There is a wealth of irony in refusing to acknowledge the large scope of influence Black people, specifically Black women (this means Black women across all spectrums), hold across the globe. I say irony simply because, while we are the most imitated, we are also the ones who face and receive the most abuse. Now before any of you who do not fall within the categories of Black and woman (or girl) get all riled up and fall into debate with your conscious about the oppression you too face, this is neither a competition nor claim.

It's a proven fact.

With this knowledge, I have come to expect and even precipitate certain standards of treatment from people who work hard - and overtime - to flow with the culture of the dominant society. For those who do not know, within the veins of the dominant society is an undercurrent of conformity which entails making the torment of Black women (and girls) a priority. This behavior is so normalized, in fact, that sometimes this torment is executed as a humorous after school activity for some to participate in.

You know, "iT'S jUsT jOkEs!"

An abnormal standard of behavior which has been taught and subliminally enforced as the 'norm' for most all people to engage with ever since I was able to recognize my image in a mirror. Atop the already dystopian realities in which we live, I confess even I have become accustomed and immune to this very perverse fact. Not as a defense mechanism, but because I have been both witness and victim to these torments since I was a child.

You know, "iT'S jUsT jOkEs!"
As a disclaimer, I would like to emphasize that my ensuing stream of conscious also applies and is directed to the Black and half-Black individuals who engage in such behavior. I don't cut any cards and, as a reminder, all skinfolk ain't your kinfolk.

I'm hoping this won't get too long and veer off to any broken path, but let me just say this to all that apply: find a hobby. A career, a passion, hell even an after school special that may so occupy the time you dedicate towards being a misogynoiristic, steaming heap of donkey doo, you spineless, tiny balled, whiny excuse of a person.


I find adults who rush into the misogynoir and colorist mob mentality to be one of the most perplexing things about social media. The blind willingness to flow with the herd all the while claiming individuality because, you know, "iT'S jUsT jOkEs!"

The encouragement of that behavior from young.
The lack of, or even staunch refusal to, remove yourself from any scenario which either displeases, or simply does not apply, to you.
The insistence that the only feelings which matter are your own.

You know, because it's always "jUsT jOkEs!"
At which point does this schtick become old?

At which point do we call malformed behavior what it is?

Honestly, I want to know (I don't, this is hypothetical) because the act is tired.

And are you not tired, too, Miss Hilly?

The misery that is so revealed to exist within fully grown, matured adults (and children and preteens and teens) who make it their mission to snuff out any joy as found in Black women or really any others is such a jarring force to encounter. Mainly because: WE GROWN! WHY ARE YOU STILL ENGAGING IN CHILDISH ANTICS?! ARE YOU GOING TO BE A PLAYER HATER ALL OF YOUR LIFE?! WHY ARE YOU SO CONCERNED ABOUT THE EXISTENCE OF SOMEONE ELSE?!

What makes these sentiments even crazier is, I do not encounter these things as frequently in the real world. Potentially because people are scary and the relative anonymity of the internet serves as a shield, but on the world wide web - specifically within my own internet sphere - I find the hatred (though, I would call it envy) of Black women continues to be a festering, diseased mass. A mass that has formed and molded and fed by the beasts of self-hate, constantly lobbed at you from all sides by all who wish to laugh to keep from crying at the insecurities they are drowning in.

As well, sometimes people really are just piles and piles of sh*t.

Terrible to the core.

I try my best to not let the internet intensely annoy or gaslight me into believing I am worth less than I am simply because I am both Black and woman. To be honest, I'm mainly on social media for the funnies and Beyoncé; as I always say, the internet is not a real place. However I cannot deny that it can have real effects on the lives of very real people.

As a reminder, the poison existing within you will not kill me.

That is a fool's game, and I'm not playing.

I am living as a Black woman, and I'm going to die as a Black woman.

I wouldn't have it any other way, and if I could do it again within that very same sphere of identity, I would.

Any obsession centered on making Black women question the validity, the brashness, the beauty, the bold innovation of their existence will be met with nothing more than a full-bellied laugh and the occasional callout for being a whole freak.

A loser who takes pleasure in twisted behavior.

You hate you so much, you want me to hate myself.

Find. A. HOBBY.
Log off the internet.
Disengage with the things that make you so unhappy.
Seek therapy or other forms of self-help.
Practice self-care.
Remove yourself from the narrative.

Of course, the older you become the easier it is to form your own opinions, forge your own path and decide what kind of person you wish to be, but for those who are unable to relate: no battle worth fighting for (see: your mental health and sanity) ever came easy, now did it?

Who knew the 'jungle' Randy Newman sang about in the Monk title theme didn't apply only to San Francisco, but the online world, too.

You hate yourself and you hate me because I don't.

You hate to see it.

It really is a jungle out there.