The Angry Black Chick

Once upon a time, I was an Angry Black Chick.

I know, some of you are saying “You’re an ABC right the fuck now”, but hold your horses, I’m telling this story.

I did a segment on a friend’s podcast where I affected a ‘ghetto accent’ and ranted about whatever was on my mind.  It was fun back then.

I look back on it now and realized I was doing a weird version of Chill Black Girl, performing for my white friends.  I’ve since dropped that, gained more friends, lost a few and am now at times Angry, at times Disappointed, at times Disgusted, and at time Mocking.

I tire of the stereotype of the Angry Black Woman, constantly militant and on edge, ready to yell “racist” at the slightest hint of wrongdoing.  For starters, it’s an off shoot of that other pernicious stereotype, the Strong Black Woman, constantly wearing the problems on the world on her back without complaint.

Fuck, if you had to carry that much shit, wouldn’t you be just a little pissed?

Also, it tells people that we have only have a few emotions, angry being the most prominent one.  It dehumanizes us, turns us into caricatures that can be dismissed.

And now I’m gonna talk about Nicki Minaj.  Nice swerve, yeah?

I’m so-so about her music.  “Anaconda” makes me wanna dance (if you haven’t seen someone twerk with a cane, you’ve not lived), and her verses on “Monster” and “My Chick Bad” make me feel like the eldricth creature I secretly am (shhhhh, don’t tell my partner. His sanity is too delicious). “Looking Ass Niggas” is amazing and the video is too.  I’m meh with her other songs.

I appreciate her weird style, her not-so-weird style, her insistence to young girls to finish school and don’t depend on no man, her insistence on doing shit her own way.  Love her or hate her, you gotta respect that from an artist.

I also didn’t watch MTV’s VMAs last night.  That requires cable, which we don’t have and watching TV, which I don’t do. Don’t worry, I’m not one of those snobs, I just can’t deal with the medium in a way that I still can’t explain, so our lovely smart TV is used by my partner when he wants to watch Netflix and me when I want to run the Pandora app or play YouTube bird videos for the cats in the office.

But, like most TV moments I want to stay informed on, I watched the hell out of my Twitter feed, and oh boy oh boy did  it light up when Miss Minaj called out human joke Miley Cyrus upon receiving her award.  Don’t get me wrong, Miley’s done good stuff with homeless teens and all that stuff, but her bullshit on Twitter is straight up White Feminism (TM).

And Nicki was awesome for calling her out on live TV. That captured video is just magnificent.

But of course, before the show even ended, keyboards were going with the thinkpieces.  About how Nicki savaged Miley, about how Nicki was “throwing shade” (wrong terminology, if you must use it, that was a straight up call out). Once again, for defending herself, Nicki gets thrown into the same box we all get thrown into when we act even a little “out of line”: The Angry Black Woman.

For defending herself, let me say that again.

When is this shit going to stop? I know that answer.  As long as that term is used to silence us, to make us the bad guy, to make us worth not listening to (like we’re children having tantrums “not until you straighten up that attitude”), that box will always be there.

No matter what message we’re trying to convey, people, usually white people and sometimes black men, will fear our anger so much that it’s not worth listening to the message.  And that’s bullshit.

So much bullshit.

The Angry Black Chick
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*sigh*

Today in “shit I can’t believe I have to say”:

ATTITUDE IS NOT A CRIMINAL OFFENSE!!

Attitude will get you in trouble socially.  Attitude will get you fired.  Attitude will get you detention. Attitude will make you lose friends and gain enemies.

But it is not a crime. For too damned long, it’s been treated like a crime, though.

Recent case in point, the murder of Sandra Bland.  Now there’s video (that may or may not have been edited).  I’m not going to link to the video here, if you haven’t seen it yet, you can make use of the search engine of your choice.  Personally I tire of seeing Black death at police hands broadcast over and over.

According to the video, she was asked to put out her cigarette.  Not a lawful order, she didn’t have to obey. She asked repeatedly what she was being arrested for, and received no answer.  She stated that she couldn’t wait to sue, which is not a crime.  She outright stated that she had epilepsy, and the cop didn’t give a shit (I could write about how dangerous it is to be Black and disabled and having to deal with cops in this society, but that will have to wait for another day).

He didn’t care.  He didn’t get the respect he thought he deserved, and she paid the  price.

Yes, she coped an attitude.  Still not a crime.  But as we see over and over and over again, cops love to treat it like it is.  They act as if someone disrespecting their authority (insert Cartman impression here) is a crime to be punished from a beating up to death.  You know what other organizations treat disrespect as a lethal offense?

Gangs.

We have cops acting like stereotypical gang bangers, walking around openly armed and expecting the people to cower in fear of them and never say a bad word about or to them.  And that’s some bullshit.

What’s worse is that people actually play along with this shit.  We have people claiming that is Ms. Bland had just quietly complied with the cops unlawful and unreasonable requests, she would be alive today.  That coping an attitude with a cops is grounds for a beatdown, to be treated like a criminal when no crime had be committed.  Bow you head, say ‘yes sir/ma’am” and “No sir/ma’am”, don’t make trouble, don’t stand up for yourself.  It’ll be over sooner if you just behave.

And to that I say, Oh Hell Naw.

People get all up in their feelings when we talk shit about cops?  “Being a cops is so hard”, they say. “It’s the most dangerous job out there”, they say.  First of all, it’s not – ask an oil rigger who’s more likely to bite it on duty. Second of all, of course it’s a hard fucking job (so is being a brain surgeon or an air traffic controller).   That doesn’t give anybody license to act like damn fools with huge egos. The point is, they’re not special and we should stop treating them as such when one of them fucks up.

It’s time for the cops to get a goddamn reality check.  You have been given your authority by the People, and they are the ones you need to damn well respect.  I don’t care how many shit talking law enforcement agents you see on TV, here in the real world, giving you a “disrespectful look” ain’t a fucking crime.  It is your job, your duty, to be more responsible than the average citizen, because you have the authority to kill a motherfucker (and get away with it).  Do I need to quote Uncle Ben here?  “With Great Power Also Comes Great Responsibility”?

That mean, yes, if a clerk at a retail shop can’t punch a mean and nasty customer in the face, you can’t either.  Yes, even if they ran and made you run and catch them and you’re pissed off.  Yes, even if they called your momma everything but a child of god.  Yes, even if they make a pig and/or doughnut crack at you.  That means each and every time you strike a perp with hand or baton, you need to be held accountable (frankly, I think if you have to hit a motherfucker that ain’t tried to hit you first, that should be an instant investigation).  That means each and every bullet you fire needs to be held accountable.  That means every time you’re seen acting a fool, you get disciplined. That means remembering that yes, YOU CAN BE RECORDED ON DUTY (like a lot of other people with jobs have to put up with), so you better act right each and every time you go on duty.  We don’t want perfection, we want accountability.  We want to trust you again, and we can’t if we’re scared that the cop coming out of his car is going to be Officer Friendly or Deputy “Got Something to Prove”.

You want to improve the way we see cops?  Make them more accountable.  Toss out the heavy handed motherfuckers, the blatant racists, the homo/transphobes, the ones with a rap sheet full of complaints.  They are supposed to be serving the people, ALL OF THEM, and they damn well can’t if they’re bigots.  Take the wrongful death settlements out of their pension fund, make them feel the burn of each and every wrongdoer.  Stop punishing whistleblowers who are trying to do the right thing by exposing bullshit. Train your people on how to deal with all members of society with respect, including the disabled. END THE WAR ON DRUGS and the fucked up incentives to punish addicts just to fill the town’s “too fucked up to raise taxes” coffers.

I could go on forever, but I think it’s a start.

*sigh*

Linky Roundup! (aka Feminace is Exhausted and Too Much Has Happened)

Hello.

How was your 4th, Americans?  Nice?  Good.

I was at CONvergence. It was fun, but also very, very exhausting for me with the whole fibro plus GAD thing.  But I did remember my self-care, so I got through it.

Especially in a very eye catching outfit.
All while dressed in a very eye catching outfit.

…told y’all I loved me some Dragon Age: Inquisition.

Anyway, that happened and then the week of mental and physical recovery happened and now I’m here.  Still tired in the brain, but holy shit stuff happened and I can’t let it all pass without some commentary, so I’m dragging the Linky Roundup tag out of storage just for you.

** First of all: The ever awesome Iris Vander Pluym has awarded Seriously?!? a Very Inspiring Blogger Award, and I am very pleased as punch.  Thank you, Iris!  If you haven’t given Perry Street Place a gander, you simply must. And if you haven’t also given any of the other blogs on the list a gander, see previous sentence.

** I apparently missed an amazing Twitter clapback, or should I call this a clapBLACK.  There’s this hashtag that got some notice, #whitegirlsdoitbetter.  It in the vein of those “Post to make a black girl mad” BS nonsense that has white women try super hard with their attempt to copy our dance moves, gratuitous booty shots and picture of adorable interracial children.  Personally, the first two make me giggle (I’m not into body shaming, but if you’re trying to prove that your ass is better than your average black girl, HAVE SOME ASS. Otherwise, stick with what you know you’ve got and do you, okay?), and the last makes me roll my eyes.  Congrats, you have bedded a black man and have born his children.  I’m supposed to be ‘mad’ why?

So, this hashtag. I have no idea when it appeared on Black Twitter’s radar, but it did and the reactions were priceless. Blavity has the highlights.  Lesson, don’t come for us if we didn’t send for you.

** Speaking of people on Twitter who I think are amazing and should be followed by everyone, actress/comedian/general hoopy frood who knows where her towel is Pia Glenn delighted her YouTube subscribers by bringing back her trifling cousin Yvonne to explain why Black Twitter is pissed by people who pull from them without compensation.

“What’s going on with Black Twitter? The rent, bitch!”

Seriously, watch it.

** Bringing the mood down, another day, another reminder of how Black Lives Don’t Matter.  Add “exercising your own damn horses” to the list of shit we can’t do without getting some shit and then death from cops  Rest in Power, Jonathan Sanders.

** Bringing the mood up a bit, Obama’s ‘screw you’ to the Hobby Lobby decision is glorious. Fuck your ‘closely-held religious beliefs”.

** Homophobic and just plain foolish county clerks are reacting to gay marriage being a thing everywhere in this country by refusing to do their jobs.  Again, fuck your “closely-held religious beliefs”.

** In “shit I can’t believe I have to say to people news”: Ladies, a man in a kilt is not an invitation. Keep your fucking hands to yourselves, for fuck’s sake.

…and to round things off, Rest Well, Satoru Iwata-san, president of Nintendo. The gamer community will miss you terribly.

Please understand.

Linky Roundup! (aka Feminace is Exhausted and Too Much Has Happened)

A Prescription from Dr. Feminace, PH.D of Done With This Shit

(This was a Facebook post I did a few days ago, edited for your reading pleasure)

This moment of education is brought to you by a moment’s ire while trying to relax and save Thedas.
Look, ‪#‎SouthernLivesMatter‬ and ‪#‎BlueLivesMatter‬ and ‪#‎WhiteLivesMatter‬, here’s some seats. You need to take all of them. Consider it a prescription from Dr. Feminace.

(other campaigns that focus on actual marginalized groups – #nativelivesmatter and the like, are of course exempt from this ‘script. *raises solidarity fist*)

You’re missing the point so hard that you can’t catch a fucking clue with clue bait, a clue hunting rifle and covered in clue pee in the middle of clue hunting season. So you have to copy an effective campaign and try to look clever when you might as fucking well just use ‪#‎notallwhites‬, ‪#‎whataboutus‬, and ‪#‎imacluelesspieceofshit‬

Why do we say “BlackLivesMatter”? Because, if you bothered looking at the news longer than the latest ZOMG new story of someone getting shot by the cops, it’s bloody obvious that black lives don’t matter. If someone shoots and/or kills a cop, people go out of their fucking way to celebrate their lives, to mourn, to pull up happy pictures of good time, and (most importantly) to find the fuck what shot/killed them. Hell, people do the same thing when POLICE DOGS are hurt in the line of duty.

On the other hand, black victims do not even get the courtesy. Let’s look at that video of the cop throwing down a 14 year old girl while she screams for her mother over and over again. That black male that was shot two seconds after the cops stopped was obvious a dangerous 20 years old man with a really real gun instead of a little boy with a fake one playing in the park. Did that dead black guy have a criminal record that had fuck all to do with his murder? Any pictures of them holding their hands up a way that we can call a gang sign? Say, maybe they had weed in their system. You know how wild and violent they get when they’ve had their pot. So scary.  Shoot/harm first, ask questions later, if not never.

White killers get more sympathetic press than black victims.
Killer cops fucking up at their job get more sympathetic press than black victims.
ANIMALS get more sympathetic press than black victims.

That is what we are talking about when we say “black lives matter”, because it’s fucking obvious that they don’t in our society. Do you fucking get it now? It’s not about hating cops or white people or Southerns or what the fuck ever.  It’s a cry for help, a cry for attention (the right sort, the sort that requires change in our society), and it’s only getting louder.

But you can’t deal with that reality, can you? The press caters to your narrow-minded view of us, leaving you capable of calling our rage “stupid” and whining when we put our protests in your face so you CAN’T ignore our presence. You wag your fingers at us, but remain silent when your token Black friends express their feelings, then turn around and repost/reTweet racism memes that you and your White friends can nod their heads about.  You easily ignore our pain – and that is what copying that slogan is. Hide your lack of empathy by whining like petulant children upset that a sibling got a piece of a cookie compared to their whole one. Even if that sibling has been locked in a basement and beaten most of their life. Even if that sibling made the fucking cookies in the first place.

Because who cares, you’re not getting the attention right now. You’re scared and trying to make shit about you so you feel better. You try to co-opt movements because you need to not think about anything but yourselves (or have a single original thought, for fuck’s sake), because empathy is oh so hard, and you might have to work on seeing us as humans like you, and we see you.

Oh, we see you.

…okay, back to sweet talking Solas. I feel better getting that out.

A Prescription from Dr. Feminace, PH.D of Done With This Shit

Black Women Can’t Be Mammies Right Now.

Another tragedy has hit the Black community.  Race-based. A terrorist attack in a house of worship.

I’ll leave it for others to talk about the details, because I’m still full of so much anger and rage and misery just thinking about it.

What I want to rant about is something related.  Look, White people, I know one of the stereotypes you hold about Black women is that we’re happy to hear your problems and hold your hand as you try to process how shit it is to be us living in this world, but we can’t right now.  To be honest, we’ve never been able to, and it’s caused a great deal of social media strife.  White people accusing us of being angry, of lumping all White people together, of not being civil enough. White people waving their burnt asses around after they stumble into a conversation and try to make it about their ignorance – and get the roasting they very well fucking deserve.

#NotAllWhites this and #NotAllWhites that.

And we need that shit to stop.  Post-haste.  I know we’re scary when the Blacks are angry, but you’ll just have to fucking deal.  “Reminding” us of #notallwhites isn’t even for us, it’s for you. You want us to reassure you that you’re one of the “good ones”, and that’s some fucked up shit when we’re hurting, which makes us even angrier and more hurt. We don’t have mental space or spoons or whatever to tend to your owies.  If you were really as much of as ally as you claim to be, you’d understand that and gives us the space and support we need to process when more Black bodies are added to the groaning pile of proof that racism isn’t over.

What should you do?  I’ll happily give you some suggestions, for free.  You don’t even have to thank me.

This racist shitstain was reported as saying some “You rape our women” BS while he was murdering folks.  That claim was for you, White women.  That claim spoke for you, White men.  Don’t agree?  Time to make that known.  Post it on FB, start a fucking hashtag on Twitter or Tumblr, write a blog post (the two linked are great), share a blog post that already states your disagreement on your social media.

Aww, you don’t think you have to go that far?  Everyone knows that you don’t agree with RacistFuck McBowlCut?  Are you sure?  Maybe your non-White friends would at least appreciate that sort of reminder.  I know I’d appreciate it a lot more than yet another #notallwhite plea that insults my intelligence.

Not fair? Think about what Black people and Muslims have to do when one of ours fucks up.  Posts, speakers, hashtags, all disowning the fucker, and if we don’t do it fast enough, we’ll have folks wondering why we’re not speaking up?

It’s not like we’re asking for the moon and fucking stars here, White friends, supposed White allies.  Nothing more than what we have to do.

Now get to it.

Black Women Can’t Be Mammies Right Now.

When #blacklivesmatter and Mental Health Collide: Some Thoughts on an Anxiety Attack

So, yesterday was the day during the five day week that I chose to leave the house.  There were things to do.  I needed some writing done and home is just the worst place to do it.  Also, I have four of my meds at once that needed refilling, and one needed approval from my doc.  Good thing my pharmacy and doc’s office were in the same building.

The plan was simple, leave house, catch bus, go to coffee shop for a couple of hours, eat breakfast while I was there and writing, take bus, transfer to another bus, go to doc’s office, then to pharmacy, then the drug store nearby for new lip balm, maybe some fries at McDonalds as a reward for being outside, then bus all the way home.

Not a bad plan.  I’ve done similar plans before, minus the writing bit. Just go, run errands, be back on the bus before the transfer runs out.  It’s short, it’s quick, I’m back before the fact that there is people and weather surrounding me gets to me. No eye contact, earbuds in at all times, make myself look as unfriendly as possible, in and out and back again.

Oh, did I ever mention that I have GAD?  Because I do.

The plan was going smoothly until that first bus transfer.  I was already a little hyped up on nearly missing this bus, then some lady wouldn’t take the “earbuds and short answers” hint.  Then the bus driver kept fussing at someone with the “headphones on too loud”, which made me paranoid as fuck b/c I don’t play my earbuds that loudly, so I had it practically on mute when she pointed it out again and that got me so worked up that I got off the bus two stops early and had to hoof it, cane and all.

So my mind just had a little meltdown on the way. All of these things may seem simple inconveniences of life to you, dear reader, but for a brain on GAD, simple inconveniences turn into big reason to worry very quickly and sometimes without warning. Last Saturday, a silly trigger I’m not sharing but had nothing to do with protesters nearly ruined my pretty good shift at the women’s clinic.

Thankfully I made it to the doc’s office, and they noticed that the hyperventilating teary woman who very much NOT FINE, as I said I was, took me to one of the back offices and had a nurse talk me down.  He asked me if I had anything I could take.

And here’s where things get just plain fucking hilarious.  See, I have an emergency script for Ativan.  Emergencies only.  Keeps me out of the ambulances and everything.  Problem is, I’m also a Black woman with a mental illness. What if a cop decided that the small amount of pills I carry with me isn’t for emergencies? Or knows but just don’t care? Wouldn’t that just be so funny, accosted and accused of having the wrong sort of drugs.  Oh the anxiety attack one could have in jail could be epic!

We also talked about having a little card to show someone if I happen to be having a meltdown in public. Just a simple “Hi, I have anxiety.  Please don’t call the cops.  They might kill me instead of help.” (okay, that’s my first draft). Because wouldn’t it just be a fucking laugh riot if someone mistook my crying/short of breath/eye darting wildness for something dangerous?  “911, this large Black woman is acting out. Please send someone to shatter her spine or shoot her in the head; she’s scaring the white folks!”

At the end, I left with a little keychain mounted pill holder that looks very professional.  Or like I could be smuggling cocaine or something.  That doesn’t help make me feel as calm as the thought of having emergency Ativan within reach should.

And as for that card, I’m still working on the wording:

“My hands are up, please don’t shoot”  

“Unless I pass out, call no one”

“I’m unarmed”

“Please don’t kill me because my brain is fucking up”

When #blacklivesmatter and Mental Health Collide: Some Thoughts on an Anxiety Attack