The Sexy Part of The Bible by Kola Boof. This novel is exquisite. Read it. As I wrote on Pinterest:

This book? Sublime. Kola Boof? Genius. I could’ve read about racism, sexism, misogyny, capitalism, imperialism, patriarchy, White privilege, institutionalized racism, colonialism, slavery, cloning, homophobia, classism, colourism, and love/hate in separate books, but was re-enlightened on this in one. The triangulation between Africa, Europe and U.S., as well as the main character’s intersectionality makes the story complicated and riveting. On par with writing from Morrison/Walker/Butler.

She goes IN on colourism…even in a way that might make some Black Americans uncomfortable when it’s juxtaposed to Africa. Good. We need discomfort when we read. How else will we learn? I like feeling slightly riveted, slightly on edge when I read. As I tweeted before:

I love when I am reading a book so good, I have to like…put it down for a sec. And smirk. And re-examine my whole damn existence.

— Trudy (@thetrudz)

August 7, 2012

It makes me think about something Ray Bradbury wrote in Fahrenheit 451: ““We need not to be let alone. We need to be really bothered once in a while. How long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, about something real?”

It’s interesting that sex is a part of the story (as it is life), but not in a way that insults my intelligence as some other “popular” books are. (Yes, that was 50 Shades of #SHADE just now.)

Also, reading this novel as a break from non-fiction on the topics that I mentioned in the mini review makes me think of something a Twitter follower sent me once:

@thetrudz I totally agree. When it’s fiction it feels less dogmatic, more like you’re awakening to possible truth than being fed a doctrine

— Yampy McFlutterbox (@afrodiziac80)

June 19, 2012

There’s a section of the book called “The White Man Is Not The Devil” that I had to mark. It really is exquisite and speaks to the complex existence and intersectionality of Black women and how we perceive both Black and White men. Anyway, like I said above. Read this.

Links: All books that I have mentioned on Gradient Lair. All of my 2012 reads posted on Pinterest.

We turn on the television and only our suffering is recorded by the white man’s cameras—our poverty, our hunger, our disease. Not only exaggerated, but the cause of our downfall is never truthfully explained. And while the white man films himself saving us, medicating us, feeding and protecting us, the black man is portrayed as a loser who can’t even navigate his own land, can’t love or feed his family, and can’t standup as an African in the image, fully human, that God created him in. He’s just a backward nigger in a dying, stinking, rotten paradise that everybody wants.
—  Sea Horse Twee
The Sexy Part of the Bible

As a black woman in a white supremacist world, I can’t honestly claim that I’ve suffered any more prejudice and mistreatment from white men than I have from my own black men. Both groups seem to live bu the white man’s standards, so they both hate, degrade, exploit, and humiliate black women, fail to even acknowledge our presence. Yet when it comes to race loyalty, I always took the side of the black man–not becaues he was morally superior to the white man, but because he’s the one I give birth to, the one my womb produces.

In Africa we talk a lot about the Great White Devil, the innate evilness of the white race, but the real truth, Eternity, is that the white man and the black man are probably the same man–the world is just ruled and trampled upon by the one who got to the gun first. And unforunately, the one with the spear has been struggling at the foot of the one who got to the gun first ever since–but they’re the same man, capable of the same genius, the same goodwil, and the same inhumanity.

Neither is superior to the other.

And just as I fear that I might be going too far out, I glance up and see the purple robes of sky flowing like ribbons into my eyes, into the sea, and into all the edges of the world. I notice the white light from every prayer that is being prayed around the world twinkling within those robes. There, in the starry ocean-sky, I get goose-bumps, some intuitive part of me touched at the nerve endings bu what I can only describes as spirits (feelings), ancestors (hunches), the salted breeze watching over me, the realization that though I was lost in the animalistic preamble of the wilderness lust–both inside me and in the wilderness–it suddently seems that the ocean indeed is a woman, her sloshing black face and her sparkling dips and swirls activating some primitive knowing intensity within me,

The Sexy Part of the Bible by Kola Boof

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