Stories, Music and Film

Rachel Dolezal meet Rosie Ruiz


Rachel Dolezal, the white African-American, was forced out as head of the Spokane NAACP when it was learned that the African-American part was fake.

Now, Rachel deserves our pity, for she is clearly mentally ill. But it is, like Bruce/Caitlyn Jenner, a harmless affliction, and once she has had her few days of fame, will fade back into anonymity. But like Caitlyn, she may someday do herself harm, once the cheering stops, the name recognition fades into oblivion and Caitlyn’s makeup starts to run. Like every other over-used and discarded product of media fame, they must then try to rebuild whatever they can.

Where will Rachel go? Who will be her friends? Who will take her in?

The more pitiable case is Rachel Dolezal, I think, for she really had a sweet gig going, living a lie among the Spokane black community in a state (Washington) where virtually everything is phony, and a man can have sex with a long as he doesn’t hurt its feelings. Or her.

You see, Rachel is out of a job now because she reached too far. She wasn’t willing to leave well enough alone. She wasn’t content to be a regular black woman among blacks in a crazy state. We wanted more. She went after leadership. What blew her cover was the simple fact that she won.

Rosie Ruiz won the 1980 Boston Marathon after she took the subway the majority of the 26-mile course, then darted back onto the course in the final leg of the race. She didn’t even work up a “mist”. (I’m told by women that women don’t sweat. They mist.) Her mistake was that she won. Had she just come in fifth she likely would never have been outed, and could have run all the East Coast marathons for several more years, her mantle filled with trophies and ribbons. Instead she became a pariah, a name that will live forever in racing infamy.

So it goes for poor Rachel Dolezal.

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