On Seeking Forgiveness and Being Undeserving Of It

It's funny how people didn't care that their vote would increase the cost of or outright eliminate healthcare options, terrorize communities with masked bootleg police and the U.S. military, devastate the job market, increase the cost of living, and dismantle and eliminate food assistance programs and other social services for millions of people because they somehow thought that Black folx, Brown folx, Indigenous folx, trans folx, and immigrants would be the only people harmed...until they found themselves also being hurt because, you know, all of the things mentioned above impact everyone and not just a couple of communities voters felt were expendable and disposable.

It's also funny how these same voters begged and pleaded like Keith Sweat for their president to save them for months on end, only to realize late last month that they would not be saved because their president had essentially used them to increase his wealth and power.

Hilarious.

Now, suddenly, it's y'all begging forgiveness on TikTok and Instagram for "mistakenly" voting for y'all's president (some of y'all in the last three presidential elections) and putting us in this autocracy.

Now it’s, "I made a mistake" and "We have to stick together."

Y'all can miss me with all of that.

I can care about you as a person, even if you don't care about me and mine, because I don't want to see anyone hurting and struggling. I'm a humanist and an empathic being. Even if you hate me, I want you to be okay. But let's keep it 100: you did not make a mistake. You knew what you were doing. All of you did. So nah, we are not "sticking together." I do not forgive, and I definitely will not forget.

Y'all need to learn that empathy only goes so far.

I do not have it in me to forgive you for willingly hoping others would suffer so you could thrive under a hateful regime. And I know I'm not the only one feeling this way.

Y'all expect people you harm to forgive you because you live in a country where white supremacy has trained y'all to abuse others and expect forgiveness. It ain't happenin' this time, and a bunch of y'all are starting to see this, and you're unraveling. A part of me feels sorry for you, for your despair. But it's a small part, because y'all have made it very clear that this was supposed to be your "survival of the fittest" moment and you're realizing that a whole bunch of y'all ain't the fittest. And knowing that probably sucks. But...well...

I hope that you survive what you've inflicted on all of us, because that's what I want for everyone. And most of y'all will survive because of the work and community programs created and led by the people you were hoping would be harmed by all of this. But that's all that you'll get from me, and all you should get from them. That's more than enough. And if you have a problem with hearing that?

Better go and embrace some of that greatness you voted for to keep you fed and wealthy while "liberals" decide whether to help y'all at all.

On Candace, Anti-Blackness, Self-Hatred, and Begging for the Hand of the Massa

What’s always wild to me about Black folx who are so stuck in anti-Blackness, self-hatred, and white supremacist ideology is that they spend their entire lives hoping, praying, that people of pallor will care about them and give them the head pats and validation that they so desperately yearn for, for the willingness to hate and help oppress their own people.

These Black folx never receive the recognition they believe they deserve from whiteness for participating in harming their own people, because they never fully comprehend that they are tools of the master, discarded by whiteness once they’ve served their purpose. They ultimately find themselves with nowhere to go, isolated from their own people, with no other person or societal institution of pallor interested in taking them in because they’ve been drained of their perceived usefulness and have burned every possible bridge to support and care they once had. When this happens, they, of course, try to crawl back to the Black collective, hoping we’ll forgive and forget. Suddenly, they’re “Black again,” trying to endear themselves to the Black collective, adopting or re-adopting AAVE. Suddenly, we’re their brothers and sisters again! They know how it feels to be “held down by the man!” So, after they “prove themselves” with a few phrases and colloquialisms, they believe Black folx should forgive them, let them come back in from the cold, and invite ‘em back to the cookout.

Instead, the Black collective ignores their asses and leaves ’em out there in the streets alone because they’ve proven they cannot be trusted to take care of Blackness - ours or even their own.

So, defeated, they crawl back to whiteness, living on the outskirts of white supremacy, hoping they’ll do or say the right thing that will once again get them the comfort of whiteness that they ultimately yearn for. They do things like cry and have an online, videotaped breakdown over not being invited to the memorial service of a white supremacist bigot that they buddied up to for years, even while said white supremacist bigot spent years openly and happily talking about how he believed Black women were “inferior” and “lacked the brain power” to do anything other than procreate. And after all that hootin’ and hollerin’ and carryin’ on?

They still find themselves with no invite, on the outside looking in, hoping that one day the master will let them back on the plantation or Black folx will let them back in out of pity.

That one day never comes.

What a wild existence.

Sh-- wouldn’t happen to me, though.

[Image description: A group of Black people laughing. Above them are the words, “The Black Collective’s reaction to Candace Owens being upset that she wasn’t invited to Charlie Kirk’s memorial service.”]

Image description: A group of Black people laughing. Above them are the words, “The Black Collective’s reaction to Candace Owens being upset that she wasn’t invited to Charlie Kirk’s memorial service.”

On Amber Ruffin and the Amazing Disappearing White House Correspondents Dinner

Back in March of this year, comedienne Amber Ruffin was announced as the featured entertainer at this year’s White House Correspondents Association dinner. It was all set in stone. The event was a go. Amber is an incredible comedienne, a pioneer in late-night television (when she joined Late Night with Seth Meyers' writing team, she became the first Black woman to write for a late-night network talk show in the United States), and more than deserving of the spotlight she was offered.

And then, during a podcast appearance, Amber called out the hateful, murderous actions of y'all's president and his cronies and made clear her focus at the White House Correspondents dinner would largely be on the president's actions.

And just like that, Amber Ruffin was out.

And just like that, Eugene Daniels, the White House Correspondents Association's president, said the group wanted to "refocus" the annual event on journalistic excellence and wouldn’t have a comedian going forward.

And just like that, y'all's president declared that the Correspondents dinner was no longer an event that acting presidents needed to attend, defeating the purpose of the whole thing, because he was obviously uncomfortable with his massive flaws being on display.

I posted about this back in March, as I felt it was a red flag for the abuses of Black women I saw on the horizon as well as the deterioration of free speech. Most of y'all didn't engage with that post.

But a whole lot of y'all engaged with my posts around Stephen Colbert and Jimmy Kimmel.

And while those cancellations are scary and emblematic of the direction we're going in as a country, guess what?

So was Amber's situation.

Where was y'all's outrage then? Wanna talk about that? Of course you don't. Y'all ain't ready for that kind of conversation.

Y'all also ain't ready to talk about the Venn Diagram of liberal viewpoints, anti-Blackness, and anti-Black woman and Black femme ideologies that so many of y'all be doin' the butterfly and the Tootsie Roll on while patting yourself on the back for standing up for something.

Holla at me when y'all are ready to chat.

[Image description: A picture of Black female comedienne Amber Ruffin, laughing while sitting on a red couch.]

Image description: A picture of Black female comedienne Amber Ruffin, laughing while sitting on a red couch.

On Crossing Streets, Clutching Pearls, and the "Danger" Debate

It's wild to me that people of pallor still do that thing to me where they see me coming and cross the street, clutch their purse, pull their kids "out of harm's way", or recoil in general when they see me in a store, restaurant, or out on a walk, minding my Black business. After 43 years on this planet, with at least 33 of those years spent observing this nonsense, I can't help but be amused by how ridiculous many people of pallor are with these ignorant antics.

People of pallor, I think I can speak for almost all Black people when I say that - and I cannot emphasize this enough - WE DON'T WANT YOU.

We're not out to get you. When we're out and about, living our lives? We don't want to engage with you unless we have to. We don't want anything in your purse.

And we definitely don't want yo' kids.

The overwhelming majority of us aren't out here to "endanger" people of pallor. We seriously don't want to be involved in any messiness with y'all, no matter how miniscule it may seem. We're just out here trying to live in a world that hates us, yet we're always painted as a threat to said world. It's preposterous. It's weak. It's old. And I think I can speak for most Black folx when I say that the less interactions and engagements we have to have with most people of pallor, the better.

In this economy? In this increasingly hostile country we live in?

No thank you.

Y'all are, and continue to be, more of a threat to Black bodies than we are to y'all, and you don't need to Google that to know that it's true.

I'm at the store, pink headphones on, listenin' to Clipse and buyin' some Triscuits, not even thinkin' of you, while you out here fleeing in terror and trying to get the attention of a staff member because melanin has "invaded" what you believe is "your space" and you feel squirmy in your white supremacist, anti-Black tummy.

Chile, please.

Your stomach feels that bad, you probably need to be grabbin' some Triscuits too.

On Trey Reed and Strange Fruit

TW: Anti-black violence, harm, black body trauma, murder.

A 21-year-old student named Trey Reed from Grenada, Mississippi, was found hanging from a tree this morning on the campus of Delta State University at 7:00 a.m.

Authorities closed the campus after discovering Trey's body, but made sure to emphasize that no lockdown was put in place and that there is no danger to the campus.

The local authorities and the Delta State University administration do not believe there was any foul play. They're all expecting things to "get back to normal" in the next day or so.

And, to top it off, the local authorities said nothing about Trey's death to the public until this afternoon. THE AFTERNOON.

And that all leads me to a whole lot of "don't believes":

I don't believe for one minute that Trey hung himself from a tree and completed suicide. Black people do not hang themselves from trees.

I don't believe for one minute that Delta State University's campus is not a current and present danger to students, staff, and faculty, especially the Black and Brown folx attending classes or working there.

I don't believe Delta State will address the matter if it is found not to be a suicide. Nor will local law enforcement.

I don't believe that there will be any kind of resolution to this horrible situation that will not cosign the ongoing understanding that Black people live with every day: that in the United States, strange fruit still hangs from the poplar tree.

I don’t believe we'll ever have a clear answer to any of this.

I so hope in my soul that Trey and his family find justice in this, but I live in the United States, so I don't expect anything but disappointment and trauma.

I'm so sorry, Trey. Whatever happened, you did not deserve this kind of pain.