white privilege

If gentrification bothers you, the first thing you have to ask yourself is “Am I part of the problem?” The world is better when it’s more diverse

Recently I went through another round of unfriending on Facebook. It keeps things tidy, the arguments thoughtful and my head from exploding. This time around I just got rid of any white person that felt passionate about "certain political topics," but wasn't showing up for people of color, as we watch the meteoric rise of fascism in America and police violence. I’m not obligated to educate anyone for free, especially if they don’t appear to be absorbing what I’m saying or having the tough conversations on their wall with their peers.

When you’re married to the only white man in your apartment building—and one of the very few in the neighborhood—you, as a woman, make a habit of observing him, especially if you’re a woman of color or a mixed race woman. “Will he use his social privilege for good or evil?” is the simple question, but evaluating him in those terms is not so simple.

Here’s what it means to be unapologetically Black: full lips, natural curves, kinky curly coils, shaded brown skin, and thus relentless criticism for being what was once believed to be despicable and unworthy of many people (particularly white).

Yes, once upon a time, our skin complexion was too grungy for pools, our juicy lips weren't allowed to share water fountains, and our round bottoms weren't welcome to sit any and everywhere.

At some point, Black became “in” amongst the white race (or maybe it always was, secretly, of course), beginning with the tanning and plastic surgery, and now our overall style, thanks to celebrities like Miley Cyrus and Kylie Jenner, who have blatantly stole what was once ours and made it theirs. Or so the rest of the world would have you believe.