To do this, you have enlisted an infantry of white, college-educated liberal women and their pathetic, ineffectual male cuckolds.  Behind them, yanking the puppet strings, are viciously racist blacks, Latinos, and Asians, cheering on the disintegration of the working classes as business districts are torched.  Like you, the riots are motivated by a fundamental disconnect from reality.  Large corporations that benefit from times of unrest are unscathed when one or two of their stores are burned to the ground; small businesses are not.  You bleat about systemic cruelty, yet wasn’t it you I saw on Instagram modeling stretch pants or fashionable new Amazon.com outfit/toy?  Wasn’t your new item made via slave labor in the Third World?  You live in a segregated neighborhood, whether it is all white and Asian, all black, or all Latino.  I don’t.  My lower middle class neighborhood is mixed, just like my own racial make-up.  You are voting for the party that put more blacks in jail than any other party, yet this is somehow about police cruelty, not the institutions that control the levers of law enforcement.  Once again, you piss on my leg and tell me it’s raining.  

 

I have blocked you because you are no longer sane.  I hope this is a temporary condition, but I have no problem if it is permanent.  You need me more than I need you.  You need businesses like mine so the economy isn’t completely given over to the large corporations you claim to be taking to task.  You need my mental stability and my willingness to stand against tyrants.  “By their fruits ye shall know them.” You, who say you are brave, manifest the opposite of bravery in every deed and word.  You have thrown me under the bus, and in doing so, you have become the despised tyrant.  You are not the victim.  You are the perpetrator.  This time, it's personal.  Sayonara.  

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Kimberly Steele

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