It’s not a Blacklist. And you don’t know who is on it.
Or exactly what the rules are to stay off it. Nor can you describe precisely how one violates those rules. And you’d better not try.
It’s not a public list. But those who know, know. And those that don’t, don’t even know it exists, because it doesn’t. They might suspect, but they can’t confirm.
Hug the woman who doesn’t know. She thinks you are her friend. She reaches out her puny arms to you. Just smile and hug her quickly back. Have pity on her. Have compassion for her blindness. For her self-defeating refusal to join the ones who know. For her sad and unevolved rejection of universal abundance.
Just smile and hug. Make small-talk. Envision a big black B on her forehead as you take a step towards the door. Do not be swayed by her doubts. Remember, she is blocked, even if she has been your friend for years. Let her story fade into the B. Listen but do not hear as she wonders why she hasn’t seen you in awhile. She has chosen her own exile. Listen but do not hear as she tells you her mother is ill. Poor thing. She must have manifested the misfortune. Pat her head and walk away. Don’t look back.
And don’t be tempted. All those who wear the black B are a threat to Us, even if they don’t know who We are. Say hello. Give a quick kiss. But be sure your connection ends there, or else you might reveal your knowledge of the List. Make and maintain appearances. Then leave the room.
Lie if necessary. Just a small white one. Small sacrifice to keep the privacy of the hygienic black B.
The B will protect you because you’re not on it. And you’ll do everything to stay off it. Anything to stay off it. Because you know. And you’re in the know. And they don’t.
Poor things. Poor little wretched black B‘s. They should have joined us when they had the chance.
Maintain the Blacklist, and you will be protected. Betray it and suffer the wrath of your former sisters. Yes, that is a threat. But no one threatened you. We love you. We are here to help you, remember? To empower you. Best to stay inside our graces, encircled in our loving arms.
There is a Blacklist, but we don’t call it that. So there isn’t one. A Blacklist cannot exist in our pretty little community. We are too mature, too enlightened for a Blacklist here, so don’t fret.
It’s not exactly a Blacklist, anyway. We prefer to think of it as an exclusive, renegade network. And that network will last a long, long time. Longer than we know. Generations long, actually.
Even after all the hubbub dies down, our network will be there. Some people just don’t understand it. Simply exclude them. Eventually, they’ll see. And they’ll wish they were in it. They’ll wish they were part of Us.
Membership has its rewards.
You were invited to the party, so it’s obvious you are not on the Blacklist. So you need not worry about it. And you won’t invite anyone who wears the B to your party, will you? I thought not.
The Blacklist doesn’t exist. And it musn’t. So it don’t. And you don’t know about it. Until you do. And believe me, you don’t.
(inspired by Derrick Jensen’s “The Man Box”)