Basically the era where being thicker than a midget was a crime just because Africans happen to be thick. Sarah (Saartije) Baartman was a Khoisan (South African) woman who performed under the name “Hottentot Venus” in 19th century England and France. She is the original video vixen: discovered at home in South Africa during her late teens, she was offered money and fame in Europe as a singer and dancer. Little did she know that she would be exploited and put on display for everyone to gaze at her large butt, long clitoris/labia, small waist, big breast and kinky hair– all traits that are very common amongst Khoisan women. As her shows attracted more fans, she was forced against her will to have sex with men AND WOMEN who gave enough money to her exploiters. Sarah got none of the money, as she was once promised. After her act got old, she was forced into prostitution, where she died of std’s and alcoholism. The obsession with Saartije lasted after her death as well. For more than 100 years, visitors and “scientist” were able to examine her dissected body parts in Paris museums. The 19th century shapewear, the “bustle” was inspired by her in order to give european women her unique physique. Yes, an old school booty pop. On behalf of Nelson Mandela’s request, Paris returned Saartije’s remains to South Africa in 2002. Black men, it’s time that you start respecting the black woman’s body, because this act of objectifying it was taught to you. #sarahbaartman
Video Vixen!Reader: “When we get on the bed I want you to act like there are no cameras filming us. Don’t feel pressured and just be natural, okay?” he whispers.
“If I act like there aren’t any cameras I’ll end up trying to fuck you, to be honest.”
“You’re awfully bold tonight,” you sigh, turning back around and making his hands drop from your ass. “I just wanted to enjoy a few drinks and you’re over here telling me about fantasies that will never become reality.”
“You’re the one always saying how you wouldn’t give a fuck if I were to up and leave. The one that told me I can’t flaunt you because you’re not mine,” he says, stepping away from you to run a hand through his hair. “And you’re telling me you like me?”