Amethyst Amelia Kelly would’ve been a dope ass rapper if only she had believed in herself the way we are told to — in order to embrace the cylinder of our dreams
When I was much younger, the blueprint revolved around the casual elegance of “heroin chic” — as damsels in disarray were doused in torn up lace confections — and ordered to step into the plain of vivid consciousness — under the direction of London It Girl — Kate Moss.
Barely there boobs and an ass that droops under the strobe lights of bubbly recognition was the fiesta that was supposed to keep the industry chiming along — as menus presented options that would barely line your stomach.
We like to say that The Kardashians helped to eulogize the bodies and era that mandated their entry. If you are among the mourners — then you definitely chose the right funeral.
The most famous Armenian-Americans ever to walk the earth set the stage and perfectly illustrated how White women can become Black women with the aid of ass, thighs, and well-distributed lies.
It starts with the swinging tresses that men love to grab onto just when their dick can’t hold it any longer. Then you work your way up to the boobs and make sure that the perkiness doesn’t interfere with the vibrancy of the nipples. While, you’re up there, don’t forget to take a peek down below — as you rapture the airiness of your butt into the ballooned shape that can fill the fantasies of any baller or rapper who betrays — in order to use your shed for dunks.
Everything else is a bonus, and the White chicks in the game — have us beat by miles — and they know it.
Iggy Azalea was dragged for filth by the artist whose moniker she stole for purposes that are obvious and fucked up.
She sounds like a ready-made copycat who had to be let into the cave by an equally diced heathen. Atlanta bred rapper and ex-convict T.I. was smitten by the Australian native and as it goes — she was faced with the task of erasing her Caucasian template for the sake of career and the places you end up when your career takes flight.
She flew with Fancy and the other so-called hits kept her above ground — and then while waging war against those who questioned her annoying presence — she took time off and is now back — Blacker than ever.
Rachel Dolezal would be pleased with what her sister in crime has conceived. Another epic offering that begs for permission to bounce that expensive booty into the yards of acceptance.
A place where White chicks that become Black chicks can finally own the reward they earned while twirling their locks into submission.
Azalea is here to refute her humble beginnings in favor of demonstrating how your gigantic derriere can bump up and down to the beat of her latest hit — Mo Bounce.
The video is graphic enough to destroy your imagination and enticing enough to line up the Black men who want a White woman is Black enough to be White.
Iggy Azalea is an ugly Black woman because she was too cowardly and weak to rep her game as the blonde-haired, thin-lipped, flat-chested ingenue with the talent that could’ve still garnered a spread in XXL and the respect of legions of fans who might have stuck around to feed her the adulation she craves.
She had to scrub away the evidence of her heritage and claim what never belonged to her in order to feel the comfort of assuming a role that belongs to a community — that she will never embrace— due to her pasty disposition.
White women have the leisure of being bat-shit crazy without consequences.
They can accuse Black men of rape and kidnappings, they can pretend to be Black because it feels good, and they particularly like the way their curls tuck into each other with shiny adherence. They can strut onto the scene with the body of champions — that awaits the appetite of men that hate their own and therefore need to escape into the version that validates their fears.
I’m not bitter and I’m certainly not a Black bitch.
I’m just sick and tired of White women feeling really high on the concept that they can fuck us over and become legends in the process of legally fucking us over.
Iggy Azalea would have captivated my soul and forced me to surrender any pent up reservations about her capabilities if she had retained the shell of Amethyst Amelia Kelly.
If her ability to give Black female rappers a run towards WTF had happened while still inhabiting what her mama gave her — perhaps the need to squash her obvious trajectory wouldn’t be so deafening.
But she chose to be an ugly caricature without the skills to match the level of abhorrence — that stains her butt hole and spreads her lips wide enough to see through the privilege — that White people ask me about all the time — as if their pupils dilate into the brain that is supposedly more superior.
Black women are beautiful. We always were — even when our attributes inspired comic fodder and placed us at the bottom of the list for sensual adulation.
Kim Kardashian and her sisters are gross. Iggy is grosser. And we know why they stink to high heaven and yet they are allowed to deaden our nostrils.
Turns out that White women can be ugly Black women and still thrive and fuck society senseless while Black women are beautifully rejected.