He Chose “Bitches” over Me….Musing on My Brother

As many of you know, my brother is one of my most favorite people in the world. He is funny, handsome, has a dark sense of humor think “Black Mike Judge” meets Richard Pryor. Lastly he is extremely charming and tries to be there for momma. As a Black working dad who tries to participate in his children’s lives as much as possible he keeps me grounded in many ways.

As of late, we have been having beef, Why? His anger and how he expresses it.

Now we have been known to dance around our mutual disagreements. Dude is an avid Mike Savage listener. I kid you not.

He would say something anti-immigrant, or homophobic. And I would decide whether or not to engage with him.

If it was a “not engage” I would be like “blood, Imma call you tomorrow, because clearly you are on personality number 252 and I need number 28 today, later”. And that would be that.

If it were an “engage” I would be like “what do you mean by that?” We have blown up at each other, made up, etc.

Well, as of late I have been insistent about him raging at me about shit he does not like in his life, mainly his love bear who he often refers to as “bitch assed bitch” when he is upset. This can be twice, three times a week. o.O

Now deep in my heart, I knew I was going to have to account for this. Meaning I knew that the vitriol he directed at her was going to come my way. How could it not?
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It hurts when standing up for yourself means having less communication with someone you Love.

However, God did not put me here to be someone’s (auditory) rug.

Words can be Love. Words can do Violence.

If they don’t do violence, let a white person call a Black person a “nigger” publicly and see what happens. (And honestly, I historically do not spell out the B word, BUT because of my contention with rap blogs and how they will SHOW women’s bodies but not type out the B word or the N word. Really. Sounds like corporate sponsor bullshit to me).

I hope that my brother is able to see that I am standing up for myself on principal. Even if he doesn’t I have to.

I will call for Thanksgiving, if I am up to it, or Christmas for sure. Other than that, I am all set until I am spoken to like a human being.

I am not an object and neither is he. #LovenAndChangeareAlwaysPossible.

 

Blogging + Social Media + Dating As a Black Feminist

I had a turning point on my blog when I wrote in Feburary of 2010, How Dilla and Zora Helped Me Claim My Crush.

Not only was the post popular, but by and large on of the reasons what I wrote it is because a reader @mistermattnash chided me for being “so political” and asked me to “take the combat boots off and put on some heels”. Well,  I did not agree with his language around gender representations, and I told him. However, given the fact that he is one of my oldest readers (5 years?) I listened. And I wrote about dating.

Because I date and I write about my dating life on my blog I have a pretty stealth attitude about hollering at boo’s, on being attached to them on social media.

Why? Because I have to deliberate about how I interact with folks because when I come online I do not need to be triggered by 5011 racist, sexist things, nor do I need to see an old boo with a new boo, nor do I need to feel like I am censoring MY VOICE because a boo snack is reading. #AllCity is la femme libre.

Why? Because this is MY space. I create it, I cultivate it, I grow it, it is mine. Well, really it is both mine and ours because I share with you all.

Now this became clear to me when Filthy broke up with me nearly three years ago (time flies) and I wanted to call him and Sbot said, “don’t call.”

Me: I want to call.

Sbot: Don’t call. He broke up with you that means you leave him alone. He is in his space.

Me: Pouting. Then I said, “Well I am going to blog about it instead”.

Sbot: Okay, that is fine YOUR BLOG IS YOUR SPACE.

Me: OHHHH word? Ok, I get what you are saying now.

So, when I am dating someone, and I get the sense that we might be kicking it for a while, it always comes to that point where I have to tell them, for a few reasons.

First, they may find it on their own, and then I would have to back pedal and I would look out of pocket. #nobueno.

Second, I may write about them, and that is the kind of thing you tell someone about. Side bar. Good lawd, I was mortified when #aquemini read AND LEFT a comment on my blog post about him. It felt surreal.

Now, when it comes to Goldy, she ain’t really on social media like that but I made her a tumblr, because there are little links and things that I be wanting to send her throughout the day and I HATE when people send me e-mail spam so I try not to do it to others. She also don’t really mess around on my blog, because guess what, It’s My Space. And honestly, there are probably some things that she doesn’t WANT to read on here, so she doesn’t come around. When I write something I am proud of, she may read it, and then start editing it because that how she gets down. We are not on FB, she may look over my shoulder at my twitter, or at my tumblr, and I will say scoot back jack.

Now this brings me to a recent tumblr experience. You have to understand that after comps I am not really taking shit off of any one. Writing 49 pages in 72 hours with nearly, I don’t know, 80 citations taught me some things. Mainly that if someone ain’t coming correct, they need to sit down. Comps was like academic boot camp; for Marines.
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So, while studying for comps I saw Filthy pop up on my tumblr, and I clicked on it, and was taken to a personal narrative. I was like wooooooah. Too much info. We haven’t spoke in almost two years and I am reading about him. o.O

Now he was my friend and I still consider him to be a friend. I stand by the idea of keeping the door cracked for folks who want to make amends; folks who have grown. I also know that there is an inappropriate way and an appropriate way to do things. So I waited, talked to Court Bear my dating coach about saying something to him, then I decided to wait until he did it again. Well, he did.

So I reached out via email and we had an exchange that was pretty cordial and benign until he said “Well your tumblr is public”.

I flipped out.

Just because a digital space is public doesn’t not mean that it is lawless.

In fact, I have had this conversation with men a few times on the internet, a few of whom I had to block.

The same thinking can be extended to analyzing a woman in public. Well “You did wear that short assed dress outside to go grocery shopping”. So? My body is mine.

My blog is both mine and public.

So let me say two things here.

I wrote anonymously for years. And now because my name is attached to my blog, I have to be prepared to answer for what I say online, in person. Trust me, it happens. It is fine, it forces me to keep it even because a blog post is a record.

Second, I know that if I say something on the internet, that people may or may not respond. I get that. I can also speak back to what they say and do. My digital spaces are not lawless.

Black girls have to deal with enough micro and hyper aggressions in the material world (work, school, the train, the bar) to be subjected to them in the digital world (Tumblr, Facebook, Blogs) as well, and remain silent. Full stop.

So, I had been meaning to write this.

Do you friend boo snacks on social media?

What happens when you stop dealing with each other?

Do you have a social media policy for your boo snacks?

On the Racial and Gender Implications of Facebook’s “Timeline”.

Talk about the ways in which race and gender structures social media experiences.

Peep.

Suzanne Labarre writes at FastCo Design,

Timeline, by contrast, includes an actual timeline, organized in tiles across two columns like a virtual noteboard, that lets you present your autobiography from birth to now. You do it in your own words and with your own pictures, which means you’re free to highlight the milestones (the wedding, say) and bury the embarrassing moments (the bachelorette party). Then you top it off with a mega-huge panoramic photo of yourself or, for the camera-shy among us, a “unique image that represents you best,” to quote the site. The tiles within your timeline can also include apps: One for tracking your music (and letting others listen to it as well through Spotify), and another to track the movies you watched (with Netflix), and another to track the number of miles you ran, and even the precise route you ran (with Nike+). In short, it centralizes and publicizes all of the details in your life that you never fully log.

All of which should sound astonishingly familiar to anyone who has been following Felton’s career. Felton spent years obsessively logging his quotidian doings, from what he ate every day to how many photographs he took, then published the data in sets of beautifully minimal infographics. His Feltron Annual Reports were a smash. Recently, he elaborated on the idea to create Daytum (with Ryan Case, also now at Facebook), an app that allows users to generate their own data-viz diaries. Timeline is the same basic conceit, except the data at hand has become pictures, musical tastes, movies, and whatnot. Watch the introductory video of Timeline above, then watch this old video of Daytum below. Note how the basic UI–the large tiles, the side-by-side columns–is the same.

As I read this I thought, to what extent does Felton, User Interface designer for Facebook who is White, middle class, and presumably heterosexual  have to be concerned with stalking, or violence? How may this information in timeline may be used against marginalized bodies.

Facebook is used for benign stalking, don’t get it twisted. A public archive of a woman’s history means that it can be used for aggressive stalking as well in ways that we may have not anticipated.

Women.

Queer folks.

Social Justices organizers.

Why would I allow my autobiographical information to be stored publicly on a website that I do not control?

Shit, this weekend, I learned upon being admitted into the ER that the reason why they asked for my ID and mailing address (and not my insurance card)  is because “health care” identity theft is on the rise. Meaning people steal identities NOT only for credit card info, but to use other peoples health insurance. It is NOT a game.

You get my drift?

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1. It is dangerous for women in general, and women of color in particular to have her whereabouts posted, and archived historically.

2. For those of us who do social justice work, anonymity is paramount. Enslaved folks didn’t go yelling in front of massa “yassa bawse, we’s gone try and free ourselves tomorrow. Just wanted you to know bawse.” I wrote THIS BLOG anonymously for 5 years until I got comfortable using my name.

3. Stalking and violence is real for women.

4. Corporations pay for our information, and cookies track our search habits. With the ways in which FB is archiving and displaying our histories, anonymity will be for the elite. Not only will working folks be low income, but they won’t be able to hide or be able to be discrete.

5. In a society organized by and for men, we need to mindful of how technology in general and social media in particular impacts different bodies differently.

On Facebook time line.

Here

Here

and

Here.

What do you think of Facebook’s timeline?

Does “Timeline” make women more vulnerable?

 

Will Learning How to Pole Dance Keep Your Hetero Man Out of the Strip Club?

The homie Britni Danielle @ Clutch has an interesting article up, “Please, Baby Please” about the politics of Black heterosexual relationships.

The piece starts off in response to an article by Janelle Harris “Whatever it Takes to Please a Man”.

Janelle discusses how she considers that when her boo snack goes to the strip club that it is right up there with cheating. I appreciate her post because it is honest. It is not easy to write publicly about things about yourself that you are not proud of. I have done it before. It is not a game.

I also find Janelle’s piece interesting for two reasons.

First, she assumes that she can satisfy her boo snack by learning how to pole dance, and this will keep him from going to the strip club.

The thought that came to mind is paying a woman to allow you to touch her is an act of power in an economy that does not pay women the same as their male counterparts. If women earned the same as men for doing the same jobs and if women were trained and allowed and supported to do high income earning jobs, there would be fewer working in strip clubs. (Goldy and I tried to go to a strip club two months ago, they would not let us in. There is a post collecting dust in the drafts section about that excursion. o.O)

Second, Janelle is acutely aware of the fact that she is trying to be superwoman, she knows that it isn’t achievable, but is trying her damnedest to do it anyway.

During comps, at night I would read parts of Siohban Brook’s “Unequal Desires: Race and Erotic Capital in the Stripping Industry” which is a book about how race, skin color and body size impacts the money that women earn as strippers. She actually goes into the strip clubs and interviews men. I am inspired by and influenced by her work. Reading her work kept me going.

The whole time I am reading Janelle’s piece I am thinking of the fact that Brooks went into the strip clubs in the Bronx and in Midtown in New York city and asked men why they go. I also wondered what does Janelle’s gentleman friend think about her ideas around pole dancing and cheating. Because baby let me tell you, people buy what makes them feel comfortable.

So, in Britini’s post she says it makes sense that someone does the things that they need to do to make their boo snack happy. If this means, for instance, taking a cooking class to make the kind of food that your boo thang likes; then, this makes sense.

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 if they thought it was necessary for both parties to cater to one another in a relationship, and if they looked at women who seemingly went above and beyond the call of duty to please her mate any differently. To their credit, all of my brethren confirmed that they love to both please and be pleased by their woman. The guys felt giving was a necessary part of a relationship because it showed that both parties valued each other. But with one caveat. While they would like their woman do whatever freaky, sneaky (or otherwise) thing they desired, they overwhelmingly agreed that she should never do anything that made her uncomfortable just because he might like it, because they, for damn sure, wouldn’t either.

I thought that there was a bit of posturing here because of the issue of oral sex. I theorize that Black women are reluctant to perform it because of “the ho tape”, peace to Josephine. If I were Britni I would have asked them, if their lady friend does not perform oral sex, does this change how he see’s her? I would have also asked them if they would reciprocate.

She then goes on to conclude that,

On the contrary, today love is seen as something relegated for chumps. If a man does something nice for his woman/wife, he is called “whipped,” a “punk,” or less than a man. And if a woman wants to go out of her way to try something new to please her man, she’s sometimes called “desperate,” “thirsty,” or charged with having low self-esteem.

While I do agree that there is some cynicism and skepticism around Love, I would conclude that before we can talk about, or while we talk about the politics of gender relations between Black men and women, we also have to talk about how we Love ourselves.

For a fact, dead assed serious, the more I have come to Love myself over the last four years, the more it is reflected in not only the kind of person that I attract, but also the kind of person that I choose to date and remain with.

Notice the distinction between attract and choose to date.

Last year, while dating a giver, it upended me, because while I was interested in the relationship, I wasn’t ready to go whole hog. It was a bugged out experience to have someone be so daggumit nice to me, and for me not to want to run off and get murried. To just be able to sit still and enjoy being doted on was lightweight revolutionary not only for my sense of self, but also in terms of setting the standard for all future boo snacks.

I do think that there is a reading of being invested in someone as being willing to be vulnerable. I also think that being nice can be perceived as being “whipped” or “thirsty”, but I think we need to rethink both how we see Loving others and Loving ourselves as well.

In fact, earlier this summer a friend, a little bear who is younger than me, suspected that her girlfriend was doing some shiesty shit. She said she wanted to stay with her. I asked her, dead ass, “What does loving yourself look like in this moment?” #Ummhmm.

What I am getting at is the ability to Love ourselves is connected to our ability to Love other people. Trust, having loved a selfish one or two there is a world of a difference.

Being vulnerable doesn’t mean being someone’s rug. The goal is to be vulnerable y fearless. #boom.

What’s the Difference Between a “Ho”, Housewife and Your Sister?


Nothing.

I woke up thinking about the way the women are put into categories and are ranked hierarchically.

For example, on any given Sunday in a barbershop, you can hear hetero African American men saying, “You can’t turn a “ho” into a housewife”.

Or on any given Friday night you can find hetero Black women saying “Girl, he wants a lady in the sheets, and a freak in the bed.”

I am sensitive to how women are put into the sexual binary (ho/housewife) than ranked as Loved/ain’t worth shit because I am currently in the thick of creating the arguments for a paper on Black women’s sexuality.

I am also teaching gender theory, so to watch how my students are either uncomfortable, or comfortable with being made aware of how they rank and treat others is enlightening.

In productive meeting with my boss last Wednesday  I said that I included a section on “Naming, Hearing and Seeing Black Women’s Sexuality” because “being read as deviant has fractured the space for Black women to discuss their sexuality.”

She then turned around and said she was going to contradict me. And while she did not contradict me, she forced me to see how powerful the word “fracture” was in that sentence.

By using fracture, I meant impacted and broken. She read it to say that a fracture does entail small breaks, but fractures create space, small spaces. And if a fracture doesn’t heal, like a bone, then it breaks completely; there is a big space.

I was like holy shit.

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This was riveting.

She finally said that I was “reclaiming deviance.”

Context. In order for US chattel slavery to “work” Black women had to be described as subhuman and “natural” whores. We were lewd, lascivious and deviant.

I mean really, in order to enslave a woman, and her children, and rape her, and have her work in the fields picking cotton, slave owners had to figure out a way to make us “natural” whores.

While I know that in my day to day life, there is a reclamation of  “being deviant”. I had not idea that the shit was in my work as well. #Ha.

With regard to reclaiming deviance, I still didn’t know what she meant. So she used the example of how “Queer” has a history of being a derogatory term.

Light bulb.

I then said, wait the implications of this are huge because by saying this, it is almost like the “Slavery in the US benefited Black people argument”, you know the one about the “happy slave”. I also said that I am not comfortable defending that publicly.

She said that I didn’t have to be, but I should just think about my ideas of deviance and Black women’s sexuality and what that can possibly mean for my work.

It isn’t so much of being deviant, as it isn’t allowing white and black historical generated ideologies of what “proper Black femininity” (ho/housewife) looks like shape how I roll.

So, what’s the difference between a ho, housewife an your sister? Nuffin.