I will never not repeat this Kwanzaa story from a black guy I know.

It's the 90's, he's about 10 years old. It's late november. His mom makes some new friends. She gets very involved with them. Then she tells her three kids that this year, instead of Christmas, they're going back to their roots and celebrating Kwanzaa. It will be all the same fun and toys, everything will be great.

The house gets filled with african themed decor. They spend the whole afternoon putting it up. When it's done, they sit back and admire their Kwanzaa'd up home.

...And feel absolutely nothing. It hits his mother like a lightning bolt. They have zero connection to anything in sight. It means nothing to them. At all. It's an ugly, foreign mess of unfamiliarity. They are Americans. They are christians.

In less than an hour, everything is tossed and and the christmas decorations go up instead. Everyone is immediately happy.

His mom's new 'friends' are never heard about again.

I will never not repeat this Kwanzaa story from a black guy I know.

It's the 90's, he's about 10 years old. It's late november. His mom makes some new friends. She gets very involved with them. Then she tells he three kids that this year, instead of Christmas, they're going back to their roots and celebrating Kwanzaa. It will be all the same fun and toys, everything will be great.

The house gets filled with african themed decor. They spend the whole afternoon putting it up. When it's done, they sit back and admire their Kwanzaa'd up home.

...And feel absolutely nothing. It hits his mother like a lightning bolt. They have zero connection to anything in sight. It means nothing to them. At all. It's an ugly, foreign mess of unfamiliarity. They are Americans. They are christians.

In less than an hour, everything is tossed and and the christmas decorations go up instead. Everyone is immediately happy.

His mom's new 'friends' are never heard about again.