Happy Juneteenth

I have never been a proponent of celebrating Juneteenth.  I have long since held that celebrating Juneteenth was entirely appropriate for those who were enslaved and newly notified of their freedom.   For Blacks born into a system where their illiteracy was a mandate, and for those who could remember the sting of the evil slave owner’s whip decades after they were liberated from bondage, celebrating Juneteenth was more important than Christmas, worshipping a blond-haired, blue-eyed savior who promised salvation after a life of pain.  For them, June 19th symbolized the end of an era where the enslaved were considered less than human, where they were finally free. 

 

It was my very strong opinion for contemporary Africans born in AmeriKKKa to celebrate Juneteenth, with full access to the knowledge that our ancestor’s freedom was intentionally and deceptively kept from them for two and a half years, with the understanding that white human traffickers profited and capitalized from the unlawful captivity of enslaved Americans, is disrespectful to our ancestors.   It remains my very strong belief that descendants of those criminal human traffickers should be striped of their wealth, every single cent, because it was all born of the original sin, the enslavement of my ancestors. 

 

I was today years old when I found out that white human traffickers, slave owners in states where the enslaved were to be liberated in a timely manner, consistent with the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation, moved their farming operations to Texas to deliberately to continue to profit from slave labor.  That’s evil on a level that is beyond my comprehension. 

 

You see, when white people think of slavery, when they see the images of the fatigued, down-trodden, dark-skinned slaves with wide noses and full lips, the scars raised from their skin, they don’t see human beings, they see ugly animals, things to be spat up and abused.  I see my family.  I see my blood.  I intimately feel the pain or rape, of separation from your family, of torture and laboring from sun up to sun down with no reward or compensation.  I see my heritage, my identity, my culture.  I see my great- great-grandparents and my great-great-grandchildren.  I am the enslaved in the past, present, and future. 

 

Day after day, white men call me a nigger.  Sometimes the motivation is to incite me to anger in a game of emotional manipulation.  At times, when I challenge their arrogant assertions that racism ended when Obama was elected, or when I call out their offensive and racist core beliefs, they arrogantly call me a nigger without any irony whatsoever.  If I had a dime for every time a white man called me a nigger when I tell them not to objectify Black men by referring to them as BBC but to refer to them as MEN I would have enough money to buy the freedom of several of my enslaved ancestors.  Daily, white men call me racist nigger bitch when I speak the truth about the inherent inferiority of a race of people who committed the greatest crime against humanity ever committed. You see, for the vast majority of white men who call me a nigger, they believe that the fact that the blood of their ancestors flowing through their veins, ancestors who bought, sold, traded, tortured, raped, branded, lynched, and murdered Black people like it was entertainment to them, they believe that makes them inherently superior to me.  They not only call me a nigger, they believe I’m a nigger because my ancestors built this nation while their lazy, evil ancestors profited from it. 

 

So today, when Republicans are desperately manipulating and scheming to deprive me of my right to vote, my Constitutional RIGHT, not a privilege that I have to earn like I’m a slave on the plantation but rights already afforded me, I celebrate Juneteenth. 

 

Today, when racist legislators are terrified of AmeriKKKa’s true history of perilous racism coming to light, making deals behind closed doors with Trillionaire donors to prevent schools from teaching that slavery even existed, terrified that learning about the true horrors of slavery will open the door to all their magical lies and deceptions coming to light, I celebrate Juneteenth. 

 

In 2021, when white people cheer and celebrate the deaths of unarmed Blacks in the street, when they deny and justify systemic racism and blame its victims for our oppression, indicating their greatest desire is to go back to the days when they could own, buy, and sell me, treating my life like a piece of property, I lift my voice and say that, “We shall overcome, someday, but today, I celebrate Juneteenth.”

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i1d5hUA8Jd4

I Like Scat

 

 

Scat as a fetish, a source of sexual arousal is not rare, it’s not extreme or fringe, it’s not even abnormal.  The truth is that scat is extremely prevalent and pervasive in this society, (and British, Japanese, German, and Brazilian cultures as well but you know that already because you’re an adult who looks at porn) and people deny the truth that is right in front of our collective eyes because we have been convinced by scripted TV, movies, and “polite society” that anything more than kissing and missionary sex is fringe and extreme.  The collective delusional belief, created by forces that feed off our emotions of shame and fear, is that people who are aroused by scat are surely one-eyed trolls who live under a bridge and unable to function in society and you will be able to tell in a fraction of a second if you see someone who likes scat because they are freaks.  We are convinced that no sane person in the world is aroused by scat, only insane people could be that fucked up. The truth is, people who are aroused by scat are regular, normal people who subsequently live in shame of being aroused by something that millions and millions of people find arousing and are terrified of someone finding out that they like something that is a natural extension of our natural sexuality.  What?  How can I say that scat is natural, not disgusting and gross?  Because our bodily functions are normal.  There is nothing disgusting or unnatural about what our bodies produce. 

 

I get it, before we are out of diapers, we have been convinced that poo-poo is nasty, gross, and disgusting.  We live our entire lives, we don’t even have memories of a time when we haven’t been told that shit is stinky and dirty and shameful. We have to close the door when we shit lest we offend our family, we have to strategically time our workplace shits so we can be alone and no one will smell our poop.  We have to spray away the smell, we have to be ashamed if we fart. We are a society obsessed with germs and the fear of germs so scat has to, by default, be at the very top of that list. Didn’t MC Hammer say, “Can’t touch shit!” Surely you can’t or you’ll have to cut off your hand because you will have cooties.  We surveyed 100 people with the top six answers on the board.  Finish this sentence.  Eating shit will cause you to, Normal family, what do you say?  How about . . . die, Steve? And the survey says, . (bing) DIE.  The number 1 answer, 100 people answered.  But is that true?  Isn’t it possible to see millions of videos online of people eating shit.  Are they all dying? Is there a secret pandemic of people eating shit and dying and we don’t hear anything about it on the news?  It certainly seems odd that on any given day, thousands of new scat video content is uploaded to the internet by Karens and Kens all over the country doing extreme, elaborate shit play.  White people LOVE disgusting, filthy, nasty, extreme shit play and the evidence is all over the internet and we pretend it doesn’t exist because we don’t want anyone to know that we look at it.  

 

It’s time for me to say here the Black people online engage in shit play but not to the same level of dysfunction as whites.  Black scat online consists of just the act of shitting, showing the pile of turds, shit fucking, having anal sex that gets dirty, and with less frequency, smearing it. 

 

I’m not saying there aren’t people who are genuinely disgusted and repulsed by scat. Of course there are lots people who do, we live in a society that tells us that our vaginas are supposed to smell like spring rain and our underarms are supposed to smell like Tropical Coconut Vanilla Harmony obviously people are going to believe that nothing could be more disgusting.  But tons of people pretend it’s disgusting to project and protect their image as sane and they are aroused by it behind closed doors.  That creates insanity, that creates a level of sexual dysfunction that eats at their mental health. I refuse to be one of them any longer. 

 

I’m aroused by scat.

 

I’ve always said that if you want to know what AmeriKKKa is really like, look at amateur porn, that’s where the truth lies.  We live in a narcissistic, self-absorbed society that NEEDS to show off their kink to the world and what they do behind closed doors is on full display for the world to see 24/7.  The reality is that on every porn site on the internet, there is evidence of people’s extensive fascination with shit.  Mainstream porn sites like Pornhub and Xhamster don’t have porn on listed on their categories further convincing people that scat is so nasty, that it crosses a taboo that normal people can’t stomach.  Take a look at the cartoon/3D porn and you will see scat galore. Read the comment an anal videos, they will unashamedly display people’s insatiable lust for dirty ass-to-mouth and other scat related interests.  There’s one thing you can be sure of.  For every white middle-class, suburban white woman licking public toilets and smearing herself with shit, for every live cam model shit-fucking her asshole with dildos in private shows, for every white man hiding his identity and dressing up in women’s clothes and eating shit, for every Satanic, white supremacist shit orgy, there are countless more who are doing similar things behind closed doors who are terrified to post any sort of scat content online.  Even those who are willing to post other extreme content, scat remains the final taboo.  And for every person who is terrified to post their scat sex online, there are even more of us who would never do any sort of scat play, who have no desire to act out their mental scat fantasies, are still aroused by watching videos. 

 

It seems that on an almost daily basis, I have submissive white men who are shocked, astounded even that I know their nasty secret, that they want to eat my shit.  Almost without exception, the start of every conversation with white men starts out with them denying and lying about their interest in scat, telling me how gross it is, how they take extra precaution to avoid any shit in their undercover gay sex romps with strangers in glory holes, and how it’s absolutely a hard limit for them.  And inevitably, when I tell them I’m a scat Domme, that I employ the psychological use of scat extensively in my domination, all of a sudden their story changes and they BEG me to eat my shit and they are voracious shit eaters. And I can’t count the number of times they’ve said, “This is my scat profile, my regular profile is (fill in the blank with some predictable porn name).”  Think about how absurd that is.  Your life is so compartmentalized and you are so full of shame, that you can’t even put all your desires on your kink profile where your face isn’t shown and you list that you are from Antarctica.

 

Black men are not very different although the instances of them expressing interest in scat is exponentially more rare than white men.  Those who do have interest almost always start out telling me how much they hate scat, how disgusting it is, and then, oddly enough, when I tell them that I am aroused by scat, Oh my goodness, what do you know, they really like it and they only lied because no women like it and they apparently have been shamed by women by confessing their scat desires and now they have to lie about it.  Which is an entirely appropriate response for a 15 year old.  Emotionally mature adults understand that building a relationship based on lying to your partner about who you are and what you like is bound to fail. 

 

When I was a teen in the 70s I found my mother's porn collection.  It remains one of the most extensive collections I've ever encountered bar one or two men who were anti-social, misogynist, porn addicts.  She had dozens of copies of primarily Penthouse Variations, Penthouse, and Hustler magazines, no lame Playboy or even Playgirl for her, as well as a host of even more extreme sexual books, manuals, and guides.  I surmised at the time that her porn collection was largely from the men she dated as they were all married.  It made sense to my mind that they would give her their porn to hide from their wives and additionally it would make her appear more progressive and sexually liberated which was a win/win for all parties involved. Now, I understand that it was probably her own personal collection, that women’s sexuality is not limited to soft core romance and is as varied and complex as men’s. Whatever the truth, the result was that around the age of 14 or 15, I had volumes of porn to explore after school, every day, until I graduated high school and moved out. 

 

From the start I gravitated to the stories more than pictures.  The pictures were titillating to me but it was the late 70s or early 80s so diversity . . . wasn’t a thing.  Every model was Barbie with blond hair, blue eyes, thick makeup, fake boobs, and an anorexic body.  Suffice it to say, the novelty wore off quickly.  Even then I was more evolved than just being aroused by one-dimensional images.  The lesbian pictorials, even though they were only white women, made me tingle "down there." I loved passion and connection, I loved authenticity, even at that age.  Other than a few interracial images with Back men and white women in some of the more extreme/hardcore books, all of the couples were white and even then I felt disconnected from their sexuality.  I didn't know how, but even as a virgin I knew that I didn't relate to what they were depicting and those books.   I loved reading the tiny digests that held stories of deviance the most. Penthouse letters, with its stories of vanilla fucking, bored me, I wanted kink.  Mind you, at that age, in that time, the only sexual images I had seen in real life were late night episodes of Benny Hill.  For those too young to remember, it was like British Dave Chappelle with boobs, gratuitous skit of crass humor that featured topless women that served no purpose whatsoever other than to show boobs. 

 

Penthouse Variations was my absolute favorite and I read every word in every copy, and there were years worth of copies, all neatly aligned in order of publication.  It wasn’t long before I realized that my mother had a subscription to Variations and a new edition would come in the mail every month. I would let her read it for a few days before I made my move to look at it.  She would always hide the newest copies under her mattress or in her underwear drawer until it moved to its neatly cataloged spot with all the older copies in her closet. I remember reading the incest stories and the golden shower stories first.  I thought the mother/son and the brother/sister stories were the hottest even though I had no brothers, which obviously meant my mother had no sons, so I had no personal reference to fantasize about those particular dynamics intimately.  I absolutely did not like stories of fathers and daughters at all which is sort of odd because I didn't know my father so it shouldn't have had much of an issue with that dynamic.  Even to this day I find stories of fathers having sex with daughters to be instances of rape and power and misogyny and not at all arousing to me.   That’s just me. 

 

I didn’t know how to orgasm so just getting wet was pleasurable for me.  I would kneel in front of the mirror, look at my asshole, and stick a hairbrush handle in it. Vaginal penetration didn’t offer as much arousal, even at that age. I didn’t even know enough to fuck my pussy at the time.  I remember the fear of my mother smelling shit on the handle and I was meticulous in scrubbing it free of any shit smell.  As I got a little more confident in my ability to put the magazines back in the EXACT way I found them, I would take the new edition to the bathroom after dinner and while my mother was downstairs watching TV, I would sit on the toilet and read it, getting aroused by stories of people peeing on one another.  Once or twice, I took a copy to bed with me and read it under the covers with a flashlight.  That was too rogue for me and I was too terrified of getting caught so I went back to after school reading while my mother was at work. 

 

In the collection of porn there was a book of women's fantasies titled My Secret Garden.  Women, real women as they were called, as if there is another kind of woman, shared their secret sexual fantasies. The various chapters explored all sorts of sexual fetishes including rape, bestiality, interracial, lesbian, incest, etc.  One story was about a woman who fantasized about she and her friend hiking.  Mid hike, her friend stated that she had to go to the bathroom.  She was captivated by watching her pull down her pants and piss and then, without warning, she decided to take a shit.  The contributor described watching it come out and how aroused she got watching her friend pushing out a turd in front of her.  That story mesmerized me.  I can’t tell you why.  I was practically vanilla it was so tame. She took a shit on the forest floor and her friend watched.  That was it.  The end.  When I went away to college, the first week I was there I bought that book, feeling liberated like an adult for the first time in my life, and read that story for YEARS, far more than a decade.  In fact, it was the ONLY story in the book I read.  I don’t remember how I masturbated in college, it certainly wasn’t with any toys, and I doubt I was sexually mature enough to know about clitoral orgasms so I probably just fingered myself and convinced myself that I was having an orgasm, replicating what the stories depicted by breathing heavy and moaning. 

 

I was married for a short while during the time VHS porn was burgeoning.  I didn't want to watch anything but anal porn, preferably lesbian anal porn.   The lesbians were raunchier, they were more explicit in their unadulterated love of all things anal.  I started to experiment with various aspects of anal: wearing butt plugs in public, using vibrators and dildos, etc.  When I divorced, I graduated to using longer and bigger anal dildos.  I remember the first time I used an anal probe and it came out with shit on it, I freaked out and ran to clean it.  The very next day, as I used it, in the back of my mind I knew it was going to have shit on it when it came out and that thought, just the knowledge that it might come out with streaks of shit on it thrilled me.  At one point, I masturbated anally every day for over a year. I would read the story of the woman watching her friend shit in the woods, use a vibrator on my clit, and not even fuck myself in the ass, I would just put the dildo in my ass and enjoy the feeling of fullness.  I had no desire to play with shit myself, I had no desire to eat shit.  I had zero real time shit desires other than the thought that my anal toy might come out streaked and that thought alone was thrilling. 

 

As the years progressed, it dawned on me that anal was my primary source of arousal.  It would have been blatantly apparent had I been the least bit introspective in this sexually repressive society but I came of age during the time when women weren't allowed to say anything but, "Anal!?!?!  Yuck! That's nasty!"  Enemas became erotic to me.  The cramping, the expulsion, the feeling of lightness that followed, the entire fact that it was associated with me preparing to masturbate anally.  I only watched anal porn.  Anal is still the only porn I consume although I only listen to the more verbal porn while I read gay scat erotic stories. My tastes in anal porn are very specific. I HATE listening to white men talk in porn, it turns me off if I hear them degrading and abusing women, white men all sound obnoxious and annoying to me in porn.  I like mature women, women who are old enough to own their sexuality, not young girls who have been weaned on porn their entire lives, saying things like, “Ram your big dick in my shithole and fuck me.”  I am repulsed by women being degraded and objectified and that’s 98% of porn so I usually go to my favorited mature anal verbal porn I use as a soundtrack while reading stories of men who are voracious shit pigs. 

 

In my early thirties, I started to discover BDSM.  I would encounter submissive white men EVERYWHERE.  If I went to get gas, the white man at the pump next to me would stare and I would boldly ask, "Are you submissive," and he would fall all over himself proclaiming how he wanted to devote himself to me.  In the grocery store, at my favorite local restaurant, everywhere I went, white men would linger too long at looking at my feet or my ass and I would just come out and say, "Are you submissive," and the response was always affirmative.  It was the late 90s so the internet was becoming mainstream so I wanted to understand more about domination and submission so I would ask questions online. I honestly thought that someone was playing some sort of trick on me.  Every white I encountered online described his NEED to drink my piss, to lick my dirty asshole, and eat my shit.   I thought that it had to be the same guy creating multiple profile identities to stalk me.  The idea of white men serving me in that way was arousing on some level but it was also very apparent to me that they didn't really see themselves as inferior to me, that their depravity dictated that they thought that eating my shit was particularly nasty, nastier than eating a white woman's shit because they saw me as a nigger, they equated eating my shit as the pinnacle of depravity.  I was Black and that made me more animalistic, less human in their eyes.  It was then that I became a psychological Domme, manipulating white men's inherent racism to reveal to them that I was truly superior to them, that it wasn't just a role I played that ended at the bedroom door. 

 

In my 20 years of dominating white men, I’ve never fed anyone my shit.  I’ve given enemas to two men.  I took a shit on a newspaper once but it was not with anyone else, it wasn’t something I did as an act of domination, it was a personal exploration to see how it would feel.  Just the idea of shitting someplace other than in a toilet was arousing to me.  After I did it, I panicked because I was terrified of how to throw it away without being detected. I couldn’t leave it in the trash can and I was terrified that if I threw it away in a trash can outside, someone would see me or find it or something. Twenty years after discovering my mother’s book that held that one story, I still couldn’t even acknowledge to myself that I was scat aroused.  I had no desire to touch, taste, or experiment in any way with shit. I wasn’t sexually aroused taking a shit but the second I went online, I was reading scat erotic stories. For the better part of the last 25 years online, I have orgasmed to reading scat stories, primarily gay scat stories over 90% of the time. 

 

Where I am now, today, with the last decade and a half of being ESSENTIALLY abstinent, only having a boyfriend for very short periods of time during that period, with the remaining time being essentially sexless, I’m completely comfortable with my level of scat arousal.  I have written some amazing scat stories, all fiction.  Truth is vital to my identity so I have only lied to two or three white men about my experience feeding white men shit, but the truth is I’ve never done it, I don’t NEED to do it, and if I do ever decide that someone is worthy of eating my shit, they will have spent several years proving their devotion, commitment and love to me, it’s not something I would do casually and it’s not a service I would ever sell.  Today, my mother pretends that she’s never ever heard of golden showers, that she can’t understand how Trump might be aroused by being peed on.  I can’t do it.  I refuse to do that.  If someone doesn’t like me because I’m aroused by scat, I am perfectly fine with that because I know it doesn’t define me and I can assure you that the very people who pretend not to like it, are doing all sorts of nasty things that they deny and denigrate in public. 

 

My desire now, at almost 55 years of age, is to share in my life with an openly-bisexual, scat aroused Black man where he physically dominates white men with me, including feeding them his shit, while I psychologically dominate them.  In my ideal fantasy, beautifully chronicled in my story, The Shitty Four Day Weekend, my lover and I dominate white men together, I administer the psychological torture, he the physical punishment.  I would love to experience the intimacy of having my lover, my partner, my man sitting on a rim chair and feeding a white man while I make love to him, I slide my pussy down on his dick and tell him I love him, I love that we dominate white men together.  I want to look him in his eyes while a white man begs and pleads for my man’s shit, licking his asshole, tongue fucking it, giving my lover pleasure beyond description while he waits for my lover’s manly turd to fill his mouth.  The thought of telling my man that I love him, kissing him, feeling his dick inside me while some white guy is chewing on his shit, licking his hole, sucking it, tonguing it . . . just the thought drives me mad.  That level of intimacy and connection is intoxicating to me. 

 

I can create a shit pig with no effort whatsoever; I can turn someone from saying they don’t like shit to someone who is begging me for it in a matter of hours.  I've done it too many times to count. It’s my psychological fuck. Every type of white man craves shit, from rich to poor, from the highly educated to the Trump supporter.  They all share similar stories of their scat evolution because it’s part of the natural human spectrum of sexuality. The story is almost always the same.  At the beginning of their sexual awakening, they realized that they like anal stimulation.   They found their mother’s dildo, they used their father’s screwdrivers, their sister’s hairbrush or they put a carrot up their ass.  Because society has convinced males to believe they are gay, sissies, some form of sub-human scum if they like being anally penetrated it set the stage for their life of shame, denial and lies.  The only problem is, again, is that if your body experiences sexual pleasure from a physical sensation, it’s supposed to, it’s natural.  Anal arousal is as natural for men as it is for women, we share the EXACT same physiology, the exact same anatomy except men have a prostate, a male clitoris that is made for men to experience even greater physical pleasure.  The male ass was built for penetration. 

 

Just as I discovered with my anal probe, just as I experienced with the hairbrush in my mother’s bedroom, occasionally there is going to be shit involved with anal play. That is normal and natural. And what we experience when we are sexually aroused becomes hard-wired to our sexual identities.  So, the truth is, men, women, EVERYONE enjoys anal stimulation, it’s the way our bodies were built.  And eventually, shit is going to come into play with anal sex and because we associate it with being shameful, being taboo, with being the nastiest thing that we could ever want, it becomes our shameful secret.  Not just me, not just one-eyed trolls who live under a bridge, but anyone who allows themselves to experience the truth and the fullness of their sexuality.  That means that a whole lot of people are in denial about what role shit plays in their arousal.

 

It's taken me 40 years to get comfortable with the fact that I associate shit with sex and that I'm not at all abnormal.  It's taken me intense introspection, growth, and healing to get comfortable with the fact that I'm intelligent, articulate, sometimes considered reasonably attractive, AND the idea of shit play makes me wildly aroused.  I refuse to hide it from lovers any longer, I refuse to accept that it makes me abnormal, I will not compartmentalize my sexuality to the point where I think it’s something separate from my “normal” self. For many years, I was convinced that I was the ONLY educated, Afrocentric Black woman in the world aroused by scat. Well, no more. I absolutely refuse to be ashamed of being aroused by WATCHING scat porn, not by engaging in it, not by acting it out, but by watching people who do engage in it. Shout out to all the Black people who have become comfortable enough to express their desires for scat play.  I refuse to give one more second of fear or shame to something that is the normal, natural byproduct of our human sexuality.  The more I acknowledge the many facets of my sexuality without shame, the less power I give those who capitalize and benefit from my fear in being seen as abnormal.  And the more I embrace my whole sexual self, the more freedom I have and the less hold the manipulative powers who try to convince us that AmeriKKKa is asexual have over me. 

 

 

 

Anti-Racist Primer

It’s not my job to educate anti-racists . . . it’s my very voluntary labor of love, maybe obligation is a better word for it, because nonetheless, I get no compensation or reward for it. Someone has to do it and I would rather it be me than no one at all. Black people, in our efforts to deal with racistsm AND well-meaning anti-racists, get frustrated and exhausted when white people expect us to take you by the hand and guide you down the road of anti-racism.  We defensively say, “It’s not our job to teach you, go do the research yourself.”  Then we send you off to go watch a Tim Wise video or read Jane Elliot and then expect you to be as to be as sensitive and articulate as we they are when battling racists.  It’s almost like another slap in the face when we have to deal with virulent racists and then we are expected to coddle and hand-hold white people who’s hearts are in the right place but you are still in the infant stages of dismantling the fallacy of white supremacy and expect us to give you personalized lessons in anti-racism.

White people who are learning to be anti-racist eventually and inevitably end up screwing up, saying the wrong thing, being defensive, and falling back on to offensive, racist habits.  If racism is going to end, it’s going to be white people who do that shit.  Black people can talk until we are blue in the face, we can kneel, march, protest, carry signs, we can intellectually and academically destroy racist’s arguments and white people racists will still say, “I’m not racist, you’re the racist,” without the tiniest bit of irony.   They willand feel arrogantly assured that they are right with no angst or desire to be less racist whatsoever at the end of the exchange. Trolling and taunting Black people, seeking us out to diminish our pain with their arrogance is amusing for them, the feed off of the emotional toll is takes on us defending our very existence as valid in a system designed to oppress us. Racists will never hear us, never consider what we are saying as valid because the system is set up for them to deny that racism, white privilege, and the fallacy of white supremacy even exists.  The only people voices they are going to listen to are the ones sitting across from them at the Thanksgiving dinner table, in the cubicle across from them at work, on the barstool next to them, not a screen name on a device. White people are born into a system where you all hold all the cards, you are the ones who will create the shift in consciousness.  You can’t teach yourselves to be anti-racists so the responsibility falls on me. 

If absolute anti-racism is the goal and we assign a value of 100 to it, white people who identify as anti-racist are collectively at a 3. Tim Wise is at 90 given that even he says there are times when he catches himself harboring racist thoughts.  and he’s been doing the work for THIRTY years or more. I’ve never watched a minute of Jane Elliot although I’m assured that bitch is bad.  I’ve only seen one Jane Elliot video.  I don’t need to watch her, she’s not speaking to me, I don’t need to learn her lessons.  For every Jane Elliott, there are 100 more Black scholars who are more articulate and informed about racism.  Jane Elliot is not speaking to me. Her voice is directed at white people, for you to unlearn your racism.  You have been woke for a total of a year, your understanding of racism is infantile. Black people’s experience of racism didn’t begin when we took our first breath in this lifetime, it began when our ancestors were enslaved and the white man beat a new name, a new religion, and the consciousness of inferiority into them. That pain has been passed down for generations. 

·         The first step in fighting racism is saying, “I’m racist.”  Calling a white person a racist is the most offensive thing a Black person can call a white person.  There is no greater insult for white people.  You have to take the stigma and the sting from the word racist because that’s what gives them power. The most virulent, vile, evil, hateful racist will say, “I’m not racist,” and follow with repugnant filth with no other purpose than to diminish blackness and the suffering of Black people.  More importantly, calling a white person a racist signals hoards of other whites to come to their collective defense, it’s their rallying cry, their call to arms.  No white person is ever racist according to racists and they will defend that tooth and nail because you’ve insulted their whiteness, you might as well shit on the flag if you question the fallacy of white supremacy to racists.  You are offending their identity.  When you learn to say, “I’m a racist,” with ease and conviction, you diffuse their power.  You show that the world doesn’t stop turning to admit to racism.  Being a racist doesn’t mean you are inherently evil (even though inherently evil people are racists) but the power structure has led you to believe viscerally react to being called a racist.  Diffuse the power of word by owning your participation in it. 

·         Black people do not want or need to hear how empathetic you are to our experience, how you understand that you can never know what we feel, or for you to repeat back to us how insidious racism is.  We know better than you how bad racism is.  We know that unless you have Black skin, you can never truly understand the true scope of racism.  You telling us what we already know is patronizing and it’s like rubbing salt in our gaping, open, infected gunshot wounds.  It’s like a 5th grader watching an episode of Dr. Who and trying to explain the intricacies of quantum physics to a college professor. I know you want to express your frustration and show your empathy.  Find another way. Seriously, I empathize with the fact that this is all new to you and you want and deserve a place to express your very new feelings but for right now, it’s annoying to Black people so maybe you can express your “I know that I will never understand the what it means to be Black in a racist society,” sentiments to other whites and shield us from it for a while because it feels dismissive and petty when we have been saying the same things to you for our entire lives. 

·         Say, “I’m sorry.”  Everyone in this society, not just white people but everyone, is programmed to be defensive when someone calls them out on something they are legitimately wrong about.  Being wrong has no bearing on how arrogant and defensive people are when defending their beliefs. White people are particularly prone to defend their shit when they’re wrong because . . . that is exactly how the entire system was built, to perpetuate the belief that anything you said was right and anything Blacks said was wrong. When you fuck up, and you will, and when a Black person calls you out on it, even if they curse you out and tell you off, FIGHT whatever urge you have to defend yourself and just say, “I’m sorry.”  Don’t offer an excuse.  Don’t explain, don’t try to diminish what you said.  Don’t offer your promises to do better.  The most powerful thing you can do is say, “I’m sorry.”  That’s it.  Not, “I’m sorry, I was raised to believe . . . and I’m trying to be a better human being . . . I didn’t mean it because . . . what I was trying to say was . . .”  If you are really trying to be a better human being, we don’t need to hear excuses, we need peace and reconciliation.  We’ve heard all the excuses.  We’ve never heard, “I’m sorry.”  Those two words have more power than any explanation or disqualifier you add on to diminish your guilt.  “I’m sorry.” Nothing more.  I’m sorry. 

·         Debate racists, don’t validate Black people.  Anti-racists think their contribution to discussions of racism is to say, “Crumbs,” and think that’s doing the work.  It’s not.  If you aren’t actively taking the heat away from Black people who are the victim of racist attacks by white, racist trolls, you are doing noting but fanning the flames of racisms.  We don’t need likes or followers for validation.  We need white people to stop being racist.  If you aren’t saying, “Hey, douche bag, you’re racist because . . .” you are merely stroking your own ego.  I need to hear you speak up. I get it. You’re afraid of saying the wrong thing so you say nothing.  And that benefits the structure of racism.  Make mistakes, learn, but speak up.  Silence is complacency.  I will offer help and guidance to any anti-racist who is trying to find their voice.  I’m in awe of anti-racists because I never thought I would ever encounter any in real life and her I am faced with an entire growing movement.  Even when I reprimand you, it’s from a place of love. 

·         Don’t believe their lies/learn their tactics.  Racist will say, “I’m half Black.” “I’m Latino.” “My spouse is Black.”  They make that shit up to say, “See, I’m a person of color and I say that the original poster is racist so that means I’m right.”  Racist lie to suit their agenda.  They gaslight, they do all the typical racist shit and it’s not at all beyond racists to make up profiles to agree with themselves.  If you delete a racists comments, they will attack you as if you are somehow denying them their 1st amendment rights.  First of all know that the 1st amendment affords people the right to say whatever the hell they want without fear of prosecution FROM THE GOVERNMENT.  Deleting a comment on the internet is not a violation of anyone’s rights.  Racists will say, “I’m not racist, I am submissive to Blacks.”  Their implication is that if they are sexually submissive to Blacks, they’ve done the work of being anti-racists.  Spot the patterns. 

·            Come prepared to the fight.  Anti-racists LOVE to say, “You’re not listening to the OP, go do the research and educate yourself.”  That doesn’t work.  Racists are invested in believing they are superior to Blacks.  The only research that racists will do is research the lies that they have been told that they believe.  They will say with no hesitation whatsoever, “It was Africans who sold Africans into slavery.”  Where did they learn that?  From the ethos apparently, it’s bred into white consciousness from the collective brainwashing.  Have your links in a document so you can say, “That’s not accurate, here is the evidence to educate you.”  Will they read it?  Hell no they won’t.  Trolls are manifestations of arrogance, they get off on agitation.  They aren’t there to learn, they are they to emotionally manipulate Black people and get attention.  But who will read the links are the people who are reading and not commenting.  When racists say, “Nice, what would Martin Luther King say about you?” follow up with actual quotes from Martin Luther King that show his true sentiments, not the half a misquoted line racists love to throw around.  Have your link to the dozens of massacres that were committed against people of color in this country that were erased from history.  Have your list of racist legislation passed to oppress people of color built into our political process. 

·            Debate the motivation, NOT the facts.  Racist make up fact, they make up their own realities where everything they say is right. They have hundreds of years of “science” to validate their worldview, right?  Science has been whitewashed and engineered to deny our contributions so they will always be able to find “facts” that validate what they are arguing.  That’s the trap.  They are quite convinced that they can prove that whites are superior by stating fac

·         Don’t debate racist on my terms.  You aren’t Black, you will never understand my experience.  What you do understand is your experience, however.  You know what it means to be racist.  You were racist.  And as much as you want to say, “I never did or said anything overtly racist, I was a passive racist,” that’s bullshit.  You were a racist in the nastiest sense of the word.  That’s the way system works.  You’ve thought of Black people as niggers, you’ve defended racism. You’ve looked down on impoverished Blacks and blamed us for being ghetto and stupid. You know good and god damn well that you trolled Black people to tell us that racism wasn’t as bad as we say.  You defended George Zimmerman.  You donated to a racist cop when he was accused of killing an unarmed Black person.  Maybe you didn’t donate, maybe you just ignored the news when racist events were playing out on TV because you didn’t care about our lives.  You have defended the flag, you have said “All Lives Matter,” you have been racist. Own it.  It’s not enough to say that you are racist, speak truth to power and meet racists where they are.  If they see themselves through your eyes, in your eyes, that is how you beat them.  

·         Debate the motivation, NOT the facts.  Racist make up fact, they make up their own realities where everything they say is right. They have hundreds of years of “science” to validate their worldview, right?  Science has been whitewashed and engineered to deny Black contributions so they will always be able to find “facts” that validate what they are arguing.  That’s the trap.  They are quite convinced that they can prove that whites are superior by stating facts. Debate their motivation, not the facts, call them out on their core belief.  What are they really trying to say?  If they say, “Well the Jews . . . The Holocaust . . The Irish were slaves, too.”  They are saying that Blacks are inherently inferior and that’s why they are poor, that’s why those cops have to shoot those criminal niggers.  Look to what is their motivation and attack that.  It takes work and it’s not easy until you figure out how to do it.  I’ll help you.  If you need me to help you figure out a response to a racist troll, hit me up.  I don’t mind you asking for help.  You can’t ask every Black person but I’m offering my assistance.  I’ll even post more about it so you can see examples. 

·         Have empathy and compassion for the Black experience.  Very few Black people are comfortable confronting racists.  We have been bred to fear confrontation with whites, telling them about their shit because we could have been lynched, fired, beaten.  We have generations of abuse built into our DNA.  Our forefathers only knew violence and brutality as a means to control their children because that was the lesson of slavery.  Have empathy and compassion for those of us not afforded the benefit of education.  Maybe we might always use perfect English or be as articulate as the more educated of us but that’s not an indication of our value or contribution as Black people in the struggle for our liberation.  Show a little extra compassion for the most disadvantaged of our society in our efforts to rage against machine. 

·         You are in the unique position of not being triggered by racists.  Racists play off the fact that they can push our buttons and get us to an emotional state, they feed off our anger and our frustration. It’s like a drug to them, they get high from pissing us off.  You don’t have a connection to Blackness so you can debate them from a place of reason.  You can calmly, collectively dismantle their bullshit.  Use that against them.  You aren’t Black, they aren’t attacking you, your family, your friends, the people who look like you.  You can take the heat off of Black people and you should. 

·         Learn how to debate differently.  You’re white and you have been educated and socialized in the thick of whiteness where logic and reason and facts and history are set in stone and linear.  You can’t expect to lay out linear, rationed arguments to racists and have it make an impact. You have to debate from your soul.  You have to call a spade a spade, you have to cut off the bullshit when you see it and call it as bullshit.  You have to put racists in their place. Racists fight dirty.  You have to be dirtier.  This is war.  You can’t win by being polite and following the rules because racists shit on the rules.  Saying learn to debate from you soul is like saying, “Debate in Mandarin Chinese.” You have call on the things that society has told you that you have to deny, that rage that they told you was wrong, that confrontational and argumentative fire inside you.  That spirit is in you, it’s been intentionally suppressed but you can access it.  It’s the truth inside you.  Call on it.

·         Form a coalition of other anti-racists to call up for support.  We is stronger than me. 

·         Don’t give up.  This shit is hard.  Don’t quit.  I can’t take off my Black skin and take a break from racism on some days.  You can walk away at any time.  We can win this war, together, united, but it’s going to take dedication and perseverance on your part because this is voluntary to you.