Kim Kardashian West is the “Ethnic” Jackie O and The World Still Hasn’t Ended
We’ve been here before, and it wasn’t pretty. Back in 2015 — Cosmopolitan featured Kris Jenner and her employees as they posed for the privilege of being bequeathed as “America’s First Family.”
A lot of us were livid at the idea that a family that became noteworthy because of the popularity of a sex tape — could share the same privilege as the real First Family. This was when The Obamas were still giving us the blissful right to recognize their Blackness in The White House.
Looking back, it’s absolutely ludicrous that we that were so appalled by the idea of how much The Kardashian Klan fit the realms of American royalty.
When I examine the images from the Red Carpet at the recently programmed VMAs — it’s clear that I’ve basically aged out.
Not only do I not recognize more than half of the paraders — I also can’t figure out why I should give a fuck. I mean, when I was young — credit and carpets were reserved for the ones that did the work. Nobody cared about how many unknowns liked you — unless that translated into a kick-ass movie or album — or both.
Fashion Week was not an institution you could seamlessly overtake with the badge of a talkative blogger — commanding the number of followers that secure the level of access — that used to be reserved for the ones that can decipher how and why Swiss lace is kinder to the skin.
Labels carried a weight that only stuck if you provided the evidence of your contribution to a landscape that wasn’t impressed by hearts, or the tweets of approval that usually mean nothing unless an army of tweeters flutter the numbers to the point of that blue tick.
We are immersed in the potluck of buzz words that have to be peppered in for endorsement. Hashtags also help to elevate that mission. We sell whatever — even when there is a questionable vibe in the midst.
You come up with the “phrase of the day” that illustrates why being “Woke”, with the aid of the other descriptions that fall into the tagged sphere — requires a trademarked and monied venture — that gets you even more woke — when you retweet and share why your retweet wins you a T-shirt with the letters of your activism.
We share the brands that stalked us for a few minutes before we succumbed to the pleasure of Islands with a view — serving platters of goodies and sunsets that inspire an improv of hashtags — that hopefully will spurn more brands to be dazzled by our viability.
We pick the enemies and celebrate the friends who do exactly what the enemies do and worse— but because we can’t go against the blue tickers or take on an army of bots — we suffer in silence and support in public — in order to maintain law and order.
When the cover of Interview Magazine hit my Moments — it took longer than a moment to internalize the vileness. Yes, the world you’ve created and the society you’ve textured with the very worst of what we can be — gave birth to a Klan of White women who decided to repackage the idea of being Black women — in order to exploit the “browner, bronzier and curvier” template.
Janet Mock who conducted the interview with Kim and her daughter — North — gave her interviewee props for working so damn hard to achieve the status of “beauty icon” — especially since — she introduced a more acceptable template of the “perfect woman of color.”
If you don’t believe me — Check this out:
I don’t fault Janet Mock for doing the unfathomable. She is a victim of the times — and just like a mesmerizing episode of Black Mirror — only very few of us are going to be left to fight off the last days of melancholia. How could she refuse the honor of interviewing the wife of a revered artist? How could she turn down the glory of picking the brain of a genius who used her compact ass to fart gems of shit?
There is nothing wrong with fucking your way to the top. However, there is reason to be brutally judgmental if the fucker decides to use the power she wields to benefit her agenda at the expense of the ones who were — Born That Way.
Kim Kardashian West is currently the ethnic Jackie O and I still can’t comprehend why the world hasn’t ended.
The photo spread of mother and child is both breathtaking and startling familiar. How did we get to the point where it’s tolerable to witness an iconic publication give into the incredulous demands to help perpetuate this facade — that propels Kim Kardashian as a Black woman with enhanced features — and a Black husband to boot — which makes the toning and darkening palettes — the best options for a high-stakes photo shoot?
Journalism has become a field of chaotic dismemberment that never quite joins at the hip because of the threat of no clicks and the ire of the maddening crowd — that basically circulate with the mentality of zombies — hungry for Meme stardom — and the mentions erupting from your targeted downfall.
White women wanting to be anything but — for the right price — is a thing because there are enough Black men who can’t hold their dicks long enough to stop the drooling from both ends.
Regular Black woman like me are assed out. We are just “regular” — with no exoticness that can be pinpointed from a specific grade of hair, deep reddish-brown tan or the way the eyes don’t hide the pride of a warrior of American Indian descent.
We give royalty whatever they desire because they were born that way.
If they want to appear more Black than White — then — of course they have to be granted that wish. If a woman of color who fought to be a recognized woman of color — is comfortable with assigning a fake Black woman — the praise that a real Black woman should be garnering — then — it has to be so.
If the world hasn’t stopped to biblically knock us back to our senses — that might be due to the fact that we are past saving.
Big butts, wide hips, nostrils that flare with command, hair that gives the wind a lot more to strive for, lips that are thickened for allure and spicy banter, eyes that hold the deepness of hues with authority, and the curves of righteousness that go beyond the hips of prized sensuality.
White women who steal to appeal can’t ever replicate the symbol of what they can’t amass from well-lit rooms and surgical massages. This is unfortunately due to the impact of the future that won’t swipe these cards of installments any longer.
The “ethnic Jackie O” of the moment will be the last of its kind. You can shit that shit until your stomach is limp — but watch how it rebounds when you feed it the real thing.
While we wait, I still can’t believe the world hasn’t ended…