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| Jeremiah Heaton. Photo: Wikimedia Commons |
Have you
heard the one about the asinine White Virginia dad (before you huff and puff,
Whiteness is a fundamental plot element here) who traveled through Egypt to claim
800 square miles of unclaimed desert land between Sudan and Egypt in the name
of his daughter, the newly crowned Princess Emily?
Yeah. I know,
right? When I first saw the headline, I checked to see if the local Virginia
site with the story was a satirical one. But, yes, it happened: Jeremiah Heaton
didn't want to tell his beloved chile that she couldn't be a princess in real
life, so he did what any parent high on Whiteness would do: he “literally” (his
word) went to what he considers "the ends of the earth" for her and
planted a flag in her name in the ungoverned land of Bir Tawil. In Africa. He
and his kids named this new land The Kingdom of North Sudan and designed a flag.
My inner angry Black man popped up, grabbed his shotgun, and stood on alert for
approaching unmelinated lunacy.
The
coverage so far has been pretty kind to Mr. Heaton. “Oh, that Jeremiah Heaton
is one wacky dude,” and such. In reality, Jeremiah Heaton is a dickface. Though
some consider it admirable for a pappy go to such great (albeit dickfacely) lengths
to make his chilluns happy, Jeremiah is about as wrong as Janet was for putting
Khia inside that television set in the video
for “So Excited.” ****
I learned
about responsibility by caring for turtles and goldfish (all of which died) and
trying not to crack my exquisitely painted Egg Baby, Alejandro, in seventh
grade Home Economics. Rest in pieces, Alejandro. Lessons came via stern talks
and loss of Nintendo privileges. But times and parenting styles have changed. This generation of kids who never had AOL screen names is being guided by a
generation still recovering from the mysterious disappearance of Judy Winslow. It’s
still tough for us to talk about. #Damaged
Were your
childhood ass whippings uploaded onto the Internet for commentary from your
parents’ friends and the universe? No. But…well…l will admit that post-Duck Tales life is inherently difficult.
So, I do understand a certain degree of fuckedupness in these chirren. Truly, I
do.
But there
are things that producers of tiny humans can do to ensure that
fewer little Annies grow up to become Ann Coulters. You know, for the greater good.
Want to
show your kids that you would do anything to make their dreams come true? Get
them a train set and an anti-Macklemore vaccine and build them a fucking tree
house. Want to raise a cool kid into a stellar adult? Read to them, tell them
you love them, and keep them away from boxed macaroni and cheese. The way to
raise a better world citizen, a person on track to becoming the best White
woman she possibly can be, is with love and artfully imparted life lessons, not
by gifting them a brand new African nation, because you think it's cool and,
hell, nobody else wanted it.
Go Go
Gadget: Prepubescent land grabs.
Under his guidance, Jeremiah
Heaton’s children are stewing in a crockpot of terribleness, along with the
finest pickled entitlement and freshly harvested seeds of self-importance.
Yummo! Imagine being a teacher trying to discipline a child whose father traveled to the “ends of the earth” plus 14 hours by caravan and filed
a claim with the United Nations so she could legally call herself the princess
of an African nation. And you expect Princess
Emily of The Kingdom of North Sudan to walk in a single-file line in the
hallway because you, a peasantly teacher, say so?
Holy Nervous
Breakdown, Batman!
So in a few years when the Heatons throw on their sunscreen
and head to The Kingdom of North Sudan on a mission to spread benevolence and
lunacy and, say, wind up missing while directed by King Heaton’s
disconnect with reality, the rest of us will get to witness yet another
diplomatic crisis and the requisite panels of highly Whitely morning show
pundits, faces all painted with concern, wondering for weeks, “Where, oh where could
the Heatons be?!?”
All of this results from White people going places they have
no business going to do shit they have no business doing. Every time. Spare us.
Sure, it’s cute right now. That little precious Emily in her
crown, beaming before her flag next to her father, The King, is so fucking
cute. And one of her brothers made a cute little serving tray at summer camp with
the flag they designed on the front. And the rest of the family shall
henceforth refer to this child as Princess Emily. And Jeremiah made letterheads,
so all of that makes their claim to this land real. Also, too, también, because
White. So, duh.
“I feel confident in the claim we’ve made. [Planting flags
is] the exact same process that has been done for thousands of years. The
exception is this nation was claimed for love.”
For love.
But wait.
What the fuck am
I even talking about? Nothing, after 29.5 years of full-time Blackness, should
surprise me where White people are concerned, because White Audacity knows no bounds. It is limitless like the reasons
why Donnie Klang’s career was all a big misunderstanding.
White Audacity informs one that consideration of necessity is for suckers and that these ideas are good ideas because I thought of them and because I'm White. It's a helluva drug.
Aside from it
being impossible for an U.S. citizen to assume a position of royalty and still
remain a U.S. citizen, the amount of gall required for this man to set the expectation
that Egypt and Sudan should, for the agricultural good of the region, recognize
this chain gang of misguided Caucasians as a nation has not been seen on this Earth since
Oprah sang the opening theme for The Oprah Winfrey Show back
in the 90s. That took a lot
of nerve, girl.
White Audacity let Jeremiah Heaton believe that he was the first person in history to assert ownership of this land and that using colonial-era land claiming laws to industrialize a desert all for the happiness of his precious White chile is necessary and that he should be the fuckboy to do it.
White Audacity let Jeremiah Heaton believe that he was the first person in history to assert ownership of this land and that using colonial-era land claiming laws to industrialize a desert all for the happiness of his precious White chile is necessary and that he should be the fuckboy to do it.
He didn’t have
a pal with an old barn who’d let him clean it up and throw a trampoline and a damn pony stable inside so they could make her the princess of that shit? Ain’t no foreclosed properties that he could have bought and let
Princess Emily jazz up to live the young, carefree conquistadora life over
there in Abingdon, Virginia?
White Audacity,
a byproduct of white privilege, is why Jeremiah Heaton, who lost a Senate bid
in 2012, can regard this disputed land like a fun little political science
project, as if he’s starting a virtual company with the kids.
The children
would like the area to become an agricultural hub of the region and pappy plans
to bring in world class-scientists and experts to irrigate his desert fantasy.
Mmm. Nothing
like a slice of White Savior pie in the summertime.
But before I
poopoo the visions of Jeremiah Heaton, I suppose I should also know not to
underestimate the capabilities of White Audacity, because Iggy Azalea. These
motherfuckers might fuck around and get the funding pull this off. That Flex
Alexander portrayed Michael Jackson in the worst biopic to ever
biopic showed me that anything is possible when White Audacity is involved. Where there is a White will there is a way. And so on.
***: While
Janet was wrong as shit refusing to share camera time and oxygen with Khia, I
totally understand. Last minute solution to her regret over the collaboration?
The world will never know.
Follow me on Twitter: @chrisalexander_
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