I hate being called racist and that’s more than enough proof that I’m not a racist. Just think about it for two seconds. If I really was racist, wouldn’t I love being accused of racism every single time I open my mouth? Well I don’t. Wouldn’t I be delighted when a table grows quiet after one of my special jokes? Well I’m not. Wouldn’t I stop defending my stream of race-related social media posts in the comments? Well I won’t. I actually spend most of my time defending myself against accusations of racism. Does that sound like a racist to you? Listen, I’m not afraid to say the things I assume everyone thinks, even if they’re not politically correct and especially when they deal with race. How did we let bravery become conflated with racism? A racist that hates being called a racist is a logical paradox and cannot exist. I am proof of that.