badrogue17 wrote:
Surprisingly , Julie didn’t write this . What’s next , we start calling them “ advanced bachelors degrees” ?
Quote:
The name “The Masters” must go.
The heralded golf tournament, one of the four majors, needs to go back to its original name — the Augusta National Invitational. It became the Masters in 1939.
Tiger Woods, other big-time golfers and corporate sponsorships should demand it. In the current climate, with all the sweeping changes, it’s only right and just. Best of all, in this case, it’s a simple and smooth fix.
The Masters never felt good or even sounded good when you said it.
And before we hear from the choir about tradition and history, save it.
When that history and tradition is rooted in slavery, it shouldn’t be preserved and honored.
Augusta National was built on grounds that were once a slave plantation and was the property of a slave owner. And according to a 2019 New Yorker piece about the course, it’s believed that enslaved Blacks were housed on the property.
And be honest. When you hear anyone say the Masters, you think of slave masters in the South. There’s nothing else, nothing special. You don’t think of someone mastering the game of golf. When has anyone mastered golf?
I do not care for golf and I do not care for most of the South. I am quite biased in this regard. I have still never come to the conclusion that "the Masters" is named after owning slaves. The name always felt fine, and I think people have mastered golf, relatively speaking, when they are playing it professionally in one of the four major tournaments. Everything about Augusta feels racist and weird (right down to the fetishization of eating mayonnaise and cheese on white bread), but going after the name is just gilding the lily.
I once got robbed at gunpoint by a man named John. I feared for my life. Thankfully the police intervened and subdued him before he could do some real damage. It took years of therapy for me to just acknowledge what happened to me. Now it's all about dealing with the ensuing tremors and fear whenever I walk the city streets. I decided enough is enough though. I want to reclaim my agency. For the past three days straight I have been standing outside my local Papa John's demanding that they change the name that causes me so much pain and anguish. Fuck Papa John's. Fuck Long John Silvers. Don't think I forgot about you, Long John, you fucking donut. The time for change is now.
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Just don't take the photo. Teach your kids not to take the photo. Then you don't have to worry about your ex-girlfriend or your barber.
