Because gay isn’t only 17 year old white kids that come from middle to upper class homes. And Black Love isn’t just straight couples that enforce gender roles and women with perfect bodies, a quiet tongue, and a womb always ready to create. This is also the face of Black Love. And its beautiful. -ShiShi
“White women elected Trump. Black, brown, trans and queer women have been doing this for far longer and at far greater peril.” Any kind of real solidarity from allies has got to start with acknowledging these truths.
Acknowledge white privilege, and acknowledge who has been fighting for equality from day one, and then use that privilege to help put marginalized people in charge.
White women need to deal with the fact that most of you voted for Trump. It’s the not the job of black women or any marginalised and oppressed person to take responsibility for the actions of their oppressor or to educate their oppressor.
colorism is the result of white supremacist colonialism and antiblackness and you can’t say you’re against racism or call yourself problack if you’re a colorist piece of shit who treats dark skin people like trash
These are self portraits. And that’s important because I believe that images are a glimpse at the magic that happens when the mind, body, and spirit connect. The camera is only an extension of the eye, and this is how I see myself.
A few months ago I heard Kathleen Cleaver, a former Black Panther, speak at a local museum and as she spewed her feelings about “Formation”, calling it pornography, I recall feeling a disappointment so strong it nearly felt like grief. I felt similarly reading bell hooks’ criticisms of Beyoncé. I felt that ultimately they were expressing their disdain for me, women like me, and my/our own brand of feminism and autonomous expression. I don’t fit into any one box. Sometimes I am poised and polite. Sometimes I’m a bitch. Sometimes I am homely. Sometimes I’m scantily clad. Regardless, I am always wanting more for us. More respect, more love, more space and freedom. My attire does not negate that.
Kathleen Cleaver called Beyoncé’s lens, and ultimately my own, mindless. She called it disgusting. And the dank thickness of her tone has fixed itself in my memory. Wedged itself in my psyche. And I find myself, ever since, feeling apprehensive about being visible in my own skin.
These are self portraits. And that’s important because shame and internalized misogynoir are real. Respectability politics are real. And while I am a woman who can be agreeable to a fault, I’ve never had a talent for conforming.
This is not pornography. These are self portraits.
We see movies in which people are represented as being in love who never talk with one another, who fall into bed without ever discussing their bodies, their sexual needs, their likes and dislikes. Indeed, the message received from the mass media is that knowledge makes love less compelling; that it is ignorance that gives love its erotic and transgressive edge. These messages are often brought to us by profiteering producers who have no clue about the art of loving, who substitute their mystified visions because they do not really know how to genuinely portray loving interaction.
“This is for all the women, women of color and colorful people, whose stories, ideas, thoughts are not always considered worthy and valid and important,” she said. “But I want you to know: I see you. We see you.”
She continued, “It is an honor to be on this show, ‘Black-ish,’ to continue expanding the way we are seen and known and to show the magic and the beauty and the sameness of a story and stories that are outside of where the industry usually looks.”
If you are not black, then you cannot tell black people what it is like to be black. It’s that simple. You are not an expert on black people. You do not know more about being black than black people do.