You know, I’m so tired of trying to humanize my community and my people to a species of people who are not aware of just how depraved they are mentally and spiritually. It’s exhausting that Black people take minutes out of their lives to explain their experiences to a group of people, who think it’s natural to kill their own families, have sex with animals and children, create shows about their depravity (hoarding, strange fetishes, eating disorders, et al); and never think to realize that the people they have tried to oppress (Black people); are the original people of this earth and if it were not for the genes of African people; they wouldn’t even exist.
Black people are 100% HUE-MAN. I’m just going to tell it like it is. In 1996, the white population reached negative birthrate. In less than 35 years, this country will be a majority–minority country for the first time in it’s history. I feel there is a significance to that from a divine standpoint. The earth is cleansing itself of everything that is obsolete and genetic annihilation is the response to the hatred, degradation, disrespect, and violence that white people have inflicted on this earth. They are not owed any apologies. Frankly, many should thank God that Black people are not serial killers like them. We are better than them; and that’s why they hate us.
What I want to talk about today is how white women and their insecurity displays itself whenever they are in the presence of Black women.
Oh, let’s just open up this can of worms.
How many times have some of the sisters here endured stares, glares, and snarky comments from white women who seemed to be intimidated by you–even when you were not paying attention to them. They expect to be validated–even by strangers. Some have the nerve to intrude on your conversations as if their opinion matters–who the hell was talking to them?
The audacity of White privilege just keeps on ticking like a Timex watch.
Now, I can handle myself in any situation verbally or physically if need be, but I get this a lot, particularly now since moving to Georgia in 2004.
White women are weak. And they know it. Black women, even in our silence, holds true power and they can’t figure that out.
A few days ago, I witnessed a situation at my local Wal-Mart an African America cashier enduring this. I was in the 20 items or less line when three white women, who I have to say, reminded one of the Witches of Eastwick movie. As white women age, it’s strange how much they resemble witches. And these 3; dressing up for Halloween would be an oxymoron. The cashier politely instructed them to keep their large items in the cart so she could scan them with her wand; and to put up the smaller items for her to bag. Well, first, they looked at her as though it shocked them at how authoritative she was. She wasn’t being rude; she was keeping control of her line and knew her job. There aren’t any belts on those counters, but the 3 Bitches of Confusion got in a little tizzy–started mumbling under their breath, getting attitudes; making snide comments. One stomped off like a 7 year old and sat on one of the benches in the area and sat their with her arms folded. For what? The cashier didn’t even respond to them. Her demeanor indicated power to them and they couldn’t handle it. Wow. Really?
What did the child do?
You know, I’ve been through this. Over a year ago, one heifer got a mouthful. Just walked into a convenient store to pick up some snacks and literally had to endure a white chick who apparently was having a case of mental irritation and thought she was going to take it out on me. At first, I didn’t react, but when she got sarcastic after I asked a simple question, I let her have it. I wasn’t in any mood for some insecure bitch and her issues that day. She learned what happens when you mess with a grown woman with a large vocabulary.
You get tired of this shit every single day.
And don’t even get me started on when a Black woman walks down the street, dressed to the nines, the hate stares she gets from white women. Black women have a natural sense of style. Hair weave was just hair until Black women made it art. We are fashion.
Most days, I ignore it, but on some level, when I do have a reaction, it’s because I’m human and I’m tired of being the subliminal target of a species of women who only matter to white males when they need a jump-off. Other than that, their lives don’t mean much to them and they get bitter.
Remember that scene in the movie Obsessed with Idris Elba and Beyonce? White women actually got upset that Idris dissed the white chick and chose his woman over her.
White women are pitiful. White men are the result of this, in my opinion. I mean literally. Think about it…they were burned at the stake during the Salem Witch trials and during the Inquisition, many were brutally tortured. Who is the number one victim of serial killers? How many have been sexually abused by males in their families? How many raped by so-called boyfriends? It’s no wonder these bitches have so many disorders.
The audacity of a Black man being true to his BLACK WIFE; and being so deeply in love with her, no skinny, shapeless, flat-ass white chick could break their bond, no matter how she tried.
It’s not my fault they got the raw end of the genetic stick. Being a defect has implications, yes.
The fuckery for this “she-thing” to expect a Black queen to acknowledge something whose ancestor’s beginning was from a cave.
No matter what we do, Black women have an energy that envelops their environment. Our ancestors were the first mothers of this earth and queens. From the womb of a Black woman from East Africa–ALL LIFE came. We are the beginning…and WE are the future. We carry that within us.
Comparing a white woman to a Black woman is like comparing a child to an adult.
Don’t hate me because I don’t esteem you. You could never be me–even if I gave you instructions.
You’re not my creation nor is your identity my responsibility.