A battle between light and dark, or simply a tired joke that we end up taking seriously. The world's highest paid rapper, Kanye West, announced last Saturday on social media that he would run for the United States' seat to displace Donald Trump with the intention of creating his God's country, which is also the title of his new album, to be released soon. 

"Now we must fulfill America's promise by trusting God, unifying our vision and building our future," West tweeted. 

This is quite impossible, especially since with four months to go before the presidential election, the registration process will not be completed in time, and the trials for independent candidates are already closed in many states. However, he has another album on the go, a first acolyte - Elon Musk - and a divine message that, until the emergence of the Black Lives Matter movement, he put into service for Trump, whom he defined on a visit to the White House in 2018 as a source of "masculine energy" and another "dragon" like himself. 

The rapper, who recently donated $2 million to the families of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Taylor, seems to take politics in this country like a game of foul play, filling headlines about his supposed presidential ambitions every time he has a musical release. 

He did so at the 2015 MTV Video Music Awards, where he announced that he would run for the 2020 election, and in January of last year, when he delayed his "alleged" political ambition until 2024. 

All of this was greeted and cheered on by the Trumps for their religious rap hits, such as "Jesus is King," and giving away poisoned pearls as God saved him from the demon of the Democratic Party, which in turn sought, West said, to "brainwash the black community into aborting their children."

These statements contrast sharply with those of a well-known white rapper, Eminem, in whose lyrics he has always been critical of racism and the precariousness of the United States, even becoming a pimple on the ass of President Trump and the Secret Service. 

At a time when we are forced to be aware of our privileges of race and gender, a third leg of political activism, such as intersectional feminism, seems to be ignored: the question of class. 

That leg of which Kanye West limps from his solid gold vantage point and seems to give him the right to say the most outrageous things under cover of a certain halo of musical bliss, and which has more to do with populism than with the just demands of a minority to which he belongs. West declared a few years ago that blacks had no culture of their own. 

Oppressions are multiple and complex, and discourses, whatever their color and gender, are carried by the devil. Or marketing. Or the post-truth. To try to reduce the struggle to a black-and-white issue, to jump on certain bandwagons and not take responsibility for a past that is stuck in your head, like the proud "Make America Great Again" cap that West wore on his visit to Trump, is to make up the truth. Another historical bias, like the ones that have brought us here. While the search for guilt continues among the dead, there is more than one dragon that aspires, even if it is on social media, to be in the White House.