Worship

The following story is part three of what was to be an ongoing story.  This was the final chapter.  In going through my old writings I came across it and I needed to post it again.  I'm so in love with the Bitch Domme character and her ability to manipulate the white sub.  To me, there is no greater sense of satisfaction than when dominating a white man and he is seething in anger and he wants to strike you, he hates you, but you can see the look in his eyes that his brain is misfiring, that he realizes for the very first time in his life that he is not truly superior, that the white race isn't truly superior.  It's a thing of beauty to see.  

I hope you enjoy. 

Steven had fucked up.  After his failure of a first meeting with me, he sat and stewed and seethed with animosity.  Steven’s actions made him re-evaluate his own twisted kinks.  It was a painful and shameful look in the mirror for him.  He had to acknowledge, if only to himself, that his desires were pathological.  His need for extortion and blackmail, his fantasies of being “outted”, and financially drained, even his obsession with shallow, materialistic women were all indications of him indeed being mentally ill.  He invited women to extort him, he fantasized about his friends and family knowing of his perversions.  He got off on the idea of posting humiliating videos of himself doing repulsive things and sending them out to people with his face showing boldly. 

At the same time, he wanted to pretend to be a victim, to be faultless in his own financial and social demise.  At the end of the day, he loved all of it.  He sent other women money, bought their used undergarments, he continued to make videos all while pulling his worthless cock and checking his account balances, fantasizing that they said $0.00.  In the light of day, when he was out and about among normal, reasonable people, he felt profoundly ashamed of himself.  He waited for the confrontation he knew would come, someone in his family, his superior at work wanting to speak to him and question him about his bizarre proclivities.  In the privacy of his own home, in front of his computer however, he had no such qualms.  He feverishly stroked his tiny, limp cock to the childish insults of materialistic women who needed him to pay their bills or buy them expensive shoes they had no real occasion to wear them, and to their empty threats to expose him as he made endless paypal transactions and purchases. 

Knowing that I was truly above being one of the money hungry, greedy bitches he usually plays with, thinking that he could appeal to my rational, benevolent self, Steven approached me cautiously this time.  He sent me an email with no apology, no tone of contrition or hint of regret for his previous foul behavior, asking me how much it would cost to meet again.  I responded simply, without any fanfare or drama, $20,000 in cash, hand delivered to me in Philadelphia.  True to his nature, Steven responded by trying to negotiate, said he couldn’t afford that much, he even tried to get me to dominate him in exchange for the amount.  After several days without a response from me, he relented and agreed to meet me at the corner of N. 38th and Parrish Streets on Sunday morning, 11 am, and I reminded him that the money had to be in cash. 

Steven, oblivious to the workings of real Black America, showed up on time, thinking we would make the exchange at a small coffee shop or café.  Martin Luther King, Jr. said 50 years ago that the most segregated hour in America was 11 am on a Sunday morning and nothing had changed in half a century.  Wearing jeans and a button down, Steven approached me cautiously as he observed all the church goers, dressed in their Sunday finest, assembling to praise God pass us by and politely but not so subtly stare.  I had donned my best Sunday-go-to-meeting black suit, silk stockings, patent leather pumps.  I extended my white cotton gloved hand and peered from under my veiled black hat.  “Steven, it’s such a pleasure to see you again.” 

“Uhmmm, yeah,” he looked around nervously.  All of his fantasies of being humiliated and sexually shamed in public just vanished and he wanted to run and hide.  This was not at all what he had expected.  He said, “I have the money, can we just get this over with?” 

“Oh, goodness, Steven, what’s the rush?  Let’s go inside, shall we?” One of the ushers, a strikingly gorgeous Black man with an imposing figure held the door for us and wished us a pleasant good morning and handed us a program.  Not wanting to make too much of a scene and slightly intimidated by the whole situation, he stepped inside.  Never in his life had he felt so out of place.  His was the only white face in the sanctuary and he was the only person dressed casually.  I walked to the very front of the church and he felt compelled to follow.  He stood speechless as he stared up at the 40 ft. stained glass representation of Jesus, depicted as he truly was, a Black man with hair of wool.  Steven was angry, outraged; it was an offense to his every sensibility to see a Black man depicted as his lord and Savior.  Every cell in his body was filled with hatred for me.  He started to tell me to fuck off, that he was going to leave, but every head turned just as he began to raise his voice.  The words stuck in his throat before he could get out a complete sentence and he quietly slid into the pew next to me. 

Glancing around at all the beautiful people, happily married couples, single women, all reserved and devout, Steven fantasized about each and every one of them humiliating him sexually.  He waited for the shouting and speaking in tongues and running up and down the aisles he stereotypically expected but it never came.  The Men’s Choir sang some spirited gospel songs and everyone stood and clapped and praised the lord but the entire experience was more sophisticated than savage.  He fidgeted as I ignored him, trying to whisper to me that he needed to go, that he had other plans.  He didn’t listen to a word of the sermon, he was more concerned with deviant thoughts of being gangbanged, kicked, stomped, and used in this holy place of worship. 

There was a call to the altar for prayer and I whispered sweetly in Steven’s ear that he needed to confess his sins.  He swallowed hard and firmly said no, all eyes would be on him and that was not arousing for him.  He didn’t want to play the game my way, he wanted me to conform to his desires; he wanted me to be like the other classless whores he dealt with.  I discretely signaled for my friend, the usher, to escort Steven to the altar.  He knelt before Black Jesus and I knelt beside him.  “That’s it Steven, pray to Black Jesus, confess your sins.  Tell him what a wretched white heathen you are.  Pray for salvation to Black God, Steven.” 

He knelt, with his hands clasped as in prayer but his knuckles were white as he wanted nothing more than to strike me, to shut me up.  I leaned in closer and whispered more softly, “Louder bitch, let everyone know you are a sinner, tell them that you accept Black Jesus as your personal lord and savior, that you know he bled and died on the cross for your filthy, nasty sins.  Don’t you want to be washed in the blood of Holy Black Jesus?”  Tears streamed down his face, his knees ached, rage consumed him.  The congregation clapped, praised God, and cheered for his salvation.  The Pastor prayed, his righteous words punctuated with the staccato of the organ.  They passed the collection plate and I whispered softly, “Every penny of it, Steven, I want you to put every single dollar in that collection plate.” 

His hands trembled as he reached for the envelope in his back jeans pocket and he placed it on the pile of fives, tens, and twenties in the red-velvet-lined brass plate.   He closed his eyes and begged God for forgiveness, to absolve him of his sins, to release him the sexual sickness that consumed him, that prevented him from forming any sort of real, substantial relationship.  He prayed to be normal.  As much as he pretended to be happy as a freak, he deeply wanted to be loved, accepted, and respected by a woman who would love him for something other than his money.  It had been more than 30 years that he had even allowed himself to think such thoughts.  He prayed to the image of a Black man, on his knees, worshipping him, feeling truly worthless and inferior.  When he opened his eyes, I was gone.

He sent me an email, this time with notable humility and respect.  “Mistress, I bow to your will.  I’ve never encountered anyone like you before and I acknowledge and respect that you are nothing less than a true Goddess.  You are my religion and I’m willing to do things your way.  All that I am, all that I have is yours.” 

Copyright 2010 AfroerotiK  All Rights Reserved

The Lion Sleeps Tonight

It’s hard to believe that it’s now been 20 years since I used to watch The Lion King every day with my two and a half year old cousin.  We watched The Lion King like she was studying it for her Master’s thesis.  We would watch The Lion King three or four times a day.  “Watch it again, Miss Avity!  Avity!  Watch it again!”  We sang the songs together, we did the dances; suffice it to say that I was extremely knowledgeable about that movie.  Every time we watched it, every single solitary time, she would ask me some existential, philosophical, metaphysical question that a 2 year old should not have even been able to ask.  She asked questions that I couldn’t answer and that would have me stumped as to how to respond.  I would struggle to explain to this beautiful, inquisitive little girl about the concepts of life, death, and morality and how it all wove together in a movie about a damn lion.

Here I am today, two decades later, and I’m still very much struggling with the concepts of life and death and morality as it pertains to Simba’s cousin, Cecil.  (You didn’t see him in the movie?  He didn’t have a speaking role so it was easy to miss him. He was the one that had black on his mane.)    Anyway, Cecil the Lion was a “famous” lion who was hunted and killed as a part of a blood-sport safari package.  His killer, Walter Palmer, is a dentist from Minnesota who paid $50,000 for the thrill of killing Cecil.   I must, out of necessity, put the word famous in quotes because Cecil wasn’t really famous.  It wasn’t like he was a Barnum & Bailey star performer that millions of people had grown up loving; he wasn’t the lion that ate Siegfried.  Or was that Roy?  Anyway, he didn’t have his own reality show; he wasn’t on a t-shirt.  He wasn’t the latest toy craze he; didn’t have a stuffed animal fashioned after him that parents had to get their children because they were having meltdowns in Toyz R’ Us.  Cecil wasn’t even on social media.  He didn’t have a Twitter, Instagram, or Facebook page; there were no memes with Cecil’s image that had gone viral.  The nation is mourning a lion that . . . 99.9% of the people in this country had never heard of before his death, in a country that 95% of the people can’t find on a map if you paid them.  But, oh, poor Cecil.  Oh the horror, oh the tragedy.  Posthumously, Cecil has become the nation’s golden child.  Their outrage and fury have reached a fevered pitch over the death of poor Cecil that is unparalleled. 

Walter Palmer is a wanted man.  Everyone is out for his blood.  Every conceivable form of social media has got him in their crosshairs.  He’s had to shut down his dentistry, he’s in fear for his life; there is even talk of extraditing him back to Zimbabwe to have him prosecuted.  Celebrities are speaking out, people are crying.  Walter Palmer is the most hated man in America. 

I will tell you this, and of this I am 100% positive, if Walter Palmer had killed a Black man in cold-blooded murder, all caught on video, right here in these United States of America, he would be a national hero right now.  He would have a GoFundMe account where people would donate millions of dollars to him.  He would be the bastard love child of Fox News and the NRA.  White people would be OUTRAGED if there was talk of prosecuting him.  People would find ways to excuse his actions as long as his victim was a Black man.  People would be chanting his name, only this time, it would be to hoist him on their collective shoulders and cheer him on as not only innocent, but justified in his actions. 

White America cheers when a Black person is murdered in cold blood.  They celebrate it.  Every day in a national holiday when a Black person is killed in this country because it’s always their fault.   They shouldn’t have been so uppity.  They shouldn’t have been so menacing.  They shouldn’t have resisted.  They shouldn’t have been walking in a neighborhood they didn’t belong.  They shouldn’t have been playing in the park or buying a toy in Wal-mart.  Clearly, he shouldn’t have been running away or working on his own car in his own driveway.  She shouldn’t have been sleeping on the sofa or asking for help for her broken car.  They shouldn’t have been driving without a license or had a broken tail light because those are crimes punishable and justifiable by death.  They shouldn’t have been arrested 20 years ago.  In essence, they shouldn’t have been a NIGGER. 

The murderers of Eric Garner didn't get indicted. The coroner ruled his death a homicide and no one was held accountable for his death. The police department turned their backs on the Mayor for asking for further accountability after the incident. People posted pictures of themselves wearing t-shirts saying, "I Can Breathe," they posted videos of themselves being choked like it was funny. LEGIONS of white people posted online, justifying the murder of Eric Garner for resisting arrest, saying he shouldn't have been selling cigarettes, saying he was fat and it was his fault. Yeah, but poor Cecil the Lion though.

Walter Palmer’s life is in ruin.  He was forced to issue a lie, I mean an apology saying that he didn’t realize that he had killed a protected animal and how very sorry he was.  Conversely, Darren Wilson said he would kill Mike Brown again if he had to do it all over.  He wasn't even the tiniest bit apologetic.  He retired from the Ferguson Police Department amidst rumors that he had in excess of a million dollars donated to his defense fund.  A fund, incidentally, that he never had to use because he was never even indicted.  His flimsy story, contradicted by every eye-witness, even by the autopsy report, was never questioned by John W. Public.  (I’ll give you two guesses what the W stands for.)  The public swallowed it hook, lie, and sinker.  White people went so far as to photoshop pictures of Darren Wilson making him look bloody and bruised when in actuality, all he had was a case of rosacea.  White America said that Mike Brown DESERVED to die because he stole some cigars.  No, this isn’t 1815 when Black men were killed for minor offenses all the time, when whites would kill niggers for any tiny infraction.  I want you to listen very closely to what white people are trying to say.  White people are boldly proclaiming, loud and clear, that they want to go back to the good old days when they could murder Blacks for offending their lily-white sensibilities.   Being Black in America is a crime.  Being poor in America is a crime.  Being under-educated and unemployed in this country is a crime punishable by death. 

George Zimmerman has shown the world time and time again that he’s volatile and unstable, that he’s actually a thug.  But the overwhelming number of white people believe that he was justified in killing Trayvon Martin because he was in fear for his life, intimidated by the big, Black man who clearly was not where he was supposed to be.  Lions are predators.  They are one of the most vicious animals on the planet.  They kill for food, they kill for territory, they kill for control.  Where are the tweets about how Cecil deserved to die, how he was a threat, where is the defense of Walter Palmer for killing a threat to society? 

Black lives don’t matter.  Racism is not in the past, don’t let it go.  Racism is alive, well, racism is flourishing and thriving with the help of Fox News, the anonymity of the internet, and the unabated ego of white people.  The evidence is there, as plain as day, that white people loathe Black people, they value animal life more than Black human lives.  Kid yourself if you want, delude yourself into believing that the presence of a Black President or interracial relationships symbolize the end of racism, that the playing field is level in some way but I promise you that there are white people in relationships with Black partners and people who voted for Obama who have justified and excused the murder of Black lives in this country because the victims weren’t educated enough, weren’t assimilated enough, weren’t “white” enough.  And I can promise you, that some of the loudest and most virulent and repulsive racist voices, those espousing the most heinous and prejudiced beliefs are the very same people OBSESSED with Black sexuality in secret. 

I went to an exhibition on lynching once.  It showed pictures of white people gathered around corpses of burning, dismembered Black bodies, smiling and happy like it was a day at the fair.  White people used to send out invitations to lynchings, they sent out postcards with pictures of Black people hanged like charcoal piñatas.  White people would put the severed genitalia of Black men on display in jars of the people they murdered.   If that isn’t the height of racism, if that isn’t the epitome of arrogance, I really don’t know what is.  Racism is deeply-ingrained in American culture and nothing has changed.   We are still hated, vilified, and stalked like prey, like wild game on a safari.  Am I supposed to believe that the same people who dress up like Trayvon Martin for Halloween and who troll Black websites to call Black people niggers are not the same people who would take selfies of themselves in front of the mutilated bodies of Black people today?   

I would like to conclude by saying that hunting for sport is nothing less than barbaric and should be outlawed in every corner of the planet.  Anyone who finds pleasure, entertainment, or enjoyment from killing is a sociopath and needs to be kept away from society for the collective safety of the entire animal kingdom, human beings included.  If there is one thing I’ve learned from this event, one existential question about life, death, and morality that I can now answer with certainty and authority, is that Black lives don’t mean a god damn thing in this country other than expendable entertainment for the racist, white masses. 

The Myth of the Magical, All-Powerful White Man

Or Debunking the Fallacy of White Supremacy

I’ve come to understand that there are certain Black people who believe that white men have super powers, supposedly genetically-inherited, superior intellectual mind-control techniques that they use to oppress people of color around the globe.  If I understand their assertions correctly, they believe that white men are capable of controlling the minds of brown people universally and conversely no one is able to get into their minds, no one is able to control them because everyone else is under their spell, hypnotized by their . . . whiteness I guess.  Their whiteness is theoretically impenetrable and renders mere people of color helpless to combat their evil machinations.  It seems that this small faction of Black people believe that white men possess genetic predisposition to rule the world and, oddly enough and quite contradictorily, they believe that it is the secret mission of white men to become Black, or at least commandeer Blackness because they feel jealous of it.  I’m led to believe that they accomplish their mission with their superior intellect, secret societies, and agendas passed down from white brethren to white brethren to intricately know the minds of Black folks and to beat us at our own game.  I’m here to say that NOTHING could be further from the truth. 

Dr. Frances Cress Welsing http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frances_Cress_Welsing is the preeminent black scholar of these types of assertions.  If she is not the originator of them, she certainly is the benchmark Black people use to quote and or paraphrase their “white supermen” theories.  I think it should also be noted here that the vast and overwhelming majority of Black people believe completely differently than the above-mentioned theories.  Sadly, most Black people believe in the fallacy of white supremacy but they don’t have a clue that they do.  Most Black people say color doesn’t matter and sign on hook, line, and sinker for any cliché that white people cast at them.  Most Black people wouldn’t know how to question the status quo if you paid them.  That’s not because we are inherently stupid, it’s a byproduct of our enslavement where we were taught not to question white people or anything they tell us.  People of color have to believe in the fallacy of white supremacy, lest you get those pesky minorities who try to buck the system and talk about racism and the inherent privileges white people have simply by virtue of their skin color.

First, let’s break it down and establish some truths in these fallacious white supremacist concepts.  There is UNQUESTIONABLY a fallacy of white supremacy that dictates, rules, and poisons the entire world.  It seems that the smallest population of people have been able to order, control, dominate, oppress, and manipulate the earth’s resources so that they control and “own” damn near everything.  I say the fallacy of white supremacy implicitly because it is nothing more than illusion.  It’s a fallacy that they are superior, it’s not a fallacy that they have been able to take their inflated belief in self and transform that into global domination.  Does average white Joe or Sally believe that they are better than people of color?  Yes, that’s how the game is perpetuated.  Average white Joe or Sally has to believe that history started with their arrival on the planet, that white people are the originators of the arts and sciences.  They have to believe that whites made every technological advancement.  If they don’t sign on for the belief that whites were smarter, stronger, more capable, more civilized, more refined, more god-like than any other people, then the whole house of cards starts to fall.  Average Joe and Sally White has to believe that there is something inherent about them that makes them better, that makes them more deserving of peace, justice, and liberty than anyone else on the planet.  God is a white man thus white men have to be given more insight, more leadership ability, more spiritual stuff, right?  The air white people breathe has to be more sacred, the land they live on has to be more consecrated, more blessed, more protected than anyone else’s land.  Greece has to be the birthplace of the humanities, Columbus has to be the greatest explorer, Shakespeare has to be the best author, Beethoven the best composer, Rocky has to be the best fighter, Jesus has to have blue eyes and blonde hair, and white people have to believe that to be true from the time they are born in order for the fallacy of white supremacy to thrive.  White has to be right or the entire fallacy of white supremacy crumbles like a crunchy taco shell on Cinco de Mayo at an all you can eat Mexican buffet.    

Ever watch the news right after some white person has gone on a killing spree and killed everyone they could?  The neighbors all say the same thing.  “Oh, he was so nice.  You just don’t think something like that can happen in this neighborhood.”  That, dear ladies and gentlemen, is the fallacy of white supremacy at work.  It is the belief that crime only happens in Black/Latino neighborhoods.  It’s the belief that Psycho Joe, as everyone in the neighborhood calls him, is a good ole boy regardless of the fact that he kills the neighborhood cats and drinks their blood because he has white blood.  You see, whiteness equals good in this society.  It’s what children are taught in school, it’s what’s reflected in the media, it’s the thread that’s woven into the very fabric of how the perceptions of how the world is viewed.    White men who get to decide what is and what isn’t racist comes purely from the fallacy of white supremacy.  It’s the notion that they don’t have to consider anyone else’s experience or perspective because what they see, and think, and believe has to be right. 

Are there secret societies that have been formed to keep people of color oppressed?  Yes.  Do those men have super abilities, do they have access to mind control techniques that keep people of color hypnotized in order to exact their plans of global domination?  Not exactly.  What those secret societies posses are members who are egotistical and greedy and intent on keeping their illegitimate power.  Their ego is born from this belief that white men are special, that they have rights and privileges no one else is deserving of.  Their ego is what drives them to steal, rape, kill, and oppress.  Their ego makes them narcissistic bastards who sit around and try to figure out ways to control the money and power so that it doesn’t get into the hands of brown, yellow, or (what’s left of) red people.  It is nothing more than their ego that makes white men think that they have more inherent value than anyone else that has created this false sense of superiority.  Their ego is greater than most white men but it’s certainly not genetic and it’s not indication that they want to be Black or have a need to oppress people because they feel insecure because they lack melanin. 

From where did this warped sense of self originate?  How did white people first come to believe that they had dominion over the colored people of the planet?  I have no earthly idea. I can’t even begin to speculate.  I do know that it has infected every country, every place white people have been for thousands of years.  What I can do, however, is tell you how the fallacy of white supremacy has been able to flourish and metastasize in this country over the last 400 years.  There’s no magic to it, there’s no genetics involved, there’s no secret societal agenda, it’s pure psychology.  Understanding the mind and how it works holds the key to understanding how and why white people in this country have been able to dictate and dominate the minds of people of color for over four centuries. 

Europeans saw the beautiful brown bodies of the indigenous people of the land that is now known as Africa and believed that they were inferior savages.  They assumed they themselves were inherently superior and that is was their right to capture, kill, kidnap, enslave, and own those people.  That belief, what they thought was truth and knowledge and undisputable fact, is what created the system of racial slavery in the US that has been unequaled in the world before or since.  They believed that their skin was better, their hair was better, their features were more attractive; they believed that their language, arts, customs, religion, and practices had more validity than anything Africans could contribute.  They had a deep-seated need to control and subjugate and veritably crush the wills of those people of color. 

Africans who were enslaved, those who survived the middle passage were and transportation to the United States were emotionally, psychologically, spiritually healthy people.  They were capable of making choices and decisions on their own, forming their own opinions, knowing what it was to be a human being outside of their enslavement.  Slaves born in this country, those who never knew freedom, were never privileged enough to know anything other than what the system of slavery taught them.  Slaves born into they system believed from birth that whites were superior, that Blacks were inferior, and that anything and everything that was good was white.  Every black child born into slavery learned the same lessons, that white was right and that black was equivalent to evil. 

Conversely, every white child born in this country was the beneficiary of being born in a system that told them that every thing about their life, their world, their entire existence that they were superior to anyone with color.  (Rather, anything, because they didn’t see slaves as humans)   The prevalence of racism and the systems, laws, and beliefs enacted during slavery set the stage for every white child to not only believe they were superior but it was validated (at least in their minds) because anything and everything of accomplishment was achieved by white people. 

Fast forward and the beliefs held by the children of slave owners and the children of white people in general, whether they owned slaves or not, have been passed down from generation to generation.  The key instruments in building a child’s self esteem are to shower them with praise and reinforce to them that they have an inherent worth.  Having books, and TV shows and movies that show children people that look like them builds a sense of self.  Reading children stories where all the heroes are white perpetuates the fallacy of white supremacy.  Teaching children that God in heaven looks like them validates that white is the baseline, the standard by which everything else has to be measured.  White children, never having read a book about Black people, never having heard a story of African accomplishment, never conceiving that anyone other than white people contributed anything to society will grow up with an inherited and false sense of superiority.  White children never have to wait until the one night of the week when the “white shows” are on, they never have to wait for the white movie to come out.  They have access to centuries of images of themselves that show them in a positive and healthy light.  So while Blacks have inherited and passed down a slave mentality (even though we don’t acknowledge or admit it) whites have passed down a slave master mentality. 

Slave master mentality is the mindset of white people who have never once had to question that people like them have been the masters of finance, industry, medicine and the arts.  Slave master mentality is the mindset of people who have never once in their lives felt that their skin color was a liability, something that they had to denounce in order to be accepted.  Slave master mentality is the belief systems passed down from generation to generation that allows white people to accept that the final authority, the last word, the law from on high is going to come from a person who looks like them.  It’s that diseased sense of self, that inflated super ego that has created Rush Limbaugh and Bill O’Reilly, Sarah Palin and George W. Bush.   It’s what lead Pat Buchanan to say, and moreover BELIEVE, that this country was built by white men. It’s that isolation from a world where people of color are equal, that inocular vision which creates the ego of white people who think that it’s okay to be racist, that they can say whatever they want, to whomever they want, without repercussion, without censure because they have a birthright to do so.  The fallacy of white supremacy is perpetuated on the beliefs of white men who think that they have more right to money, power, and control than anyone else. 

While I recognize and acknowledge that the pervasive and overwhelming mindset of white people in this society, EVEN those who claim to not have a racist bone in their body, is based on the fallacy of white supremacy, it is just that . . . a fallacy.  White people are not truly superior, they have no super ability to understand the minds of people of color and mastermind techniques to keep us oppressed.  What keeps us oppressed is our inability to understand and comprehend our history, our inability to be introspective and examine our dysfunctions and their origins, and our fear of admitting that we might be flawed (through no fault of our own mind you).  It is far easier for us to worship a blonde haired, blue eyed Jesus than to change the belief that we’ve learned from childhood, passed down to us from our parents, and their parents and their parents before them that black is ugly and bad.  What keeps them in power is their belief that they are superior.  They believe it so they behave in ways that reflect their beliefs.  They start wars, they dictate and manipulate, they work diligently to keep people of color from taking their power or from becoming equal because what’s been taught to them by their parents, what their great grandparents taught their grandparents is that white people have more value.  Even if the message isn’t overt, even if the message doesn’t come from behind the percale softness of a poly-cotton white sheet, the result is the same.  Any white child born in this society has been the beneficiary of an educational, medical, judicial, legal, and social system that has placed whiteness on a pedestal, as an entity deserving of worship and praise.  When white people try to silence any discussion of racism, it’s because they believe that they have a right to say what’s valid, what’s true, what’s right in the world, that no other experience other than their own has weight.   They see the world through white colored glasses.  In that world, everything comes back to the fact that they have been validated, reinforced, and reminded every single solitary day of their lives that white people are great.  They’ve never once had to live in a time or place where white people are not seen as the origin of everything good in the world.

So in order for white people, the few elites who do have global power and control, to remain in power, for them to maintain the status quo, people of color have to be complicit in their agenda.  There has to be a population of Black people who believe that there are white men who possess super-human, secret Echelon infrastructure powers to control and dominate people of color.  Once we accept that the fallacy of white supremacy is based on nothing more than the narcissistic, self-centered and childlike behaviors of men with inflated egos who have the same flaws, weaknesses, and vulnerabilities as everyone else, then and only then can we start restructuring a world where everyone is equal.  Donald Rumsfeld and Dick Cheney can no longer be secret society masterminds but they are little boys who were told over and over that the Lone Ranger was good and that the injuns were bad.  They cease to be keepers of keys to sacred texts that were created in ancient times to mesmerize the people of color around the globe to goose step to their tune of supremacy.  It is in truth and understanding that we see them as individuals who were told that God was a white man and that they were literally created in his image and likeness.  Left unchecked, the ego can be a dangerous tool.  Understanding that illusion is the key to our liberation.  The fallacy of white supremacy can be dismantled and destroyed with knowledge of self, re-writing our stories to include people of color, and dismantling the notion that white men are somehow in possession of tools that will allow them to control us.  Every human being has the ability within them to crush the inflated ego of self and shine the light of truth, justice, and peace on the shadows of injustice that have plagued the world. 

Copyright 2009 Scottie Lowe of AfroerotiK

An open letter to the people who hate Obama more than they love America

An open letter to the people who hate Obama more than they love America

Eye-opening to say the least

I thought I would and should  publish the follow up comments from the gentleman after he read my piece about submissive white men.  It really concerns me that the only comments being made about this topic are coming from the insane submissive white guy whose name I'm not allowed to mention.  White women, I would love to hear your comments.  Black women and men, please don't stay quiet.  There is mass dysfunction here and it needs to be addressed.  Remaining silent is not the solution.  I know sex is a messy, unpleasant subject and talking about white men's sexuality is unpopular and fraught with decades of complications and social stigmas but I'm begging you to participate in the discussion. 

Date	Tue, November 29, 2011 - 2:11 AM
Subject	Re: Black female superior

Thank you for responding. I do appreciate it very much. Any insite you can provide me is welcome. I would still like to hear more about your personal opinions, I am curious what turns you on. You obviously have an inate interest in sex that goes beyond your personal pleasures. I imagine your interest in this particular topic goes beyond your duties as moderator of a "tribe."

I dont know if you care but I will tell you alittle bit about myself and maybe shed some light on the topic. I am, by definition bi-sexual. Only because I do have, and happen to enjoy, sex with women from time to time. However at an early age I had a preference for men. After I became comfortable with that, I realised more specifically I enjoyed being the 'bottom.' During this time it wasnt necessary to always be the bottom but that was my preference. Also during this time I had sex with several black guys and their race wasnt much more than a after thought. even in these instances it mattered little who assumed the submissive role. I hardly thought about it beyond the desire to have sex with another man. Now, let me get one thing out of the way, long before any of this I found I had a particular attraction to black women. I said that I do enjoy sex with women occassionally. This includes all varieties of woman but, for a white guy, I had more than a passing attraction to black girls.

As I aged and grew more comfortable with my desires I learned that I really liked being the 'bottom.' More and more I began to enjoy being very effeminate when in the intimate company of other men. Back around 2003 or 2004 I began to explore my effeminate side by reaching out to other fems in particular online. At first it start as nurturing my feminine side with some accessories like panties or a wig and lipstick. Soon it became more elaborate with lingerie and womens shoes ( OMG! How I love womens shoes!) Various role playing with me being the schoolgirl or the nurse or the cheerleader all became a part of it and was just as enjoyable as the sex itself. Then around 2006 I found a yahoo group called "Black Men Turning White Boys into Girls." WOW!!! What a mind fuck THAT turned out to be. It was like watching a train wreck yet I was oddly drawn to it. Further I was pleased to see how many members the group had. So my eyes were opened to a fetish that really appealed to me: men transforming into women for Dom tops. Which is what I had been doing anyway. Now there was this whole black/white dynamic that I wasnt sure what to make out of it but I was pretty sure that I liked it.

With that I began to explore the world of the black bull and the white sissy. I enjoyed it...ALOT! I never have seen beyond the sexual act of it though. Although for role playing I do like to play up the master/servant relationship. I have never found slavery or BDSM to be arousing nor do I find cuckolding or castration to be turn-ons either. I dont know why they just seem too extreme for me. I like to show up, meet with a black guy or guys, let them all know that I am the slut in the room, walk into the bathroom and come out dressed as the white girl of their choice and get down to the seriously, deleriously good time of being beat up by black dick. I DO have standards I like well built guys who are of a decent age who are clean and drug free (for the most part anyway).

For some odd reason I have developed at least three other fetishes that relate to this sexual dynamic. One, I like seeing real white girls fucking black guys, Two I like to meet real white girls who date black guys exclusivley and tell them about my own desires ( I dont know why but for some reason it appeals to my inner teenage girl, once that topic is exhauseted the conversation turns awkward and ends on a lame note, you can only say "I like black guys, Yeah me too! Black guys are hot! I know what you mean! I feel the same way!" so many times before the convo runs its course) Of course it is all role playing for me. I have found that I like to be treated the way black guys are often portrayed as treating women. I like being refered to as a ho or a bitch. I like hearing things like "damn bitch you got a fat ass" while Im sucking dick.

So that brings me to where I am today. It comes full circle, my early admiration fro black girls and my new found feminine side mixed with the image of pop/hip-hop culture/rap music and the way black men are portrayed as treating black women...it all adds up to my third newfound fetish. I now find myself emulating the black woman during my sexual escapades. Wearing wigs that are styled like black womens hair, wearing stereotypical clothes of a black girl, apple bottom and babbyphat and the footwear (the shoes! the shoes!) This is the latest barrier I have discovered about myself and I love it too. This is not always so easily accepted and often requires several encounters to test the waters. In many ways I am only emulating alot of the white girls who date black guys and therefore adopt these fashions. Who knows where it will go from here, but much like my first experiences with cross dressing I still find the dressing and role playing just as fun as the sex itself. I would probably be just as happy spending the day shopping for clothes and doing hair and make-up with a black girl as I would spending the night with a black dude balls deep in my ass....Well, probably not but you get the idea.