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tsatske -> RE: Political Correctness & the Wonderful World of Kink (1/5/2009 5:01:55 PM)
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celeste,
I am pretty much majority race and esp. skin color, but I still get tired of people whining about PC. Whining about how 'unfair' it is not to be able to - to what? be blatentantly rude?
I get it when some idjit tries to legilate it into law. In a country with free speach, free speach is going to include rude and unacceptable speach. But just because it needs to be legeal does not mean I need to accept it. There are more ways to control things than just legislate them.
I can join with a lot of like minded people who make it clear we find you (generic you) a person of foul odor, if you use such terms or behavoir. If, as such people generally spout, they don't care what other people think, then this will have no ill effect on them.
Overall, however, it has the effect of slowly changing society.
I personally find I am able to withstand being treated like I have a foul odor - in other words, I guess I really DON'T care what people I don't know from Sam Adams think - WHEN, and generally ONLY WHEN, I feel right. When I don't feel strongly about my behavoir one way or another, then having it offend others will make me reflect on it, and, if I feel I am wrong, after such reflection, then my behavoir generally changes.
People who are 'tired of PC' generally don't want to have to go to the trouble of reflecting, often because they have cracked their mirror and it hurts their head.
I am also more than tired of the attitude of 'why shouldn't I be able to call a K--- a K--- (see above for refrence), or an N___ an N___? *I* never owned a slave!"
My Father is barely into his fifties. He happens to be white, but, in general, men his age, who are Black, and who lived in the south, can personally remeber being over the age of 5 and being downtown shopping and being caught 6 to 8 blocks or more from a bathroom where a Black child was allowed to go, and pissing their pants. Not thier great grandparents - personal memory. My father can remeber when there wasn't a resteraunt in town where a Black could sit down, although all the best resteraunts had ONLY blacks for servers.
My ex-Master wrote me crying after the election results, to remind me that he remebers walking down the street in the South and watching Black men step off the sidewalk, onto the street, to clear the way for a white man walking down the street. Personal memory.
This is not about our great grandfathers. It is, however, about your Daughter, who didn't know the meaning of that word - and your grandchildren, who Godwilling, will not only not knwo the meaning, but will never have cause to ask.
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