Thank You Solange, for Calling Out White People Who Attack

Solange Knowles, the younger sis of Beyonce — recently shared an experience that left her rattled and annoyed.

She attended a concert with her young son and hubby and while she reveled in the moment of rhythmic recognition — a social malfunction threatened the vibes of freedom.

She was ordered to take a seat.

White women. They were seated behind her and they needed the Black woman basking in the glory of her surroundings to contain herself.

She questioned their authority and refuted it. They insisted that she adhere to their orders. She adamantly refused the offer. They proceeded to physically punish her in front of her child who witnessed them throwing an object at his mother.

The audacity of it all isn’t necessarily an unusual occurrence.

White people have always utilized their status to their benefit. The cost of such privilege has ended lives and delegated the unfortunate to indefinite penance of laborious banishment.

The world projects the honorable blueprint of Caucasians who proudly accept ownership to the legacy of superiority.

Black men also help to propel the deity of light skin and silken tresses as is evident from the hands of time.

Consider that even the most vocal Black men of the freedom movement who dominated the silver screen with heightened bravado — still accepted the vice of allegiance to companionship on the terms of assured whiteness.

From Harry Belafonte to Sidney Poitier and even the depths of James Earl Jones — there was no room for women of color in the permanent embrace of these giants — who seemingly voiced the fight for equality against the backdrop of civic destruction.

So, of course Black women will lose every time.

There is no hero for us. No Superman with a cape decked in golden pearls that shine ever so brightly for our continual benefit.

We are saddled with the debt of familiarity. The voices that chime in to ruin what we rebuild without questions or accusations. And yet — the reward lacks the weight of atonement.

What Solange experienced isn’t worthy of a gasp because it has become the norm.

There are White women who take pleasure in seizing the opportunity to render Black women mentally destitute. It is their American-given right to exercise such a practice based on the formula that has been criminally branded.

It’s a massive attack that knows no bounds and the higher the stakes — the lower the expectations.

There is no equality when your own dismisses you.

As a community we’ve failed. Only the strongly exotic survive. The rest of us live with the message of our dismal.

It’s the battle of the light and lighter. The wavier and the waviest. The past and the future.

White women against Black women battling it out in a field of guts and glory with the grains of ineptitude that produces no victories.

Is the assessment this time around judge-worthy?

I say yes. I was also the victim of Black-Shaming when dabbing my nose with a towel at a gym. An older White woman scolded me into embarrassment. I once had the faucet running as I freshened my hair — and I was cautioned about being wasteful.

I won’t go on and on about it.

Black people have a price to pay on time but Caucasians hate the version that can’t be replicated.

They attack with purpose but we thrive without the placement of expectations.

That’s how you call out shit with reason.

Solange did it. I will continue to do so. And so will you.



Juggling Wordsmith. I have a lot to say!

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