What Black History Memes to Me…

What Black History Memes to Me…

I’ve been seeing this sort of thing a lot on social media lately, and I have to admit– I have laughed every.single.time. I actually screenshot this image off one of my Instagram friend’s timelines and have since shared it with a bunch of people. Of course the other side of this coin has been seeing negative posts about this very thing, calling for black people to “do better” and not continue to disrespect our ancestors and history. I’m writing this blog post to say– settle down everyone, this shit is hilarious.

A large recurring theme in this particular blog is the concept of coping mechanisms to deal with the pain of life. I think this idea has negative connotation but surely there can’t be anything wrong with searching for healthy and more productive ways to channel your negative emotions? Flipping through the channels one day, I stumbled upon a Roots marathon. Awesome, right? Yeah not so much. The next day I had to go out in public and face the world again, white people included. There are no words to describe the hatred that boiled up inside of me laying eyes upon white people again after having watched a film that chronicled the cruel treatment of slaves throughout several generations. I mean, how DARE they? And how COULD they? And what made THEM believe that they were somehow not only better than us, but so much better that they had the right to regard us worse than animals! Normally when a blue eyed blonde girl steps on my foot on the metro it’s not a big deal—it’s just the nature of the crowded train. But that day, I was ready to fight. This privileged WHITE BITCH had the nerve to step on my foot like I didn’t even matter. She said excuse me but it sounded pretty condescending to me, and I swear all I wanted to do was punch her in her shiny pink lips!

On any given day I am definitely and absolutely not a racist—but the day after watching Roots had definitely turned me into one. Look up any video on YouTube or any news article and somewhere buried deep in the comments section you will find that racism not only exists but it’s not as quiet as it was maybe 20 years ago. In the age of social media and the internet, people seem to feel more anonymous than ever before and thus free to say whatever whacky thing they wish; be it racist, sexist, agist or just plain stupid (hence this blog!) I still don’t know how I feel about white people exclaiming “Ain’t nobody got time for that!” because it becomes unclear as to whether they are embracing the lovable randomness of Sweet Brown’s odd declaration or just making fun of black people and our culture in general. However, I am definitely not an activist and I don’t care to explore or question the motives of white people or other races. All I know is that when some shit is funny I am going to laugh.

I believe that one of most beautiful thing about black people is our ability to maintain our sense of humor and religion during desperate times. All the black history memes tickle me because it’s a reminder of what we as a people do best: take something negative and make it awesome. You think black people are lazy, poor, baby making weed heads that are incapable of intelligent conversation. Ok, think what you want but we laugh about it because at the end of the day we know who we are and no one can change that. This is also why I use the “N” word because I think it takes a lot of balls to take a word created out of hate and degradation and not only turn it into a term of endearment but then forbid the race of people that created the word to use it! From what I’ve observed this year, there seems to be either a staunch, militant regard for Black History Month or barely any acknowledgment of it at all (perhaps this is why my daughter’s elementary school is celebrating Peace Month— whatever the hell that is). Listen, let’s not forget the that the purpose of this month is not to make the white kids uncomfortable, but to remind America that we’ve been around for years and not only are we a part of the solid foundation of this country, but it also doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere anytime soon. Black history month really shouldn’t even be, because simply put, black history is American history that shouldn’t need a separate month to say “hey, don’t forget about us and our contributions!”

Personally, I am just as appreciative of all the history facts as I am of all the hilarious memes being passed around. I think we as a race have “done better” and we need to chill the fuck out and enjoy more of a balance. There’s nothing wrong with laughing in the face of adversity and making light of the past if that’s what we need to do to heal from it. Our ancestors worked the fields smiling happily and singing songs because they didn’t want their oppressors to see their struggle and to gain satisfaction from their pain. I don’t see anything wrong with using those same coping mechanisms today. I will laugh at your stereotypes against me and post a meme about the Tyrone Jenkins, the first black man to use someone else’s piss to pass a drug test, but maybe I’ve never done drugs. Maybe I busted my ass in college, and I’m working now, and I’m three paychecks away from a down payment on my own house before reaching the age of 30—but all you can see and criticize is the “ignorant” meme I posted on Facebook. And while you were looking over there—I was busy grinding over here, laughing the whole time because you never even saw me coming…

Advertisements

Catfish

I was stood up on Valentine’s Day. There I said it. My immediate plan is to eat all the things (cry and do P90x later in the week) and I’m off to a good start having indulged in chips and guac at the perfectly designated digestion time of 9:30am. I am saving the whiskey for tonight.

It’s not the day that upsets me, the day doesn’t really hold any significance to me and somehow I’ve managed to not be cynical or bitter about love. What upsets me is that I am clearly super unaware that I have no idea what I’m doing with this dating stuff. I always think I’m doing fine right up until I’m looking at my watch and wondering “where tf is he?” and secretly just really relieved that I didn’t bother to put my makeup on just yet. It’s gotten to a point where if a guy asks me to come over or go out I always say yes even if I’m busy. Then I just go do the other thing and check my messages only to find that the dude didn’t come anyway. I am Jack’s complete lack of surprise.

Soapbox

Would it really kill a nigga to send a text or call to say he can’t make it? I’m a mom so I’m aware that sometimes things don’t go as planned, and when they don’t I keep folks informed. I tell people when I am unable to meet my obligations–strange, I know. I talked to a guy off and on for about a year and every single time we were supposed to get together it fell through because of random stuff and I never found out that he had no intention of showing up until the next day when I would take the initiative and ask what happened. Then I would be given the “dis bitch crazy” treatment. Honestly, I’ve lost track of whether I am actually crazy or if the dating world has gone fucking mad and I’m just completely out of the loop on how to play the new game.

As I type this, the nigga in question from last night is texting me “good afternoon” (he sent a good morning one hours ago). You don’t get a normal ass greeting! Shouldn’t you open with, “I’m sorry I just disappeared on you–I was attacked by a pack of wolves,” or something equivalent? How am I expected to waste my time with this fuckery. This is the part where I usually become vocal and explain exactly why I’m upset and how I feel in detail but …nobody fucking cares. Do you hear that? That is the sound of the world’s smallest violin playing the melody to this whack ass symphony. It is a waste of my breath to explain myself to a person that didn’t care enough to explain themselves to me.

After allowing myself to be disappointed so many times by that same dude for an entire calendar year, I now have a zero tolerance rule against fuckery. If I’m dating a single parent there is room for “stuff” to come up, but if it’s too much my siren goes off and I just shut the whole thing down. I mean, who are these guys that can’t just STOP?! I was talking to one guy and things seemed to be going well, then all of a sudden his responses started getting shorter and he just ended up never texting me back again. See, I can respect the slow fade out more than the “jilted prom date”. Fellas, if you don’t like a girl just go the fuck away!

You’ll Like It, They Said…

I’ve been trying the online dating stuff and I think I’m only popular there because I’m a writer and my profile has just the right hint of hoe in it to keep dudes intrigued. For some reason I thought this would be a fun experience, but for the most part I’m overwhelmed and I feel like the world’s biggest catfish. I’m really not that interesting. I just want to sit in the recliner in my room and write something or vibe to some music. I walk my two year old to a daycare I can barely afford every morning, I still owe half this month’s rent and just yesterday I trekked through knee deep snow to walk to the grocery store because I have no car. I’m poor and lazy and always slightly depressed. I don’t know what I am looking for–maybe just a guy whose actions match his words for once and who can pause from fucking bitches long enough to get to know me. Message me if you like naps pudgy tummies…

20140215-151700.jpg

Please stand up…

I am on the bus sopping wet and literally chilled to the bone after having walked the baby to daycare in cold and rain. All I see around me on the bus are other mothers with their children, just as soaked as I am. I know I shouldn’t complain, but is anyone else ready and willing to admit that this single parenting stuff is just not all that great all the time. Anyone…?