Post-Racial-Society

Dear White Friends,

Stop saying “Mixed babies are the cutest!” Or “I want mixed babies so bad.” That means you only want to date outside of your race for a “cute baby"which is the fetishization of the person you’re with AND of mixed children. Stop saying "racism will be over soon, almost everyone will be mixed!” Interracial relationships and mixed children are not the key to reaching a post racial society. Mixed kids deal with TONS of racism.We are people,not accessories. 

From, 

A fed up mixed girl


Submitted by @biracialfreckles

One of the (many) reasons it’s so important to talk about race and racism in our supposed post-racial society (it’s not), is because of things like anti-Semitism flying under the radar by so many to the point where it’s perpetuated.

I will fully 100% own up to the fact that I once reblogged a post that I thought was just making fun of communismkills, not realizing it was a Jewish caricature. Thank God for the person who sent me an ask about it. I was mortified and deleted the post right away. Because I mean there is enough reason to dislike CK without resorting to bigotry, lbr

But the argument that “I had no idea” doesn’t fly, especially when it’s brought to my attention. Ignorance of issues happens, and so long as you don’t push it into the realm of WILLFUL ignorance, it’s understandable. What’s not okay is if I had refused to delete the post, saying I hadn’t known and I just thought it was funny. If I had kept that post up, I would have been complicit in the perpetuation of anti-Semitism, whether I liked it or not. Digging my heels in would have helped nobody but anti-Semites who are fully aware of the meaning of the image and use it as confirmation that another person shares their views, further legitimizing it in their minds

No thanks

So we need to talk about this stuff.

from jack kerouac to rachel dolezal: baldwin said it best

From James Baldwin’s essay ‘The Black Boy Looks at the White Boy’ in Nobody Knows My Name (1954)

“Here is Kerouac, ruminating on what I take to be the loss of the garden of Eden:

At lilac evening I walked with every muscle aching among the lights of 27th and Welton in the Denver colored section, wishing I were a Negro, feeling that the best the white world had offered was not enough ecstasy for me, not enough life, joy, kicks, darkness, music, not enough night. I wished I were a Denver Mexican, or even a poor overworked Jap, anything but what I so drearily was, a “white man” disillusioned. All my life I’d had white ambitions… .I passed the dark porches of Mexican and Negro homes; soft voices were there, occasionally the dusky knee of some mysterious sensuous gal; and dark faces of the men behind rose arbors. Little children sat like sages in ancient rocking chairs.

Now, this is absolute nonsense, of course, objectively considered, and offensive nonsense at that: I would hate to be in Kerouac’s [or for that matter, Dolezal’s] shoes if he should ever be mad enough to read this aloud from the stage of Harlem’s Apollo Theater.

And yet there is real pain in it, and real loss, however thin; And it is thin, like soup too long diluted; thin because it does not refer to reality, but to a dream. Compare it, at random with any old blues:

Backwater blues done caused me/To pack my things and go./’Cause my house fell down/And I can’t live there no mo’.

“Man,” said a Negro musician to me once, talking about Norman [Mailer], “the only trouble with that cat is that he’s white.” This does not mean exactly what it says–or, rather, it does mean exactly what it says, and not what it might be taken to mean–and it is a very shrewd observation. What my friend meant was that to become a Negro man, let alone a Negro artist, one had to make oneself up as one went along. This had to be done in the not-at-all-metaphorical teeth of the world’s determination to destroy you. The world had prepared no place for you, and if the world had its way, no place would ever exist. Now, this is true for everyone, but, in the case of a Negro, this truth is absolutely naked: if he deludes himself about it, he will die. This is not the way this truth presents itself to white men, who believe the world is theirs and who, albeit unconsciously, expect the world to help them in the achievement of their identity…

”I want to know how power works,” Norman once said to me, “how it really works, in detail.” Well, I know how power works, it has worked on me, and if I didn’t know how power worked, I would be dead. And it goes without saying, perhaps, that I have simply never been able to afford myself any illusions concerning the manipulation of that power…”

anonymous asked:

i actually get pretty mad myself when white people go "OH BUT NOT ALL WHITE PEOPLE ARE LIKE THAT!111!!" and im white myself. like. holy fuck, let poc rage over the fact that theyre treated like shit on a daily basis, youre not fucking helping anyone but white people by saying "not all white people are bad" and thats basically just another form of trying to silence poc.

See, it annoys the living fuck out of me, when it happens. But if I look at it rationally, it makes sense and I understand why people do it.

This has a lot to do with what the taboo about racism actually is. Most white people who genuinely believe we live in a “post-racial” society feel that way, because it’s pretty much social taboo to be openly racist these days. Because segregation is illegal in America and black people can vote, etc, etc.

What they don’t get is that being racist is not taboo, particularly not in the US. What’s being taboo is being seen as racist.

So they get all up in arms about it because they’re good people! They want to be nice and don’t want to hurt anyone ever! Most of them wouldn’t purposely hurt someone else, either. So if you walk up to them and burst their bubble and call them out on racist bullshit, they get defensive. Really, really defensive. Because they know being seen as racist is a taboo and they have been trying not to be seen as racist.

The problem is that this makes them unable to grasp the cognitive difference between doing something racist and being seen as racist. And you know, it doesn’t matter if a person is or not racist. It really doesn’t. What matters are their actions. Their actions aren’t inherently racist just because the person is racist. And the reverse is true. Doing something racist doesn’t make you inherently, forever racist. This isn’t one of those things that if you screw up once, you’ve screwed up forever and will never recover. I don’t care if you’re a racist person. I really, really don’t. I care about what your actions are. I will call you out on your actions, not on your quality as a person.

This is one of those big derailing trains, because when you’re angry at someone who said something really fucking stupid, you tend to lash out and not be rational, and white people have a fantastic tendency, like all privileged groups, to zero in to the visceral replies, instead of the rational ones.

We’re not the thought police. We don’t want to police your thoughts. We don’t care if you’re racist.

But we will fucking police your actions, because unlike your private, personal thoughts, your actions affect us. And because white people have decided that being called racist is the most terrible thing, they have to scramble all over the place to put up defenses to any possible criticism that they might be racist. Because again, it’s all about them and how they’re seen in society.

White people are taught being racist is bad because other people will think badly of you. Not because being racist hurts a fuckload of people and throws them under the bus over and over again. You gotta understand that, before you can understand why people react the way they do, when you call them out on racism.

Most people don’t even understand that when they struggle to defend themselves from the “slander” of being called out on racist actions, they’re inherently silencing the POC around them and derailing the conversation from trying to understand why their actions are racist, to how good and noble they are and how if they said something unfortunate, they probably didn’t mean it that way, so it doesn’t matter.

It’s all about them, always. It’s what pisses me off about that fucking comic, too. It’s all about white people being catered to and learning in nice, gentle environments.

It’s bullshit.

White people don’t learn to not be assholes about race unless they’re viciously stripped of their rose-tinted glasses and forced to admit they’re wrong. They’re always wrong. It doesn’t matter what they say, when the conversation is on race, they’re always wrong. It’s not fun. It’s not nice. It’s not about having wonderful trips to go see the poor, pitiful POC in their “natural habitat”. It’s forcing you to admit and acknowledge that every single thing you do every single day, is based on stepping on other people. It’s forcing you to admit not that you have privilege, but where your privilege comes from and why.

It’s ruthless and harsh and it involves unpacking every single social conditioning rule until you’ve gone and broken their worldview.

People don’t want to go through that. And most people who do, they just pack up their shit all over again and go cry to their friends that the POC are evil and hurt their feelings.

But you gotta do it, because every once in a while, you get through to white people. And what comes out the other way is people like Jane Elliot, who understand the fuckery and the horror involved in race relations, and who want to fucking end that shit as badly as you do.

White allies get told, constantly, that it’s not about them. And you hear this snide discourse, from white allies, about how we should court the people with white privilege to join our cause. That we should be nice. Because we can’t win this without them.

And they’re right, we need white people to side with us to make true reform and change the shitty way things are. But they’re wrong, if they think this ‘courting’ should be kind and gentle and servile. Because so long as POC are servile around white people, white people will cling to those toxic little nuggets of bullshit deeply inbedded in their thought process and the way they look at the world. And in the end, their activism and commitment to our cause will just be a hobby. An extra curricular activity to pad up their resumé between jobs.

You know who’s a white ally? A white person who is as disgusted and offended by society’s racial standards as the people those standards oppress. The person who can see their privilege and not just acknowledge the fact they have that privilege, but also acknowledge what their privilege costs the people around them. They understand what they’re given because of their race is what other people are stolen because of their race.

And those are the allies we want, because those are the people who will not abandon the fight. Those are the people who will not rest until this bullshit is over. Who will think about this every day, all the time, no matter what else they’re doing. Because they know they’ll never understand what’s like to be POC, but that doesn’t mean they should stop trying.

So yeah, I call bullshit on politics of respectability. I call bullshit about white tears. I call bullshit about derailing and whining and people who think being an activist is a nice thing to add to a college app.

And I will never stop calling it out, when I see it.

Michelle Jones Tactful Racebending

This is Michelle Jones or as her friends call her MJ and this is the current MCU incarnation of MJ and she is a stroke of ingenious.

I as a non-black-poc comic book fan I absolutely HATE racebending, I hate it for two major reasons 1. race of a fictional character is just as integral to their character as their costume, name and over-all design 2. I actually understand that race, sexuality, gender, sex etc have major impact on how the world treats and perceives you so when writers arbitrarily change a character’s race while keeping everything exactly the same angers me because it’s immensely ignorant. No matter how much we tell ourselves we live in a “post-racial” society our appearance have an unfortunate definitive impact on our lives, the whole is reflective of the individual and the individual is reflective of the whole. It sucks.

So why do I like Zendaya’s MJ? She isn’t Mary Jane, she’s “MJ”.

The problem with replacive racebending in fiction especially of long established characters is that it always comes off as insulting to fans of the original no matter what. Race just adds another layer of societal complexity so why and how does Michelle Jones manage to not set off any of my triggers? It’s the same reason why Miles Morales never upset me, he wasn’t Peter Parker.

The point I’m trying to make is that this MJ isn’t trying to erase the significance of the original, she isn’t trying to be original she’s her own sassy self. Mary Jane in the original comic’s was Peter’s supermodel/actress gf/wife, the hotgirl he manage to gain the affections off by fucking up just hard enough his bad luck inverted on itself and became good and she’s great in her own white ginger way. And you know what? So is Michelle Jones! She’s an “anti-social, loner” who for some reasons joins group activities and has a bunch of “not-friends” and goes out of her way to act like a juno extra because that what she thinks is cool and more importantly she knows she isn’t white.

Honestly the entire movie had the racial diversity handled in such a intelligent and realistic way with the refreshing of old characters and additions of new ones. I’m reading a lot of hate on this version of Flash Thompson and i’ll be honest here I don’t give a flying fuck about tertiary characters. Flash only function is to be Peter’s Bully with his shtick being that he has a man crush on Spider-Man which is ironic cause….zzzzzzzzz. Huah! Sorry but imo this version of Flash Thompson is great, sorry guys it isn’t the 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s the whole jock who’s actually abused by his father and takes out his frustration of the nerd is a tired cliche. Thompson reimagined as a intellectual rival and more of a trollish psychological bully to Peter than physical one was really fun to watch also “penis parker” is goddamn funny.

I guess the one actual “negative” is that this version of Peter Parker has a real hard on for biracial black girls which might be interpreted as an unhealthy racial fetishization by some.

Shut up their in their 20s!

Fuck if my high school had hot supermodel biracial black chicks that were into me I’d smash too. Go go Penis Parker!!!

for a post-racial society Tumblr sure does get heated about whether Armenians count as white or not.

it’s mercifully one of the few debates that feature the Kardashians and genocide as legitimate talking points.

Race matters. Race matters in part because of the long history of racial minorities’ being denied access to the political process.

Race matters to a young man’s view of society when he spends his teenage years watching others tense up as he passes, no matter what neighborhood he grew up. Race matters to a young woman’s sense of self when she states her hometown, and then is pressed, ‘No, where are you really from?’

The way to stop discrimination on the basis of race is to speak openly and candidly on the subject of race, and to apply the Constitution with eyes open to the unfortunate effects of centuries of racial discrimination.

anonymous asked:

Why is the whole genosha a big thing? What is genosha??

Genosha has a complicated history with mutants, at different times playing both hell and haven. It’s an island nation, off the southern coast of Africa. It was originally a mostly egalitarian, post racial society, with Wakanda level wealth. The ideal of what Western society strives for. Except for one detail. The engine of their wealth was a mutant slave caste. All mutants were put through a process called genegineering, made into compliant beings, losing their original identity. They were tools of the state. 

This was the late 80s, early 90s. Chris Claremont was building on themes of slavery,and apartheid. South Africa was a big deal back then. Mandela was getting out of prison. They even made a Lethal Weapon movie about it.

The X-Men first ran into them while they lived in Australia. They didn’t get along well.

There were a few other interactions, with tensions rising. Eventually Genosha felt the mutant terrorist X-Men were a clear and present danger to their society, that needed to be removed

This was the X-tinction Agenda, and was a massive event for the time. The Genoshans attacked the school (everybody was living in the basement, because the mansion had been blown up), capturing Storm, Rahne, Warlock, Rictor, and Boom Boom. The X-Men went to war with an entire country to get their kids back. You could not have picked a worse moment for the team. The  X-Men didn’t effectively exist at the time. Storm had lead them to calamitous ruin in the Australian Outback, and they were scattered across the globe, after a trip through the Siege Perilous. More than one still unaware of their previous life as an X-Man. The capture of the Storm and the New Mutants drew many together again to rescue their kids.

The X-Men were victorious, but not before paying a terrible cost.

Warlock died early. Rahne and Ororo would go through the genegineering process, with Rahne’s transformation being ‘permanent’. 

Genosha was left a burning Shambles. Their military and government toppled by the X-Men. They had never all come so close to dying, but were made stronger by the event. The family of Xavier had been scattered for a long time. This included the New Mutants being estranged from X-Factor. This period for X-men began their transition to mega franchise, and the countdown to X-Men 1′s million sales.

Fast forward many years later.

Control of Genosha would later be ceded to Magneto by the United Nations, as a way of appeasement. It wouldn’t work, leading to Wolverine and Cyclops having to take him down again. Magneto did however create a mutant haven in Genosha. Then they had a bad day.

Selene would head that way later, to resurrect all those dead mutants to do her bidding, with the help of the transmode virus. Cyclops and Wolverine’s X-Force stopped her.

 Most recently, it was where the Red Skull kept his mutant concentration camp

It has been the site of much heartache and horror, filled with the ghosts of million of dead mutants. It is a place that once held hope of becoming a guiding light for what was possible. That light was snuffed, and it has reverted back to place of nightmare.I imagine the negative energy there strong enough to incapacitate some empaths and telepaths. Other than M Day, this is where the worst events in mutant history have taken place.

That’s Genosha.

This is the current official seal of Whitesboro, NY. A white man strangling an American Indian man.

Stop telling me I am being too sensitive. Stop telling me that I am making a big deal out of nothing. Stop telling me about living in post racial society.

 Stop telling me to ‘get over things’ when stuff like THIS is being actively defended and protected. 

http://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/13/nyregion/residents-in-whitesboro-ny-vote-to-keep-a-much-criticized-village-emblem.html?_r=0

People are going to hate me saying this – and oh well, I’m used to tumblr hating me and my opinions – but I feel like Jk Rowling was queerbaiting, if not unintentionally.

Hear me out before you breathe flames all over my nice pink sweater.

As a person of color, you grow up seeing famous white authors who don’t necessarily *hate* people of color but are uncomfortable writing about us. Why? Because they don’t want to misrepresent or turn us into an offensive token, so in an attempt to spare people of color that usual horror, they keep all their “minority” characters off to the side in minor roles.

In this situation, people of color are tolerated, acknowledged as existing, used as background decorations to pay lipservice to diversity, but not really included in the narrative. A text book example of this would be Dragon Age Origins, in which people of color exist but are relagated to the sidelines, and the two brown people who have speaking roles aren’t important enough to be three-dimensional characters who exist throughout the story. Duncan dies in the opening (you have to get his background from a book), and Isabella is just there to teach you a skill (and be a hypersexual stereotype).

Does Zevran count as not-white??? I always felt he was a white Spainard with a tan. But if he’s actually a poc, then he’s the only remotely important person of color in Dragon Age Origins who also gets to live through to the end of the game.  

Rowling has done the same thing with all her queer (or potentially queer) characters. She doesn’t hate queer people, but she tolerates us enough to acknowledge that we exist. Gay people are allowed to be gay – as long as they’re gay OVER THERE OFF SCREEN.

So Dumbledore couldn’t be gay in the books but in some announcement after the books were well and done. Tonks and Lupin – the two potentially queer characters – were conveniently smashed together in an unlikely pairing to squash all rumors of gayness (which I thought was a shame). And Harry Potter’s son will never really be gay on stage, just in little hints and subtext.

No, Rowling doesn’t hate queer people (said without sarcasm). She’s uncomfortable writing them or trying to represent them well, in which case she shouldn’t be writing them at all.

My mantra for the last five years or so for white writers has been this: include us well or don’t include us at all. Period.

There is nothing so shitty as being misrepresented or half-represented. If you want to write about a minority but don’t have the balls, the knowledge, or the inclination to learn, then don’t bother.

And this problem isn’t Rowling’s. It’s not up to her to represent queer people. The bigger issue is the fact of so few queer writers on the market. We aren’t allowed to represent ourselves and be our own voice.

As a queer writer myself, I work tirelessly to make agents and publishers see past the sexuality of my characters and see people. But in reality, publishing houses only care about MONEY. So they will sign whatever mindless, vacuous shit will appeal to straight white people (Twilight, anyone?) whether the writer has talent or not because that’s where they believe the money is at.

I am basically saying that publishers will sign any story the think will sell to the straight white majority, not that Rowling has no talent. She is vastly superior to Meyers in every conceivable way.

In short, JK Rowling doesn’t hate queer people. We all know this. But I also don’t think she’s purposely queerbaiting. I think she had a desire to write about queer people but didn’t know how to do it well and was afraid of making a mistake. Her first mistake? Writing about queer people when she had these fears in the first place.

That old saying “write what you know” has weight. Straight white writers should write what they know, while publishing houses should allow queer people and people of color to be their own voices.

Yeah. It’s that fucking simple.

Today I was working on my outline for my new fantasy novel (right now it’s just a mash of ideas) and I realized that if it was ever published, it would be heckled as “the black lesbian Harry Potter” even though the story is actually nothing like Harry Potter and the character is not a lesbian, just queer.

Also, it’s just one book, and the character goes from a child (who learns magic at a sort of school – again, nothing like a real school and more like a monastery) to an adult throughout the story. In the end, it’s nothing like Harry Potter, but people would see the similarities and say so.

Can you imagine what it’s like to write something and have it watered down into the black version of everything else? Last year I wrote a graphic novel about a black female super hero, and in the back of mind, I knew she’d be called “black supergirl” if she ever saw the light of day. But she was nothing like Supergirl. If anything, my character is better than fucking Supergirl. At least she gets to live out from under the shadow of a Superman counterpart….  or would she? The second she was published, the world over would accuse me of copying, even though the story was nothing like Superman.

Black people are never allowed to just be people. Our stories are never just stories – they’re black stories. Our characters are never just characters – they’re black characters.

No, we don’t walk around “aware of our otherness” because we don’t see ourselves as strange and other. We see ourselves as normal human beings, and it’s everyone else who has to treat us like baffling animals behind glass.

All these people preaching about a post-racial society like to forget that we are still segregated. We live in separate neighborhoods, we go to separate schools, and in the book section of every story, every black fantasy writer has been shoved away into BLACK fiction.

Because god forbid anything written by a black person should just be FICTION.

Is there a section for queer fiction? Is there an inter-sectional section for black queer fiction, where the hatred comes together to closet away people who have two minority backgrounds instead of one????

Sometimes I look at my steampunk novel – which is about a woman of color falling in love with a female robot, yup – and I wonder just how hopeless it is for me to see it in print.

Being black is hard. Being queer is hard. Imagine being black and queer.    

JK Rowling can’t. And that’s why she should’ve just left minorities alone. I think she was screwed either way, as people would have criticized her for not having one important brown person at Hogwarts, even though brown people live in Britain everywhere, especially Indian people.

Again, the problem isn’t Jk Rowling. Her writing is just a symptom of a world where we are still so segregated, she has no clue how to write about people of color or queer people without being offensive.

Ursula Le Guin could write about people of color without screwing up because she was exposed to them regularly. She saw us as people, not stereotypes, and that’s how she avoided being racist.

If we can tear down the walls of segregation that are still firmly, invisibly in place, we will see a lot fewer baffled straight white writers and video game developers and more people who understand and appreciate each other.

I just wonder how fucking long that’s going to take. I don’t believe people truly WANT to break down these barriers. If anything, people have been working tirelessly to keep them there for all manner of reasons: greed, power, grand delusions of superiority, or a sheer hatred of those who are different from them.

In short: when we have a better world, we will have better writers.

Stand Out.

I wasn’t naïve to the fact that interracial dating was different than me dating a man who had the same chocolate skin tone I proudly wore.

I wasn’t naïve to the fact that the color of my skin was an even more prominent feature as I stood next to Marco Reus, one of the most popular young footballers.

I wasn’t naïve to the fact that I didn’t fit the stereotypical image of what a ‘WAG’ was supposed to be because let’s face it, majority of them all seemed to look the same. Put them in a line-up or a room together and I could bet they’d sort of begin to blend in together. All model-thin, seemingly perfect, long hair and all of those other characteristics they seemed to trade between each other like candy.

I wasn’t that. I wasn’t perfect.

I had unhealed scars on my legs from my brothers pushing me around on the pitch. I had naturally curly hair that spent more time turning into a frizz than staying in that perfect corkscrew curl I always spent so many hours trying to achieve. I had thick, dark eyebrows à la Cara Delevingne and thanks to her that was now considered ‘fashionable’ though I wasn’t sure how long bushy eyebrows would stay trendy.

I was a normal girl. I wasn’t running some fashion blog, designing clothes, appearing in movies or tv shows.

Nothing.

Marco couldn’t have picked anyone more random to fall in love with and hey, maybe that could give hope to the girls out there like me who longed to picture themselves in my shoes as just a regular girl who had lucked up by finding a man who from the outside was deemed out of her league.

Thankfully for me, and my self-confidence, I knew I wasn’t out of Marco’s league.

I was just what he wanted.

Quiet but also outgoing enough to speak up when I deemed it necessary, not the party type though I did enjoy drinks and nights out with friends occasionally, the ability to spew sarcastic jokes right off of the top of my head whenever he was in a bad mood or holed up in his home due to a pesky injury.

I was his dream girl.

And I know, haha real funny, that I would be that dream girl when he had his choice of women like a woman had choosing which nail polish she wanted to use for her pedicure but I was…

And he was mine. All mine. So mine that I had our fingers interlocked tightly as he pulled me through the crowded ballroom.

I could tell there were eyes on us. It was a Borussia Dortmund gathering of course so I was sure there were a ton of business men and women who had some sort of dealing with the club filed into this room to down endless glasses of champagne and maybe even vodka if there was any present at the bar all to gaze at their most prized possessions…

The players.

One player included in that lot being Marco who always seemed to find himself the darling of these events. He had warned me, or at least mapped out to me, how all of this would go.

We would arrive, say a few polite hello’s to people he didn’t really know that well but was pretty much obligated to speak to, we’d grab a drink, snack on the food they had there, drinks, meet his teammates, drinks and then eventually head out and back to his home to end our night with two and a half hours of inappropriate touching, his tongue in areas I blushed at the mention of, and physically demanding sex.

He had made sure to specifically define the timeline of two and a half hours because he had to catch an episode of Game of Thrones before he went to sleep. Marco had a lot of stamina off of the pitch which seemed to quadruple when he was stuck resting with injury. I didn’t complain though there were a few times my back did.

So far, we were following that timeline of events fairly well as he had said hello to a few people, me standing quietly at his side until he pulled me over to the bar to grab our first drinks of the night. I was the boring, sober one in our relationship so I simply asked for a glass of Coke. While we waited for our drinks I turned to look at him.

“Is it odd for me to feel this nervous right now?” I questioned with a bite of my lip. I felt I had to be honest about my emotions and right now I was feeling a nervous wreck watching all of these random eyes on me, wondering what thoughts may have been floating around in all of their minds. Part of me thought that I may have not wanted to hear them. I wanted to believe I lived in this post-racial society but let’s face it, Marco and me together, two individuals of different backgrounds, was sure to garner a few eyes.

“Yes. Yes it is,” he nodded.

Marco wasn’t ignorant to the fact he was dating a woman of color. In fact, he embraced it. He never tried to feed me some lame explanation that dating me was just like dating anyone else. Yes, love was love but we came from two totally different cultures though with shared experiences and we understood that. He understood that fairly well and for that I was glad.

I playfully shoved his arm before he could reach for his drink and though there was a smile on my face, I was completely serious. I was used to sticking out in a room because hell, my hair wouldn’t let me go undiscovered but this felt totally different. I felt like I was in a room full of powerful people and I should have been the one pouring their drinks and rolling out the carpet beneath their feet.

I was nothing, nobody aside from a college graduate with more student loans than I wished to remember.

Hellooo, University of Kentucky.

Marco took a sip of his drink, his mouth puckering at the initial bitter taste before he put the cup down and moved closer to me, dragging his hand against my waist and forcing me closer. He placed a soft kiss to my jawline before speaking into my ear as if it was just us in the room. For a moment, it felt like that because I closed my eyes and began to relax in his hold while I listened to him say, “You are absolutely beautiful and everyone will love you.”

“But I don’t fit in.” And that comment wasn’t made just because I was a few shades darker than most in the room. It was my personality, it was the fact I spoke barely any German, it was everything. It was like putting someone in a room and everyone spoke an entirely different language than you and you felt left out of every joke and conversation.

“You don’t need to fit in. Stand out.” He gave me another reassuring kiss but this time to my lips for a brief moment.

“I’ll have no problem with that thanks to this frizzy mess on my head. They’ll probably think I skipped out on even using shampoo with how awful this looks.” It wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t that sort of bad hair day where you pulled a hat over your head and kept your fingers crossed you’d see no familiar faces but I still wasn’t over spending hours on my curls only for them to swell with the outside heat and moisture as soon as I stepped into the late afternoon air.

“I’m sure they know you use shampoo. At least I know because you used half of mine,” Marco smirked before coddling a strand of my corkscrew curls.

That was all thanks to him stealing my Aussie Moist.

I rolled my eyes and giggled. “Whatever. Alright. One more kiss and I’ll be fine to go.” Marco obliged and began to lean down towards my lips, taking my chin under his pointer finger to poke my lips forward before indulging me with a sweet kiss, the taste of my cherry gloss running across the tip of my tongue when he forced his tongue slowly inside of my mouth. He was trying to keep it PG I could tell because the R-rated version of Marco would have squeezed my ass at some point mid-kiss or aggressively moved his lips against mine.

“End the love fest already, will ya?” Someone’s playful banter broke our kiss apart and I knew immediately it was Pierre by the familiar accented voice. Consider Pierre the third person in our relationship or my boyfriend’s wingman because if there was anyone willing to play middle man and get Marco out of a night of watching The Hunger Games with me, it was him. I was sure Marco owed him a lot for that.

He was the only Dortmund guy I had met so far and if I had to base how much I’d like the rest of the team based off of how much I liked Aubby, as I so affectionately and much to his dismay called him, then I was sure to love these sorts of nights.

Marco greeted him with one of those bro-type handshakes and hugs before Auba pulled me into a hug as well.

“Look who finally gets dragged to these things,” he commented with an amused smirk. I simply rolled my eyes and responded with, “Yeah yeah. Marco has finally decided to start introducing me to the world.”

“It took you long enough to agree to it,” he quickly cut in.

“Well I guess it’s time you meet everyone then,” Pierre stated with a smile before he wrapped an arm around both me and Marco and guided us away from the bar, and unfortunately away from our drinks, and to the many mingling guests.

I guess I didn’t feel so much like an outsider then. I had Marco. I had Aubby and by the end of the night, I had Nuri, Matthias and Mitchell as potential new best friends with the way they laughed at my ridiculous jokes and carried me around the room when they could sneak me away from Marco to introduce me to their guests and people they deemed important for me to meet.

Needless to say, my boyfriend spent a lot of time that night swiveling around in his chair looking for me when his teammates took me away and I could tell he was glad when we made it home because that suit and my dress were quickly discarded for the final part of our night to ensue right on time before Game of Thrones.

gif credit to chrisze

Why is Zendaya being cast as Mary Jane Watson such a big deal? I don’t understand why everyone has to make everything about race? You guys just need to remember that Hollywood is a business. They make decisions based on the best actor for the job and who will fill seats. I’m sure she’ll do a great job! There are real problems in the world people and freaking out about every little thing is why we’ll never get to a post racial society :)

Something about the models walking the DKNY catwalk last month in coifs that Lucky magazine called “slicked-down tendrils” - known in my hood as baby hair - tweaked my Queens-reared soul.
I felt a similar pull in April when Marie Claire called Kendall Jenner’s cornrows “epic.” Hmmph - no one ever declared mine anything but necessary for swimming in the summertime.
That tug was followed by a twinge last week when Los Angeles Times reporter Ingrid Schmidt wrote a story about braids, referring to Bo Derek as their matriarch. Hello, what about Cicely Tyson?
Add Vogue’s recent article claiming we’re in the era of big booties - because Iggy Azalea and Kim Kardashian are making round backsides aspirational for the masses - and you might as well render me invisible.
My issue isn’t with borrowing elements of style that started in the heart of black America. Appropriation has been at the center of pop culture since well, the dawn of culture.
What’s difficult to digest is this “praise” of all things black - from cornrows and large booties to acrylic nails, door-knocker earrings, and tribal fabrics - only becomes “chic,” “trendy,” and “epic” when worn by white women. When these same cultural markers are on black women, they are “ghetto,” “urban,” and “ratchet” - meaning, unpretty.
“It’s offensive,” said Doreen E. Loury, director of Pan-African studies at Arcadia University. “The natural beauty of black women that has been historically demonized and classified as unattractive, is now the runway’s hottest new swag. And it’s not even being celebrated on black bodies.”
To make matters worse, black women are rarely, if ever, credited as these trends’ impetus. That distinction goes to the designers’ inspiration boards, so what could have been viewed as a form of flattery is now just an insult.
“What’s problematic to me is how these conversations, whether braids or butts, are happening without the broader social context from where they came,” said Tiffany M. Gill, associate professor of black American studies at the University of Delaware. “When braids are on black bodies, they are dangerous or subversive, but celebrated as fashion on white bodies.”
Last week New York Times writer Alessandra Stanley wrote an article calling actress Viola Davis, with her darker skin, “less classically beautiful,” and there were a lot of hurt feelings. Who’s making these calls? Why is darker skin desirable on white women, but not on black women?
All these hairdos, body types, and even accessories are pieces of our collective style stories as African American women. Although some are things we neither celebrate nor denigrate - cornrows - others we continue to struggle with, like the texture of our hair. Having now hit the runways, it’s only a matter of time before other women start copying these looks - but stripped of their history.
(For the record, “baby hair” is the hair at your hairline. Through the decades, in an effort to mask their hair’s natural texture, black women have used gel, pomade, even Vaseline to slick down the edges. In the ‘80s, black teens made the gelled hair fashionable, said Ayana Byrd, coauthor of Hair Story: Untangling the Roots of Black Hair in America.
Even I first thought I was being oversensitive, having grown up at the dawn of hip-hop with parents who remember segregation. But it turns out that even millennials - in this “post-racial” society - feel disrespected.
“To me it’s as if the industry is making a mockery out of what we call 'ghetto,’ ” said Isaiah Wall, a 21-year-old blogger from North Philly, who writes “The Timeless Aesthetic.” Wall was referencing an online editorial published last week by Vice magazine with a photo of two white women eating watermelon with obscenely long acrylic nails.
“Givenchy for men showed guys with do-rags [in August]. The baby hair at DKNY. These little things were once seen in a negative light, and now it’s OK because it’s been whitewashed,” Wall said.
In this age of quick blog posts and quicker social-media updates, I think the problem is more indifference than insidiousness. The fashion industry is only doing half the work. Yes, designers are inspired by the streets, but which ones? Shibuya Crossing in Tokyo, or 52d Street in West Philly?
“What’s so disturbing is that there is just no attribution to the original,” said Nakia Thomas, 34, who writes the “Stylechile” blog.
Coincidentally, in many cases, it’s social media - especially sharp-tongued black Twitter - that’s correcting the spate of style-based cultural faux pas.
Numéro magazine bronzed the body of a 16-year-old Caucasian model Ondria Hardin for a spread titled “African Queen” - back in early 2013. But a recent Facebook post about it went viral, bringing renewed attention to the irony: At a time when black models are fighting for jobs on the runway and in editorials, we’re putting white models in blackface.
While Numéro apologized at the time, Vogue has yet to do so. But thanks to the recent #voguearticles hashtag where people suggest the next-in-line appropriation - my personal favorite, “Dreadlocks: Apparently not just for white hippies and backpackers anymore” - perhaps they will do a little more research next time.
— 

Mirror, Mirror: When Style is ‘Ghetto’ On Black Women, 'Chic’ On Whites

By Elizabeth Wellington

I want to write about love,
but I’ve got heat exhaustion from
the heat-packing police
patrolling my street,
rapping on my car window
like I’m headed to the bando.
His finger’s like a gun—
I’m just waiting for the trigger.
Tell me where to run
when even good cops call me nigger.
.
Go figure:
in a post-racial society
I’m still running race
like numbers.
The deficit’s too high for me/
black numbers don’t come easily/
my prophet’s lost—I can’t foresee
pink flowers on this lynching tree.
—  “Officer, I’m so tired tonight.”

[For more on social justice, follow me on instagram: soulrevision]

A Tale of Two Mothers In American in a “Post Racial Society”

Left: Catalina Clouser - Got high, drove for 12 miles with her 2 month old baby on the roof of her car before realizing her child was not in the vehicle. The baby fell off and was found in the middle of the highway, still in its car seat and miraculously unharmed. Catalina pled guilty to child abuse and DUI, she avoided jail time and was sentenced to probation.

Right: Shanesha Taylor - A homeless mother, left her two kids (2 years old and 6 months) in the car while she went on a job interview for 45 minutes because she had no one to watch them. Shanesha was arrested and charged with a felony and had her kids removed from her care.

Both of these women live in Arizona

Read more here: http://bit.ly/1eAfPIf

It is true that some people in the general public are unfamiliar with HBCUs; but, this truth isn’t indicative of insignificance. It’s indicative of anti-blackness in public knowledges — people aren’t familiar with North Carolina A&T because no one at any point in their intellectual journeys saw it fit to teach them about the Greensboro Four; people aren’t familiar with Howard University because they’ve never critically studied a Toni Morrison novel or read a Stokely Carmichael essay; people know nothing about Rust College or Fisk University because they know nothing about Ida B. Wells. And, we have to deal with that. We have to deal with the fact that HBCUs find it harder to come by resources not because they aren’t attractive or worthy intellectual spaces, but because, in a “post-racial” society, donors do not see the need for/value of institutions that specifically serve communities of Black students…
— 

“From Morehouse to Berkeley and Back: Difficult Decisions for Black Students” by Marcus Lee, Morehouse College Student

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/marcus-lee/from-morehouse-to-black-students_b_5365583.html?utm_hp_ref=fb&src=sp&comm_ref=false

Also, another thing about Star Trek: TNG that probably can be chalked up to a combination of the odd balance between Roddenberry’s utopian vision and the needs of the story, writers not knowing what an actual utopia would look like is that hardly an episode goes by where there isn’t something that is blatantly dystopian if you pull on the thread even a little bit.

Like the cloud of doublespeak that obscures the fact that Starfleet is the military wing of the United Federation of Planets.

Like the omnipresent surveillance state.

Like the fact that eugenics are banned in the sense that people understand that creating genetically engineered supermen who might overthrow the natural order of things is bad, but are otherwise pretty routine.

Like the fact that chemically tampering with the contents of someone’s brain against their will is considered a medical procedure.

Like the fact that all the problems of 20th century U.S. society seem to be just as prevalent IN SPACE but the taboo against acknowledging them has simply gotten a lot stronger.

And of course the last one is the perfect example of why this sort of thing happens. The writers can’t imagine what a post-patriarchy or post-racial society would really look like, or if they could, they couldn’t get away with showing it on TV. So they mostly just show 20th century U.S. society up on screen with the occasional reminder that In The Future We Don’t Worry About These Things.

When Zionists claim that Israel is a post racial society, remind them of government minister, Miri Regev, who described African refugees as “A cancer” and when confronted about it, Regev apologised to cancer patients for offending them and not to the African refugees.