“Salma Hayek walked up to me — who I was super in love with because of “From Dusk Till Dawn” with George Clooney — and said the craziest shit: “You know your brothers and sisters are dying over in Africa because of all this jewelry you’re wearing.” Because I guess we had those big ole watches they gave us on, and these platinum necklaces. So I was like, “What?! What are you talking about? I don’t have no brothers and sisters in Africa!” And like that, Salma Hayek killed my hard-on. I just went limp. I told her it was nice meeting her and walked out away from that.”
Audre Lorde, a self-proclaimed “black, lesbian, mother, warrior, poet,” was a writer, feminist, womanist, and civil rights activist.
For Lorde, writing proved to be her powerful weapon against injustice. Painfully aware that differences could provoke prejudice and violence, she promoted the bridging of barriers.
Lorde began writing poetry at age twelve. She was inspired by poets such as Keats, Edna St. Vincent Millay and Helene Margaret. As the first Black student at Hunter High School, a public school for intellectually gifted girls, she worked on the school newspaper and published her first poem, “Spring, ” in Seventeen Magazine in 1951.
Her homo-erotic feelings began to emerge during her teenage years, through various crushes on female peers and teachers. So after graduation from high school, Lorde left her parents’ home and attended Hunter College. She surrounded herself with leftist thinkers and lesbian friends.
Audre Lorde dedicated her life to combating social injustice. She helped found Kitchen Table: Women of Color Press, the world’s first publishing company run by women of color.
She was also a founding member of Sisters in Support of Sisters in South Africa, an organization that worked to raise concerns about women under apartheid.
In 1968, Lorde received a National Endowment for the Arts grant and published her first volume of poetry, “The First Cities” as a poet-in-residence at Tougaloo College in Mississippi. She began a romantic relationship with Frances Clayton that same year that would last until Lorde’s death in 1992.
As a poet, she is best known for technical mastery and emotional expression, as well as her poems that express anger and outrage at civil and social injustices she observed throughout her life.Her poems and prose largely deal with issues related to civil rights, feminism, and the exploration of black female identity.
Lorde won international acclaim for her poetry and prose, and was Poet Laureate of New York state from 1990 until 1991.
As a lecturer in 1970, Lorde engaged diverse student bodies on the interlocking identities of class, race, and gender, with history and culture.
Lorde reached audiences with her numerous writings. She published 15 books of poetry and prose, including 1984′s “Sister Outsider,” which is often included in the curriculum of women’s studies programs. In 1983, “Zami” hit the shelves. Lorde referred to it as a “biomythography,” but it was essentially her autobiography.
In addition to poetry, Audre Lorde was a powerful essayist and writer. In terms of her nonfiction work, she is best remembered for The Cancer Journals (1980), in which she documents her own struggle with breast cancer. Having undergone a mastectomy, Lorde refused to be victimized by the disease. Instead, she considered herself—and other women like her—to be warriors. The cancer later spread to her liver and this latest battle with the disease informs the essay collection, A Burst of Light (1989). This time, she chose to pursue alternative treatments rather than to opt for more surgery.
Dying on November 17, 1992, on the island of St. Croix, the largest of the U.S. Virgin Islands, Audre Lorde spent a lifetime exploring the pleasures and pain of being a black woman in America. Lorde’s was an essential voice in African American literature.
As a lesbian woman of color Lorde asserted, “I have a duty to speak the truth as I see it and to share not just my triumphs, not just the things that felt good, but the pain, the intense, often unmitigating pain.”
I wanted to kick myself for sneaking out of the party . It felt like those old days. And it scared me.
I saw him sitting on a bench, waiting for me. Seeing me, he jumped up, eyes shining in excitement.
“You came !” he said, grinning widely.
“What is it, Seb?” I asked, looking around to see if we were being watched.
“Just wanted you all to myself” he said, taking my hand in his and leading me away.
“Where are we going ?” I asked, nervously.
This was so wrong.
* * *
I didn’t know what possessed me to get into his car.
“Seb, we ARE not going to your house ! We CANT !” I said, feeling horrified.
“I think I’m going to need therapy again!”
“Oh come on, Y/N” He said, laughing. “We’ll go to yours then”
My house was the safer option.
So thats where we went.
Once safely inside, I turned to question him.
“What the hell-”
His lips crashed against mine, before I could complete my sentence. I knew this would happen, but still my body took time to process it.
My hands shot up to his chest, pushing him off me gently.
“Bad idea” I told him, shaking my head pleadingly.
“No” He growled, pushing me against the wall, his lips on mine again.
But this was exactly what I longed for. For the past year, he was the only person I craved to see. His voice. His touch.
Only to realise it again, made my eyes fill up with tears, and I sobbed into our kiss.
His hands cupped my cheeks, as I cried bitterly. He showered kisses on my face as I weeped. When his hands went around me, I cried with my face pressed against his chest.
“Baby, we are together now !” He whispered to me, “You are not getting away this time”
I nodded as he kissed me. Each touch brought about memories. His lips travelled down my neck, and I held on to him tightly, not wanting to lose contact. His body was so warm against my own.
It was so gentle this time. Like he was afraid to hurt me. Like he was afraid to lose me. It was the best night I had in ages.
We were in deep sleep, in each other’s arms, when I suddenly woke up hearing loud bangs on my door.
I put a hand against Seb’s mouth, and thats when he snapped out of his sleep and remembered he was in my room.
Mom’s voice was sharp, laced with a bit of concern.
“Y/N! Why did you leave the party early ?!”
I looked frantically at Seb, who was now smiling against my palm.
I glared at him.
“Um…I didn’t feel well Mom !” I called out, trying to sound as gorgy as possible.
“Why didn’t you tell us ?” She asked. “Open the door, dear”
“Mom, I just wanted to come back OK ? I had this horrible - stomach ache !”
Seb kissed my hand, and I swatted him on his chest,making him fall back, grinning.
“Mom, I wanna sleep OK ?” I said, hoping that she would just buy my story and leave.
“Alright” She said, hesitating. “I’ll call the doctor if you aren’t well by morning” She said, beginning to walk away. We laughed, as we heard her complain about the cheap quality of food the Praise’ had for the party.
“Your mom is something else” Seb said, his face red from laughing hard.
“Yeah, she is” I agreed, cuddling to him.
“I love you, Y/N” He said, kissing my temple. “So much”
“I love you too, Seb” I said, pressing soft kisses on his chest.
* * *
I woke up to see Seb sitting up, speaking into his phone. He was whispering into it, and almost jumped out of bed when he saw me.
“I’ll call you” he said into the phone urgently, before tossing it onto the bedside table.
I raised my eyebrows at him, as he sat back again, running his fingers through his hair.
“You alright ?” I asked, dreading his reply.
“That was Madeline” I said, leaning over to pick up my clothes from the floor.
“I’m sorry” Seb said.
And I knew by the look in his face that he was going to make me angry.
I pulled on my dress, and moved off the bed. Sitting on the chair in front of my dresser, I turned to him.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N” He said again. “But I-”
“Just go Seb” I said, waving my hand.
I was really angry. I turned to my mirror, and began running a brush through my hair.
“I swear I will make it up to you” he said, coming up to me and sitting on my dresser.
“You are not coming back here again, Sebastian, only to run away when she calls” I snapped.
He exhaled loudly.
“Don’t” I held up my hand.
“You are not going to keep her for the day, and come to me at night, Seb” I said, my breathing furiously fast. “Its either me or her”
“I want you, you know that !” He said, “I just need time to sort it out ! My mom loves you, Nat. I can make it work. Just give me time.”
“I don’t know,Seb” I said, tears stinging my eyes again. “I don’t want to see another write up on you two - please - its sickening”
Seb smiled, leaning down to kiss me.
“Right, now you gotta help me get outta here” he said, walking to my door.
I smuggled him to Steven’s room, where Steven was sprawled on his bed, snoring loudly.
“Stevie !” I said, waking him from his deep slumber.
He sat up with a start, looking at me like as if I were a monster. And then his eyes fell on Seb.
“Oh really ?!” Steven said, slapping his forehead and falling back to bed.
“Good morning, Steven” Seb said, leaning against the wall, with a smirk on his face.
“You wanna cover that up before going in front of mom” Steven said, pointing at my neck.
Looking into his mirror, I saw a purplish mark on my neck.
“Oh great” I muttered, throwing Seb a look.
“Back at it, you two ?” Steven said, shaking his head. “I’m not sending my sister to Africa this year, Stan. You better watch your step”
We remained quiet as Steven sat up again, scratching the back of his neck.
“Come on, Steve. Get up and get dressed. I cant face mom alone. She must be waiting to grill me” I said, patting his shoulder. “And I need you to help him out.”
“Just use the balcony” Steven said. “You didn’t forget your old ways, did you now?”
“Not at all” Seb said, giving me a quick kiss before climbing down the balcony, and running off towards his car that was parked at a distance.
drag Salma Hayek, she is garbage for what she said to Three 6 Mafia
“Salma Hayek walked up to me — who I was super in love with because of
“From Dusk Till Dawn” with George Clooney — and said the craziest shit:
“You know your brothers and sisters are dying over in Africa because of
all this jewelry you’re wearing.” Because I guess we had those big ole
watches they gave us on, and these platinum necklaces. So I was like,
“What?! What are you talking about? I don’t have no brothers and sisters
in Africa!” And like that, Salma Hayek killed my hard-on. I just went
limp. I told her it was nice meeting her and walked out away from that.”
Hayek again demonstrated her positionality as a rich, light-skinned latina who isn’t at all engaged in real understanding of intersectional feminism when she dismissed Jessica Williams and her identity. [x]