I am not black. I am white. But here is a topic that is gray. I am talking about the indelible influence of black, urban, “ghetto” culture on white, affluent America. It’s a discussion that’s been bounced around since Brown, Busing, and the The Black Panthers (Leonard the first was a big fan), yet it never ceases to amaze me.
A DUB wheel, shinning right back at you.
How else do you explain why a little white woman with her hair pulled back in a pony tail drops off her skinny white kids for soccer games in a barge more suited for a pimp?
I think it’s because black people are cool and white people feel left out. Not the little woman in the big black battlewagon, mind you; just most white people whom I call my friends. Like the Ivy Leaguer who recently asked me what a linked called DUB was doing on my blog.
What?
Doncha know what a dub wheel is?
Well then maybe you should. Suddenly you’ll discover how it happens to be the only thing that can make a whitebread ride like Lexus even remotely uncommon.
But then this has more to do with culture than cars.
It’s simple questions like these that expose the gap everyone needs to bridge. And just in case you think I am dissing the poor friend that asked me the simple question, you’re wrong. She asked it in a manner that leads me to believe that she genuinely did not know what I was talking about (and felt curious). She has a lot of company, I might add. What I do know is that something as simple as the wheels on a car can say something about society.
The good thing is that a very white person asked me a simple question about something that is very black. And it’s only when people stop asking these questions that I will start seeing red.
(My eyes are bloodshot by the way. I hope there ain’t too many typos in here tonight.)
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