Egyptian-Sudanese-American novelist and poet Kola Boof has been an agent for Sudan’s SPLA and was the National Chairwoman of the U.S. Branch of the Sudanese Sensitization Peace Project. She has written for television and her many books include, “Flesh and the Devil,” “Long Train to the Redeeming Sin,” “Nile River Woman” and “Virgins In the Beehive.” She blogs at Kola Boof. com
From Lil Wayne to Nigeria’s Wale to Nicki Minaj telling us that we need to keep natural Africa hair permed and Europeanized in her song “Nappy headed hoes”—the poison being fed to millions of black children and teens by Anti-Black messages and imagery from hip hop culture is getting worse by the minute. Think about how the Michael Jackson Skin-Lightening Pill is sweeping across West Africa (they have BET now) and then imagine your pre-teen daughter listening to the supposedly Black Princess of Rap as she ignorantly announces that the entire continent of Africa and all your ancestors before you are inferior simply for flaunting their natural DNA-given nappy African hair and not wearing it straight and Europeanized like the White Women Nicki Minaj wishes she looked like.
With Pink Cotton Candy hair, a fake ass, fake tits and a ski sloped nose—Nicki Minaj is imitation crab meat her damn self. But after being raised in Hip Hop culture, she’s too stupid to know that. She is he penultimate “nappy headed Ho” in White girl drag. Her job, via Corporate Sponsoring, is to help continue teaching us that Blackness is inferior and that we can’t possibly be attractive unless we look like the people who used to own us on plantations and colonize us in Africa. That, in fact, is the message of mainstream hip hop overall. Watching BET with the sound turned down gives the distinct message that Black Men must “breed out” and that Black women must strive to become Biracial or else. Of course after we become damn near White—we’re to be dumped for real authentic White Women, because of course, the White womb produces whiteness better than the womb of the imitation crab meat, right? These same idiots pushing this agenda on a daily basis love hollering “Hotep” and telling us about the greatness of the Moors—yet they forget that the Moors were eventually “bred out” and that extinction is not honorable. Spain, which by all rights should be a Black Colony today, is just a racist Lily White nation where conquering Black men had victory and then lost it all over their white-brained dicks.
Unlike the Conquering European or Arab—men who kept black women as mistresses but place their White and Arab mother’s images on top—the Black conqueror lies on and then kills off his own woman’s image (thereby stopping his own re-birth) and takes the White man’s mother as his Queen image. Stupidity and lack of strategy to such a degree you can’t even breathe to believe men would be that stupid—but Black men are.
At any given hour on BET, you will see the usually dark skinned male rapper (a big black fly in a bowl of milk) surrounded by twenty or so female models who don’t have the genetic power to reproduce him or his people. That image is presented and reinforced as valuable by the entire hip hop industry. The message is White is good; dark is bad. Yet these street-rubble heretics become belligerent and threatening when someone points it out to them.
We’re “haters” for noticing how much these people hate their own ancestors, hate Africa and hate their own mother’s image. They whine and bitch about the ills of society, street life and the White devil—yet their only desire is to be made over in the image of that supposedly Oppressive White Devil. They’re Black trash with swag—the same greedy bling bling Glam-Roaches who sold their own children into slavery 500 years ago. Only now their DNA is transplanted to America where they sell our souls.
That includes the African born artists like Wale as well as the innocently White supremacist U.S. and U.K. slave stock.
And truly, let’s acknowledge that White Supremacy is exactly what most of the Black Diaspora has come to practice in our daily lives—from the epidemic bleaching of skin in Africa and Jamaica to the Western Black male celebrity’s intolerance for dark skinned mates to black men’s unbridled hatred for authentically Black children to the older black woman’s craving of grandbabies with “good hair” and mulatto images in place of the Black images we can’t stand—Blacks in general; worldwide—have been reduced to practicing an unspoken White Supremacy that is beyond bone deep; it’s to the soul. Yet we always want to deny it or make excuses and keep on committing the very atrocities against each other that we demonize Whites for. We are willing to kill our own mother (the image of our Black mother) just to be light skinned; just to have a perceived easier life. We are that rat-hearted and pathetic and the images in our art; our art—tell it all!
Yesterday, rapper Wale called me a “dirty weave bitch” on his Twitter timeline. For weeks, I’ve ignored him. But yesterday I again attacked him viciously regarding the lies he employs to make excuses for what I perceive to be his personal Colorism in music videos and how his videos and the videos of other Black rappers affect the Black community’s sense of self.
Wale tweeted back that he and other rappers can’t put any Black women (meaning women darker than a brown paper bag) in their music videos because the modeling agencies sent him 40 girls for his latest shoot and none were Black. Wale claimed that White Men overseeing corporate rap dictate what kind of women can be featured in the videos and ignores the fact that 20 years ago, I was a model—and know damn well he’s a fucking liar. If Black artists want Black models in their videos, they only have to request it!
But this popular lie that rappers tell is sucked up by millions of weak wallflower-type single black chicks who love worshipping self-hating black men who can’t stand the sight of them unless it’s for a blow job or a quick baby. The Black women who follow Wale on Twitter will remind you of pathetic Prostitutes protecting their Pimp. He can’t affirm them (their black beauty)—yet they defend and worship him like dogs gathered for scraps and water to be thrown on them. They stand in the shadows of the club; up against the wall; stupid Black women—defending his glorification and worship of Non-Black women as though they’re shit stains from the side of a toilet.
I spit on them worse than him, because the black women and girls defending these rappers really are the biggest problem—it’s this type of woman, after all, who gives birth to and continues producing these self-hating losers. They have no self-esteem, so they don’t mind having sons who hate them and broadcast it to the world day in and day out. It’s just a vicious circle of slaves doing a jig and demanding that it’s healthy to be a Pimp; it’s healthy to be a disrespected invisible baby mama Ho. In their arrogant insecurity, they lash back at me—what is that ugly tranny looking African bitch Kola Boof complaining about? And who does she think she is. Everything for them is about looks and nothing more. Forget the topic or your opinions. Everything amongst insecure Blacks is reduced merely to what you “look like.” And that in itself tells it all about them.
I’m an African mother. It’s my Black African ass they came from—I didn’t come out of theirs.
I am woman enough to give birth to my own image—not my slave master’s. The father of my children is a Black man from Belize. Our children are new Black men that I brought into this world. Most of the men that I have loved in life have been Black, including the current boyfriend. I loved a few White men before—yes and I make no apologies for that. I am in no way against interracial love. But what we have in the West is an epidemic of self-hatred driving the majority of these couplings. In my own case, I have loved White men because I refused to be alone and I don’t think any Black woman should settle for being alone. Cause and effect is making it impossible for Black women to exclusively date Black Men—they simply are not there for us. The Black man, en masse, have betrayed us. The whole world has eyes and ears and knows this fact. So I don’t care about the Colorstruck Black Man’s whining lie that Black women are seeking interracial relationships in the same manner that Black men are. It simply isn’t true and everybody knows it’s not true.
And I also reject the blatant lies and distortions that rappers like Wale and tin-foil Niggerati publications like “The Root” invent about my rape by Osama Bin laden.
It’s typical for the Black man to blame his mother for her own rape—notice in 1,000 years, Black men never protected their own mothers, but suddenly, they can protect everybody else’s mother. And that is what you are witnessing when you see ignorant Black people pretend that I had a choice about being with Osama Bin Laden—that I could have called the police in the Arab world or escaped unharmed. It’s that historical uncaring and hatred for the Black woman’s rape and enslavement you are witnessing every time they open their mouths to say a single word about me and what I stand for. And nothing they say against me in desperation can change the truth of what I have written in this article about them and what they don’t stand for.
They don’t stand for…or represent…us.
Media images are the most powerful weapon in the world today. Through media images—we are told who to love; who to think is pretty; who to sympathize with and protect—who and what to hold valuable. From Beyonce to Keri Hilson to Mary J. Blige—the flowing blond weaves and the “White Girl Drag” only prove our people’s defeat. The little half-caste babies that we proudly hold up like trophies and not children (look at King Afrocentric Ishmael Reed’s daughter who could pass for pure Arab)—are the symbolic genetic proof of Black people’s defeat. They are the living breathing proof that we believed White to be superior and more worthy than our own blackness; our own image. These visual and verbal images matter a great deal and they’re nothing less than poison.
Kola Boof’s latest novel, “The Sexy Part of the Bible” deals directly with the epidemic of skin bleaching in Africa. It’s now in bookstores and at Amazon.Com