“In a ‘post-race’ country like America where nothing and no one is racist, where people are more likely to believe in UFO’s than in institutional bias, which does back flips to obfuscate the operations of white hegemonic power and therefore ensure its continuance, anyone seeking to expose white supremacy or battle it is in for some serious uphill. You will be attacked. You will be censured, usually by your own community. People will say that you are obsessed with race and that even mentioning white people in the context of white supremacy is itself racist. These days the average person doesn’t even have to be taught not to bring up white supremacy. Here in our country, as in Mordor, everybody knows not to say the dark lord’s name.”—Junot Diaz, Facing Race 2012 (via artactivistnia)
I didn’t think this day would come so fast. 2012 is over.
And now I don’t know what to do about this tumblr. I don’t think I’ll update anymore, but it’ll stay up. And I’ll probably have another one for 2013 — I just don’t know what it’ll center around or anything.
Either way, it’s the end of 2012 and it’s been a crazy year. Went to England, I live in Texas now, I’m writing stuff, and I still smokey smoke.
But now that I look back at 2012, I realize I haven’t exactly …capitalized… on things that have presented themselves to me.
So, I’m thinking “Carpe Fucking Diem, 2013”? or “Carpe that fucking Diem, 2013”? Yeah, I dunno.
When people ask—and seems like people always be askin to where I can’t never get away from it—I say, Yeah, that’s right, my mother name was Henrietta Lacks, she died in 1951, John Hopkins took her cells and them cells are still livin today, still multiplyin, still growin and spreadin if you don’t keep em frozen. Science calls her HeLa and she’s all over the world in medical facilities, in all the computers and the Internet everywhere.
When I go to the doctor for my checkups I always say my mother was HeLa. They get all excited, tell me stuff like how her cells helped make my blood pressure medicines and antidepression pills and how all this important stuff in science happen cause of her. But they don’t never explain more than just sayin, Yeah, your mother was on the moon, she been in nuclear bombs and made that polio vaccine. I really don’t know how she did all that, but I guess I’m glad she did, cause that mean she helpin lots of people. I think she would like that.
But I always have thought it was strange, if our mother cells done so much for medicine, how come her family can’t afford to see no doctors? Don’t make no sense. People got rich off my mother without us even knowin about them takin her cells, now we don’t get a dime. I used to get so mad about that to where it made me sick and I had to take pills. But I don’t got it in me no more to fight. I just want to know who my mother was.
Men give me all the reason to avoid them as soon as they approach me and open their mouths. I swear, I can tell a lot about some men just by the “compliments” they throw at me.
Oh, you mad beautiful for being dark, ma. -colorist misogynistic asshole, (most likely darker than i am, too.) avoid.
I really think youre beautiful. i love that you dont wear a lot of makeup like some of these other women out here. -entitled misogynistic asshole, thinking he gets to denounce some women because they choose to do with their bodies as they please. these are the primary perpetrators of good woman bad woman dichotomies. run.
You’re gorgeous. Why’d you decide to pierce your septum/tattoo your body tho? Youre ruining gods temple. -proselytizing misogynistic asshole. slowly walk away.
Either way, men tell me why i should avoid them within a few seconds of speaking to me.
ugh i’ve had that last one
god told me to get a septum piercing and then he said to tell you to eat a dick nigga that’s what
A dude on the train said I looked like Grace Jones.
Guy: Where you from? Up north? Me: Nah, I’m from here. Lots of people ask me that, I don’t know why… Guy: Oh, I only ask cause you don’t see many tall dark women like yourself down here. Like Grace Jones, you ever heard of her? Me: Oh my god, yes I have. Guy: Yeah, you look like her. Your hair and everything. Me: That’s the best compliment I’ve ever received. Thank you.
BEST COMPLIMENT EVER.
Better than white bitches telling me I look like Whoopi Goldberg or Lil’ Wayne. You know, cause those are the only black people they know about.
“Everyone likes black stuff when it’s not on a black person. Ask Elvis. Ask Led Zepplin. Ask the “Justins” – Timberlake and Bieber. Our music, asses, lips, hair, dance moves are all crass vulgarities until some non-white person “cleans them up” and “makes them accessible” by doing the exact same thing – but being white while doing it. And these days, you can be white and completely sincere about your love of R&B or Hip Hop or having a fat ass and society will still gladly put you on that “Oh, but a white person did it this time” pedestal – whether you asked for it or not. And they’ll go there “oooing” and “aaahing” as if your mentors and predecessors meant nothing. As if your pop n’ lock routine came to them mature and fully-formed like Venus from the sea foam.”—
“If no woman in your life has ever talked to you about how she lives her life with an undercurrent of fear of men, consider the possibility that it may be because she sees you as one of those men she cannot really trust.”—
Is one of the most un-funniest peoples that I have ever seen on television.
She’ll get into these long as fucking stories about her life, so no one knows what the fuck she’s talking about, and you’re thinking, “All I know is, the ending to this shitty ass story better be fucking good as shit.”
And then it isn’t. And you’re just sitting there, disgusted that you wasted 13 minutes watching Kelly Ripa try to explain that her cats climb her Christmas tree.
Like, just listen to the audience throughout the show. She be struggling. And she takes the show down with her.
Like, her co-host (Regis or Michael) have to work so much harder to get the audience palpable.
I need to find a way to stay…calm…when people say stupid things that they should know about.
Like, when I know they have the potential to say something stupid and that they are a stupid person, I wanna be able to hear them say something and not have it affect me. I don’t wanna get angry anymore, I don’t wanna be frustrated or sad or whatever.
I just wanna hear it and literally have it go through one ear and out the other. HOW DOES ONE DO THAT? IS IT WORTH IT?
In other news
I really wanna see Skyfall but I know everyone and their momma is gonna be there and it’s gonna be all sold out and shit.
So when you see the 4 year old boy pull the little girl's hair...
He likes her!
Now they are around 11 or 12 and he grabs her arm and wrestles her to the ground even though she calls him a jerk and yells at him to leave her alone.
That is just how boys are.
Now they are 18 and he grabs her arm and--
Oh, that's not okay.
Really? How would he know? How would she know? How would you know? You just told me that for the first 17 years of these children's lives that you thought it was cute, sweet, and natural for a boy to grab a girl and be rough with her.
UGHHHH WTFFF I'M SO MAD OMG I HATE EVERYONE WHY THIS HAPPEN I'M SO FRUSTRATED WHAT'S HAPPENING WHAT IS THIS SHIT KNOWN AS MY LIFE RITE NOW. GREAT NOW I'M SAD. EVERYONE JUST FUCK OFF AND LEAVE ME TO NEST. HYHTRHRGHDGGGIGIUGDcjkdjcksljckldsjcs.
Oh my God, EVERYTHING MAKES SO MUCH MORE SENSE NOW.