Let’s just get right into it – Beyoncé is THAT BITCH! PERIODTTTT!! ALL THE T’s!! There is no greater living entertainer on the planet. Period. Before I take it back, I will add more to it. Argue with your aunties and grandmas don’t argue with me.Beyoncé came to Coachella to snatch all the vanilla, #FFFFFF, flower crowns and snatch them she did!
What y’all don’t understand is before we even leave the house we have already decided what’s gonna happen that day. We have already decided just how much bullshit we are going to deal with. We shower, get dressed and put on our “I wish a muthfucka would” lipstick, “Ain’t no one Fenty bother me” foundation, spray a little bit of “I don’t give a damn” perfume on our wrists, slip on our “Try me if you want to” stilettoes and grab our, “I will turn into Annalise Keating up in here,” handbag and head out the door, singing Take Me To The King the entire drive to work.
*(Before I get into this blog, please do not comment on this blog about people needing to be grateful that they have a job. I believe that anyone working is thankful for their job and happy they can pay their bills, put food on the table and have […]
In her quick rise in social justice circles, her continuous missteps show me that Alyssa has no foundation on which to stand when it comes to being an ally. Her activism is a house of cards built on sand. It is easy to commandeer someone else’s movement as your own. It is easy to go online when you have a vast platform and post something that “sounds” progressive and get thousands of likes and retweets. It is easy to comb through poems and pick a line or two that may help undergird your tweets. It’s easy to dress up in a handmaid’s costume and not see how your real life actions are not indicative of supporting all women. It’s convenient to post a Martin Luther King quote that makes you feel good. It is easy to do all of those things without doing any of the real work. Moreover, the real work doesn’t start on Twitter. It doesn’t start with a pink pussy cat hat. It doesn’t start with some catchy sign held up at a protest. I dare say it doesn’t even start with a hashtag. The real work begins when you first look inside yourself and challenge yourself to be better and to do better.
Dear White People, please stop saying that you do not see color. We all know that is a lie. Short of having an issue with your eyes, you do see color. However, you believe by saying that you do not see color you are saying something that proves you “can’t be racist” and shows that you are progressive and edgy. In fact, you sound ignorant.
A few days ago on Facebook, I was tagged in a post by Rani Whitehead. Her post is below, and I have copied it in its entirety. I believe this conversation was more significant than me responding to her on Facebook and I wanted to share it with my readers so they can see two women have a conversation about race.
Did a Black man really ask Black people to put ourselves into the shoes of a White person? Are you KIDDING ME, Cory? WHAT SHOES? Shoes of privilege? Shoes of cognitive dissonance? Shoes of denying racism exist? Shoes of “just get over it?” Shoes of Make America Great Again? I don’t need to step into the shoes of White America.
In an industry that is heavily male-dominated, with labels crafting who they wanted to be the next “It Girl,” Cardi’s B carefree, no holds barred, style took the world by storm. Gone were the days of industry curated and crafted interviews. Cardi B took to social media to air her grievances, share her story, discuss her sex life, and offer a multitude of clapbacks that had us begging for more. Who else could dog walk Tomi Lahren around the world?
This month is our month! So Black people, I need your shea butter melanin skin glistening, Fenty gloss bomb poppin’, and afros, braids, wigs and weaves shining as we throw it back like we are takin’ over for the 99 and the 2000! I promise you, Black people are so amazing that when I read things about Black people, I think, “Damn Black people are so ridiculously dope! If I weren’t Black, I would be like, “Damn I wanna be Black!”
You would think that everyone in Kentucky would rejoice. What an amazing way to honor a man whose very name brings honor to the city. However, that was not the case. While many people were pleased, the comments soon popped up on social media calling into question why Muhammad Ali is worthy of this honor? Truthfully, I found the comments to be typical. It was fine honoring Ali when they could just wear a t-shirt with his image on it. It was all good as long as Ali remained the person they constructed in their heads that suited them. It’s cool as long as it’s the Ali that floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee. They love that Ali. That is the Ali that doesn’t make them uncomfortable. That is the Ali they can brag about to their drinking buddies. That is the Ali that doesn’t challenge their way of thinking. Similarly, to the whitewashed version of Martin Luther King Jr that so many have constructed and that we will read “convenient tweets” about on Monday, as long as it’s the Ali that doesn’t ruffle their feathers, there is no problem. But do not forget it was here in his hometown of Louisville where Ali was called, “the Olympic nigger,” and was denied service in a “Whites Only” restaurant after returning from the Olympic Games in Rome in 1960.