I have taken it upon myself to officially declare the death of the tragic, scientifically less attractive, unmarriable, single black woman narrative. Gutting it, it’s done, it’s over. So, after 2011, I don’t want to read anymore article. I don’t even want to read anymore well researched, thoughtful responses, because it’s a waste of our time – it’s a waste of our brain trust, that has better issues be attending with and real problems to be solving. While we’re worrying about what is, or isn’t on our ring finger people are people are proposing laws and writing policies with rights that have to do with rights that effect our reproductive health, our right to vote, our right to an education, a job, a decent way of life.
It’s a clever narrative though, I will give it that. You know it’s provocative, it gets the people going and I’ll go as far as to say that it wasn’t by chance that this particular narrative came about, ’cause think about it. Think about what it would mean if the Black woman was truly empowered in society. That would have mean[t] that we would have discussed issues of race, and issues of gender discrimination in our society, and tied into that issues of class and even potentially advanced conversations around issues of homophobia. But if your power depends on the status quo of race and gender discrimination, that advancement becomes a threat, and that’s where the weapons of mass distraction come in.
“Part of the mechanics of oppressing people is to pervert them to the extent that they become the instruments of their own oppression.”
–Kumasi , in “Crips & Bloods: Made in America”
For every article we read on this whack subject, for every brain cell we spend thinking on it, for every book we buy trying to fix ourselves, we take away from our intuition. We take away from our common sense. We take energy from the stories that we cold be telling of what we are capable of at our best. It’s a set up, and I am tired of us falling prey to it, over and over and over again. We are too amazing. We have too much potential. So let’s stop clicking on it. Let’s start ignoring these stories. Don’t even give it the dignity of our side eye.
Your knowledge of self is sexy damn it, and so in 2012, spend time getting to know yourself, getting to know your world, and reading things that inspire you to be the best of you. I wish you a happy new year, a happy year of charting new ground – special shout out on our media on that one and just go be the frigging awesome person that you are, that comes from a strong legacy of intelligent, powerful, great, beautiful, beloved Black women. And do me a favor, if you share this or make a comment, please include a shout out, with a name or a website, of somebody who is speaking some truth about us, so we know to support those voices and that media and direct or attention and our clicks.
So with that it’s official. Death of the of the tragic, scientifically less attractive, unmarriable, single black woman narrative – moment of silence.
And consider the “If I Were A Poor Black Kid” narrative and any talk about our First Lady’s behind in that coffin too. Thanks, bye.