The Academy Awards, the Grammys…I feel like they’re just laughing at us

Like that time they gave Three Six Mafia and Terence Howard awards for Hustle & Flow. (I’m still bitter because I was forced to watch this movie, so this will most likely always be my prime example.)

Or when they gave Hallie Berry that award for Monsters Ball.

Or when they gave Nikki Minaj a BET Award.

Or Denzel Washington for Training Day??? Or something like that.

Or when they awarded/nominated(??) Nelly for “Country Grammar”.

Or giving Adele, a white British woman, 6 Grammys for adopting a Black art form. (She’s got talent but I don’t know about no 6 Grammys.)

I feel like these “prestigious award-giving committees” that are televised every year are just a bunch of white people, sitting around laughing at Black people and making a mockery out of the most talented, well-known members of our communities and their careers.

The white-dominated industry decides what roles we get and in what movies. They have these images and ideas and impressions of what they think Black/African American life is like, what roles suit us–in their minds, it’s usually stereotyped, side characters, urban, abusive, and full of illegality. Because, of course, they think we should get Grammys for acting in and making music for a movie that glorifies going to jail, prostitution, abuse, exploitation and misogyny of [Black] women, violence, patriarchy, and drug trafficking.

They get to decide what we get awards for. It seems like it’s rare that Black folks get awards from these people that revolve around anything original or actually unique.

We don’t get awards for anything that they don’t intend us to get awards for.

Evermore,

Taviante Queens

Anything other than Black… Anything? :( : Black, Black Indian, & Internalized Oppression

Black Faces, [insert Other Race here] Masks

Contrary to popular belief, there are these living concepts called internalized oppression and internalized racism. Better known, in this instance, as not wanting to Black or of African ancestry.

There are many reasons for this:

People really are multiracial and they know it for certain, with proof/documentation/photographs/family oral tradition/physical features, etc. to support their claims.

But many of us, unfortunately, have no clue. So once we are

  • socially conditioned to think Black and African peoples are the lowest, most uncivilized race on the face of the planet
  • hard-knocked and brutalized with systemic injustice for not being white,
  • indoctrinated and brainwashed by the American “melting pot theory”,
  • taught and shown that many Africans do not claim or want us either,
  • bedazzled by Black celebrities and political figures who aid white supremacy,
  • socially acclimated to claiming/imitating “blackness” only when it’s cool to someone else and it might get you something, usually status, money, or some material object
  • and boxed into believing that Black = ugly, nappy-headed, muddy earth creature,
  • anything we claim as our culture is wrong by default,

then the only logical conclusion many Black folks come to is a) being Black is the problem, not society, and b) that being Black is a horrible burden so I’ll see if I can claim something else, something cleaner, more acceptable, more exotic and revered.

They learn to defend themselves against their own Blackness by justifying it with multiraciality and multiculturalism fostered by internalized oppression and racism.

Ms. Queenly’s Testament:

I am from the Deep South, yes, the place of northern nightmare, Atlanta, Georgia. I was there and I lived there until this year, or until I went out into the “real” white world (away from the predominantly Black communities where I had lived) when I went to a predominantly white liberal private university.

My mother taught me that being of African descent is something to be deny if not be ashamed of because Africans are “dirty, old conniving folks”. She insists, even to this day, that she is Black though most of her racial makeup is that of “dark-skinned” [American?] Indians, mixed white Eurpean-descended folks, and even Mexican on my great grandfather’s side. We are “part Cherokee”, says the mama. There’s just a “little”, a smidgen of African, says mama, because “I ain’t descended from no Africans”.

I was praised by members of my family for being pretty and having somewhat longer hair and being lighter than my siblings but fat (so basically ugly), particularly by my grandmaw and mama.

Personally, I would never claim being white, even if I knew it to be true. I have never met any white relatives. Ever. I don’t mind being Mexican or Native, however, I have never been interested in investigating even if the information is there because a) its not readily available, and b) I have known Mexican@ folks to hate Black peoples and I know for sure that the Cherokee Nation has some shit they need deal with, what with expelling the Black folks that their ancestors enslaved (and raped) on a whim, and all that.

Both of my parents are Black. I identify as Black, as opposed to African American, because I view myself as someone who is several generations removed from any direct African ancestry. (Still, I do not view myself as any less connected to my Black/African ancestors who communicate with me spiritually.) I have lived in Black communities all my life, I was locked up in APS (Atlanta Public Schools), which is 96% Black, last time I checked. I have lived in working class and poor communities my entire life and and have been in and out of virtual poverty. And I have never witnessed more ignorance, pride, and hatred for Blackness and African people of the Diaspora than in the Black people I have lived in community with.

“Multiculti(s)” (multicultees): Multiraciality and Multiculturalism as a Fad

I coined my own term when I was in college dealing with the office of multicultural affairs at the university. For those championing multiculturalism and justice-free diversity: the multi-culti.

They are a cult of individuals tied together by a single purpose: creating environments that thrive on erasing racial and ethnic difference under the high-flying banner of justice-free diversity.

Black people running around claiming bi/multiraciality and multicultural heritage, whether it’s true or not, as a means to “lighten” their Blackness or African ancestry is nothing new. But when a half white, half African man became president of the United States, whoa did it blow out of control. “Looking Black” and actually being or claiming bi/multiraciality has become a fad. Because some Black people don’t view “just Black” as good enough. The words “mixed” and “ambiguous” have become even more popular.

In some Black communities, in my experience, “multiracial superiority” is a step under white supremacy.

Suddenly, it’s officially okay to “be Black”, as long as you’re mixed.

Appropriation of African and First Nations/Native Culture and Identity

Appropriating Native culture by Black folks, particularly in the U.S. doesn’t always look the same as it does for white hipsters dressed in feather headdresses swinging plastic tomahawks, and calling on their “spirit animals”.

It’s a little less flashy than all that and I’ve already mentioned it. Its something you have to live around to be able to see and comprehend. Its as simple as claiming to be Native, whether its true or not, without bothering to even learn anything about the group you’re claiming. It is as simple as saying you’re Native because you’re ashamed of being Black/of African descent, or hate yourself.

Appropriation, or more relevantly, fetishizing of African culture is a lot more visible. It’s in everything from music videos to movies to styles of dress to the way we talk about our relationships to one another (like using phrases such as ‘my Nubian queen’ and talking about the motherland without knowing anything about the motherland and being interested in making connections with its people). Coming to America staring Eddie Murphy comes to mind (that sexist shit but I will admit to letting my soul glow… (any who has seen the movie will get it)).

When I was a child, my teachers made an effort to teach Black Southern children about different African cultures and how we are connected to them. As I got older, no one did that anymore. They just taught us how to pass standardized tests, white history, white literature, white political figures, and how to fit into a white world.

The Privilege of Knowing

If you know beyond a shadow of doubt that you are Black Native or African, particularly with passed-down truths from the family or documentation and other forms of “white-approved” proof, then good for you. Congratulations, you are officially “not just Black”.

But a lot of us don’t have that kind of proof nor do we desire it.

Otherwise, I think we’re alienating, pissing off, homogenizing, and appropriating the identities, cultures, and heritages of people who are of Africa or from Africa and people who are Indigenous/Native, who are struggling to have their voices heard.

Wrap-Up

There are:

  1. White people and indigenous folks who say there are no Black Indians
  2. People, like myself, who may be Black Indian but may have no way of knowing and therefore trying to trample on Indigenous/First Nations identies
  3. Black people who claim to be Indigenous because they are ashamed of being Black
  4. Black people who ignorantly fetishize Africa and peoples
  5. Out and out cultural appropriators and racists

The whole situation is beyond frustrating and at this point in time, I don’t even know how to sort the whole thing out or even if I should be trying to.

evermore,

Taviante Queens

The reason my mom gets me bigger sizes is because she thinks I’m fatter than I really am

Typically, I wear a size 18 in pants. I’ve gained a little weight recently, no big deal. Still though: My mom got me size 26 and size 28 pants today.

I like loose clothes for being around the house when I am at ease, but its really pissing me off that she thinks that just because I’m fat anything beyond size 20 is fair game, even though I keep telling her that those sizes are usually too big for me, depending on the maker, the type of garment, and the style of how it’s made.

I insistently told her that the pants she bought me were too big. She snapped at me to try them on anyway and walked out of the room, as if I would magically find out that they were just the right size after giving them a try.

I am trying to be more confident when faced with her nonsense and bigotry. I know what size I wear. I don’t need her telling me what size I wear. It’s almost like she’s angry that bigger sizes don’t fit me. This isn’t the first time she’s done this. It bothers me that I appear larger than I really a in her eyes because I’m plus size/fat. It’s like she just sees me as this fat blob that she’s struggling to outfit because I shift shape like some kind of amorphous gel to her, always a different size but too fat for “normal sizes”.

I have suggested that if she plans to get me clothes, I will come with her but she insists on bringing stuff back home that I find disrepectful of my wishes.

shaking my head,

Taviante Queens

Yes, I did–NaNoWriMo 2011

I keep forgetting to post this. I did work on my novel during November’s National Novel Writing Month this past year. I finished between Christmas and New Year’s at about 65,000 words and submitted it to a potential publisher who was interested in reading the whole thing. Yay!

The first and last time I officially participated in NaNoWriMo was in 2009.

This is Stupid: Nicki Minaj’s “Stupid Hoe” Song and Music Video

Reblogged from Welcome to The Spectrum:

One day, I hope to have children and I am going to have to explain my generation’s taste in music. Now if I was raised in the 70s I could say that we listened to Marvin Gaye and Nina Simone. But no. I have the one and only Nicki Minaj. (I’m praying that her name will be erased from the history books by the time I procreate. *crossing fingers and toes*) I’ve never been a Minaj fan. Her music, style, and antics just don’t appeal to me. Every artist isn’t going to have the depth and grace of Nina Simone or …

I haven’t heard the song but I knew it was bad news. When I read your post, I was almost in tears with anger and frustration at the ignorances of these mainstream rappers, that includes Minaj, Jay-Z, and Lil’ Wayne. I don’t know who I can’t stand more.

[tw: mention of animal cruelty/dissection, America's war occupation] I know this maybe hard for some Black folks/POC to consider, accept, or embrace…

but I could never with a clear conscious say that my life, as a human being, is more important than the life of a hummingbird’s or even an ant’s. Why do we, as human beings, think and are made to believe that we are so much more gotdamned precious than everybody and everything else?

I’ve seen ‘white people treat animals better than they treat Black people/POC’ come across my dashboard on tumblr on multiple occasions. I know it’s true, I’m not arguing against that and I think its fucked up. But I wonder: Do the POC who say that believe that animals should be treated horrifically in order that they, as humans, be treated better?

I understand that Black people have been treated and still are not treated any better than mules and dogs that whites and their own people don’t like, worse even. But why do we have to have a one-up over somebody, anything, in order to feel justice? Why does our right to freedom and humane treatment somehow justify cruelty towards animals?

Did you know there’s a study that suggests that there are Americans who believe that one American life is worth more than tens of fifties of hundreds of Afghan and Iraqi lives?

Where are we going to draw the line at whose life is more valuable?

For most people who aren’t racist, xenophobic assholes, that line is between humanity and animals.

I was very pacifist as a child and this is that pacifism showing.

Anybody who has been following me on tumblr long enough might know that I love cats. Cats are a part of my family.

When I was in the 12th grade, I was required for my biology course to engage in the skinning and dissection of a cat. Many Black people hate and loathe cats, to the point of violence, I know this from experience. I think, if I remember correctly, I got a ‘D’ in that class; it was huge chunk of our grade and I could only do so much and then go home and look my cats in the eye, but hey I passed and went to college.

At the time, I wondered what kinds of lives the cats had had, why they had to have pregnant cat for one group in the class, how the cats died and how they got on the dissection in front of me and why. In my head, none of the answers were pretty and it sickened and poisoned me to listen to students and the teacher–Ms. Mason, who hated cats–take a twisted pleasure in cutting the bodies of the animals up, peelings away fur, skin, and muscle.

I am a omnivore, I get much of my food from the slaughter and grotesque treatments of millions of animals a year. I’m not proud of it, I feel it’s poisoning me spiritually, if not bodily, every bite I eat. I believe some people should be punished by pain of death, meaning capital punishment. I’ve tried to take my own life and still think my existence in this world is a mistake. But it doesn’t change what I believe in–the sanctity and preciousness of life, that includes animals, and I don’t believe humans should make them to suffer anymore than we make each other to suffer.

Where do we draw the line at what life is valuable and what role does anthropocentrism play in the answer?

evermore pensive,

Queenly

Slippery Slope Paternalism: Why does everything that’s ‘wrong’ in my life have to tie back to my father?

  • “Angry” Black Woman—father issues
  • Slut-shaming/sexually liberated/had some experiences you regret—father issues
  • Autonomous individual—father issues
  • Outspoken/Political/feminist—father issues
  • Can’t clean the house, take care of man and his kids—father issues andit’s your mother’s fault

I’m just not okay with everything to do my upbringing being attached to how identical my family structure was to the Cosby’s or some normative middleclass family model of one dad, one mom, two kids, one dog, and a house. I think it undermines how far I’ve come, raised by a single mother in a world that dictates to us that a male and female parent are necessary and normal.

I am bastard child, so what?

I understand that for some wimmin, growing up without a father figure is a big deal. They attribute fatherlessness to:

  • Why they have low self-esteem
  • Why they date sorry ass guys
  • Why they don’t feel loved
  • Why they don’t “behave like a woman should behave towards a man”
  • Why they become dependent on [sorry ass] guys
  • Why they dress the way they do
  • Why they get pregnant by guys they wish they would’ve thought twice about
  • Why they end up in abusive relationships
  • Why they never get married

I think that this yet another messed-up hand dealt to us by Black heteropatriarchy in Black communities. In trying to uplift Black men, a lot of people believe that subjugating Black women to Black men is the answer because they view the natural order as Black men being in charge. Its sexism and internalized oppression at work as we have been taught to conform to white hegemonic, heteronormative, heterosexist standards of social relations and community-building.

I’m not saying that women don’t need examples of and experiences with Black men who are decent humyn beings. I’m saying I am not defined by my fatherlessness.

Yes, my mother and father were never married. Yes, my father never lived with us. Yes, my father was not involved in my life. Yes, he took the paternity test. Yes, my father has more children. Yes, he’s poor, and he hardly ever paid child support. I don’t care about his reasons and I don’t think his behavior and absence should reflect on me. As a child, I never really wondered where he was and I scarcely thought about him. A parent was taking care of me, that was all that mattered.

I try to imagine what my life would’ve been like if my father had been in it. The only thing I can see is my young, female, Black self being indoctrinated into a culture that teaches me to play the kinds of games that Black men like to play. I don’t think he’s a bad person, but I don’t see what he could have offered me anyway.

I met him when I was either sixteen or eighteen. The last time he said he saw me and my twin is when I was three. I consider my father to be kinda “my friend who happens to be my father”. The last time I talked to him, I ended up hanging on the phone on him because he tried to lecture me about adulthood.

I became an adult without him and it made me angry when he tried to impose himself into my life as anything other than a friend because he’s lucky to have even that type of relationship with me.

But, anyway, that’s just me.

Point again: I grew up without a father figure. Don’t try to construe me or mind fuck me into thinking I have problems that I don’t have because it justifies and validates your ideas about women’s lives, how they’re supposed to work, and how her life should revolve around her father or fatherlessness.

really,

Queen