The sad thing: Troy Davis was murdered by a violently anti-black country.
The tragic thing: This brings us no closer to revolution. Taking someone’s life is supposed to be the last straw… and they’ve been doing it for four hundred years. What has to happen for us to start crying out and demanding our freedom? Apparently not psychological abuse, not imprisonment, not rape, not murder… I implore you, Black people, GET ANGRY. Death should not be the only way a black person can rest in peace.
It seems like learning to appreciate black beauty is kind of like trying to appreciate the taste of liverwurst. No one likes it and if someone admits they have a taste for it there is a resounding ew!! In this world it is the epitome of ugliness. Asking someone to appreciate our physical selves is asking them to reject the fact that blackness is ugly. “See this grotesque thing as beautiful” is essentially what we’re saying. This brings me to my experiences as a brown-skinned girl who tans quite easily…
close but no cigar
I never really had an issue with my skin color when I was a child. Sure, I coveted the long, wavy hair of the mixed girls in my class, but I was caramel skinned. This meant that I wasn’t considered as pretty as the light -skinned girls but I could avoid the name calling that was rampant in elementary school (doo-doo stain, black as night, coal) and was light enough to, if I chose, do the name calling without someone pointing out the embarrassing fact that I was almost as dark as the “coal black” I was making fun of. My mother used barbie commercials and my favorite cartoons to teach me what was behind the light-skinned/dark-skinned obsession (something that, as I said, didn’t seem to hurt me much) and I’d reprimand my friends for saying things like “good hair” (though I’d wanted it as much as any other black girl). Succumbing to internalized racism was a grave sin in my household, and I resisted it as much as a black child could. Even when I tanned to a deep chocolate color every year (something that, to me, was evidence of a good summer), hating my skin tone didn’t come up until I was in ninth grade.
Ninth grade. I was cute. I’d always been cute. Up until now I had never looked at myself in the mirror with such distain and anger. It was early in the summer and I had already gotten my deep tan. I hadn’t even had a chance to to show myself off yet. I cried and complained to my mother that the sun had made my skin tone “uneven”. ”Are you sure that’s why you’re upset?” she asked. She knew what I was going through, but not wanting to embarrass me she suggested I put on sunscreen to “even it out.” I was embarrassed. Are you really crying because you’re too dark? How could you? What does mommy think? I was shocked that as socially conscious as I was, I fell prey to this thing that causes black people to hate themselves. I felt like the girls I had chastised all my life. Despite my dignity trying to take over, boys were more important than shame now. I spent the rest of the summer with my friend SPF 50.
Jump to 2011, California. I’m hard pressed to find a black couple anywhere. Black women are alone, black men are with non-black women. I walk past a black man and he starts looking at his cell phone or suddenly the sky becomes very interesting. I AM AVOIDED. It makes me angry, but I am more hurt. Number one, because he thinks that every black woman is so needy that they want to hop on any and every black guy they see. Number two, because his desire for whiteness is so strong that he doesn’t even want to lock eyes with me. No friendly hello. No nod. Not even a accidental glance. I DON’T EXIST. When he is with a non black woman he buries his face in hers when I walk past as if to say, “Don’t even fucking try it. I got a good thing going here so back up.”
Today, again, I am ashamed of myself. Getting annoyed when the sun seems to follow me in the car, frustrated to find that after a day of outdoor fun I have gotten two shades darker. Feeling this way about blackness makes me sad, but I no longer chastise myself. I’ve wondered why it seemed that no matter how well I dressed, how pretty my hair looked, and how well I did my makeup, my beauty was not recognized, almost like I was pretty in a dark room. The reason? Black beauty is an oxymoron. Most of the time I am an enlightened black feminist who genuinely loves black skin. However, I realize that demanding I change my mind completely and immediately about something as omnipresent as white beauty standards is asking too much of myself. I try, and I sometimes fail. Loving your physical self is hard even for a woman who was taught all her life that black women are beautiful from her beautiful, black mother. Realizing that you have to stop waiting for black men to approve of you and become the revolution yourself, even if that means being without a partner, is even harder.
I started this post months ago and it was going to be about black lesbians, hence, the photos. Honestly though, I forgot what I was going to say about them. What’s on my heart now are gay black christians, and here are my thoughts…
I don’t know how we do it. No matter how much is stolen from us and how badly we’re beaten, raped, and emotionally abused, miraculously, black love forges on.
But look there! Way in the back! Bearing the weight of all these things, plus ostracism from their own community are gay black people.
I can never imagine how it must feel to believe that you are a walking sin; that a part of who you are, something that you can’t change, is in direct conflict with God’s Law. What a triumph and a relief to discover, and know in your heart, that these things are not true. To know this is to know God’s Love.
Great! We’re over that hurdle, now it’s time to fellowship, right?
Wrong. Most black churches not only condemn homosexuality as a sin, but seem to believe that it is among the worst sins. Separating the holies from the hellbound is sort of a tradition in the Christian church, it hurts me to say . It’s not just that most black Christians believe that homosexuality is a sin, it’s that we have no love in our hearts for the “sinners”. We fear gays like they’re contagious. The further we are away from them, the more “Christian-like” we become. Since Christianity is such a huge part of black American culture, this exclusive attitude not only hurts black gays who want to fellowship, but all gays, since their mothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and friends likely claim some kind of Christian affiliation.
I have to admit that I was once one of those Christians. Homosexuality was not to be discussed, it was to be condemned, and that was that. There was no close association or friendship with gays unless your aim was to convert them. I don’t know how it happened, but gradually I started seeing gays as, well, human. God opened my heart and I started to learn acceptance. Then one of my good friends came out to me. I cannot describe the amount of love that God poured into my heart that day. He turned mere tolerance into an open-armed embrace. His love and compassion was so powerful that I almost couldn’t contain it. God also let me feel the terrible pain of someone so lovely and good who hated herself because of what other Christians had taught her. She’s still struggling today.
We have to band together as one family and eradicate anything that would separate us. The church is ONE body in Christ. God is LOVE in its purest form, and He makes NO MISTAKES ♥
“It is a white, petty-bourgeois Anarchism that cannot relate to the people. As a Black person, I am not interested in your Anarchism. I am not interested in individualistic, self-serving, selfish liberation for you and your white friends. What I care about is the liberation of my people.” -Pedro Ribeiro
WILLIAM MORRIS AGENCY HAS DROPPED MEL GIBSON
In 2006, then partner and now CEO of WME, Ari Emmanuel, said in a piece he wrote: “I wish Mel Gibson well in dealing with his alcoholism, but alcoholism does not excuse racism and anti-Semitism. Now we know the truth. And no amount of publicist-approved contrition can paper it over. People in the entertainment community, whether Jew or gentile, need to demonstrate that they understand how much is at stake in this by professionally shunning Mel Gibson and refusing to work with him, even if it means a sacrifice to their bottom line. There are times in history when standing up against bigotry and racism is more important than money.”
Apparently, the only reason Mel was kept on as a client after his anti-semetic remarks in 2006 is because he was represented by Ed Limato, vice president of William Morris Agency, who kicked the bucket on June 3rd. Looks like Emmanuel fired him as soon as he could. Good for him.
…I have a naggin little question, though. I wonder if the remarks in 2006 had been about “dirty negroes” and not “greedy jews” would Ari Emmanuel have bothered to write about it, and would Mel Gibson be without representation now? Something to ponder…
LISTEN to Mel Gibson’s racist/sexist rant against Oksana Grigorieva
Oscar Grant
BART shooting trial: Johannes Mehserle found guilty of involuntary manslaughter – latimes.com.
I can’t imagine what his mother must feel like.
Wanda Johnson, Grant's mother
Johannes Mehserle
Lady Gaga’s photoshoot (2010) with LaChappelle proves to be as unoriginal as her music. The “dutiful black slave risking his life for Miss” thing has so been done.
And yes, that’s Kanye.
WHAT’S THERESA WATCHING INSTEAD OF WRITING HER SCRIPT?
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These chicks got some classy cooters. No meat curtains!
Oh SNAP!
Gina Gershon is so good, she’s both a whore AND a bitch!
I have to give a shout out to my favorite character, Molly.
She’s the black girl (adorable!) who lets that nasty wainch, Polly, stay with her. She’s punished, of course, for being smart, black, and respectable, by being brutally raped by three men; including Andrew Carver, a singer she idolizes and innocently has a drink with. After she is slapped and punched in the nose, her panties are ripped off and we get to see the whole bloody mess, including a shot of Andrew licking the blood off of Molly’s face while she’s getting raped from behind by one of his bouncers. Polly kicks the shit out of Andrew at the end, but unless she gave him “a broken nose and vaginal tears”, we ain’t square.
Don’t worry, Molly. One day we’ll have black female leads with sexual autonomy. YOU WILL BE AVENGED!!
I don’t know if any of you have heard about the infamous Cîroc vodka casting call, pictured here:
Apparently, only light skinned African Americans need apply… and whites and latina’s, of course. I’m not surprised, but I am glad that this is out in the open so that we have a solid reason to boycott them. Puff the magic Daddy released a statement on Twitter, clearing himself of all wrongdoing, “FOR the record people I LOVE WOMEN OF ALL SHADES!!! I DON’T DISCRIMINATE!!! DON’T BELIEVE THE HYPE!!! Now back to the POSITIVITY!!!”
Cîroc also released a lie statement. I’ll help you read between the lines: “CIROC Vodka has nothing whatsoever to do with this inappropriate and offensive casting call (or does, whatever), which was done without the brand’s knowledge or consent (is this really the first time you’ve caught us doing this?). We are currently investigating how this occurred (which means we are masturbating with lubbed hundred dollar bills until this whole things blows over). CIROC Vodka has created a brand that defines sophisticated celebration for all consumers (white people), and in no way condones this practice (we do,actually).”
While researching this, I found that a lot of people (mostly black men) support Mr. Combs and point to ads that feature him with brown and dark skinned black women. He does appear in ads that feature darker black women, but in the few I could find, I noticed that he is never touching or looking at them.
But let’s get back to some of that “positivity” Diddy was speaking of…
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