I am sure you all know the story right? White woman gets an education that was meant to go to a black woman by blacking up.
Kinda like Soul Man but without Thomas C Howell.
And in real life.
She keeps pretending to be black and teaches black studies and tells black women how to do their hair.
Her parents out her as actually being white after a FUCKING DECADE of this shit.
Black Twitter is angry as fuck.
White Twitter talks about Caitlyn Jenner and if 'he can feel like a woman' (vomits) then why can't Rachel 'feel black'.
I am not even making this shit up.
So here are my thoughts, ranty as they may be, on the issue.
First off, and this is really important to remember... CAITLYN JENNER IS A WOMAN. SHE DOESN'T 'FEEL' LIKE A WOMAN, SHE ISN'T 'PRETENDING' TO BE A WOMAN, SHE ISN'T 'ACTING' LIKE A WOMAN. SHE. IS. A. FUCKING. WOMAN.
Dear white people conflating race with gender and making this about a rich white woman. Fuck you.
NO. Put down the transgender issues where it comes to Rachel Dolezal They. Are. Not. The. Same. Thing. NO.
Why so afraid to condemn a white woman that you have to derail and talk about gender assignment? No.
When you say 'I don't see colour' you are denying my heritage to make yourself more comfortable about my oppression. Stop.
I can *kind of* understand why a black woman would try to pass as white to achieve in a system that is inherently racist.
Rachel Dolezal is playing at being me while retaining white privilege because at ANY TIME she can 'revert' to the safer situation. A bit like that Pulp song Common People.
Only in real life.
Am appalled at the amount of people trying ANYTHING to find an excuse for Rachel Dolezal. For crying out loud, this isn't 1970. The Black and White Minstrels are no longer a thing. Blackface. Is. Fucking. OFFENSIVE.
Been nearly a week and I can't quite get my head around the fact that this Rachel Dolezal shit is still going. If she really was black she would be forgotten by now.But you know, it's cool. Lets defend a white woman stealing from black women. Again.
And let's excuse her by saying 'maybe she feels black like trans women feel like women.' Fuck. Off. With. That. Shit.
Trans women *ARE* women. Rachel Dolezal is not black.
See how easy that was? Trans women are women. Rachel Dolezal white, privileged, lying thief. You are welcome.
There are always differences in the narrative where it comes to black women v white women. And it plays into racism, sexism and ableism.
Oh she had mental health issues = white women.I thought the crazy bitch had a gun = black women.Do you see now?
Then there was the kind, enquiring soul who asked 'How black do you have to be to call yourself black anyways?'
WELL NOT BEING WHITE IS A GOOD START.
This whole thing makes me feel sick.
Sick of my heritage being appropriated so that white women 'belong' while they hold their bags tighter near a black man.
Sick of my black sisters being labelled and put into stereotypical boxes to make it easier to steal our culture.
And I am sick of having to explain this over and over and over again to y'all and I have had enough.
If you are trying to find excuses for Rachel Dolezal you are part of the problem.
Fuck you.
Tuesday, 16 June 2015
Friday, 12 June 2015
On Labels - Guest Post
Another heart stoppingly good post from the author of this awesomeness on the metal community
Content warning: transphobia
“I don’t see why we need labels, we’re all human”.
We’ve all heard it before; the whining voice that seeps out like a sad fart and lingers for too long. I’d like to laugh it off as a hollow statement, but I can’t. I can’t, because I looked closer and saw the terrifying power structures this statement supports and I’m scared and angry.
Most recently, these words were said to me in the context of gender identity, so I’ll focus on that for now.
It’s not surprising that, more often than not, these words are uttered by people who’ve never needed to use labels to talk about their gender. They don’t need labels, so they don’t see why anyone else should need them either. They don’t need labels, because their gender identity is treated as default by society. They don’t need labels, because they can go their whole lives without their gender identity ever becoming a major issue. These words are said in the context of privilege.
I don’t have the privilege of never having my gender questioned. I live on the front line of cissexism. It’s a minefield, and sometimes labels are the only protection I have.
I need labels because I am trying to navigate a world that tells me I’m not real; a world that considers my existence a threat, a nuisance, an anomaly, or a joke at best.
I need labels when strangers point and laugh at me in the street.
I need labels when I hear people whisper “is it a boy or a girl?”
Or when they don’t bother to whisper.
Or when I’m scared of going clothes shopping because of the looks of disapproval I get in either department.
When people use transphobic slurs, to my face.
When people tell me my pronouns are too difficult, and that they’re going to carry on using the wrong ones, intentionally.
When people tell me what name they want to call me, based on what they think is appropriate, rather than what my name is.
When these were people I had considered “friends”.
I need labels, because they allow me to claim back my humanity. Labels help me survive the daily onslaught of transphobia, because they give me dignity. When the world tells me I’m not real, I have a label that tells me I am. When others question the validity of my identity, humiliate me or reduce me to something I’m not, I often believe them. But my labels are still there, like a rock for me to hold onto.
I need labels, because without words to describe myself, I would disappear.
Labels allow my identity to flourish. They allow me to grow into the person I was always meant to be. They empower me with a certainty and confidence that I can use to make a future for myself. They say: I know who I am, and I have a life ahead of me.
How dare you try and take that away from me.
Content warning: transphobia
“I don’t see why we need labels, we’re all human”.
We’ve all heard it before; the whining voice that seeps out like a sad fart and lingers for too long. I’d like to laugh it off as a hollow statement, but I can’t. I can’t, because I looked closer and saw the terrifying power structures this statement supports and I’m scared and angry.
Most recently, these words were said to me in the context of gender identity, so I’ll focus on that for now.
It’s not surprising that, more often than not, these words are uttered by people who’ve never needed to use labels to talk about their gender. They don’t need labels, so they don’t see why anyone else should need them either. They don’t need labels, because their gender identity is treated as default by society. They don’t need labels, because they can go their whole lives without their gender identity ever becoming a major issue. These words are said in the context of privilege.
I don’t have the privilege of never having my gender questioned. I live on the front line of cissexism. It’s a minefield, and sometimes labels are the only protection I have.
I need labels because I am trying to navigate a world that tells me I’m not real; a world that considers my existence a threat, a nuisance, an anomaly, or a joke at best.
I need labels when strangers point and laugh at me in the street.
I need labels when I hear people whisper “is it a boy or a girl?”
Or when they don’t bother to whisper.
Or when I’m scared of going clothes shopping because of the looks of disapproval I get in either department.
When people use transphobic slurs, to my face.
When people tell me my pronouns are too difficult, and that they’re going to carry on using the wrong ones, intentionally.
When people tell me what name they want to call me, based on what they think is appropriate, rather than what my name is.
When these were people I had considered “friends”.
I need labels, because they allow me to claim back my humanity. Labels help me survive the daily onslaught of transphobia, because they give me dignity. When the world tells me I’m not real, I have a label that tells me I am. When others question the validity of my identity, humiliate me or reduce me to something I’m not, I often believe them. But my labels are still there, like a rock for me to hold onto.
I need labels, because without words to describe myself, I would disappear.
Labels allow my identity to flourish. They allow me to grow into the person I was always meant to be. They empower me with a certainty and confidence that I can use to make a future for myself. They say: I know who I am, and I have a life ahead of me.
How dare you try and take that away from me.
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| Erica, 19. Likes: Cats, art, cycling, toilet humour. Dislikes: Cheese, underwear, trimming my toenails. |
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