Happy Black Girl Day x Assimilation x Whiteness

Happy Black Girl Day

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Black assimilation is premised on being accepted by White people
and making them feel comfortable.

In reading Kevin Mumford’s brilliant book, Interzones, I learned that the
Urban League and the NAACP are historically rooted in making
sure that country
Negros from the south, who moved to the north,
didn’t make aspiring middle
class Black folks look bad.

These two groups monitored Negro behavior on the streets, went door to
door teaching folks about “personal cleanliness” and monitored
Black sex
workers.

I am excited about #Happyblackgirl day because it is about us
affirming ourselves
and not looking to mainstream media to do so.

I am grateful that @Sistertoldja took the time to make it happen.
The 7th day of every month is now, Happy Black Girl Day. Wooter.

Last week I tweeted “Black women are awesome on 55 million different
levels. CNN can’t capture that and I don’t expect them to. It ain’t they job, its ours.

I see those reports and roll my eyes because I know that when CNN does their
Negro reports they are simply doing their job, which is to serve the
interests
of the shareholders and of the white power structure.

Don’t get me wrong, if CNN was like, can you come on and talk about
Black women’s sexuality, global economy or gentrification, I would roll,
but I highly doubt that phone would ring, lols. Renina the pundit. Ha!

Back to the hair. Black women needing to straighten their hair to increase
their chances
of getting a job or a mate, is a manifestation of structural domination.

In other words, if White women had to go through what we did ever 4-6 weeks
to turn their hair into naps, in order to try and ensure their survival as employees
then the conversation about Black hair would be different.

Last fall when Alison Samuels was talking shit about Zahara Jolie-Pitts napps,
all I could think was can this child live? Can I live? Sidebar I haven’t combed
my hair since
late December, I never just rocked the fro, and it has been an
illuminating experience.
I am more self-conscious, always touching it, and
it’s just really BIG and unruly and I get stared at. Who knew? Talking
about the self presentation of Black girls the politics of respectability, Samuels writes,

But even the mothers who spare the hot comb still have to put time and effort into keeping hair healthy: Any self-respecting black mother knows that she must comb, oil, and brush her daughter?s hair every night. This prevents the hair from matting up, drying out, and breaking off. It also prevents any older relatives from asking them why you?re neglecting your child and letting her run around looking like a wild woman. Having well-managed hair is not just about style, it?s about pride, dignity, and self-respect. Keeping your daughter?s hair neat is an unspoken rule of parental duties that everyone in the community recognizes and respects.

Hair that is nice, neat, and cared for also gives African-American girls the confidence that they can fit into the world at large without being seen as completely different.

There is a lot to unpack here, so first lets have a little primer on whiteness.
George Yancy Writes in Feminism and the Subtext of Whiteness, “whiteness
goes unmarked” yet “it assumes to speak with universal authority can truth.”
He goes on to say,

Whiteness assumes the authority to marginalize other identities, discourses
perspectives and voices. By constituting itself as the center, non white voices
are Othered, marginalized and rendered voiceless.

When we think about assimilation we have to think about whiteness because
the two are related, in this country. Furthermore, what are the political, social
and spiritual consequences for a Black person assimilating into a system
that is historically rooted in oppressing that person. Yancey goes on to write
quoting Ruth Frankenberg,

First whiteness is a location of structural advantage or race privilege. Second, it is a
standpoint a place from which white people look at ourselves, at others and at society.
Third “whiteness” refers to a set of cultural practices that are usually unmarked,
unnamed.

Now that we have a working definition of whiteness laid out, we can get into Zahara
and assimilation.

Black peoples respectability politics make my ass itch and Samuels comment
is the embodiment of Black respectability politics.

There is no greater freedom than being about to be yourself, and I cannot be
myself
assimilate for Whites at the same time. Or perhaps I should say it is a
tenuous challenge to do so. Don’t get me wrong, I understand that it is a dance
and I have changed my
self presentation in order to pursue opportunities
throughout my life.

We constantly adjust our Blackness in order to make White folks
feel more comfortable.This is the essence of Quest Loves piece about
about “The Little Things” and the ways in which he adjust’s his presentation of
Black masculinity in the presence of White folks.

We do what we have to do in order to survive. Wigs, perms,
weaves and God knows what else. Jonzey says that I put too much on White
perception of our hair in the workplace. And I may, however, if it comes down
to me and another candidate and her straight blond hair is perceived as more
attractive then my black napps, twists or straight hair, then I lose, and this, is
structural domination.

What would our hair look like if we didn’t need to straighten it in order to keep
a job?

The Gods to honest truth is that Zahara Jolie-Pitt, for all intents and purposes is
a member of the American elite, and one of the benefits of being member of the
elite is that your “deviance” is not
susceptible to being punished the same way
that it would be if you are low income.
Which brings me to the social costs of
assimilation.

Assimilation has a price. This is one of the reasons why I liked the conversation
around “Bitch is the New Black
because I would frame it as a one about the
social costs of assimilation.

As I read the article I thought, class wise, do working class heterosexual and
queer Black women have the same dating and marriage statistics and challenges?

Do affluent queer and heterosexual Black women and have the same dating
and marriage statistics and challenges?

When I hear middle class heterosexual folks talk about the “dearth” of similarly
position Black men to date, I think of public education. What does it mean for
heterosexual Black women when Black boys are placed
by a White
school system on a punishment/jail track at six years old, in first grade, and
what
are we going to do about it? Why in the name of apartheid is this acceptable?

Historically, America has been premised on both the notion of Democracy and
the material reality of Black oppression and the denial full citizenship to
all African
Americans. Peniel Joseph’s new book from Black Power to Obama
gets into this. The fact that we have been denied full citizenship is why the “Are
West Indians/Black beef is so deep?” This is why
all immigrants are compared to
American Blacks.

The notion is, if you can’t BE White you sure as hell don’t want to be Black.

Which leads me to ask, when can we just be, just simply be able to live and be ourselves?

We were never meant to survive, so for us to be talking about Happyblackgirlday is
revolutionary on levels that I lightweight can’t articulate right now but I am trying.

When will we be able to be happy, joyous and free?

As Black women we put our lives on hold for our lovers, our mommas, our families,
our kids, guess what, that life will never come unless we claim it.
Sitting in Tuesdays,
waiting for the Chicken Bone Bus on New Years Eve, White
dude who Loves Black
women strikes up a conversation with the me. He brings
up the “Bitch is the New
Black” article. I listen. And then while talking about his
Black women friends, he
says something profound, when he mentions that we “seem to put our
lives on hold.”
I get that sometimes we have to do it, to push through. However, every time we put our
lives on hold for someone or something else, this is a willful act. We are not objects,
we are human.

I could give a fuck about what a Steve Harvey or anyone else has to say about
Black women’s marital statistics. Anyone paying their rent talking
shit about us
can miss me with those. Rather than tell our story and reduce
Black men to
being only worth what they can pay for on a date or in rent, how about writing
about his OWN
relationships with his family members, his mother, his daddy,
his children, his narrative, his journey. Hmmp.

Happy Black Girl Day.

With Love, Resistance and Desire.

Chicken Bone Bus

On everything I Love. I was on the bus from DC to NY on New Years Eve.

This dude, sitting next to me after the Philly stop, was sipping
something
in a 16 oz Pepsi bottle. He then gets up and announces
that he wants to “start a gambling jawn,
on the bus, give the driver 20%, who’s in?
He was an older cat, with a fedora, glasses.

Dude in the back is like “sit that shit down and shut the fuck up.”
This cat, got a puff coat on, with fur around the collar, looking like
Baby
with a tattoo tear.
And fearless.

You know how you can TELL that a person don’t care about shooting into
a crowd. BAD for me, because I was sitting next
to The Gambler.

I’m like. Lawd, we are an hour away, please, its New Years Eve. Come on boo.

So.

Dude in the back is like “Sit down OG, ain’t nobody trying to hear that.”

Gambling dude, is like “What, I’m trying to make some money, we can all make
some money, give 20% to the driver.”
Before I know it, these cats are standing up.

In fact, there are four Black men, standing up, on the middle of the bus, the lights
on are at this time.
The Gambler, stood up, reaching into his pocket, he was
holding
something.

The Baby looking dude, was like “What, whatchu gone do, watchu got?” He had that wild
Freeway, “Who you” look in his eye.

Another man was was pleading, “My kids are on this bus, don’t do this.” It was
really bugged out to see these four Black men, to see Black masculinity
be
performed and navigated in this instance.

Ummm hmmmp.

Philly.

In some ways it was familiar, in some was it was absurd. It worked out.

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Reminds me of how rap songs, be A song, but when faced with the
real life issue of, “Do he have a gun?” it is totally different.

Bless Him, Change Me

Love. Resistance. Desire.

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About a week or so ago FD said, “He couldn’t do it anymore.”

Ouch.

I thought it was just a strong response to the holiday season,
but I ain’t heard from him.

It was a little rocky.

The tipping point for me, was didn’t hear from him when we had
blizzard a couple of weeks back.
He had a resentment towards me,
as I was venting about school and my land lord and not taking any actions.
The resentment was fine, but Black people
call Black people to check on them
when we get two feet of snow. That’s
just gp Love.

I also got stranded in Maryland that day. The trains and buses just stopped
running. LP’s loving partner gave me a ride home, in a stick shift, in a blizzard.
I was grateful.

In the week preceding FD also spoke to me twice in a way, that I was like, dude,
where is my
friend, ‘cuz the person on the other end of the phone don’t sound like
love bears. The tone of his voice communicated what the words didn’t, desire
had waned.

I didn’t help any. I fucked up and pushed up on someone I had a thing with
years ago. I also mentioned it to FD. I know, Black girl fail. Things were
already fragile, then I went a did this. The awesome thing that came out
of that behavior is the next day I felt. Awful. I couldn’t shake it.

I told him about it.

It was in that moment that I learned that no matter what was happening
in my life that I would be responsible to the maintenance of my interior life.

I had a bottom, and tried to allow something material to fill a God sized hole.
No bueno.

I now see that work, home, school, roommate issues, love life, my interior life needs
to be maintained and now one could really do that but me, via God.

I have worked hard on getting acclimated to school. It’s really isolating.
I am also getting use to being around new people.
Making new friends, learning the culture of grad school.

Black girls had a lot of New in ’09.

At times, I was self absorbed and not checking for him. In fact, it was only
in talking with one of my homies that I realized the significance of FD’s had a
career milestone.
He finished his course work. However, I was deep in the
midst of learning how to do APA citations. I didn’t have the bandwith to really

reflect on the significance of this with him.

S.bot insisted on me writing this, but also insisted that I didn’t call.
I was like, I don’t understand, why can’t I do one and not the other
they BOTH constitute a communication. She was like, calling is a no
no, but your blog is your space. So write. Uhhhhhhhhh. Hate her. Love her.

Last Thursday, I had just come back from Brooklyn for Xmas on Sunday,
and I saw his Facebook status update said “Queens bound” I was like wow,

you ain’t speaking but you got status updates. I lost it.

So, I was standing in my room, talking to my daddy, who is on the
West Coast. He was like you sound really sad. I was, plus I was suppose to visit
him, but I was working up the courage to tell him that am not up to it right now.
He asked me, what I was going to do for NYE, I was like “make gumbo or lasagna
and watch CSI”. He was like, “Are you sure.” I mentioned that my support system
was in Brooklyn, and I just got an email from my homie Ian who is doing
a free party. I would just need to find a place to stay, if I went back.”

He responded saying “Go. Then.” I was like “I just got back, doesn’t that look
kinda crazy?” He was like “No. Right now you are in your own way, in your self
pity. OTHER people ain’t in they self pity. Go, be around your friends and enjoy
yourself. Self pity leads to depression. Your four walls at home will be there,
but right now you need to get out of your own way.” “You may hear from him,
you may not, but you need to go where the Love is.”

He was right, being around people that loved me, held me, fed me, was exactly what
I needed.

Shaking her head at my scandalous silver leggings. Ms. Lovely, laid eyes on
me and said I looked like I came from the future. That moment was priceless.

On the train, I found my mind returning to the hurt and, wanting answers, but I stilled
myself. And when it got really real, I just said the first first part of the serenity
prayer on repeat, until I thought about something else. Interior life.

I was also able to reflect on what it was like for me when I moved to New
York. How at times it was a slow grind to make friends, and in other instances,
it was real easy. My first little crew was comprised of
Tiombe, Bilal and Robert

Glasper and while we only ran together for a month or so, it was nice to have
running buddies.
I also had homies at Barnard who were from Oakland. Shit,
I was spoiled.
Time takes time. Luls.

In the same way that I waited for God to put Ms. Fancy from the post below,
on my path, I remain the same with this, bless him, change me.