Racism begins at home,

sins of the fathers handed down to the sons, the hatred concealed in memories, riders attached to appropriations that you can’t live without. We Westerners hate what we’re stuck with, but somehow can’t bring ourselves to love. We love ‘the Other’, the unknown quantity, the imaginary lover, abstractions to distraction. Sibling rivalry becomes team spirit becomes Oedipus in love, complex but clueless, just looking for work. Nationalism becomes racism to underwrite the logic of oppression, since it would be immoral to enslave your equals. Orientals love what they’re stuck with and hate what they don’t know, or what insists on distinction, including the other brother countries. All is domestic bliss, as long as you conform to the majority, but constant jockeying for position with other countries. Orientals would be the most racist people in the world if only they allowed other races. As it is, they settle for being the most nationalistic, a more enviable position. America is the melting pot that just won’t melt.