#race for refugees

[neitherabaron]

Race for Refugees - 30 Tunes, 30 Days!

Hey everyone,

TL/DR: I'm going to be recording and releasing 30 folk tunes on my violin for the month of September in support of Refugee Action! You can sponsor me here:

Like most people here in the UK, I've been horrified by the events of the last few weeks. Now more than ever, it's time to show solidarity, stand up against hate and discrimination, and demand a fairer future for refugees and people seeking safety in the UK.

Refugee Action support refugees' rights and services across the UK. Race for Refugees runs for the month of September - it's a race for hope, with a difference - participants take on a challenge of their choice for the month!

I'm a folk musician. I grew up with a genuine love for the folk music traditions of the UK. I've played in folk rock groups and ceilidh bands, covering traditional songs and dance tunes. But I'm perhaps not the type of person you immediately picture when you think of UK trad-folk!

My grandpa was an immigrant from Ghana in the 1950s and was blessed to be able to build a wonderful life here. I think we should demand nothing less for today's immigrants, especially those seeking safety and asylum.

Every day in September, I'm going to be recording and releasing a traditional fiddle tune from the British isles in support of refugees. There'll be jigs, reels, hornpipes and strathspeys aplenty!

Please sponsor me if you can, and help support refugees across the UK!

Thank you!

[fag4arabs]

Yeah, just like that you filthy fag! Suck my Arabian Cock good and deep. Take it in your throat like a slut. My wife is not here now and I need to unload my balls in a hole. And you the first hole available. So it is up to you now to make me cum. Come on whore. Take it deep in your throat and thank me later for my mighty cum.

[antifainternational]

The anti-migrant pogroms/race riots in the UK this summer were coordinated and fueled by a 22-year-old nazi in Finland.

[africanrefugeeswelcome]

It's beautiful to see a mixed child waiting for their next mixed sibling to be born

[fafnir19]

Refugee's Welcome

Rashid slouched against the peeling wall of the refugee home, his shiny tracksuit clinging to his skin. He fiddled with his phone, scrolling through messages from his family back in the Middle East. Each ding from the device felt like a reminder of the life he was building on the backs of the generous European welfare system. He decided to go for a walk and trudged along the cracked pavement, the soles of his brand new sneakers slapping against the ground with a dull thud. He glanced around the neighborhood, a hodgepodge of well-maintained buildings and meticulously maintained gardens tended by eager hands. The air was thick with the scent of fresh food and the distant hum of traffic, a reminder of the life outside his small refugee home.

He pushed back the bitterness that welled in his throat. Here he was, in Europe, surrounded by riches, yet he felt like a ghost haunting a world meant for someone else. This place, with its cold efficiency, was supposed to be a sanctuary, but to him, it felt like a cage. In fact, he was just an imposter, pretending to be a refugee, but in reality he was just eager to take advantage of the welfare system. “Stupid place,” he muttered, casting an envious glance at a group of teenagers laughing as they tossed a football back and forth. Their carefree joy was a dagger to his heart. He didn’t belong here, and his greed for what they had only deepened his resentment.

He had grown tired of the monotony—waiting for welfare checks, sending money back home, and plotting how to bring his family to this land of plenty. It was all so predictable, like a clock ticking away the minutes of his life. He craved change, but not the kind that required effort or adaptation. No, he wanted to exploit this system without remorse, just as he had been doing since his arrival. He looked up at the buildings that towered around him, their elegance a sharp contrast to the crumbling structures of his homeland. “Why should they have it all?” he grumbled under his breath, jealousy pooling in his stomach. “I will bring my family here. They deserve this life.” The idea of his parents and siblings living off European welfare while spreading the “truth faith” of Islam filled him with a sense of purpose.

As he turned a corner, something gleamed in the dirt, catching his eye. He bent down, brushing away the grime to reveal a golden coin. It shone brightly, almost taunting him. **Wow, this might go for a good price!** he thought, his heart racing at the thought of his usual dealer, Muzaffar. “Hey! That’s mine!” a high-pitched voice squeaked. Rashid spun around, his heart racing. Before him stood a gnome, no taller than his knee, with a wild beard and a pointed hat that seemed to flop with every movement.

“What did you say?” Rashid challenged, his hand instinctively reaching for the knife tucked into his waistband. “I said it’s mine!” the gnome shouted, glaring up at him, defiance in his beady eyes. “I’ve been tracking that coin for ages!” “Yeah?” Rashid sneered, brandishing the knife. “You want it back? Come and take it.” The gnome held up a surprisingly steady hand. “Hold on, hold on! There’s no need for violence.” He looked at Rashid, sizing him up. “I can offer you something better.” “Like what?” Rashid scoffed, his grip on the knife tightening. “Three wishes,” the gnome declared, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “In exchange for that lovely coin.” Rashid hesitated, curiosity piqued. “Three wishes? What’s the catch?” The gnome grinned, revealing a set of crooked teeth. “No catch,” the gnome replied, shrugging. “But you’ll need to sign this EU-standard form regarding the chance-/risk-profile of wishes.” He produced a thick stack of papers that looked entirely out of place in the outdoors. Rashid furrowed his brow, flipping through the pages. “What the hell? It’s twenty pages long! I’m not reading all this!” Rashid protested, as he tried to hide that he was barely able to read. The gnome chuckled again, its laughter echoing in the quiet street, “After all, we are in Europe and not in your primitive Stone Age country. Everything has to be in proper order!” Rashid’s irritation was boiling over and he grumbled, “I don’t have time for this!” but the thought of wealth and power urged him on.

 “Twenty pages? And only the first quarter of the first page is about chances? This is ridiculous!” The gnome chuckled, “Just sign, and we can get on with it.” Grumbling, Rashid took the pen, his mind racing. “Fine. But if this is a scam—” “Not a scam! Just formalities,” the gnome interrupted, his tone cheerful. Rashid signed his name with a flourish and shoved the papers back. “Now, what do you wish for?” The gnome’s eyes gleamed with anticipation.

Rashid’s heart pounded. This was it—the moment he’d been waiting for. “I wish to be handsome, intelligent, and rich!”

The gnome's laughter filled the air, a mischievous cackle that made Rashid's skin prickle. "Oh, the classics! Very well, young man. Watch and learn." As the gnome waved his tiny hand, Rashid felt a tingling sensation course through his body. It started at his fingertips, sending a shiver up his arms, and then it engulfed his entire being. The change was instantaneous and profound.

He felt a cool blow on his face, and his hand flew up to touch his chin, only to find it smooth and bare. His coarse Islamic beard, the symbol of his manhood and faith, had vanished. The tracksuit he had worn, a testament to his perceived street credibility, transformed into a crisp, white button-down shirt and tailored pants, fitting him perfectly. The clothes felt foreign yet comfortable, as if he had always belonged in them.

"Ah, the transformation begins!" The gnome's voice echoed in his mind, as if reading his thoughts. "But it's not just about the looks, my dear Rashid. It's the mind, the very essence of who you are, that is about to evolve."

A tickling sensation in his brain made Rashid giggle, and then a rush of knowledge flooded his thoughts. Images flashed before his eyes—a boy riding a bike, the wind in his hair; a swimmer slicing through the water with graceful strokes; and a skater gliding effortlessly on ice. He knew how to do all these things, as if he had been practicing them for years. "Recycle, reduce, reuse," a voice whispered in his head. He understood the importance of the environment, the need to protect and preserve. "Whoa, I know how to swim!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with wonder. The gnome, seemingly pleased with the spectacle, nodded.

Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through Rashid’s skull. “Ugh!” Rashid grunted, clutching his temples. “Knowledge!” the gnome sang, his eyes glinting mischievously. “It’s a powerful gift.” Rashid staggered back, his mind reeling. Images and concepts flooded in—equality of the sexes, environmental protection, the intricacies of Western philosophy. “What is this?” he gasped, tumbling to the ground as he wrestled with the torrent of newfound thoughts. But the gnome only watched, its arms crossed, amused and exclaimed, “Knowledge is flooding in!” Rashid clutched his head as the sharp pain radiated through him. “Ah! Stop!” he shouted, but it was too late. Due to his now sharper intellect new concepts twisted through his mind, unraveling the tightly wound beliefs he had held dear. “Islam… it’s just a superstition.” He staggered back against the wall, clutching his head. “No! This can’t be!” “Why not?” the gnome taunted. “It’s the truth. Islam is just superstition, a crutch for the weak, a tool for leaders to control the masses!” Rashid’s breath quickened. “No, that can’t be true! My faith—” “Is a façade!” the gnome interrupted, crossing his arms. “You’re just a pawn in a game you didn’t even realize you were playing. And now, look at you! You’re a pitiful weakling, only feeling strong among your ‘brothers’ with a knife in hand.” The realization hit him like a cold wave. “I was so blind! All this time, I thought I was superior! It’s… it’s all nonsense. My faith was a crutch, a way to feel superior without the means to truly be so.” A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “Honor? What a joke! I thought I was strong, but I was just hiding behind a knife.” “Precisely, you were strong only in delusion!” the gnome exclaimed, clapping his hands. Rashid’s laughter bubbled up, a mix of disbelief and relief. “I was pathetic!” he exclaimed, the weight of his previous identity lifting. “I can’t believe I thought that way,” Rashid stated, his voice filled with disbelief. “I wanted to bring my family here… to spread my beliefs. But they’re as lost as I was.”

As the searing pain in his head gradually faded, he became aware of the subtle changes taking place. His nose, once a prominent feature, seemed to shrink, reshaping itself into a more delicate structure. The rearrangement of his facial features continued, smoothing out the rough edges of his former self. "Ah, the wonders of magic," he whispered, his voice now carrying a hint of refinement. Rashid's attention turned to his hair, which had been as dark as a skunk's. But now, it shimmered with golden strands, transforming him into a vision of Nordic beauty.

The cologne he had doused himself in to mask his natural stink was no longer necessary. He inhaled deeply, bewildered by the subtle scent of fresh lemons that replaced the heavy musk of sandalwood he used to drown himself in. “What is this? I smell... clean?” His body odor had transformed, leaving behind a subtle, refreshing lemon fragrance. "Piano lessons, perhaps? Or maybe I should join a field hockey team," he mused, his thoughts filled with newfound interests and hobbies. The possibilities seemed endless, and Rashid felt a surge of excitement. Just as his thoughts began to wander, the world around him shifted. The drab walls of the refugee home were gone, replaced by an elegant mansion with tall columns and a lush garden. He stood there, in the heart of the city's most prestigious neighborhood, and marveled at his new surroundings. "Rashid no more," he declared, his voice echoing in the quiet street. "I am Rasmus, reborn and ready to conquer this new world." Rasmus, now fully immersed in his transformation, felt a surge of confidence and ambition.

His eyes, now a vivid shade of blue, scanned the mansion, taking in every detail. But amidst the excitement, a flicker of doubt creased his newly formed brow. *What of my family?* he wondered.

He recalled their lives in self-inflicted filth and revolving around the mosque, the strict adherence to primitive and cruel customs —days spent in idle chatter, evenings in crowded rooms, and a future with no prospects.

*They wouldn't fit in here. Not with their backward ways.* Their lack of education and skills weighed on his mind. He pictured their limited knowledge, their dependence on a language he now found crude, their inability to even swim, their unwillingness to adapt and their sole focus on survival and procreation. "What kind of life is that?" he muttered under his breath. "They're like animals, breeding without thought."

Suddenly the gnome's voice sliced the silence and breaking his train of thought , "Now, what is your final wish?" Rasmus turned, his bright blue eyes narrowing in confusion. "I thought I already had three wishes?" The gnome chuckled, its laughter like a tinkling of bells. "Welcome to Europe! It's a self-commitment with the consumer counsel society. You see, they believe that the first wishes might not always turn out as expected, and so, a fourth wish is granted to rectify any potential mistakes." Rasmus listened intently, his curiosity piqued. "Or, it could be an additional wish," the gnome continued, its eyes twinkling mischievously. "Perhaps you'd like to bring your family here, give them a taste of this life?"

Just then, a gust of wind blew a colorful flyer into Rasmus' path. He bent down to pick it up, his curiosity piqued. It was an advertisement from the local animal protection society, seeking donations for a noble cause. "Vets on Vacation—traveling to Greece to neuter street cats and dogs, ending their suffering" the flyer reads. The image of a stray cat and her litter tugged at his heartstrings, but it was the message that struck a chord. "Uncontrolled propagation leads to suffering," he read aloud.

The words resonated with him, and he thought of his family. Their lives, so different from his own now, seemed to mirror the plight of these animals. *They are like these animals, breeding without purpose, living off the system,* he thought bitterly. A rush of memories flooded his mind—his parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins, all dependent on his welfare money, trapped in a cycle of poverty and ignorance. "They sent me here to live off the generosity of others," he whispered, his voice laced with bitterness. "They are content with their ignorance, their lack of ambition." In that moment, Rasmus made his decision. "No," he whispered, his voice filled with determination. "They don't deserve to be here. They don't deserve this life." The gnome's eyes narrowed, sensing the change in Rasmus' demeanor. "And what is your wish, Rasmus?" Rasmus straightened his back, his blue eyes now cold and resolute. "I wish..." Rasmus began, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "I wish for my family to be neutered. To end their suffering and the burden they impose on society."

The gnome erupted into a fit of laughter, the sound echoing through the air. “Very well!” In the blink of an eye, his relatives, one by one, undergoing a transformation. Rasmus could almost hear the cries of his parents, his siblings, his uncles and cousins, all the way from the other side of the world. The process was swift and efficient, and when it was over, Rasmus felt a sense of relief. "Consider it done," the gnome's voice echoed in his mind. "Your family's legacy will not burden the world any longer."

His family, his entire lineage, would no longer burden Europe with their presence. *Their Arabic heritage ends here,* Rasmus thought, his heart pounding with determination. *Only my new superior Northern genes and the Western way of life will prevail.*

Rasmus took a deep breath, his chest swelling with newfound determination. "But this is not enough," he whispered, his eyes narrowing. "I must ensure that others like them do not infest this great continent. These deceitful 'refugees' must be stopped from ruining Europe's harmony." He straightened his preppy attire, the crisp fabric of his shirt reflecting his resolve. "I, Rasmus, will dedicate my life to preserving the purity of this land. No more shall we be plagued by those who abuse our generosity. I shall find a way to protect Europe from the influx of these imposters."

He would use his newfound intelligence and resources to ensure that only the worthy would be granted entry, and that his new home would thrive, untainted by the ills of the past. With a nod of gratitude to the gnome, who had now disappeared, Rasmus set off, his stride confident and purposeful. He had a new life, a new identity, and a mission to fulfill. The old Rashid was gone, and Rasmus, the beacon of conservative European values, was ready to take on the world. "I will make a difference," he vowed, his voice carrying on the wind. "And I will ensure that my new home remains the beacon of civilization it was meant to be."

As he walked towards his mansion, a faint laughter, like wind chimes in the distance, followed him. It was the gnome, amused by the turn of events, but also proud of the man Rasmus had become. Rasmus didn't look back, for he had a new life to embrace and a society to protect from the very deceit he had once embodied.

[hussyknee]

Seeing characters in romance stories just jetting between countries at a moment's notice with no thought for visa; seeing airports as sites of triumphant climaxes and romantic denouements instead of places of fear and danger where a sword hangs above your head— it all breaks off little pieces of my heart. They're constant reminders that my people will never be human enough in the colonial world order to be allowed to move freely around it. No matter what your race, those non-refugees living in the Global North will never understand what it's like to be part of a global ghetto where your passport is nothing but a trembling supplication and humiliation.

[bestworstcase]

Hi there! I was wondering what your thoughts are on the rwby ship whiteknight? I'm not a hard-core shipper but I think they have a really interesting dynamic (they both have a kind of damsel in distress VS knight in shining armour duality in them (with jaune starting the series desperate to be the hero/Knight but constantly finding himself in position of damsel, over the series growing into that role of Knight while also learning that relying on others is okay, and weiss being both damsel and liberating Knight rolled into one). Do you think these 2 fit into an ozlem fractal? Or do their parallels make them too similar to be compatible?

in general terms, the fractal ozlem lens is about – well @rontra distilled it here more pithily than i could lmao but the thesis is that the fractures and reflections of ozlem in other characters (& their romantic arcs) is a narrative commentary on and justification for ozlem itself; so the question to ask when looking at the narrative this way is always, what does this say about ozlem?

(<- and you [general] also kind of have to understand, as a prerequisite, what’s actually going on narratively with ozlem themselves, by which i mean anyone arguing for the romantic eventuation of this or that ship on the basis of it being in some way a narrative refutation of ozlem doesn’t know what they’re fucking talking about. lol)

anyway, i’ve written before about weiss and (SIGHS HEAVILY) where jaune’s character might be headed vis-a-vis romantic arcs, with the TL;DR being i don’t think weiss will have one and jaune has a lot of weird setup in this regard that has led me to what is either the most brilliant moment of foresight i’ve ever had or completely losing the plot but i think he’s headed for some kind of enemies-to-lovers situation with gillian asturias.

in any case the– i don’t like to refer to it as ‘ship teasing’ because that presupposes that the writers put it there as fanservice and not in service of characterization, but the light narrative flirtation with weiss/jaune in v9 struck me at the time and continues to strike as akin to blake/sun in that it’s predicated on a genuine but superficial and passing attraction that is textually shown to be at odds with a deeper incompatibility and lack of sustainable romantic connection – weiss alienates and hurts jaune in precisely the same way sun does blake with his misapprehension of her motives for running away in v4. also like blake/sun, this flirtation-incompatibility is resolved via a movement toward closer friendship absent any romantic tension.

which is interesting in part because narratively the point of blake/sun is to precipitate character development blake needs to be able to return to yang. we see something similar with penny/ruby -> ruby/oscar wherein ruby’s grief for penny and guilt about not being able to protect her is entwined with the narrative setup for ruby/oscar, although there the grief/guilt complex is what creates the obstacle inhibiting ruby from wanting to/allowing herself to admit how much she’s grown close to oscar. the point being, rwby has a pattern of doing this kind of thing.

(what makes jaune weird is that this is also happening with cinder, and i don’t think the pseudo-romantic development with weiss can really be extricated from the pseudo-romantic development with cinder because there is this push-pull happening. the blatant ozlem-parallel chest stomp is immediately followed by cinder impaling weiss which incites jaune’s semblance; cinder murders penny and forces jaune’s hand by moving to kill weiss only for jaune to save weiss by screaming in anguish when he ends penny’s life; cinder shatters the symbol of jaune’s selfhood and weiss incites the mending of his self-image by casting him into the tree.)

the fractal ozlem level checks out for gillian/jaune (<- he’s a salem who is cynical and in want of true faith, she’s an ozma who chose her heart over her cause, but she’s also a salem whose father refused to put her in a tower and his experience in the ever after corrupted him into a shadow of ozpin, the julius caesar / nennius allusion implied by crocea mors and jaune’s forefathers having been mistrali soldiers vs gill allegedly being descended from the vacuan monarchy that was conquered and eradicated by centuries colonization which most recently was at mistrali hands rather directly echoes the lifetimes of enmity salem and ozma have shared; if the narrative goes this route with them they are a microcosm of the compromises and understanding that needs to be found between ozlem)

but that in itself isn’t necessarily grounds for the ship to eventuate and indeed it’s sort of the window dressing; more salient is that it makes… a lot of sense for gill to be where the tragedy of arkos and the pseudo-romantic developments with weiss/jaune and jaune/cinder are all pointing (especially if im correct in thinking gill is or will be the summer maiden!):

arkos ended in tragedy for the same reasons ozlem did the second time around – pyrrha chose to die fulfilling a (hollow, arbitrary) destiny she was coerced into accepting rather than choosing herself and her love. if jaune is slated to have a second romantic arc i’d expect it to not only not repeat this tragedy but to specifically reject the self-sacrifice that made arkos tragic; thus the romantic interest would need to be someone who would choose to do what pyrrha did not, and gillian is—demonstrably—exactly that person. she sacrificed her destiny to save herself and her brother. (she is also, er, the invincible girl…2!)

similarly the intertwined back and forth between cinder and weiss in relation to jaune, if that is precipitating a genuine romantic interest i would expect her (or him) to be someone who resembles both cinder and weiss in a way that is salient to jaune and their interactions to him. and like.

cinder:

✅ phenomenally powerful enemy ✅ aura-siphoning capabilities contrasting jaune’s semblance ✅ (possibly!) a maiden

weiss:

✅ heir to a political legacy in her kingdom of origin whose character is strongly defined by that legacy and her patriotism ✅ injured in a way that galvanizes jaune’s character development (<- in gill’s case, jax’s medical condition)

all the necessary pieces are there. and certainly it seems very likely that jaune—who has the reverse of gillian’s semblance, whose forefathers were involved in the conquest and occupation of gillian’s country!, and who traveled the ever after with two children who very likely lived during the mistrali occupation of vacuo unless that book is centuries older than i think it is—will be a central player in gillian’s character arc regardless of whether he is or isn’t a romantic interest.

comparatively—i don’t see much of any meaningful narrative foundation for weiss/jaune to eventuate romantically. his crush on her during the beacon arc is long gone (and chiefly served to facilitate his growing up for pyrrha, allowing arkos to culminate in romantic tragedy) and the v9 flirtation is, as i said, i think contraindicated in the same manner blake/sun was in v4. weiss’ friendship is of crucial importance to jaune’s character, but there is nothing obvious binding them together in the long term–

compare blake/yang: yang’s desire for adventure and novelty in service of others is a perfect complement to blake’s razor-sharp clarity of purpose and searing commitment to justice. or ren/nora: they’re bonded by shared history and a shared need to find purpose now that they have, together, exorcised the demon that destroyed their home (as it were). or ruby/oscar: both of them have expressed, in different ways but with equal longing, a desire to just explore and find freedom from the burdens of destiny thrust upon them.

the evident endgame pairings all have something that connects them – a shared goal, or two different goals that each complement the other so well that they might as well be two halves of a whole.

weiss wanted to reclaim her family legacy from her father’s corruption of it, and make things right; now that her kingdom has fallen, her motivations seem likely to shift from reclamation to rebuilding. meanwhile jaune forced himself into an ill-fitting mold in desperation to follow in the footsteps of his forefathers – again, mistrali soldiers who were likely participants in the occupation of vacuo and certainly would have been fighting on the fascist-imperial side of the great war!!

notionally jaune’s preoccupation with his family legacy dovetails with weiss’ but the way they interact with these legacies are diametrically opposed, and jaune has never actually reckoned with what his forefathers were fighting for. that the narrative exiled him in the ever after in the specific way it did – meeting two vacuan children who might well have come of age in a time when his grandfather was an occupying soldier in their country, and being so paranoid and obsessed with forcing their story to happen correctly that one of them got scared and poisoned him – along with the very explicit telegraphing that vacuo’s history of being colonized will be coming home to roost… well. jaune’s individual goals have been driving him toward a reckoning in vacuo, and he has no personal connection to atlas/mantle at all.

basically i struggle to see him leaving vacuo once all is resolved and likewise struggle to see weiss doing anything besides returning to solitas to rebuild, and that is a pretty critical incompatibility – these locations are literally not even in the same hemisphere. and i don’t think that would be the case if rwby were building up toward weiss/jaune with any seriousness tbh

[flamingplay]

24.02.2024

[spacekellycommanderkalergi]

[timothylawrence]

also i know another nonwhite user got hate for this on this website for pointing it out but. the tiefling refugee crisis in act three was in fact very uncomfy to sit there and hear as an immigrant lmao . like obviously its for plot purposes but whew. hearing all the hate, fictional or not, made me squirm a bit.

[odinsblog]

Deporter-in-Chief

[neitherabaron]

Hey everyone, the last Race for Refugees song is gonna have to come out late.

I’ve been putting off making a decision, hoping I’d feel better and have my voice back in time to be able to sing. However, I think I’ve given myself as much recovery time as I can afford, factoring in mixing and mastering, and I still don’t have a voice, plus, I’m just ragged and worn out in general.

So, I don’t think I can hit that deadline of the 30th, and I’m cut up about it tbh. I’m really sorry.

I’ll record it once I’m in better shape, and better rested.

In the meantime, I can at least still get all the regular fiddle tunes done. Maybe I can add an extra one while we’re waiting for the song, so it can still be 30 tunes in 30 days.

[bastardbvby]

night beloveds nobody move until the morning mwah

[antifainternational]

Masterclasss in responding to xenophobic race riot apologists.

[africanrefugeeswelcome]

Angola🇦🇴 + Russia🇷🇺

[tododeku-or-bust]

Different European white folks not voting "White" in that poll are so funny, bc it show two things:

Whiteness and race really are just messy ass sociological concepts invented to create false value (which is me paraphrasing EXTREMELY) because so many countries in Europe have historically despised each other based in things like ethnicity, religion, and other cultural practices. Like the moment race is removed as a concept, they still find other reasons to fight and categorize

They certainly know they aren't brown when Middle Eastern and African immigrants show up seeking asylum 🤣 then suddenly, it's us vs them