I have stated that the purpose of this blog is to write the truth about what it is like here in North Dakota. I have already offended many people with what I have written. I want to be able to write the truth, like newspapers can’t. In this post, I want to write about black people, and both black people and white people need to read it.
I grew up in the South. After I had enough of getting beat by the nuns at Sacred Heart School every day, I started going to a public elementary school. About half the kids at this public school were poor. About 15% of the kids were black, and they were all from poor families, many of them from single mom households. The black kids fought more fiercely than the white kids. I got into fights with some black kids, I had a few black friends.
In Junior High and High School, I had a few black friends. It wasn’t until I got out of school that I fully understood how poor the black kids’ families had been. The black kids hadn’t really complained about their circumstances that much, probably partly out of pride and not wanting to be ashamed. In all kinds of ways, the teachers and administrators had done things to try to help the black students because they were aware of their circumstances, wanted them to stay in school, wanted to keep them from getting into trouble, wanted them to graduate, and be able to get a fairly good job. In no way were blacks picked on in our local public school system, it was just the opposite.
In the college and the university that I went to, I had a few black friends. One of these black students had the best academic record that I was ever aware of. After six years at this very difficult university when he graduated with a degree in mechanical engineering, he had only ever made one B, everything else was an A. He later became a patent attorney.
After I graduated, I went to work in Tampa as an engineer. Later I became a superintendent and had to work from about 6:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m., or later. I could not stand it when I would get home to my apartment, and somebody somewhere was playing “Rap music”, “Ghetto music”, “music from the Hood”, doooom! doooom! doooom! coming from the bass speakers with a 1,000 watt amplifier. I had listened to heavy equipment operating all day long and I didn’t want to hear any more loud banging. It was just as likely to be coming from some white kid’s car as it was some black kid’s car, but I couldn’t stand it.
Partly, the white kids and the black kids knew that it was annoying to everybody in the neighborhood, that’s why they did it. Partly, they liked this music that hyped living on the street, doing drive by shootings, slapping bitches, picking up whores, buying some crack, killing cops. I felt like they should go live in the ghetto if they liked it so much, what are you doing living here in north Tampa in this white working class neighborhood, you should be living in south central Tampa.
I went to the most expensive apartments that I could find. They had a wrought iron gate with a scanner that read a bar code on your car window, opened the gate and closed it behind you. I explained to my current leasing office why I was moving and paid the lease breakage penalty. I explained to the new leasing office exactly why I was moving in. The apartments were so expensive that all the one bedroom apartments were taken, they only had two bedroom apartments available, fine, I’ll take it.
In case you didn’t catch it, I was trying to move away from low class people, hoodlum people, stupid people who played Rap music, Ghetto music, Hood music. Also, I didn’t want to be around trashy, low class, ghetto acting people.
Things were O.K. for a while at my new apartment. My neighbor Eileen was very beautiful, she had been a model, and a dancer on television shows, and I went out with her. Another neighbor was a captain in the Coast Guard. Then one day, doooom doooom doooom from stereo speakers, a black man and his wife had moved in downstairs. Then in order to afford the rent, a black man, his wife, and two adult sons, all moved into the apartment across the hall, splitting the rent four ways. I couldn’t believe it, then again I could.
What makes me enraged, is that black people who have lived in the ghetto, lived in the hood, lived in public housing, know about gangs, drive by shootings, crack dealers, muggings, break-ins, robberies, and they don’t like it. They see nice new clean apartments, green grass lawns, clean sidewalks, new cars, quiet, peace, and safety, and they want to live there. The first thing they do when they get there is to start playing their “kill a cop, slap a bitch, beat a whore, buy some crack” ghetto hood music! And, start to act like and behave like it is the ghetto. Example of acting like it is the ghetto: instead of coming home, going inside, watching TV, working on the computer, reading, talking to friends on the phone, ghetto people park in front of a building, loiter around their cars, stand out there drinking, yelling at each other, talking really loud on the telephone using bad language, and forcing everyone to have to deal with them to get past them and into their apartment. This instantly turns a good, quiet, peaceful neighborhood, into a bad neighborhood.
There are at least three reasons why black people do this. One reason is, they truly want to get away from badly behaving people, and they don’t realize that they are badly behaving people. Two, they like to behave badly just to irritate white people, they notice that no one else is playing music loud, that it is not desired, so they go ahead and do it. Three, they are going to ruin every neighborhood they can, just like they did in the neighborhood where they came from.
Within about two weeks me and my neighbors were loading our furniture into U-Haul trucks, and paying our lease breakage fees. I put my furniture into storage and moved out West. I don’t like gangs, I don’t like the ghetto, I don’t like the hood, I don’t want to listen to ghetto music about the hood, I don’t want to be around people who act like they are from the hood. Even if I bought a $200,000 house in Tampa, the very next day a black family could move in next door and start playing their gangsta music about killing cops, slapping bitches, buying crack, doing time, and acting like people from the ghetto. Not going inside, but remaining in their driveways drinking, yelling at each other, loudly using bad language, and forcing everyone in the neighborhood to have to deal with them.
I left Florida because as an engineer, superintendent, and project manager, I could not earn enough money to afford a place to live where black people would not move in close by and start playing ghetto music, acting like it was the ghetto, and making it be a ghetto.
After living in Colorado, Arizona, Idaho, Utah, and Texas, I came to North Dakota to work in the oil field in 2011. I noticed that there were very few black people in North Dakota. There were so few black people, that no one had anything to say about it. By about 2012, through word of mouth, black people all over the United States heard about $12-$15 per hour jobs in fast food, restaurants, and WalMart. That was double the rate of pay for those same jobs in other states. The number of black people in Dickinson rapidly increased.
This is the truth: In restaurants in Dickinson I have seen blacks become so loud, so disruptive, so misbehaved, loudly using bad language, that customers at different tables have gotten up and gone to the managers and complained. I personally know a 20 year old white waitress that was beat up by a black guy in Dickinson six months ago. I quit going to the West River Community Center for a while, because there were groups of blacks that would come in and act like hoodlums and savages. I complained to the staff, and they said yes, we know, we have had several fights break out on the basketball court, and when we have had to go break up fights, it always involves blacks.
Having stated some of my history with blacks, and some of my recent experiences with blacks, I try to be fair with blacks but I prefer to keep my distance. Recently, I became aware on a construction project, that a young black couple was having financial problems, reduced work hours for both of them, they were going to have a hard time paying their rent. One manager that I know was able to hire the wife to work in the office. She seemed O.K. I thought about it, yeah, I could probably get her husband hired. I talked to him, he seemed O.K., I offered him the job pending his background check. They were both happy, they were going to get caught back up money wise.
A couple of days later, here comes this truck with ghetto music blaring extremely loud, driving about twice the speed it should have been driving, right beside the administrative office where moms and toddlers are walking all the time, and it’s some black guy driving and acting like a savage, having no consideration for the value of another human life that he might run over, no decency, like I have never seen anyone else do in the three months I’ve been at this site. And guess who he’s here to see? The black husband and wife that were just about to lose their apartment. I can see now why this black guy’s employer and this black woman’s employer reduced their hours, they wanted them and their hoodlum friends out of North Dakota. And we just helped them with additional employment so they can stay. I am now sorry that we did. I don’t like the ghetto, the hood, inner city gangsters, rap music celebrating abusing women, hood music about shooting cops, inner city gangster music about buying crack, and rude, obnoxious, inconsiderate thug behavior, so I really regret helping this black husband and wife to stay in North Dakota if this is what they are going to bring with them.