BLACK FOLKS MOAN

I go to a black school in a very black city. On a day to day basis the only interactions I have with non-black folk is my Indian homegirl, and maybe an intercultural stare down at a 4-way stop as I’m rolling thru town.

So imagine the jolt when I went to pole dancing class on Saturday and shared a small, confined space with a bunch of white girls.

It was like grade school gym class all over again. So weird, that I was conscious of not so much being in their presence, but in having been away for so long. I was reminded of their mannerisms, the way they stand. The white girl way of slumping shoulders and flinging bangs. Freckles. Pancake azzes. Sneakers with shoelaces actually tied (and tied tightly at that). Still wet hair.

I can make these observations because I’m white-familiar. I didn’t grow up in a colored-only city. Me and Tawandas and Maliks and Latonyas grew up with Beccas and Siobhans and Lauras and Heidis and Katies. I have a point of reference, and very few racial biases that are not personally rooted in individual experiences.

But then I became conscious of the very real possibility that these chicks didn’t grow up with Keishas and Briannas and Kadijahs. That maybe I was their intermittent incarnation of Bl@ck History Month. And suddenly, I was embarrassed of “my” image.

Shit, seemed like that month was never gonna end. Is it me, or was that the longest 28 days EVER? My stance on the occasion…in short, I think it’s absurd to think you can wrap us into the short month. But I also think it’s a very necessary way to force white folks (shit, us too) to acknowledge our accomplishments, contributions, struggles.

But if you do not live or work with or around or near Black folks, then what exactly have you learned about us?

Even if you’ve made a concerted effort to avoid us all month, chances are you’ve watched TV, surfed the net, opened a daily, or turned on the radio…and there we are, shouting our pride from the rooftops.

We’re proud of our black prez candidate. Even tho he admits to smoking weed, he’s still not considered blacker than our honorary 1st black prez (who smoked AND got his dcik sucked AND played the sax on Arsenio AND had a white wife).

We’re proud to be homophobic (PS…who gave Hard@way a mic anyway?? That dude is one of the least articulate athletes EVER)

We are shocked and mournful of the sudden announcement that we are now hated by our Ch!nese brothers and sisters.

We’re proud of our right to assemble…amongst ballers.

And equally vocal in one conservative idiot's disdain for the so-called “Bl@ck KKK.”

Never to be outdone, hip hop was finally exposed for the misogynistic, homoerotic, hypermasculine culture that it is (if you haven’t peeped this doc yet pls check your local listings)

The streets of NY are much safer now that nigg@s can’t say the N-word.

We proudly confirm that white folks were dead wrong for not allowing us to act all these years. We’re not just great athletes, dammit. If there’s one thing we CAN do it’s sing. And if given the opportunity we can also dance and bring humanity to African dictators, too! (All jokes and sarcasm aside, FW’s performance was amazing!)

And no, Blacks are NOT lagging behind academically. Did you hear how clear Mary read off those 50+ names in her Grammy acceptance speech? I hope ‘Tasia pass her test too.

We are also proudly… braid by braid, thug by thug… ceremoniously cutting off the cornrows (Jermaine O’N!el, Rip Hamilton), and being rewarded for it (Luda).


Even though our men may not pay that child support, Ty!er Perry revealed fascinating evidence this month that proves they DO love and support their kids. Hell, BBrown was at his daughter’s cheerleading competition when he got cuffed.

And my man Rev. Al (whose radio show I listen to religiously) reminded us that we should further investigate the claims that there may have been black slaves owned by whites in South Carolina back in the day.

I don’t know about yall, but I need the month of March to recoup. We had a very busy 28 days.

I’m not sure how well I’m actually living up to “my” image.

But I do know that the black folks that most white folks “know”… the ones they liberally invite into their lives daily via TV, newspaper, music and film…are new to me too. I tune in to learn about this bizarre (televised) black culture myself. And I consider myself black-familiar. lol

Forgive me if I don't appear in the mood to celebrate. That's just public perception.