I Am FreeThinker


Thank you, xParetorius, for that gracious introduction at the end of my inaugural post in this blog!

I am FreeThinker and as xParetorius indicated I’m a “media personality.” Chances are that if you’re reading this, you’ve heard of me and know my name. You know also that if I were to say out loud what I’ll say anonymously in this forum, I’d lose my job. Hence, here I am!

Who am I?

As xPraetorius said, I’m a “brown girl,” meaning, I’m definitely not white, but my skin is not dark enough to qualify as black. I have mixed black african, East-Asian, Native American and some Scandinavian genetics. However, I’m all American. I was born here, and so were both my parents. Three of their four total parents, my grandparents, were immigrants and one, my great-grandmother on my mother’s side, was already here. Her family had been here a long time.

I absolutely qualify as a “person of color,” but refuse to allow myself to be labeled as such. I’m a person. My color has nothing to do with it. The term “person of color,” is meant to divide and separate people. To put distance between persons. The term should be avoided at all cost.

I also qualify as an “African-American,” but don’t allow myself to be called that either. If someone calls me “African-American.”  I gently correct them. “I am not,” I say, “an African-American. I’m a pure American. Period.” That generally rocks them back on their heels, but it gets my point across, and that’s that.

My great-grandparents, who all knew each other before my parents met, were all keen on insisting to each of my parents that they were American. Period. That all that other stuff was just hooey, because they, my grandparents, had done the greatest thing that anyone in the world could do for them, my parents, and that was to allow them to be born right here in the USA..

My parents passed that thought, that state-of-mind, on down to me. They never, ever complained about how anybody in America treated them, insisting that things were always a whole lot worse where their parents had come from. I don’t know many of those details, because my grandparents and I never spoke much of life in the old country. They always insisted that my parents and I focus on the future and that we do whatever we could to make it a bright future.

I grew up with a bit of a culture clash between myself and my surroundings. The majority of those around me were blacks and browns and a few whites, but I rarely had any real difficulty interacting with any of them. I had black, brown and white friends, and their parents definitely raised them differently depending on their race. The black and brown kids, with few exceptions, exhibited a sense of bitter entitlement. The white kids generally heard a fairly standard message of “work hard to give yourself a chance to do better than your current circumstances.” The black and brown kids usually heard a message of, “here’s what you have to do to beat the system that is rigged against you.”

I was never ever allowed even to contemplate that the system might have been “rigged against me” because of the color of my skin. I was pretty driven, so I didn’t fail a whole lot, but when I did, if I ever tried to make an excuse about how it wasn’t my fault, or the circumstances were unjust, or whatever, my parents quickly squashed it. I might have tried to make excuses once or twice. But I haven’t ever again.

My parents had a simple rule: “I don’t care what the circumstances are, nothing on earth relieves you of your obligation to work hard, to be a good and decent person, to worship God, to love your fellow man, and to go to bed and do it all again the next day. Period.

With all this in my background, I guess it’s not surprising that I’ve always been a questing thinker. I don’t want to go just below the surface. I have always wanted to dig and dig and think and think until I came to a point where I had confidence in my conclusions.

Too many people I saw around me did little more than parrot what they had heard others tell them, or what they heard in school. I always tended to chew things over until I almost inevitably came to something that nagged at me because it seemed to make no sense. I could never just let that go. I had to find out what it was with this thing, whatever it was, that seemed to contradict my conclusions.

That tended to make me popular or unpopular with my teachers, depending on their political preferences. In High School, my questioning was generally accepted and welcomed. Not in college.

My skin color overcame my mediocre high school grades (B Average) and got me into Dartmouth. There, my questioning of the overwhelmingly leftist orthodoxy that reigned was definitely not welcome. I became a “troublemaker” and escaped with a Bachelor of Arts degree in Communications, and a minor in Journalism. That is the exact credential of someone who has no idea what to do with her life.

Needless to say, I went into media, and being relatively attractive, soon found myself anchoring local network news broadcasts, albeit at odd hours of the night and odd days of the week. However, the pay was good and my colleagues treated me like gold, and I was on tv!

Still, something nagged at me. As constrained from expressing my point of view as I was at Dartmouth, this media job was a lot worse. Very early on, it became obvious to me that I was expected to be able to contribute to the station’s “African-American Outreach Initiative.” (Google it, if you wish) When I protested that I didn’t consider myself “African-American,” but rather “American,” I received a rather abrupt reminder that I needed to eradicate that kind of thinking, and get with the program.

I was, you see, an “African-American,” whether I liked it or not. I was hired as one, they told me, and I was one, and I was darned well going to act like one and help the station with its “Initiative.” Or else. It soon became evident that this “Initiative” was little more than theater spitting out all the same tired, old liberal bromides that I had questioned in high school and college, and for which I had never received any adquate explanations.

All this was relentlessly, inexorably making me into that rarest of creatures: a brown-skinned Conservative in media land, though I’ve never really fit comfortably into any boxes. The global “narrative” out there, however, is all liberal, and it’s riddled with contradictions, nonsense and rubbish. And it pretty much rules our land. That our great country, the greatest country that has ever been, chooses to be ruled by contradictions, nonsense and rubbish has long galled me, and I couldn’t just let it pass by unchallenged.

I realized that I couldn’t work at that television station too much longer and keep my sanity, so I started to hunt around. Amazingly, I found something fairly quickly. Something national. I passed the fairly grueling interview process and was offered a prominent media job with a huge raise in pay, in a big national market. Did I take the job? Of course I did!

Well, frying pan, meet fire. If I thought I was repressed in college, then in small-town media, that was nothing compared to major media! In major media, every word you utter is scrutinized to the nth degree, in hopes that something you say will allow someone to scream, “Ah hah! Gotcha!”

Even worse, I was a closet Conservative embedded deep in the belly of the liberal beast, national major media.

At that point, I realized something deeply depressing: I had become part of the problem with America.

Hence, despite the risk to my livelihood, I’ve been visiting various blogs out there in internet-land and challenging the points of view there. It’s been astonishingly therapeutic. I loved speaking freely. It was the first time I’ve done that since I left college! It was liberating, fun, stimulating, challenging. All the things that my job as a television personality in liberal-land are not.

One of my jaunts brought me to “BrothaWolf’s” blog, where I jousted with BrothaWolf’s readers. That eventually got me banned, as I pretty much expected, but not before xPraetorius at this blog could contact me. I didn’t know it, but he had been following my little interaction with BrothaWolf and his readers, and had been chronicling it in this blog.

It turns out that we are kindred spirits, xPraetorius and I, though he’s a good deal older than I. We corresponded a few times and out of the blue, he e-mailed me to ask me to consider joining his Writers Group. I didn’t answer for a while, but then thought, “What the heck! What can I lose?”

He flew me to his headquarters, a medium-sized office building in Hartford, CT, and we met. When we saw each other, we both did a double-take. You see, until that meeting, we were “FreeThinker” and “xPraetorius.” We had done nothing but refer to each other by our on-line monikers. But, he knew me, and I knew him! He’s really famous, while I’m kind of famous, so it was absolutely hilarious!

We talked about almost nothing relevant to the blog for some time. After all, we both kind of knew each other! After a while x said to me, “Let’s get down to brass tacks. I knew I agreed with you before I met you. I wanted to meet you to see whether I’d like you as well. That’s kind of important to our group and me. Now, though, I’d like to offer you a position with our think tank.”

I was a bit taken aback. The whole meeting was about whether or not he liked me? I wasn’t ready for that. I was ready for an in-depth interrogation on my views on politics, current events and the like. I was ready to discuss all that in depth. But, I was not prepared to get all close and personal with him. Don’t get me wrong, he was never once out of line or even slightly inappropriate, but I thought this was to be like a somewhat typical job interview.

I was annoyed for a moment, but only a moment. I haven’t mentioned that xPraetorius is exceedingly charming, and had won me over personally before I even knew it had happened.

Here are some of my observations, which you might already know anyway. He’s famous! Quite famous in certain circles. He’s a really tall, distinguished looking guy, a bit on the hefty side, but in an agreeable way. He’s much taller than he appears on television. And he’s solid, like a mountain, with a handshake like iron. He carries his extra weight well. He has a velvet, baritone voice. It’s a voice meant for radio, with a face for television. He’s quite handsome in a distinguished kind of way. You likely do know his face, you almost certainly know his voice.

He’s also the nicest, sweetest man I think I’ve ever met. He’s quiet, but not afraid at all to talk. He just talks quietly, with that velvety smooth voice that almost lulls you into a state of relaxation that might leave you suggestible to who knows what. 🙂

Bottom line, I liked him a lot, and I look forward to a long, fruitful relationship here at the Praetorian Writers’ Group!

FreeThinker

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12 thoughts on “I Am FreeThinker

  1. Wow, I’m impressed.
    Like you I’m fed up with this race nonsense. The sad thing is, that many black persons primariliy perceive themselves as black persons making their skin color a central part of their identity. How on earth do they expect that the world around them perceives them not primariliy as black persons? Yes, there are too many black racists. Sadly, academia, the media and politicians use that division into races to further their agendas.
    To make even clearer what I think about the whole race nonsense I take the liberty to quote from an exchange I had with a person in the context of sex change and healthcare. He complained about transgender discrimination. In that exchange I made the statement: “I don’t care about gender and race. I treat everyone equally (some say equally badly).”

    To which that person replied:
    “I think the root of the issue here is in your first sentence. I think what you mean is similar to the assertion that you don’t see gender or race, meaning something along the lines of being “color blind” or “gender blind” (correct me if I’m wrong here).

    In that case being blind to something erases it in more ways than what I think you intend. In the instance of race, being color blind means that not only are you attempting to be blind to the stereotypes of race, you are also blind to the struggles (and pride and identity) of someone who is that race. Erasing that part of someone’s identity, even though it’s fraught with unpleasant consequences, erases an essential part of that person’s history.”

    This was my answer:

    What I said is, that I don’t care about race and gender and that I don’t discriminate people based on gender and race.
    I don’t treat a black person differently from a white person.
    Neither does a black person get a bonus for being black, being treated better, nor is he treated worse for being black.
    I follow the tradition of Martin Luther King who said that he was dreaming of a time when his kids would be judged by their character and not by their skin color.
    Are you saying that I should discriminate?
    If so, then it would be exactly that which racists do. They divide people into arbitrary categories that include only a tiny fraction of a person’s beeing and attribute all kinds of characteristics to that tiny fraction.
    If one reads scholarly books on racism like the works of Leon Poliakov, an expert on racism and the holocaust, one discovers that scientists have difficulty to even define race. Some scientists even claim that such a thing as race does not exist.
    According to science AT MAXIMUM 2% of the human genome is responsible for the color of your skin.
    That’s why judging people by their skin color makes as much sense as judging people by the size and shape of their ears.
    I live in Northern Europe since my earliest childhood but being a Southern European I had very dark skin when as a kid I spent most of the time outdoors.
    In my childhood I suffered from some ugly forms of racism and xenophobia. In my later years when my skin became much brighter I suffered from some rare cases of black racism. Yes, black racists exist.
    I was offended in both cases and aside from science my personal experience should demonstrate the utter silliness of identifying with one’s skin color.
    When I look into the mirror I don’t waste a thought on my skin color. That was the same when I was a kid.
    That is also the normal state of affairs. Before Africans came into contact with Europeans they didn’t waste a thought on their skin color either and surely it would have seemed ridiculous to a muslim Sudanese that he should identify with a Zulu or a tribesman from the Kongo merely on the basis of their skin color when they were different in almost every other respect.
    If they could find common ground, which is difficult considering their cultural differences, it’s because there is a core of the human nature that transcends all the other differences (real ones and artificial ones).
    So, why should I give a damn about someone’s skin color or race (whatever that is) when I don’t give a damn about my own skin color or race?
    If someone wants to be proud because he happens to have a certain skin color and if he has made his skin color a central part of his identity, he is free to do so but don’t expect me to give a damn about it.
    Respect and sympathy, like disrespect and antipathy, have to be earned and you get neither from me just because you are of a certain race or gender.
    A human being is much, much more than his skin color, race or gender and reducing a person to these tiny fractions of his person would “erase” much more than the reverse and would be even more offensive and unjust.
    Humans use all kinds of criteria to put other humans in a box for all kinds of reasons. Racism is a relatively new phenomenon and was, based on darwinism, introduced to claim superiority of certain races over others. It was also used to justify the exploitation or destruction of “inferior” races. Now, should I accept all the silly criteria that others want to apply to me? Just because someone wants to classify people according to the length of their noses, should I make my nose a central part of my identity and be proud it? No, I refuse to put myself in that box. I’m free.
    People have different skin colors. That’s a fact. But just because someone has arbitrarilly made that an importannt criterium by which people should be classified, should I accept that and perpetuate that nonsense? No!
    Understand that I have no power to erase anything. It is only you who can erase your own history and identity.
    I have no magical powers to erase your history and identity. In an orwellian way your argument turns everything on its head.
    You are turning yourself into an eternal victim whose identity depends on outside confirmation.
    The idea that I would erase essential parts of a person by not caring about these parts is absolutely nonsensical.
    I hope it becomes clear to you how nonsensical this idea is in the following example.
    When a person who is born color blind looks at a flower he cannot see its color but the fact that he cannot see the color doesn’t erase the flower’s color. The flower’s color is just one of its billions attributes that are independent from the outside observer and whether one recognizes them or not these attributes simply exist.
    Your idea is way beyond postmodernism and the only way it would work would be through black magic.
    It’s also flawed for another reason. Different people view different aspects of themselves as essential parts of their own identity. While one person views her hair as essential part another person views her nails as essential part etc..
    The problem is that you cannot know what aspect of themselves different persons view as essential.
    I cannot know and frankly I don’t want to know and to satisfy every person’s narcissistic obsessions.
    The only way in which your idea would make sense is that one should treat people differently based on race, gender etc. which is exactly what racists and sexists do. No, thanks.
    Anyway, should I discriminate or not?
    There are only two possible answers: yes or no.
    Any other answer than no is a yes. If one discriminates just sometimes or just a little bit or just depending on circumstances one discriminates nonetheless.
    So, which is it?
    If your answer is yes, then you are justifying racism and sexism whether that’s your intention or not. It just follows logically.
    Moreover, if your answer is a yes, you are glaringly inconsistent and you blow your own argument out of the water because your objection to the insurance companies’ practice was based on your claim that this practice is a discrimination.
    You can’t have it both ways. You can’t be for discrimination and object to it at the same time.
    It’s not me putting you into a catch 22. It’s just logic.

  2. Wow! Thanks, Artaxes! Your stream of consciousness post is just one on the nose thought after another. Thank you for that. I enjoy a long screed as much as anyone, and that is a great screed. It also has the advantage of being true.

    Yours,

    FreeThinker

    1. My pleasure.
      Seems to me that you’ve chosen a fitting moniker for yourself.
      I always enjoy the thoughts of a free thinker.
      Looking forward to your screeds. I’m getting bored reading my own 😉

  3. “I have mixed black african, East-Asian, Native American and some Scandinavian genetics. However, I’m all American.”
    So clearly you are the most beautiful Woman on Earth.
    Just know when I tap at you… that will be the image I’ll have.
    It’s good to see X adding talent to his Empire.
    Cheers!
    And, I look forward to reading what parts you let us see…

    1. Lol! You make me blush, Mike! In a good way, though. I’ve been so busy lately that it’s been some time since I had flirtatious attention from any man much less someone who looks like a young Ronald Reagan!

      Yours,

      FreeThinker

  4. Sorry…
    I have a required habit of reading everything twice… and just caught this.
    “That is the exact credential of someone who has no idea what to do with her life.”
    No, no, no…
    A History Degree with an Art History Minor is the exact credential one needs to wander aimlessly in the desert. That, and a bottle of Bourbon.
    Lucky for me I have both.
    Lucky for us, you have neither.

  5. I have no bourbon, but when we meet, I’ll have a beer with you. I’m a beer girl myself. I do have to ask you: have you ever seen the curriculum in a “Communications” major? Don’t Newt Gingrich and George Will have history doctorates? You’re in some company there!

    Yours,

    FreeThinker

    1. OOOoooOooohhhhh… I see what you’re doing!
      While I share some things with George Will, in additon to Newt’s propensity to be sober only half the time, the caliber of their intellect escapes me. While It is true that I am exceptional… it is because I am exceptionally average in every way. I will also infor you that I have spent a great amount of time, and a very small amount of effort, getting to the point where I can revel in my mediocrity and slurred typing!
      And Revel I do! Revel, Revel, Revel! (Sorry, that’s what happens when old drunk dudes raise their voice. The cigar probably doesn’t help either.)
      Anyway, keep a tight lid on those charms of yours, FreeThinker.
      Because I’m just easy enough to fall for them.
      Oh, and don’t drink. It’s bad for you.

  6. Oh? What am I doing? 🙂

    I always thought Gingrich and Will had strong intellects. I’m curious. What do you dislike about them? I don’t think they’re perfect, but they seem to have a good understanding of the world around us all.

    Btw, I like your slurred typing. I’m enjoying your blog! I have to figure out this e-mail thing, as x and I share the same e-mail here at “the Praetorian Command Center.” So, I seem to be commenting as him, and if I’m not careful, I’ll go around liking posts and things as him. I find what you write refreshing and fun to read. And way more intelligent than the usual drivel out there.

    About keeping my charms under wraps, I really have to or else I’m out of a job. I need my job. 🙂

    Yours,

    FT

    1. eww… I see what I did now that I re-read my idiocy.
      No… a better way to put that is “The caliber of those two gentlement escapes MY ABILITIES.”
      Understanding Myself is an ongoing challenge. It must be nearly impossible for anyone else.
      I will make an effort to more clear. My apologies.
      However, for the record, I will never be caught on a couch with Nancy Pelosi or chatting it up happily with avowed Communists for publilc consumption. Just sayin’.
      And, I agree… you certainly don’t want anyone thinking you’re X.

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