Crackers like those is deadass why I stopped dallying with white queers, all the way around. I won’t organize with them, I won’t date them, I won’t cede them emotional intimacy, I won’t even concede them physical intimacy. I don’t fuck genocidal sellouts; honestly, I don’t even want to know genocidal sellouts. To get in my bed, in my social circle, or in my organization, you need more melanin in you than the whole mass of these chalky bleach-demons; if you one of these sharkfuckers, I’m really finna look the other way when you get hassled in these streets.

I won’t claim 'em. Poof, vamoose, spawn of a snitch. You need an Actual intersectional lifestyle, not Blahaj’s consumer-crackery that hasn’t a qualm in the world about knobslobbing cops, corporates, and fucking Mossad to be around me.