In which I transform a racist (a fantasy)

I am almost always having conversations/arguments in my head with people I disagree with, such as fundamentalist Christians or hardcore Trumpists, in which I turn them into decent human beings, or at least get them to be ashamed of themselves.  In this case, my fantasy is that I'm at a party.  Also in attendance is a good ol' boy, who is a friend of the host who is a friend of mine.  And this guy is mouthing off all these hateful things about black people.  (I don't say African Americans because he is basically including everyone with dark skin.)  Even though I know it's going to be embarrassing as hell and may cost me some friends, I simply have to speak up or I couldn't live with myself.  So I confront this racist, this bully.

"What is wrong with you?" I say.  "Don't you have any empathy at all?  Don't you have any imagination?  How do you think it would affect your family if you knew you were in this country because your ancestors were kidnapped, brought here by force, and whipped so they would work for free?  Not considered whole human beings?  Still treated like dirt?  How would you feel if you knew there were entire groups of people dedicated to hating and obliterating you?  Can't you imagine at all what that might do to you?  Do you feel so low that you have to find someone to be better than?  Someone to hate and degrade?  What other reward could there be for treating people so badly, holding them in such contempt, than that it makes you feel a little bit better about yourself?

"No one is lesser than you, and somewhere in you, you know that.  Booker T. Washington and W.E.B. Dubois and Jackie Robinson and Ella Fitzgerald and Barak Obama and Leontyne Price and Hank Aaron and Maya Angelou and Harry Belafonte and Paul Robeson and Count Basie and Serena Williams and Martin Luther King, Jr. have proved that.  What is wrong with you?  Why are you so hateful?"

This racist sputters, trying to defend himself, then bursts into remorseful tears, because of course he has always known somewhere deep inside himself that he is an asshole and in the wrong, and the burden of having had to kill off his conscience and his goodness has worn him down, so much so that he is finally ready to admit how wicked he has been, and that he wants to live a kinder, more decent life.

Some fantasy, huh?  As though I would be allowed to get more than five words in.  As though I would have the courage.  As though a person would alter a lifetime of meanness because of one conversation.

I think this fantasy is really about me telling myself that I need to speak up when I hear someone spouting racist bile or political lies or any other kind of dreck, even if it would be embarrassing as hell and even if it cost me something.  Living where I do and among the kind of people I'm surrounded by, I don't hear much of that kind of puke, but when I do, I have to Rosa Parks it and take a stand.  As though it would make a difference.