Black radicalization is beautiful.
It is growth after tearing down the walls of white supremacy and realizing that it is a sham. The growth is slow, like after your first big chop. You play with the coils of self-love, grease the fight for your rights as an American citizen that is your scalp and wrap your coif up for the night in righteous anger.
White radicalization is weak.
It is that sticky piece of gum that has collected on the bottom of your shoe. It collects passive racism, sometimes dragging a piece of toilet paper that was part of a roll to threaten a black child in school with a noose. It fuses itself to baby booties, the minute they learn to walk.
Black radicalization is for protection and education.
White radicalization is for projection and jingoism.
Black radicalization is calling for equal, humane rights.
White radicalization is calling for slow, redlining, school-to-prison-pipeline rights.
Black radicalization calls for black people reuniting as one.
White radicalization calls for bombing and scattering them.
Black radicalization is demanding the white supremacist police state to be held responsible and accountable.
White radicalization is telling black people to be quiet while giving white supremacist teachers guns while white people are gunning other white people down.
White radicalization was never Mandark, never Brainy. White radicalization has always been Biff Tannen.
Black radicalization was never Mammy, never welfare queens. Black radicalization was always Aiyana Jones and Tamir Rice.