Acting Black

I hear people complain, not my personal circle of friends but others on the net, that they are looked down upon by their friends for speaking well, for “acting white”.  That’s not necessarily true either.  I’ve had friends make those sorts of comments and criticisms and then I remind them that their particular circle of friends are all educated and articulate.  They don't really get that comment directed at them, they only pretend that they do so they can be included in the number of outraged and offended who have nothing better to do on the internet but complain about "those Black people."   It seems true however, that a great many people in our community still feel that to be educated is to be a sellout, is to “act white”. 

I have had several personal experiences where when I contradict someone’s misguided and tragically flawed logic or opinion, they tell me that going to college and getting a higher education doesn’t make me smarter than them.  I understand that as a defense mechanism, an attempt to make themselves feel validated and to lesson my arguments by believing that years of study, research, and reading have no impact on one’s body of knowledge.  It is, however, nothing more than a defense mechanism with not one iota of validity. Yes, going to college, studying, makes me more informed.  You might have common sense and you might be street smart but thinking you know about subjects that you haven't studied, getting your "knowledge" about subjects from listening to Michael Baisden, no, that does not mean you are more informed than I am. 

I’m also the beneficiary of numerous notes, emails and communiqués from individuals in the “conscious community”, individuals who are extremely informed and well read, that are phonetically misspelled, grammatically incorrect, and incoherent.  On the rare occasion that I respond to those sorts of messages, informing the sender that I’m discouraged by their lack of basic English skills, I’m usually assaulted with the concept that achieving the white man’s education, knowing how to articulate oneself well in standard English, is to be unable to grasp my true African heritage.  It always seems that the party line is that TRUE Africans can only communicate in ebonics or some variation thereof.   I shouldn’t need a key and a translation guide have to decipher an email about the plight of my people. 

All three mindsets are dumb. 

To me, acting like you are white would be to be ignorant of other people’s history and culture.  Acting white would be diminishing other people’s pain, using your skin color for unearned privileges, trying to oppress people in order to make yourself feel superior.  Being barely literate and uneducated doesn’t make you more Black, it doesn’t make your Black experience more authentic.  The more we as a people ascribe to the notion that acting white is to be informed, intelligent, and articulate, the more we assert that being “real” or being Black is to shun education, the more we are playing into the hands of EXACTLY what white people expect us and want us to be . . . dumb niggers.  Educating oneself in an institution of higher learning does in fact make you smarter than stopping your education at the 12^th grade.  How much smarter is up to the individual but to assert anything different is absurd.  Mastering the English language doesn’t mean you can’t fight for the revolution, it simply means you can address multitudes of people in a way that everyone can understand. 

To act Black is to behave in a manner where we excel despite the circumstances.  Acting Black is to make a way out of no way.  White people can excel in life because they have inheritances, nepotism, institutionalized racism that allows them to get a foot in the door for no other reason, with no qualification other than their skin color.  Acting Black is excelling despite the fact that we have to work twice as hard to get half as far.  Acting Black is carrying yourself with dignity and grace when white people try to belittle or demean your by making racist comments and then excusing it by saying, “I’m just joking.”  Our Blackness is our strength, our ability to survive, adapt, and shine.  Shine on Black man and Black woman, shine on. 

I am Black

What do you see when you see me?  Do you see responsibility and dignity encoded in my DNA?  Do you see generations of survival and struggle in my skin?  Open your eyes, your mind, your heart and see that I am Black.  I’m a black man with the burdens, trials, and tribulations that come along with that honor.  Don’t look at my color to see my blackness, that the sun has graced me with its kisses.  See my blackness and my manhood as intricately intertwined and divinely gifted, see my blackness as my nature and my demeanor, not the way society has narrowly defined me.  

The realization of my true place as a black man did not come until I let go of my insecurities and fears, my false beliefs that kept me separated from my other half.  My soul was incomplete without the presence of you, my queen.  You waited patiently for me to grow and mature, you waited for me to wear the crown that had my name inscribed on it so that we could reign together.  Now that I have found you, I will not forsake your love.  My thoughts are filled with ways I can bring a smile to your lips, those sweet and seductive lips that make my knees weak and my palms sweaty when you gently touch my cheek . . . my brow.  I am filled with the need to give you pleasure like you’ve never known before, to bring you satisfaction until you pass out from sensory overload.  Laying your head on my chest, finding that spot that belongs only to you fills me with a profound joy like I’ve never known before.  With my arms wrapped tightly around your exquisite brown curves, I know my challenge is to show you my emotional wounds and let you heal them with your compassion and your love.  I’m humbled by the ways I’ve grown with you and my newfound ability to see you as a complete human being, not just an object for me to acquire.  You are the reason for my being and I’m made whole in your arms.  

Copyright 2006 Scottie Lowe  All rights reserved. 

A Moving, Erotic Embrace

This is what racism looks like

Sometimes I Wonder

Minority Affairs

Inside Me

Black Erotica 360

Afroeroticism

The End of an Era

At different points in our lives we have to examine ourselves and our motivations and decide if we need to change who we are.  Today is that day for me.  For the better part of 15 years or so, I’ve been a Domme.  I am what is referred to as a lifestyle Domme meaning I do not do it professionally but merely for the pleasure and joy I receive from it personally.  More specifically, I am a psychological Domme, meaning I have no desire to inflict pain on anyone, I don’t want or need anyone to do stupid tasks to prove my superiority.  My arousal, my very physical and sexual arousal comes from getting in a sub’s head and fucking with the wiring, making him disoriented, altering his perceptions and his core beliefs.  I take what is arousing and a turn-on for submissives and I use that, I manipulate that in order to get them to a place of arousal where they are more open and receptive to the reality of their true, inherent inferiority.  If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it 100 times.  I do not believe in nor am I proponent of theories of Black or female supremacy but I am Black, female, and infinitely superior.

I have been open and very honest about my domination in my blog and in my AfroerotiK travels for many, many years.  I’ve been open and honest about all of my growth as a person, my sexuality, I have no secrets.  I don’t hide my identity.  I have ONE profile name on every site.  I have never created a fake profile or tried to obscure my identity for any reason.  I have created podcasts discussing all sorts of topics openly and very honestly, and I have written extensively about my personal revelations.  What I do not do is write about my specific submissives and the experiences I have with them.  I feel like if they trust me enough to give me a part of themselves that is so intimate and scary, the very least I can do is keep their experiences between them and I.  I personally have nothing to be ashamed of, however, because I am not at all ashamed of what I do.  I exploit white men’s inherent racism, their fallacious sense of superiority, and their submissive sexual desires in order to make them face harsh realities they might not otherwise experience but by my hand. 

I have been very vocal about ONLY dominating white men.  I do not dominate men of color, any color, because society is set up to oppress them and I will not contribute to that.  I do not and will not ever see Black men as inferior to me.  Even if they are less advantaged than I am, I do not see them as inferior.  I see them for who and what they are: men who have been denied equal access to education, employment, and who have had to compensate in a very racist society by adapting to their environment.  I know that if they had been given the same advantages in education and in society that I have been given, that the strength, beauty, and inherent will of the Black man to excel would, in fact, make them my equals. 

I do not, will not, and have never dominated a woman, any woman.  I have had two or three occasions to have sexually explicit chats with white women and there was clearly blurred lines with domination and submission but I did not have any desire to dominate them.  I am a woman.  To do what I do to a woman would be akin to criminal in my mind.  Even though I don’t feel a sisterhood with white women like I do with women of color, I still respect that they are their struggles have to mirror my own at some point on the spectrum of life and it’s a rule I am very comfortable keeping. 

I have had some wonderful subs over the years.  I can truly say that I have cared for each of them in some way.  Some helped me grow as a Domme, others simply served as toys to express my sexuality.  I have turned down more offers from submissive white men than can be counted.  There was a time when I would get no less than 10-15 different offers from white men a day, every day, 365 days a year, for the better part of half a decade.  My standards are strict but so is my play.  I play hard.  I take no prisoners and I’m pretty unapologetic about it.  I have crafted and created plans specific to each of the subs who have belonged to me.  I have had a few occasions to have one-night stands if you will with submissive white men and with very few exceptions, very few indeed, they have all been pleasant experiences. 

I remember my first foray into domination.  I was completely unaware of anything to do with the BDSM world.  The gentleman who had been pursuing me romantically didn’t say anything about wanting to be submissive at all.  It was not until he was kneeling on the ground in downtown Atlanta, loudly proclaiming for all the midday passersby to hear, that he would do anything for my forgiveness.  Eventually, he would end up in the middle of my living room floor, weeping with joy and exasperation at the trials I put him through.  I was a different woman after that night.  I knew that I could, with my superior intellect and reasoning, get white submissives to a place where I could manipulate their sexuality and their sense of belonging.  I knew that I could hold a dirty mirror up to white men and reveal to them the pathological and deep-seated racism that they seem incapable of acknowledging. 

I studied their behaviors, their responses, their core beliefs and it was apparent that submissive white men held very much the same twisted and disturbed desires to some degree.  Some white men were creepy, some were simple, most were simply self-centered and didn’t give a damn about me, only their fantasy of being submissive to some sassy Black bitch.  Some, the intelligent, serene, worldly ones, I respected and appreciated.  Others, rich, arrogant, and racist, I enjoyed toying with and breaking and throwing away like trash. 

Over the years, I have had coffee and/or drinks with dozens of submissive white men for their applications to belong to me.  Most were painfully average.  White men who no one would think or believe would have submissive desires, middle-class, average white men who were not spectacular, remarkable, or memorable in any way told me that they would do anything for me.  Most, I knew I would never hear from them again, others I knew that they were too one-dimensional to truly grasp that what I would do to them was so entirely devastating, so extreme and cruel, and they were too oblivious to know that they were way in over their heads.  Others, I would think there was potential, that they would be great submissives but they were just too disconnected from the truth, their desires were too compartmentalized.  You see, it’s one thing to sit in front of a computer and pretend and fantasize that you are a depraved slutty pig who will do anything, it’s quite another to live the reality.  Most white men fantasize in extremes.  They want to be the gangbang whore at a party.  Apparently, white men think that Black women frequently sit around at parties where we piss on white men for amusement.  Or they want to be passed around, having unprotected sex with black men with 12 inch dicks. 

White men always act offended and outraged when I suggest that those fantasies, were just that, fantasies and that what I would do to them would be extreme but never insane or dangerous.  When they’re horny, you can’t reason with them; with their dicks in their hands, they swear that they will do anything.  When the reality of their lives resumes in the light of day, they compartmentalize, deny, and run away for months.   They can’t deal with the fact that I might actually be able to transform them to the thing that they want to be secretly.  They run in fear because they know that if they were to submit to me, it would no long be just a fantasy but that I would turn their fantasies into their greatest fears. 

I’ve written many times about the commonalities of submissive white men.  Their behaviors are pretty consistent and delusional.  They are adept at compartmentalizing their sexuality in ways that not one Black person I’ve ever met, as disconnected and detached from any sort of healthy grasp of sexuality as we are, has ever come close to.  White men have a level of arrogance, of entitlement, a belief that they are beyond reproach in a way that is highly disturbing. 

There have been a few white subs I haven’t been able to break.  One, I groomed for five years and he would run away every time we met.  He was so warped he made up a wife that never existed.  I wish I could say he was the only one but he was far from the only one who did that.  White men want to have an excuse, an out.  They actually think that I will fall in love with them or that I will stalk them.  It’s part of their delusion, they think that I would covet and want them, that I will somehow inflict myself into their life, that I will need them to complete me.  I’m patient, extremely patient in fact, and I have had subs who kept coming back time and time again only to get close to the day when I would dominate them, with or without a partner, and they would disappear for several months.  They always come back.  ALWAYS. 

Racism is a mental disease.  Couple that mental disease with the overwhelming desire to submit to Black sexuality, and the need to be racist and offensive in public and private circles to maintain the status quo, to maintain the image that they hate blacks when you in fact they lust after us, when they have done absolutely NO work to rid themselves of their racist beliefs and their inherent sense of superiority, and you have the recipe for internal conflict that sets the stage for white men acting like assholes.  I have experienced far more of that than I would like to.  Obnoxious, arrogant, offensive . . . I’ve seen it all.  I love the ones that say, “Well, if you were truly superior, you could break me of being an asshole.”  White men are racist, mentally ill, they are deluded in their beliefs that they are superior.  Me being superior has nothing whatsoever to do with making them realize the ways of their profound assholery and making them change.  My superiority has to do with my ability to see and recognize their behaviors for what they are and not lowering myself to their sickness but rather staying confident, secure, and sane in my walk on this earth, speaking truth to power, and being the gifted visionary I was born to be. 

I haven’t done that.  I have slipped and fallen and I can’t get up.  I have let a sub and his mental illness break my spirit and my will.  It is for this reason, after deep reflection and self-examination, that I am announcing that I will no longer dominate white men.  I will no longer refer to myself as a Domme, I will no longer engage in any activities personally that require my interaction with white men and psycho-sexually dominating them.  I am not superior to mental illness and his has infected me.  I have wanted him out of my life for a decade.  He comes back, over and over and over again.  He feels entitled to insinuate himself into my life when he wants, how he wants, with no respect or regard for anything other than his own sick and twisted fantasies of being blackmailed and extorted and ruined.  He is a pathological liar.  He has broken my spirit.  I hate him.  I have never hated a sub before in my life.  They aren’t important enough in my life for me to hate.  I hate him in a way that lets me know that he has won, he has broken me.  If I could let him get to me the way he has, I know that it’s time for me to pack it up and move on to the next phase of my life. 

I dread coming to my blog every day; every day I dread the thought of seeing a comment from him.  I feel like I have to be careful what I write because I will incite him to bother and annoy the piss out of me again.  I can’t do that.  I can’t let a white man control what I write.  I gave him the opportunity to belong to me.  I opened myself up and said, “Hey, I obviously can’t get rid of him so I’ll just do what I do best and dominate him.” What an idiot I was.  I can’t dominate insanity.  I knew it was time for me to stop being a Domme when I actually prayed for his death.  When I let myself be that dysfunctional, all because a white man, it’s time for me to let it go.  I have to make peace with the fact that I will never be rid of him and I have to find a way to accept that and incorporate it into my life without the feelings of disgust, anger, and resentment that he has evoked in me. 

I will not dominate white men any more.  I have done it, enjoyed it, and it’s been a great ride.  Going forward, I will have to rethink seriously my involvement with interracial content.  I know that I must continue to write my own particular brand of interracial erotica.  I know that I have opened white men’s eyes, I know that I am the only voice who is approaching it in the way that I do.  I have plans for a series of interracial videos that are unlike anything that can be found on the internet today.  I know I must go through with them because I know I need Black people to see ourselves as truly superior, not just pawns, not just nigger sex objects to fulfill whatever dark continent fantasies white people have.  What I despise at this moment is that every time I come out with new content, I know I will be dragged back down into the abyss of this particular leech and his insane world where he is justified in all the twisted lies he tells, all the immature tactics to get my attention.  He will, as he has done repeatedly and consistently for the last decade, find reason to critique me, feign indignation, arrogance, and outrage towards me, and then sing my praises.  He’s done it since day one.  He’s so warped, he has created fake girlfriends, fake profiles, fake realities just to insinuate himself into my life. 

If I don’t come to some sort of peace dealing with the fact that I will never be rid of him, I will certainly self-destruct.  I want and need to distance myself from the sickness that is white male submission.  Their insanity isn’t questioned, challenged, or addressed in any sort of meaningful way and I am the only one doing so.  I have plans for all sorts of interracial events that will make white men come to terms with the dichotomy that is their racial love/hatred for Black folk.   I can’t even think about executing them because I know that each and every time I do, he will be there, in some way, inflicting himself into my life.  I PRAY for the day I will never hear from him again.  Sadly, I know in a matter of months, he will come back, again, and again, and again.