So this week I learned that The Grammy Awards are pointless. Yep. A completely fake thing. Just like the tooth fairy, easter bunny, and reparations. POINTLESS. I also reaffirmed my long held belief that white gay people are some of the most willfully obtuse motherfuckers on the planet. I don’t mean all of you, but I do mean those of you who want to talk shit about Queen Latifah who is actual GAY BLACK HIP HOP in defense of a white guy who decided to write a song in support of gay marriage and who rode that cash cow to four awards in categories that GAY BLACK HIP HOP are often left out of because in this culture war we’ve been waging since we invented modern music, white people will always be lauded as superior for imitating our original thoughts
I like gay marriage. I think the gay community has a lot of other problems, but I understand that marriage equality is the buzzword that we are all hoping will cause universal understanding of our lives. I like straight allies. I think they are the vessel by which most of modern society is learning more about how awesome we actually are. I noticed Mary Lambert is gay. That is cool, this isn’t about her. Her name isn’t Macklemore. You can stop that shit now.
I am angry because a white straight man won 4 Grammys for using rap music to deliver a message of equality and black rappers can deliver the same message of tolerance or love or understanding and be denied recognition. So this white guy found a way to express his support by appropriating a genre of music that is made by a specific marginalized group and is typically not respected. My problem is that rap is wonderful when it serves an agenda. It is successful and celebrated when white people do it.
I am not saying white people cannot be rap artists. Macklemore exists. I am not saying that we shouldn’t be all “Hey white guy, thanks for the shoutout man.” I’m saying that it is really stupid to finish that last sentence with ” We couldn’t have done it without you.” BECAUSE WE DID IT WITHOUT YOU FOR YEARS, BUT MADONNA DIDN’T SHOW UP WITH A PIMP CANE AND NOBODY GOT MARRIED FOR THE PHOTO OP.
We invented the culture. The best part of the culture is us. They steal it from us, they make it shit, they give themselves awards.
I have been silently raging about this all week, about Kendrick, about Kanye, about how to talk to my little sister as a black lesbian woman about how being gay doesn’t really make a difference. There is a hierarchy in every social group. Straight people are not the only people who have to deal with racism and it is just as hard when your own community is blind to the injustice at the expense of good press. Aspiring to win a Grammy is the equivalent of wanting warm fries at McDonalds. It is the same circlejerk of satisfaction with fewer calories.
Hey yo, my amazing lesbian sister wrote something. Bolded the parts that you need to internalize and deal with. Maybe read it and reassess the whole “let’s all love Macklemore” bullshit ArielleisHamming thinks is change. I’ll call that girl out all night.
The sad thing is she’s not going to be, and has no obligation to be. There was a time months ago when I thought of reaching out to her to collab, because we’re both in New York and I thought it would be cool to work with her. I think she’s smart and entertaining, but I also think truly she’s not the problem. She’s the product of a movement that in many ways doesn’t want to be open-minded to the idea that not all help is flawless. That equality for her and people who look like her is not equality for everyone.
ArielleisHamming released a video about how “Gays don’t appreciate Macklemore’s performance” and how it’s a problem.
And while I tried to be civil and present a new perspective, I’m realizing that the LGBTQ equality movement doesn’t want me to be a part of it. They don’t want support from a black woman. It is flawed, and much like the feminist movement, there is room for improvement. I think it is irresponsible to say, “shh, don’t bring up the big black elephant in the room” because of one song of support. I think it is hurtful to every POC in your community to say cultural appropriation and racism in the industry isn’t a problem because it isn’t affecting you in this important moment. I think it is lazy to say your movement shouldn’t be self-aware and move to be all-inclusive. I think it is beyond shameful to condemn Queen Latifah for “being in the closet” when she is the only ordained minister who married anyone on the stage. And I think it is racist to act as if your rights were realized only because of the actions of one White man and negate all of the work anyone of color has done to this point.
Without rap music, there’d be no Macklemore. Who do you have to thank for that?
Me and Olivia Pope are dismissing you.
this is why we can’t have nice things. my ask box is now off. this is partially my own fault, but i’m really sick of being put in this wise negro position where I have to hold your hand and ask you to not be racist, not uphold oppression and to respect me and other people of color. I just don’t get it. I like using my platform to educate people, but seriously, it takes TWO SECONDS to consult Google. Or better yet, PICK UP A BOOK.
I literally don’t have time nor the desire to answer 300 messages asking if I can approve your Halloween costume. I go out of my way to be nice and, ahem, “not shove my opinions down people’s throats” but the fact remains that I consistently put up with racist, abusive, gaslighting garbage in my inbox every time I ask NICELY for ya’ll to stop being racist. (Don’t know what gasligthing means? Look it up, cause my inbox is off)
If your world is going to fall apart because someone asks you not to wear black face, use the N word, wear a warbonnet, touch their hair, use the word r***d, f*g, tr***y or stop doing the mountain of other oppressive things you’re doing then by all means have at it. You clearly don’t want to change and don’t care about the lives that are affected by your words and actions. But when someone calls you out, save your tears for a DIY age defying face cream or some shit because I’m not here for it.
preach preach preach preach preachhhhhhhhhh
For the past 24 hours I have been nursing my inner angry black woman. Ok for the past 24 years… I guess the most irritating part of any discourse regarding my race is being told by educated white girls about the way things are and how they’re working on it. They have no idea what it feels like to constantly have to police your emotions to be heard because hundreds of years ago some black woman got angry and murdered an entire Macy’s department store full of white women…ok so maybe those aren’t the facts, but I am not allowed to be harsh and I have the obligation to check my swing when I respond to obvious racism.
When I was a little girl my Mother purchased our first black Barbie dolls. I can’t actually explain why there was a delay in the acquisition of playthings that reflect what I see in the mirror, but regardless my Mom attempted integration after my initial introduction to Barbie’s pink fabulous white lady world. My Mother was brought to tears because she noticed that we just didn’t take to new dolls the way she expected. When asked why these other dolls didn’t see the same action as the white dolls she received the following response:
“They aren’t as good.”
It wasn’t virtue of being the first dolls and thus more loved, it was the fact that these different dolls, with their attempt at coarse yet flowing hair (weave) and purple lipstick and accessories weren’t a part of our reality. Black women weren’t all over the television, we didn’t have a Black Disney Princess, and all of our friends were little white girls who also played with white Barbie. If you haven’t played Barbies in a minute the point is to create little stories and these stories usually build from reality. Would white Ken be into black Barbie? The reality of the situation is that Black women in a position of power being regarded as beautiful or interesting just didn’t seem possible. Black Barbie couldn’t drive the Mustang, sleep in the dream house, be a Dentist, or train plastic scale sized Shamu in the bathtub (God forbid her hair get wet).
In great big ways my Mom drove home the point that we are just as good as our counterparts, purple accessories are as good as pink, and though you may go through the world walking on eggshells, biting your tongue until it bleeds, your opinions and worldview are relevant. I told you that story because I want you to understand that this practice of not listening to what I’m saying because it is difficult to hear and challenges your self perception is hard for me to stomach because I’ve known since I was 5 that it was going to be this way and I’m still trying to like to you despite it.
My sister is dropping some serious truth on her blog right now.
Ahem. Black folks, bell did just come for our wigs. When Black people DEMAND stereotypical depictions of Blackness and reject anything that deviates from the stereotypes (or the one-dimensional reaction to the stereotypes as “positive” characters) as “unrealistic,” there is a problem Houston. Internalized White supremacist thought is a helluva drug.
*cough* Broomhilda in Django Unchained *cough*