My black side and my Irish side compete for recognition within me, like two separate flames of a fire, dancing around each other, fighting to shine the brightest. Take the other night in London; I was out for a drink with a friend from school when we heard the melody of Irish accents from a group of guys close by, and chimed in to chat. Later, a British-African guy overheard part of the exchange and bemusedly declared that “the Irish men love black women!” Looking decidedly sheepish, the Irish lads asserted that I was Irish, to which the black guy replied, “No – she’s black.” I pretended not to hear and went to the toilet, leaving the projected shadows of who I am and who others think I am, dancing on the walls behind me.
This is something you’ll always find with mixed race mongrels, especially Africans. They always identify with their African side whether it be culturally, musically or to play the victim. Have you ever seen even one Dindu thank white people for giving them a better life than they’d have in Apefreaka?
I’m sick to death of their moaning & bitching. Tell you what, go back to Apefreaka if it’s so bad here for you. Will they do that? Will they fuck!
I’ve got a suggestion for this whiny mongrel bitch. Stay in London, you’ll feel right at home there surrounded by the scum of the earth. We don’t want your black ass in Ireland no doubt infecting everyone around you with your ‘poor me’ bullshit.