Some of My Friends are Gentrifiers

And it’s not really that big of a deal to me. Which has nothing to do with hypocrisy, but maybe there’s a mutual sense of informative class interaction. Fuck it, I’ll fuck a gentrifier if I think he’s throwing down in the sack, and I don’t even feel bad about myself after, or, rather, worse than I usually do, because in my heart of hearts I know that I would never really kick it with a racist, classist piece of shit. And even if that weren’t immediately obvious, friendship with those kinds doesn’t last long. 

Maybe it’s not as us-versus-them as some people think it is. I would never tell my gentrifier friends and lovers to go back to wherever they came from, because they’re my friends. (Also none of my friends are rich kid burn out artists from SoCal/Walnut Creek working coffee shop jobs while struggling with the glamorization of their alcohol addiction and hiding the fact that their parents pay their rent.) If somebody is intelligent, conscientious, and cool to be around, who cares where they came from? It’s the assholes that I can’t stand to see ruining this city. And there are so god damn many of them, it’s crazy. Actually, maybe it is us-versus-them because aren’t we all constantly at war with other people’s assholeishness?