Anti-racist propaganda is relentless and inescapable, as if the propagandists fear that if they shut up about it for a second, they'd instantly become racists themselves.

Plenty of people have bad divorces, but few of them end up with cancer, imprisonment, and public scorn. In the dark, rolling, treacherous wake of that sunken ship, the last thing I sought was a "relationship" or, heaven forbid, marriage.

Hatespeak is usually more honest than lovespeak, and it's always better than doublespeak.

There were people whom I considered friends or loved ones who either abandoned me or betrayed me in ways I'd never have suspected. But there were others who had been barely acquaintances of mine whose loyalty and efforts on my behalf made me realize that not everyone was as inherently rotten as I'd previously believed. So it caused a violent split in my view of humanity - people turned out to be far worse and far better than I'd ever dreamed possible.

I don't think it's entirely paranoid to suspect that one day, you won't be able to so much as question the primary tenets of anti-racism without going to jail.

The idea that the reader is important enough to me that I'd tailor my words to either please or offend them always seems amusingly alien to me.

My hatred is a thousand times more powerful than all your good intentions.