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I actually dug what the clip was trying to do. It’s a puckish play on expectations: you see a black-clad figure stalking a brokedown inner city street, and your mind tells you it’s a man. It’s not. You see a group of somber looking black men and your mind tells you they’re up to no good. They’re just here to dance. As someone who deals with strangers’ preconceived, race-derived notions of what I’m like every day offline and fields disbelief that I could be black based off my writing online, I appreciated “I Blame Myself” for turning precognitive American race and gender junk in on itself. It’s a curt “Fuck your feelings” I’m too cordial to deliver to everyone who deserves it in my day-to-day. I wish any of those outraged by proxy had consulted me or anyone else with a minority perspective before sabers got to rattling. So it goes. Talk to us, not for us, internet.