Is my work such an integral part of me, that if you don’t get it, I can’t fuck with you?
Is this being dogmatic? Or am I just being honest?
Would I even have to ask myself these questions if I were born male?
These questions came out a conversation with @hotcombpics this morning.
As many of you know I have written about accepting the fact that as much as I hate Bleek Gilliam, I have serious Bleek Gilliam tendencies…hence my hate.
We hate the shit we hate because it reminds us of ourselves.
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As a Black girl in East Oakland, I had to learn to think critically on my feet as Oakland went from pretty Black town to Crackzilla monster overnight in 1986. Why does this time period matter and how is it related? For me it speaks to how I had the develop the courage to trust myself and my instincts. About people, about relationships, when and where to walk, whether or not to go to a party, whether or not to challenge a person as they may have a gun and me talking back could mean losing my life.
In someways my willingness to stand up for myself is rooted in the fact that the cost of learning to think critically is that I can’t do it any other way now.
If I learned to trust my instincts at 15, I can’t stop doing it at 30, even if trusting them means that people don’t know what the fuck I am talking about, or even if it means going against the grain, even it it means losing a friendship that I cherish.
#damnGina.
File this under the costs of being a high achieving Black girl.
Thoughts?