Hello all. I hope each of you is starting this week off right and placing pleasure at the center. The latest episode of the podcast explores love, intimacy, and relationships. Listen to your favorite hot girls talk to our friend Langston about loving Black women (and whether people know how to do it).
The Pleasure Podcast /
The greatest lie the devil ever told was making pleasure taboo. This semester, I am embarking on an adventure to create a podcast that places pleasures at the forefront. I combine Black feminist theory with Black sexual politics while having conversations with some of my best friends. The Pleasure Pod is a teaching tool, a kickback, and everything I have ever dreamed about using my passion for theory and talking my sh*t in service of public scholarship.
Thank you to Kaitlin Barkley and Jared Lindo for being my first guests. Special shoutout to Jaelyn Taylor for getting us set up with tech and being an amazing Black girl in tech.
Copyright: I do not own any of the music used in the podcast.
Hot Girl Summer: A Contemporary Black Feminist Movement /
In summer 2019, Megan Thee Stallion, a popular rapper from Houston, Texas coined the phrase “hot girl summer”. Quickly the phrase became a social media phenomena across Twitter and Instagram as people across the world created tweets, memes, and so much more promoting a “hot girl” lifestyle. Despite the popularity of hot girl summer, the phrase did not escape criticism. Soon a counter movement, known as city boy/hot boy summer, began to gain fervor. Across the internet the battle between hot girls and city boys took place across timelines, Instagram stories, and urban radio platforms. As a social media movement started by a Black woman “hot girl summer” promoted bodily autonomy, sexual freedom, and overall joy for Black women. The rise of a counter social media movement centering Black men shows the range of methods used to police Black women. Nevertheless, hot girl summer, and its critics, offer a contemporary case study in Black feminist theory.
Before assessing how hot girl summer was co-opted, we must understand its position as an accessible example of Black feminist theory. Megan Thee Stallion did not advertise hot girl summer as Black feminist movement, but the core tenents align with Black feminist theory. On July 17th 2019 Megan tweeted, “Being a Hot Girl is about being unapologetically YOU, having fun, being confident,living YOUR truth , being the life of the party etc” to clarify the meaning of being a hot girl (Pete 2019). The connection between Megan’s tweets and Black feminist theory is an example of the practice bell hooks calls for in “Theory as Liberatory Practice” (hooks 1991). hooks explains that “personal experience is such fertile ground for the production of liberatory feminist theory” (8). The creation of theory from personal experience allows space for theory to be created outside of the academy. Megan Thee Stallion’s status as rapper does not prevent her from being hailed as a theorist. Her declaration of being “unapologetically you” aligns with existing theory about carefree Black girlhood and countering standards of respectability. Furthermore, studying hot girl summer as Black feminist theory allows for a multi-media approach to understanding Black feminist text.
Hot girl summer is not concerned with standards of respectability. The social media phenomena operated in multiple branches as it flooded the internet as a hashtag and dominated music charts. So as Megan and her fans promoted hot girl summer via social media it also appears as a popular tag in her music as she opens songs with her signature “real hot girl shit”. Fever, her debut album, features multiple examples of songs that center women’s pleasure (2019). Hit songs like “Sex Talk” empower women to take charge of their sexual experiences. The most poignant example of the hot girl summer philosophy in Megan’s music is the single titled “Hot Girl Summer” featuring Nicki Minaj and singer Ty Dolla $ign. Throughout the song Megan gives examples of nonmonogamy, sexual freedom, and bodily autonomy. One example is in her first verse of the song:
Handle me? Who gon’ handle me?
Thinking he’s a player he’s a member on the team
He put in all that work, he wanna be the MVP
I told him “ain’t no taming me, I love my niggas equally”
As Megan raps about the essence of being a hot girl she is explaining nonmonogamy. Despite never using the textbook term, Megan is offering listeners a method of dating multiple partners using the metaphor of a sports team. Megan is saying that hot girls have options that expand beyond monogamy. Moreover, Megan asserts that no one can tame her. This line declares her as an autonomous person who regardless of relationship status will act in her own best interest. Ultimately, Megan outlines that the hot girl lifestyle is not defined by respectability as she promotes nonmonogamy, sexual freedom, and independence.
Black feminist theory also explains the critique surrounding hot girl summer. Despite massive success, hot girl summer faced opposition from people across the internet. Critics commented on Megan Thee Stallion promoting promiscuity and carelessness amongst Black women. These criticisms, however, are steeped in racist and sexist standards of Black womanhood that are rooted in a legacy of slavery. Patricia Hill Collins outlines this history in her text “Controlling Images and Black Women’s Oppression” (Hill Collins 1991). Collins’ theory explains that four controlling images of Black womanhood frame how Black women are continually policed: the Mammy, the Matriarch, the Welfare Mother, and the Jezebel. Each image frames the sexualized nature of Black womanhood as an extension of the political economy of slavery and the forced reproduction of Black women to serve chattel slavery in the United States. Using Collins’ work as a foundation allows us to understand criticisms of hot girl summer as contemporary examples of the Jezebel image, “the sexually aggressive woman”(271).
Overall hot girl summer exemplifies a contemporary movement centering Black women and girls. Megan Thee Stallion’s promotion of a carefree lifestyle allows Black femmes to feel supported amidst a hip hop and rap industry that is founded on misogynoir and hypermasculinity. Ultimately, studying hot girl summer as a contemporary Black feminist movement affords opportunities to examine music and social media as materials in public scholarship.
Reflection /
Reading and writing is my ebb and flow. For the last three months I took time to dive into the words of Black women I admire in search of answers. Reading Barbara Smith, Gabrielle Union, and Jesmyn Ward in hopes that something in their stories will help me uncover myself. It did. Yet, it left me with questions about the way the world twists Black women into problems instead of people. I wonder how many Black women are taught that pain will forever be intertwined with our pleasure. It was a lesson I learned early in my girlhood. Learning to be comfortable with broken promises and the bare minimum because what else did I have? We become conditioned to endure neglect, trauma, and violence and find the love in it to survive. We pick apart the good from the bad and find something to anchor us in dysfunction. It becomes our normal to accept less than because we cannot imagine a world where we receive everything we want. Now, at twenty-one I am building that world for myself. It’s hard work because first I must repair the damage. I must sit with myself and learn where the broken pieces lay. It will not be easy, but this is the care I deserve.
Somebody Stole Alla Ma Stuff /
I was robbed. For the vast majority of my life I have been expected to live, and live well, without the proper tools to do so. I have gone through countless years of school and it is not until this very moment in my third year of undergraduate study that I began to understand how much of my education is founded upon lies, violence, and a historical sleight of hand. Through grade school to now I have been robbed and suffered an ongoing violence of misinformation. An overwhelming number of the books I am given showcase one narrative about my existence: servitude. I have been told over and over that I have no right to pleasure, peace, or power. My place in the world is one of abuse, trauma, and accessory. I cannot stand alone. I cannot be violent. I cannot want. Overall, my issue is quite simple honestly: my imagination has been stolen.
The issue, however, is not merely with the theft of my own imagination. Though I am personally furious about my own robbery and brainwashing, I try to avoid speaking from a place of individualism. There is a larger problem implicated here for all of us. I am concerned with our collective imagination; the Black Imagination. Charlene Carruthers introduces the idea in her text Unapologetic: A Black, Queer, and Feminist Mandate for Radical Movements when she shows us how not studying Black queer feminists robs us of valuable history. She says that only studying Martin Luther King, Jr. limits the Black Imagination of children. But Carruthers’ point is not just applicable to studying social movements. Our continued erasing of figures from our collective memory is dangerous. It confines our understanding of Black life--past, present, and future--to what we are constantly taught. And these teachings, while valuable in their own right, are limiting when the majority of them only offer us one example of Black life: Black men.
A few of the culprits in the theft of our collective Black Imagination are some of Black literature’s greatest participants. I am thinking particularly of the Black Literati of the 1930s, which includes Richard Wright, Alain Locke, and Ralph Ellison. Each of these men held great influence over Black literature. This influence, however, managed to marginalize a large community of writers. As a general practice, it is startling to believe that any one person or group can dictate what is and is not acceptable for an entire genre. Yet, time and time again it happens. Wright, Locke, and Ellison took it upon themselves to write the rules of Black literature. It is even more startling to imagine the amount of praise these “gatekeepers” received for their criticisms. Now, my issue is not with the process of critique itself. In fact, I believe critique to be an act of love. The labor required to engage with someone’s work and give feedback is beautiful. This critique, however, should not be given under the auspices of some all-knowing expertise. This is especially true when the critique comes from someone with very little knowledge of the experience, the story, and the life of the art they are critiquing so vigorously. It is for this limited range and self proclaimed expertise that I hold Richard Wright, and others, accountable.
Literary criticism, especially in Black literature, has a duty to say something and this is where Richard Wright fumbles. He dissects Zora Neale Hurston throughout his piece Between Laughter and Tears, but his dissection is little more than the petty musings of a disgruntled Black man consumed with his own manhood. Until Black male writers, like Wright, are willing to depart from their own sorted battle with masculinity and explore themselves as more than men, their criticisms surrounding Black women and their work will always fall short of saying something (or anything) worthwhile.
By silencing Zora Neale Hurston (and countless other Black women) in the 1930s, Wright, and others, robbed us all of a vital piece of our Black Imagination. We, in 2019, are just beginning to dive into the full glory of Zora Neale Hurston’s fiction and ethnographic work. She serves as a shining example of the erasure so frequently felt by Black women at the hands of Black men pushing them to the margins. This is criminal. Due to the canonization of so many Black cis men and the silencing of Black women there remains an imbalance in our understanding of who’s voice is valuable. Yet, the clear assumption is that my voice as a poor Black woman is not. My voice is inherently devalued today because of the foundation set by Black men I have never met. I am still labeled as angry, too much, and loud for daring to be myself. The criticisms Wright and others had of Hurston’s work were not merely two-page critiques of one woman who they deemed unworthy, but became canonized trends of Black women being silenced in Black literature and beyond.
I will no longer be stolen from. Instead, I am committing to undoing the theft in the archives by giving credit to the Black women, and other marginalized folk, who were held captive in the margins by the Black male literati. The principle aim of my reclamation project of a Black femme centered library is simple: I am determined to exist. An essential portion of this reclamation project is unearthing the work of Black femmes who have always made it their business to give life to Black womanhood throughout their work. Black women writers such as Zora Neale Hurston and her literary descendants--bell hooks, Alice Walker, Barbara Smith, Paula Giddings, Ntozake Shange--have consistently explored the full glory of Black womanhood by exploring more than our status as subjugated--they bring us to life. We are so much more than accessories to the lives of Black men.
The larger project of rehabilitating the Black Imagination is one that requires us all to do work of investing in Black Women’s Studies. We must unlearn everything we believe to be the basis for Black progress and Black liberation that fails to include Black femmes. We must recognize the limits of our current Black literary canon. Interrogating this current canon, along with its biases, frivolities, and contradictions, is the start to undoing the violent pilferage committed by the Black male literati of the 1930s; I am reclaiming alla ma stuff.
4 U /
This is something like a journal entry. A quick and vulnerable piece that needed to be seen. Not everything I post will be a polished piece and these short interludes reflect where I am at in life. Sending everyone so much love, xo.
I hate the way the world taught me to search for love. It was always inside of a man and never inside of myself. The movies only had happy endings if there was a wedding. Nobody wrote scripts where the girl lives her life, goes to school, and goes on a long journey of loving herself without the trials and tribulations of searching for a man. It was always centered on men; their pleasure, their peace, and their purpose. It gives a terrible message. For years I grew up thinking that happiness meant that I had to find the right one (and that one was never me). They were always a man and tall and athletic. Never did the story teach me that love could begin and end with me. I was a piece of the puzzle that needed someone else to hold me together. So I spent my teenage years searching for that fairytale love story of a boy who would make me some version of complete. Ultimately, I found many boys and none of them came with any great revelation or treasure. So here I am twenty years old, in college, and just now figuring out that intimacy knows no bounds and that love can be found wherever I want (and has no business anywhere I don’t want it). Only recently have I fallen deeply in love with a friend of mine. It is romantic and platonic all at once. I have no desire for a romantic partnership with him. Yet, his friendship is one of the most loving embraces I have ever felt. Our love is honest, unexplainable, and whole. I am not expected to be any one version of myself. I do not have to be the leader, or the brainiac, or the bitch. In fact, he finds all those single labels to be limiting and would much rather discuss all the possibilities of who I am. Through him I am learning intimacy and all her power. Together we are learning how to be vulnerable and in doing this he, and copious amounts of books, are helping me learn that everything I love about love is in me. I love compassion, bravery, and fury. I am compassionate, brave, and overflowing with fury. I love because it is an extension of me, heart and soul. I am erasing the way the world taught me to search for love. I am loving me, first, forever, and always.
Six Years of The Read: Black, Queer, & Excellent /
As Black History Month begins, I am committing to hyping up all the Black creators who inspire me. So what better way to begin then diving into the podcast which is essential to my self-care routine: The Read. The timing could not be any better as the show approaches it six year anniversary.
The Read is a podcast covering pop culture, Blackness, and all the mess Black folk endure in our daily lives. Its hosts, Kid Fury and Crissle, are a queer Black duo trying to make it in New York. Imagine Will and Grace, but Black, both gay, allergic to respectability, and high almost all the time. Each week they unwind in the studio and dissect all of the foolishness erupting in the media. Topics range from Tr*mp to hip hop stan wars and everything in between. The two use their marginalized identities as a lense into the many varieties of ills plaguing the world today.
The name of the podcast, The Read, is itself a title rooted in the language of the Black and Latinx queer community. Thus, the title of the podcast pays homage to the queer community and guarantees queerness stays centered. Moreover, it is the perfect description of the show. To read someone is not simply just to insult them. You are tearing them apart with conviction and remained unbothered in the process. Crissle and Kid Fury embody this energy as they dissect the horror of politics, social media, and stan culture. Nobody is safe-- except Beyonce.
While The Read began as a podcast six years ago it has grown into a Black queer empire. There are now tours, event hostings, and merchandise to support the growing Read fandom. The two were even invited by Beyonce as VIP guests to her OTRII tour. If that is not the epitome of fame then I don’t know what more anyone could ask for. Their rise on iTunes podcasts charts have given visibility to Black queer folk who previously found themselves erased within a media world of white queer affluence. Crissle and Kid Fury disrupt the narrative. Their discussions of poverty, domestic violence, and informal education highlight the multifaceted existence of queerness.
The two hosts, however, never bask in their newfound fame. Instead, they shy away from it. Crissle and Kid Fury both talk open and honestly about how their mental health concerns impact their reception of praise. Essentially, they believe they’re undeserving. This reaction illustrates the larger issue of Black folk being conditioned to undervalue ourselves and our achievements. Can anyone blame us? Black folk, particularly Black Americans, have experienced this socialized insecurity for centuries. Our inventions have been stolen. Our movements co-opted. Our culture deemed subhuman. How can we expect to praise ourselves when controlling images constantly tell us the opposite? It’s an unfortunate reality that Crissle and Kid Fury showcase through their podcast.
At the end of each show both Kid Fury and Crissle deliver their weekly read. They dedicate the last 30 minutes of the show to ripping the biggest bullsh*t of the weak a new one. Often reads are dedicated to the big three: racism, homophobia, and transphobia. A recent topic that Kid Fury read was the suicide by nine year old Jamel Myles. His voice shook. You can hear his throat closing. Kid Fury, a Black gay man, is broken. He is confronting the reality of homophobia and its influence on children. He is confronting his own lived experiences of being a queer child. His tone is hopeless. The authenticity and vulnerability of every episode draws us into the show. We are here with them. We experience their ups and downs. We are in this together.
The Read gives us political and pop culture commentary we can relate to. Their language is accessible. They define sociological theory and apply it to our everyday lives. Don’t understand immigration policy? Kid Fury and Crissle break down Tr*mp foolishness. Don’t understand misogynoir? Crissle rips the pastor who disrespected Aretha Franklin’s funeral. They do not shy away from analysis. On the contrary, they make analysis hilarious and relatable. This fills a gap in political and pop culture analysis. Often the language used to analyze these topics in inflated and exclusive to college educated folks. Kid Fury and Crissle use accessible language and humor as tools to educate their audience.
The Read gives me everything I need to push through my week. It is truly an essential portion of my self care routine. Together Kid Fury and Crissle give us the collective sigh that we all need. They go through the weekly mess that makes the social media monster rage and the policies which threaten our human rights. Ultimately, The Read is a powerhouse of Black queer talent that is finally getting the widespread recognition they deserve.
la señal de la luz /
on the edge of the river
she wades,
draped in amber,
with
honey pot
nestled
between her thighs--
she bakes,
tossing currents
beneath fingertips
like flour,
she kneads at earth
breaking apart soil
from sun,
then, she lifts them
inches above the ground
&
wraps them in herself
reaching down
she dips two fingers
bathing them in sugar
until she presses them
uno
a
uno
to his lips.
his tongue sparks along her skin.
the horizon shields them--
layers of amarilla
piña, maíz & oro
drench them in comfort--
against the threatening gaze
of Oya,
huntress,
sister,
warrior,
armed with machete
& flame.
a love
forbidden
as
sky
meets
river
fresh water gives life to pleasure
let tragedy ignite their kisses
they hide among sunflowers,
challenging nature to create
a union
as beautiful as this.
yellow butterflies surround them,
tempting Yemaya
to witness
the formation
of heartache
bodies rolling
back
& forth
like oceans
driving toward shore.
his thunder cracks
a hole
in the clouds
out pours rain
like
crescendo
as his body
touches constellations
binding them to this universe.
she gives life meaning
with her smile--
her lips curve
twisting, turning
like flower petals
shifting in the summer breeze.
her head tilts back
&
the river rushes
forward
honey trickles
down her calf,
tears crawl down her cheek
they break apart in waves
sunset.
Here Be Dragons: A Gentrified Tale /
Going out of state for college creates a nostalgia for all things Baltimore. For months I crave the food, noise, and people I have known for two decades while I am away studying in a secluded suburb. Nothing can calm my hunger for four wings, Western fries, and a medium half and half. Every winter, when I return to this charmed place I take it all in.
Looking around I see things that will never change. There will always be kids in khaki pants waiting on buses that take way too long. There will always be grandmothers in line at gas station windows to buy one too many lottery tickets. Yet, amidst the never-changing there is something new here. Stores and people I have never seen before clutter my landscape. Hidden among the sidewalks and potholes there is something new here…
Riding down North Avenue it becomes so much clearer. The project apartments I used to call home are no more. My childhood memories of parking lot games and hopscotch turned to rumble and ash. My elementary school—where I learned to read—is no longer standing. There is a new school there. It has no colorful mural outside its door. The yellow pillars where my mother took our annual First Day of School are gone. So much has changed.
I want to cry. It is like someone took a battering ram to my childhood while my back was turned. Sadly, however, I do not cry. Instead, I imagine myself painting a warning label on the side of a rowhome. The sign would have a simple message: here be dragons.
Baltimore is not undiscovered. We have known her beauty for decades before your cashless businesses arrived. I know no city more beautiful and know community more resilient than my own.
The Cost of Being Brave /
Nobody ever tells little Black girls the cost we pay for being brave. Our voices shake rooms and call ancestors from broken places, but nobody ever tells us the toll we pay for being brave. Our backs break under the weight of commmunities, big and small, but nobody ever tells us the tax we pay for being brave.
Instead, they lead us to chaotic waters. Bend our necks and tilt our heads to drink the kool-aid. We serve as test subjects for the anger they cannot let loose.
Instead, they push us to the forefront. They linger behind closed doors and half drawn curtains and wait to see how far we get. Then they come full force and beat us back into our troubled corners while they claim victory.
We pay their price in bloodlines. Generational trauma and poverty strip away our imaginations. The rest is left to our own minds to toil over…and over…and over. Nobody tells little Black girls that their sadness is not theirs alone to carry.
Nobody tells little Black girls the price their mothers paid for being brave. All we see left is the scar. One on her right knee and another on her wrist. Nobody tells little Black girls the price their sisters paid for being brave. All we see is her shadow.
Nobody tells little Black girls how to sing her own song in her poetry. We learn that in our bedrooms with the doors closed as we cradle pen and paper.
We learn the harshest truths when nobody is around to save us.
A Lesson in New Beginnings: A 2019 Reading List /
As the end of the year swiftly appraoches so many of us are doing our year end recap. What wins did we have this year? What areas of our lives can we improve in 2019? These questions help us reflect on our growth and release negativity. One of my favorite activities for the end of the year is to create a list of books to explore in the new year. Welcome to my 2019 Reading List!
Reading is personal. Each book I read changes my life so I am very intentional with the contents of my library. Every page of these texts is political in their own way. My 2019 reading list centers Black authors, especially Black femmes, across non-fiction and fiction. Some of are new kids on the block while others are longstanding legends of the literary game, but they all deserve a look in the new year.
1. Becoming by Michelle Obama
Michelle Obama's Becoming is on the bookshelves of so many already this year, but reading this book to kick off the New Year is a must. Obama offers her life story up for us to learn from and assess critically. in 2018 I began to look closely at The Obamas legacy and this book adds to this close look. Essentially the book offers a look at life before the election and all the lessons of her adolescence.
2. Beloved by Toni Morrison
I know I am the last person to pick up a copy of this revered text. It is my mission to dive deep into Morrison this year. Her novel Song of Solomon is in my top 3 reads of all time so the bar is already high for this classic.
3. Kindred by Octavia Butler
Octavia Butler is one of the literary greats. Her writing style and story telling are unmatched. Plus, she invented alchemy so we should all take lessons from Butler on how to manifest what is meant for us in 2019 and forever.
4. Black on Both Sides: A Racial History of Trans Identity by C. Riley Snorton
Snorton is offering the true tea on Blackness and gender. This text traces back the history of trans identity and Blackness and connects to modern day anti-Black and anti-trans legislation. I recommend this for anyone trying to increase their trans scholarship as we move beyond gender binary.
5. Jezebel Unhinged: Loosing the Black Female Body in Religion and Culture by Tamura Lomax
Lomax is playing zero games when it comes to Black girlhood and womanhood. She dissects the jezebal trope throughout the Black church and Black culture. If you are seeking a book to give you a deeper understanding of misogynoir then this is it. You're welcome.
6. Well-Read Black Girl by Gloria Edim
Has any other book taking the internet by storm like this one? I doubt it. Edim's work has taken over #bookstagram with its bright cover and amazing community. Grab a copy of this anthology and get lost in the world of incredibly talented Black woman writers.
7. Sassafrass, Cypress, and Indigo by Ntozake Shange
Rest in power to a legend. In 2018 Shange transitioned beyond this world, but she left us with so much art. This novel is a great introduction to Shange's work as she explores geography, family, and trauma. You will not be sorry you picked this work up as you become a Shange fan for life.
8. Assata: An Autobiography by Assata Shakur
Assata Shakur offers us her story in this autobiography. Her fight for Black liberation gives foundation for so much Black radical organizing. Moreover, Shakur is a Black woman at the center of police brutality and racism in the 1970s. What more do you need to go pick this up? I thought so.
9. An American Marriage by Tayari Jones
Marriage, racism, fidelity, and so much more draw us into Jones' hit novel An American Marriage. She offers us an amazing story while analyzing class, race, and gender through the lives of newlyweds in the American South.
10. If Beale Street Could Talk by James Baldwin
Baldwin is one of my literary godfathers and this novel shows us every reason why. Go grab this book and go see If Beale Street Could Talk in theatres right now!
A Year of Moving Forward /
In 2017, I made a promise to live my life by moving forward. I vowed to let life be felt. Too often people confuse living and surviving. Survival is anticipation. You move through life waiting for your future. Living is experiencing all that each day is offering you. It took a lot of breaking, discovery, and healing, but I made decision to always move forward.
Let's be clear: moving forward does not mean I ignore what hurts. I do not simply shrug off my pain and smile. That is unrealistic. Instead, I allow myself to feel without regret. If I am meant to cry then I cry. If I am angry then I allow it. Moving forward is a lesson in progress not perfection.
Now, here I am, young and black and a woman and daring to live. An essential part of my journey to moving forward was doing what I wanted to without hesitation.
First, I read. I delved into the works of Upile Chisala, James Baldwin, and Cleo Wade. I spent hours in the African American history archives at Emory University learning about the importance of preserving the past. These lessons continued at the Avery Research Center in Charleston, South Carolina as I held the shackles worn by enslaved people throughout the American south.
Second, I spoke up. I stopped keeping my thoughts to myself in class and in meetings. I tweeted a lot. I asked questions. Slowly I began to realize that everybody is not for me-- thank God.
Finally, I traveled (well as much as a college student can travel with low funds and no passport). Leaving my comfort zone allowed me to learn by experiencing the incredible world around me. I got my nose pierced in Atlanta. My boyfriend and I ate our way through Charlotte in a summer. I explored a Native American community in Tennessee. In December, I ended the year by taking my first trip to Los Angeles, California and attending the first ever Teen Vogue Summit.
This site is a product of my year long journey. Here is a space entirely mine to vent, to explore, to edit, and--most importantly-- to be vulnerable. Here is where I pledge that I have something to say. Here is where I say it.
Hopefully you are here to listen because this journey will read like poetry.
Entering this site is a decision you are making to take a look at all my scars. I am laying them out for you. There will be tears, laughs, and lots of frustration. Some of you will think I am sharing too much. Well perhaps I am. Some of you will be looking for the naked details of what causes all this pain. Well you might find out. Then there are the blessed few of you who will feel all of these posts. My anger, happiness, and dreams will resonate with you. To you all I say welcome.
Thank you for joining me in this space.
Love,
Bry.
The Kids Aren't Alright: A Lesson in Baltimore City Public Schools /
A lesson children should never have to master is learning about the water cycle in a frigid classroom. Yet, here we are in 2018 and Baltimore City Public Schools (BCPSS) are becoming experts in curriculum served over ice. News outlets such as Teen Vogue and The Baltimore Sun are just a few who have recently covered the saddening, and systemic, neglect of students by BCPSS.
The issue of heating systems, however, is not new (as many Baltimore students can tell you). As an alum of BCPSS, I remember wearing winter jackets and coats inside of classrooms as administrators tried to give write-ups for not following uniform policy. So not only were we cold, but we were cold AND facing disciplinary action. The saddest reality: none of us were surprised. In fact, we were more surprised when schools were closed. Imagine the shock of feeling like your humanity is being noticed? The reality of living as black and brown children in American public schools is a waiting game of when others chose to validate your existence.
Do not be fooled into thinking these issues are the product of a cold winter. As Kimberly Mooney points out in Teen Vogue, the issue of failing heating systems is not the beginning of the where Baltimore City has failed public school students. Instead, it is one of many results of poor infrastructure, corrupt politicians, and institutionalized racism. Most BCPSS are underfunded due to the cycle of being disenfranchised in the United States. Simply put, public schools are funded by property taxes of the neighborhoods which surround them. So in Baltimore City, students who live in impoverished neighborhoods are likely to attend an equally impoverished school. Essentially, students are tasked to play a losing game of school funding unless they attend a school in a wealthy neighborhood such as Baltimore's Roland Park community.
This leaves the question: how can we fix it? First, we must dismantle the system-- lots of unlearning, rebuilding, and empowerment. Until then, you can take small steps to support students struggling to learn in a crooked system. By giving to the GoFundMe page and supplying coats you are helping Baltimore City students survive the winter months. In addition, by donating books to Valencia Clay's students you are investing in students' education. In return, Ms. Clay is sending donors a copy of an amazing poster made by the educator herself (shown below).
Avoid leaving your support on the internet. Bring opportunity for supporting public schools students into much needed spaces like their classroom, their bank account, and their resume. An easy step to support public schools is through volunteering. Whether in Baltimore City, Charlotte, or Chicago these students need more help than they are given. Sign up to be a classroom volunteer or to lead a workshop. Own a business or work for a company? Hire public school students for paid internships.
The kids will never be alright if we leave their education in the hands of complacent politicians. I challenge you to act.
Sidenote shoutout to Keombré McLaughlin, a BCPSS alum, for her op-ed in The Baltimore Sun. May Jonathan Tobash rest in power.
I Am Tired /
Few things have been more pivotal to my growth than the peace, advice, and support of black women. It is essential to my health and wellness. Yet, despite the deeply talented black women around me I experience an ever present issue: the black man.
Let's be clear: not all black men. I have to get that disclaimer out of the way early before my comments and email are loaded with people explaining to me that I have just had "a few bad experiences" or that I am "petty and divisive". I can have petty tendencies-- flaws I am working on-- but this moment is not born of my petty bone. These are lived experiences. It is not every black man, but the truth is that these realities apply to more than enough to hold true. I have been burdened by the patriarchy, nonsense, and antics of the problematic black man since before my birth.
More recently, in my college career, my experiences with black men have become more and more taxing, traumatic, and tragic. Honestly, I am fed up with fighting for my right to be apologetically black and woman. I cannot divorce my identities from one another-- I am an intersectional beauty. My compounded identities, of blackness and womanness, however, place me at a difficult crossroads. In the words of my black woman ancestors: all the women are white, all the blacks are men, but some of us are brave. Living as a black woman requires a tremendous amount of bravery. It is a dangerous endeavor to live as one of the most oppressed, silenced, and appropriated groups in human history.
The fact remains that the intersectionality of black womanhood means that we are often left fighting for the liberation of others with little reciprocity. On one hand, white women, adorning the privileges of whiteness, cannot be reliable allies in the fight for equity until they begin to confront their white supremacy. On the other hand, black man, covered in the privileges of maleness, cannot be reliable allies in the fight for equity until they begin to confront their patriarchy.
Essentially, black men must confront their complicit reality: you hurt us too. The hardships of black womanhood do not only apply to our blackness. We are victims of patriarchy as well. Thus, we must address both oppressions.
A simple start: listen to black women and act accordingly. It is not enough to engage in cyclical conversations. I am not in the business of re-traumatizing myself so that black men can feel better. Black men must do the labor too. Open a book, read a blog, watch a video. The proof, the stories, and the statistics are all over. Libraries and internet catalogs are full of the lived experiences of black women who have been confronting these atrocities for decades.
Black women cannot (and will not) continue to be everyone's saviors. Our mental and physical health does not afford us such luxuries. We are being suspended, fired, murdered, and assaulted at catastrophic rates. We have led the revolution for everyone else. Who will stand for us?
Pay Black Women /
As Black Panther delivers groundbreaking numbers at the box office for the second week, audiences are amazed by the storyline, action, and character development surrounding the women of Wakanda. The hit Marvel film showcases the talent, dedication, and versatility of Black women actors. Yet, some are still skeptical that this film will have long lasting effect on an industry, and a world, that routinely undervalues the talent and time of Black womanhood.
Paying Black women for time and talent should be non-negotiable. Yet, the numbers showcase the disparity between rhetoric, action, and funds. As Twitter-- and other social media platforms-- create moments of support and empowerment, Black women continue combatting the realities of wealth inequality and wage gap. These struggles are not mere hardships, but results of compounded marginalization.
The lives of Black women are nuanced by the reality of compounded marginalization. Not only are Black women racialized, but we are also subjected to gender inequality. Now, racism and patriarchy are not the only oppressions that impact Black women. The possibilities for nuances in Black womanhood are endless-- because experiences are endless. Class and sexuality are examples of a few more layers of marginalization which impact the experiences of Black women.
Since 2008 there has been a recent push for diversity and inclusivity initiatives. One core portion of these initiatives for diversity and inclusion attempt to target marginalization on college campuses and corporate offices. Fortune 500 companies and top ranked USA Today institutions are constantly hiring new talent to navigate the waters of diversity, inclusion, and all the pitfalls in between.
Despite positive intentions, however, these initiatives can also be spaces for inequality. How? The double duty dilemma. Consider which groups of people are routinely doing the organizing, facilitating, and policy work to dismantle inequality-- the marginalized groups themselves. More specifically, Black women and queer folk-- and the people who occupy both spaces-- are routinely doing the heavy lifting surrounding equity and opportunity for marginalized groups. Thus, marginalized people such as people of color, women, queer folk, and differently abled bodies are facing discrimination as they are simultaneously are tapped as the leaders of their revolutions. This doubling down of marginalization and revolution is called double duty.
Marginalization of oppressed groups cannot be combated by the oppressed alone. Working to dismantle systems that have existed for centuries will take time, planning, and a lot of work. But I believe it can be done. One key step in revolutionary change is revolutionary partnership. Black women should not and must not be expected to overcome our inequalities by ourselves. Others must join the cause. Allies in positions of social and economic capital must challenge the oppressive status quo and demand more. Change must come in the form of legislation, funding, access, and opportunity.
In a world overrun by late capitalism, labor is never free. The expectation for women of color, and Black women specifically, to survive on accolades, experience, and volunteerism alone is criminal. It is not enough to applaud the work of black women on screen in films like Black Panther. If you applaud Black women, support Black women, or expect labor from Black women then be prepared to pay for our time and talent.
For Black Girls Who Dream of Lead Roles When Light Skin Ain't Enuf /
I am in a television watching minority when I say I have not watched a single episode of Love Is on OWN. A few months ago I saw the trailer on Twitter and was excited-- until I watched it. No shade to Mara Brock Akil, the legend and visionary, but quite frankly the trailer disappointed me from the start. Why? Honestly, the thought of another show centered on the love story of a lighter skinned Black woman was exhausting.
The Black experience is not a monolith so why does casting give that illusion? As we continue to demand more representation of Black women in media it is our duty to be diligent in which representations we accept. It is our right to demand more. Our concept of representation, especially of Black women, in media cannot remain one-sided. Moreover, that side cannot be overwhelmingly lighter and middle class. As more Black women are cast in blockbuster films and hit series it is becoming increasingly clear that studios, producers, and casting directors are delivering the same monotonous image: light skin women.
Now, this trope of the light skin lead actress is not new. It has been evident since the beginning of Black women on screen and off. Our discriminatory reality is that lighter skin actresses are deemed more appealing based on their proximity to whiteness. The name of the game is to sell Blackness, but make it palatable. Lighter skin women are stereotyped as more docile, more educated, and thus more acceptable in the grand scheme of white supremacy.
The bottom line: colorism ain't it. Period. The over saturation of lighter skin actresses with loose curls is exhausting. From film to television series to ad campaigns, the media is flooded with racial ambiguity. Brown and darker skin women deserve to see themselves experience love, friendship, and all the mess of being 20 something onscreen just like me. Brown and darker skin women deserve complex characters that reflect the nuance of their own lives.
Their representation and stories are long overdue.
Pride & Rejection: A Lesson in Failure /
Nobody ever tells you the key to defeating failure is to embrace it. So here I am telling you.
What if I told you failure is the only path to success? Therefore, if you don't fail at least three times a week then you aren't doing enough. Yes, I just told you to pursue failure. I want you to fall down again and again. I want you to draft, delete, re-write, and hate it all over again. Why? Because failure is not about the task. It does not matter what goal you are striving toward that week. I need you to understand that right now. Failure is not about the award you never got or the good noodle sticker your fourth grade math teacher never gave you. All these goals are markers that you set. You control how they impact you. The essential part of growth is not your to-do list, your resume, or your vision board-- it's you. Failure is about who you are once you hit the ground.
You are going to fail. Accept it. You will chase after jobs, projects, and people that will never be yours. Then you will question exactly who you are and where you are meant to be. That's great. It's called reflection. Instead of letting that questioning turn into doubt use this moment as a catalyst for change. Take your moment. Let the pain settle, but do not stay down. Grab a piece of paper and write: what is causing you the most pain? where is there room for growth? how can you be better prepared next time? what steps will you take to fortify yourself for the next failure? These questions promote growth. That's the goal.
Failure is not final. Anybody who tells you otherwise is plotting on your downfall. They are invested in seeing you suffer and you need to let them go.
So this week we are committing to failing with purpose. Consistent failure brings consistent growth. It takes time to get it right.
Remember failure does not mean ruin and progress does not mean you are complete.
Aubrey Do Better: A Lesson in Male Entitlement /
Few artists have the network or musical catalog to rival Aubrey Drake Graham, but nevertheless with all his influence Drake still is toxic. Despite the wealth, power, and access Drake is not above the misogyny which commands our lives. His newest album Scorpion shows us more and more of the toxic masculinity which hides behind Drake's self-proclaimed nice boy attitude.
Drake's songs are well produced bops with a common theme: entitlement. A prime example of a hit record sprinkled with entitlement, respectability politics, and manipulation is "Jaded". Praised as one of the higher performing records on the album, this track is full of verses dissing Drake's ex Jorja Smith. Throughout the four minute song Drake illustrates his post relationship mindset. The overall lesson at song's end is simple: Drake needs therapy.
Now, Drake does an excellent job of letting his audience know the intent of this track off top-- he's hurt, jaded, and not willing to repair the relationship. Yet, the song goes deeper than surface level post break-up pettiness. Drake opens the song by declaring his ex used him and thus owes him for her career. That's strike one. Drake is regurgitating the classic narrative of male ownership over female creativity and success. This erases her talent and work ethic. She can only exist as a product of everything he has done for her. As the song continues he resents her for the time spent with her family and the time he spent getting to know them. Simply put, Drake demonizes his ex for forcing him to engage in healthy quality time with her loved ones. It is not centered on him so it is unnecessary. Essentially, Drake is crediting himself for her wins while also declaring that the intimate time they spent together as a waste.
Overall, Aubrey needs help. His relationships with women are reliant on his dominance as he dates women deemed lesser than him. Again and again Drake preys on younger women or women of a different social class. Then, he produces music which glorifies himself as a savior they were not ready to evolve for. We saw this frequently in earlier albums when repeatedly praised himself for liberating women from strip clubs (removing them of all agency). For the millions of Black women that consume Drake's music the larger question is when do we divest from him in similar ways we divested from R. Kelly? Do we continue to support Drake's more subtle brand of misogynoir indefinitely? Ultimately, regardless of our choice to divest Drake exemplifies the issue of entitlement at the core of the nice man narrative.
