Thoughts, Musings and Reflections

Dear Trump: All Black People Do Not Know Each Other

I half-heartedly watched the Trump press conference today as it was more of the same and reminded me of listening to Charlie Brown’s teacher. charlie-brownWah wah wah, “It’s gonna be bigly.” Wah wah wah, “Wall.” Wah wah wah, “Kill every Black person Law and Order in Chicago.” Wah wah wah, “It’s gonna be huge. I’m fantastic. Big crowds. Big hands.” Wah wah wah, “Screw your cancer and diabetes Repeal Obamacare.” Wah wah wah.


I was just about to throw in the towel and then Trump in all his Trumpness gave me gold during his exchange with reporter April Ryan which went like this:
“When you say the inner cities, are you going to include the CBC (Congressional Black Caucus), Mr. President, in your conversations with your urban agenda, your inner city agenda—” American Urban Radio Networks reporter April Ryan asked.
Am I going to include who?” Trump said. You mean there are Black people involved in government besides Ben and Omarosa? She never informed me. Damnit! Note to self, invite Congressional Black Caucus to serve eat dinner at White House.
“Well, I would. I tell you what, do you want to set up the meeting?” Trump said. “Do you want to set up the meeting?” HUH? So you want the reporter to set up your meetings?


“Are they friends of yours? No, go ahead,” Trump continued. “Set up the meeting.”
I tried not to laugh when I heard him ask April Ryan, “Are they friends of yours?”

God help me!
Are they friends of yours?


I am certain, that April knows ALL 45 members of the Congressional Black Caucus and they get together and have sleepovers, braid each other’s hair all while chowing down on fried chicken, hot water cornbread, and watermelon in between sipping red Kool-Aid and listening to NWA.

Although, perhaps I can laugh at this exchange, I only laugh because it is so ridiculous and you would expect that someone like the President of the United States would know not to ask this question to an African-American reporter. But why would I believe that Trump would ever say anything when it comes to Black people that has a modicum of respect?

This is a common question that many Black people are often asked. It is assumed because we are Black that we know every Black person in the world. Why just the other day I was going through the 6 Degrees of Black Separation to see how I could meet Oprah. Surely someone Black that I know, knows someone that knows someone since we are all besties.

Digging beyond the surface, while I jest, it is an affront to a Black woman that has the education, the skills, the credentials, the references, the authority to stand and ask questions like any other reporter. Something tells me he wouldn’t have asked this question had she not been Black. Do not attempt to paint April or any other Black person into a box. We don’t like boxes. Maybe it’s because claustrophobia is embedded into our DNA from our ancestors being kept like sardines on slave ships. While Trump may want to only meet with Black rappers and entertainers, we do possess other jobs.

Who we are transcends anything that Trump believes we are supporhiannased to be. We reject limitations. We defy stereotypes. Don’t get it twisted. The same way I can chug a Colt 45, I can sip Dom Perignon from a crystal flute, eat a Big Mac or filet mignon, speak in Ebonics or change my lexicon to suit the hour and color of the day. As a Black woman I have mastered the art of being a chameleon. I can be all things, because in this world I am required to be all things, impeccably.

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