(exchristian.net)

So, Sunday morning, I get up, and I check some news, sign into Facebook and I see a link my friend Chris has posted. It’s a link from NBC Washington, so, being that I live here,  I was interested.

And then I was really, really annoyed.

He’d posted a link to an article called “West Virginia Discovers the Internet” by Chris Needham. Ostensibly, Needham is a journalist in D.C., just like I am.

But that’s where the similarities end.

See, never in a million years would I have ever, ever dreamed of writing an outright bigoted article and frame it under the guise of poorly done satire.Very poorly done satire. And, trust me, I like satire as much as the next guy, but your attempt failed. Miserably.

And, even in the name of satire, I’m not sure I could ever bring myself to directly, plainly and maliciously malign an entire socioeconomic group. To paint them all with one brush, if you will.

I’d like to think my … wait for it … West Virginia upbringing taught me better.

Let me level with you for a minute, if I may.

The last acceptable group of people to which you can be bigoted are poor, white Appalachian people. No, scratch that. You don’t even have to be poor. If you’re a white Appalachian person, game on.

Here’s a gem from Needham’s article:

Isn’t it enough that they have to poop in their backyard, running through the cold, fearing that the trap door on their red flannel pajamas should pop open early, exposing their nether regions to the bite of the winds?  Why do we have to make fun of them for their misfortune?

Now, let’s re-write this, shall we? Let’s pick one of the poorest, blackest, most dangerous neighborhood in Washington, D.C.: Anacostia.

Anacostia Finally Gets the Internet

Residents of Anacostia today took a break from shooting each other, carjacking, stealing hubcaps and smoking marijuana to learn how to use the Internet after receiving a stolen shipment of laptop computers.

D-Quan Smith, 23, said he planned to look into selling the laptops on Craigslist to pay his back child support on his six children to six mothers.

Smith also plans to use it to acquire discount coupons for fried chicken, watermelon and grape Kool-Aid, when he plans to pay for it. Smith has never been employed, and said he plans to use his next welfare payment to expand his tattoos across his back.

You see what I did just now?

That’s every bit as offensive as what Chris Needham wrote about West Virginians.

But it’s not OK. In no way, at no time, would that ever be OK.

Why?

Because it’s not acceptable to level stereotypes against black Americans.

You can only level stereotypes against poor, white Appalachian Americans.

If NBC Washington would have printed an article like the one I just wrote on its Web site, it wouldn’t have been live more than 10 minutes before the outrage reached coast to coast. The building would have been picketed, writers and editors would have been fired, the station would lose advertisers and so on.

But, Jacque, you say. Nobody would ever let a bigoted article go through for public consumption on a news site.

Oh, but, you know what? They did. NBC Washington. Two days ago.

You did, Chris Needham. Two days ago.

Chris, here’s something you might not have known. I’m one of your colleagues, you know? I earn my living the same way you earn yours. I know nothing of your background, but here’s a little bit of mine.

I was born on a morning that looked a lot like this past Saturday in a place you’ve never heard of, I’m sure. New Martinsville, West Virginia. I was born in a hospital, even. A real hospital. With real doctors. And real medical equipment. Real electricity, too.

My parents took me home a few days later to a home. A real home. With running water — including the elusive indoor toilet!! — and electricity. Even a telephone, a television and a stereo. It was 1979, so you’ll have to forgive us that we didn’t have the Internet. We somehow survived.

I spent my childhood going to various academic camps — I went to engineering camp, music camp, an honors academy or two. When I graduated from Magnolia High School in 1997, I took my scholarship money and went to West Virginia University. While at WVU, I was in The Pride of West Virginia, the Mountaineer Marching Band. I was the editor of our student newspaper, The Daily Athenaeum. I was the president of the Society of Professional Journalists. I had internships all over the state and in Syracuse, N.Y. I graduated as a member of the Order of Augusta, which put me in the top eight of my class.

I did all of this in buildings with electricity, running water, toilets (!!) and the most advanced equipment available. And when we didn’t have the most advanced equipment available, you can guarantee we did just as well with what we had. Why? We’re resourceful.

I spent eight years in newspapers in West Virginia before I accepted a job at a newspaper in D.C. I paid my dues, and now I’m here.

Someone as poor, disadvantaged, backwards and well, stupid, as me got to the same city you did. Ouch. You didn’t think a place like D.C. hired toothless, cousin-molesting inbreeders from West Virginia, did you?

Oh, and Chris? I’m not the only one. Several of your colleagues in this city are native West Virginians. None of us are too pleased with you right now.

Sure, NBC pulled the article, but conveniently, you’re “out this week” and so is your boss. Knowing coward moves like that, you’re hoping you can ride this out over Christmas week and let it go, never to be seen or heard from again.

But, Chris? I’m not going to forget. I’ve made it my mission to meet you in person, now. I want you to have to look into the face of a hardworking, proud West Virginian and try to justify what you did.

Here’s fair warning: I’m not going to accept, “It was just a joke.”

The joke here, Chris, is you. The victim, unfortunately, is journalism, and on behalf of those of us fighting to keep our profession respected, thanks for the black eye. Maybe you don’t take your job seriously, but I do.

But pride in yourself, and a job well done, is a West Virginia value.

Something, quite clearly, about which you have no idea.

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