Attention Light-Skinned Women

I am putting every light-skinned Black woman on notice.  Hence forth and forever more, after the vile, reprehensible, racist/colorist/misogynoir comments that Leslie Jones has been subjected to, from racist white people AND from coon-ass, self-hating Black men, be prepared for me to curse you out like you’ve never been cursed before in your life if you have the audacity to suggest that somehow your plight as a light-skinned Black woman has been similarly tragic or painful to that of the dark-skinned Black woman.  I’m going to make you regret your callous and thoughtless words if I read one single comment from a light-skinned Black woman saying, “Oh, boo hoo hoo, I got called ‘too pretty’ or ‘high yellow’ when I was young and it hurt my feelings.  My pain is just as valid as dark-skinned women’s pain,” Im’ma curse you up one side and down the other.  If I overhear one single solitary light-skinned woman say anything other than, “While I’ve been subjected to taunts and comments that hurt my feelings because of my lighter skin tone, I fully acknowledge that dark-skinned Black women have been subjected to FAR worse than anything I’ve ever been subjected to and my heart goes out to every dark-skinned woman who has ever been ridiculed, demonized, degraded, or humiliated because of her beautiful, rich, deep, melanated skin tone.”  It’s called empathy for someone whose plight is worse than yours.  Try it. 

You lose NOTHING, not a god damn thing, by saying that dark-skinned women are treated and have been historically treated exponentially worse in this society than light-skinned women.  It’s been that way since the first captured African was impregnated.  Black men will not think you are uglier.  You will not get less dates.  You will not turn dark-skinned overnight.  All you have to do is find a little humility in your heart and acknowledge that our society consistently and pathologically treats dark-skinned Black women like shit.  Want proof? Finish this joke.  Your mama is sooooo light . . . Wait, you can’t, can you?  No, because you’ve never been subjected to the internalized racism that dark-skinned Black women face from their very own community and you certainly have never been called the unspeakable names that racist, coward whites feel free to hurl over the internet.  What’s worse, being called a “red bone” or someone saying, “You think you cute,” or being called a jungle bunny, porch monkey, Ubangi African black ass nigger, nigger, nigger?  The world will not stop spinning if you say that what dark-skinned women have it far worse than you do.  I promise. 

Every magazine cover, every television show, every movie, book cover, commercial, and music video, every single solitary facet of our society praises light skinned women as being the most beautiful Black women.  NEVER have you been subjected to the cruel and hateful comments that dark-skinned women have had to endure and whatever taunts or comments you might have gotten, they do not and cannot compare to what dark-skinned women have been subjected to.  Acknowledge that so that we might take a tiny little step off the plantation and move toward healing. 

Now, run tell that!

Color Matters

I can't get over how quick people are to repeat cliché’s as if they have any foundation in truth whatsoever.  COLOR MATTERS.  Color matters in every fucking thing.  It matters in every single facet of society.  Color matters in the partners you choose and in the preferences you have for partners.  "Oh, color doesn't matter, love is all there is."  BULLSHIT.  This country is founded on racism, racism exists everywhere you turn.  As long as black children are intentionally undereducated to keep a menial working class, as long as drugs are continually pumped into black neighborhoods to keep the people in the most pain anesthetized, as long as the systems to prevent equal access to people of color still exist, COLOR FUCKING MATTERS. 

Slave mentality still exists.  The preference for light skin and unnatural hair is a manifestation of slave mentality.  If that hasn't been healed, that one tiny drop in the bucket of diseased beliefs that we inherited, then how in the hell can anyone claim that color doesn't matter in an interracial relationship where light skin and "good hair" are going to be the result of procreation?  Brothas dating and marrying white women to get light kids is all too common and then they say, "Well, I didn't meet any black women that were interested in me," or, "white women treat me better." 

Color matters because Black people don't even know the history of the land they came from.  We don't even know the painful history of our past in this country.  How can color not matter in a relationship where slavery and all of its many horrors can not be discussed in an effort to heal the race of people that make up 50% of the relationship? 

Preferences aren't some magical things that happen in a vacuum.  If a black man prefers white women, or Hispanic women, or Asian women, or any and every woman other than Black women, it's because he's been led to believe that black women are “less than” these other women.  "Oh, I can't help who I'm attracted to."  Right, you can't.  However, that doesn't mean that your influences weren't shaped by racist beliefs either, beliefs that made you hate black women and see white women as better.  If the only black woman that you know that you respect is your mother, you can be assured that you have a diseased view of black women that is unhealthy.  If you can't find one black woman that treats you right, if you think that white women treat you better consistently, then you damn skippy are trying to deny your blackness and find your identity in the being colorless which is . . . self-hatred. 

Can people of differing races find love?  Sure.  Does that mean that color doesn't matter?  Hell no.  There are layers upon layers of untreated wounds in black people that lead them to find comfort in the arms of another race.  That's not even addressing the racist beliefs that white people inherent being raised in this society.  To deny that those racist beliefs shape the fabric of interracial relationships is ridiculous. 

White women aren’t inherently more supportive than sistas.

White men don’t have a gene that allows them to treat black women better. 

The black people, both men and women, that claim that they can’t find anyone of their own race to love aren’t colorblind, they are oblivious to their own debilitating beliefs. 

Are there examples of healthy interracial relationships?  Sure, with black people who are secure with their identity, that are not willing to ignore their history, culture, and the oppression of people of color, who do not have to denigrate black men or women in order to find love with another race, and who don’t ascribe to the utopian notion that color doesn’t matter. 

Society Told Me a Secret

There is this rumor going around that the white woman is prettier, no, no, she’s HOT.  That’s exactly what society wants me to believe.  She’s sexier, she’s better in bed; she’s more sophisticated and less sassy.  Everyone, and I do mean everyone, desires a white woman; she’s the epitome of beauty and lust.  Society told me a secret that a white woman’s pussy tastes better than mine.  The white woman is a sign of status, she lets Black men know that they have arrived when they can have her on his arm; she’s the trophy to be put on display.  She sure is beautiful, flawless even up there on that pedestal, the ultimate object of desire.

I have to wonder though, is a Latina woman’s sex really that much better than mine?  Ay caramba, it must be, society told me so.  She’s got more sazon, she’s spicier, she’s muy caliente and fine.  Her Spanish and African blood makes her just right mixture of all things sensual, not an ugly savage like me.  You see, that’s what I’m led to believe by the whispers of the slaves who are no longer beaten by the massa’s whips and tethered by steel and iron chains but by the ones who drive expensive whips and wear gold chains around their necks.  They tell me that Carmen is sooo, soooo very fine.  Who am I to compare?  Just a regular ole Black chick, not sexy in any way, ghetto and unwanted. 

Wait, what’s that you say?  Oh damn, not the Asian chick too!  She’s submissive and demure and her coochie is tighter.  Man, a sista can’t win.  OK, that’s it, there’s no one else in line before me.  Wait, biracial women too?  Alright, I can see that.  They are only half black so I’ll take a step back.  Two steps you say?  Oh, got it.  Light skinned women, damn, I forgot. 

Well, I’ve got news for you society, you’ve got it all wrong.  You see, I am the original woman, all life comes from me.  I will not let you dictate my self esteem and sense of worth based on your lies.  You may have forgotten, you may have been misled.  But I’m here to tell you that I Am beautiful, I am sensual, I desirable and you’re just plain wrong. 

My black as midnight skin is like satin and silk to touch.  You see, Black don’t crack and it absorbs the sun.  Feel the heat of my spirit rise as you experience a true Goddess.   My eyes are deep and dark and they’ve seen a lot of pain but they reflect my inner light that shines so bright, unafraid to be Black, proud to be sexy. My sensual lips are full and made for kissing, my full, round hips sway and swerve in rhythmic time.  You tell me my features are too full, not refined.  I say kiss my entire Black ass.  You told me to cover my thick, natural, nappy, African, wooly hair, that I should be ashamed.  I can create more styles with my mane of glory than any white woman ever could and make them all look good.  My breasts are full and heavy and my milk flows like the river Nile.  My nipples stand proud like Kilimanjaro, hard like a diamond mined, my sacred blood nourishes the generations.  I am mother earth, I am Africa.  I am Egypt and Ghana and Timbuktu. I am the Sahara and Sudan and Madagascar.  I am the starry night sky and dessert plains.  I am Cleopatra and Sheba and Venus Hottentot too.  I am the antelope and the cheetah simultaneously; I am the hunter and the hunted.  I am the gentle waves of an unforgiving dark ocean lapping at the hull of the slave ship. 

So, I invite you to experience sex the way it was meant to be, with the original woman, and you will see that I’m not the lowly thing you’ve tried to convince me I am.  Do you smell that, that intoxicating scent?  That’s my beautiful black pussy, deliciously pink hot wet and sweet.  Taste that sacred space, that holy temple.  My juices taste like honey so sweet.  I will give you my surrender, my uncontrolled cries of passion.  Fill your hands with my thick ass, lose yourself  inside me.  Join with me and as you feel my silky wet walls envelop you, surround you, bathe you in dark divinity.  Make love to me, pleasure me.  Fill me with your seed. Society knows that I am beautiful, sexy, and erotic.   I will ascend to take my rightful place as coveted and desired, the Black woman, compared to none. 

Copyright 2012 AfroerotiK All Rights Reserved