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Why Rachel Dolezal Isn’t Permitted To Live As a Black Woman

Even with the braids and the Black accessories

It appears that a lot of folks did submit to the task of watching Netflix’s latest offering — The Rachel Divide that centers on the White woman who wants to be Black — at all costs — even if it means torturing the lives of those around her — particularly her Black kids — who pretty much serve as accessories for her crime.

Rachel Dolezal’s life became the stuff nightmares are made of when her worst kept secret blew up in her face after the relentless scrutiny by a suspecting reporter revealed the unfathomable.

It was a dramatic exercise in utter disbelief as the cultural landscape shifted to accommodate the epitome of White privilege that had never been demonstrated in such a revolting manner.

The very notion that a White woman would dare to claim an identity — that she misguidedly believes she’s earned under the guise of a freedom fighter — who has the Black sons as proof of her struggle — as well as the audacity of her station as the leader of an organization — that is historically dedicated to the bullet points of resistance and empowerment — is a glaring indication of how the deceptions of the mind can lead to delusions of grandeur.

But — even after her reputation plummeted under the strain of her gross exposure — and how that was accurately interpreted by members of the community she dishonestly sought for her own self-gain— Dolezal still opted for another chance in the spotlight — with a new documentary that does nothing more than provide an even creepier view of a woman who is tragically frightened by her own reflection.

The reception to the film has been mixed — as viewers confessed their fears of revisiting something that wasn’t all that pleasant the first time around. My experience proved to be excruciatingly uncomfortable and at times stressful — as I suddenly realized the abusive climate her kids are enduring — because of the mother who consistently nurtures her interests for the recognition that she will never be granted.

I expressed my thoughts about Dolezal and her ill-fated attempt at a roaring comeback almost immediately after the credits finished rolling — and I expectedly received some feedback that seemed to indicate that all this fuss about a law-abiding White woman who wants to be Black is completely unwarrated.

I wasn’t surprised that a White person would feel that way — but I have to admit that I wasn’t prepared to hear that kind of talk from a people of color. But — after scoping out the reactions from users on Twitter — I was taken aback by the impressive number of supporters — who were deeply moved by The Rachel Divide — and felt that it humanized Dolezal to the point of relatability — making her less guilty and more of a victim.

Here’s the thing — it takes one to know one.

I have to believe that the ones who are smitten by Dolezal — have to possess similar tendencies that allows for that kind of nonsensical reasoning.

For White people who think all this excitement is much ado about nothing — there is no doubt that it comes from a place of ignorance based on the fact that having the privilege to be freely explorative without interruption — makes it virtually impossible to imagine what it would be like to be stripped of that honor.

There’s no way for White America and Black America to organically converge because of the vast differences of both experiences — and how it dictates who lives and dies under a direly biased system — that favors one population over the other.

As a Black woman who has to contend with the reality that I could be pulled over by a cop who readily decides to ruin me under the code of his legalized ambition — I don’t have the patience to root for a White woman who thinks being a Black woman is exactly what she needs to survive the trials and tribulations of her past and present.

From Sandra Bland to Chikesia Clemons to Diamond Reynolds — there is a growing pile of names that belong to Black women — living or dead — who’ve been brutalized for the sin of an identity — that automatically leaves them vulnerable to physical assaults by police officers who have no qualms exacting extreme measures when it comes to dealing with citizens who resemble my template.

Living while Black — in a country that has been coded for our destruction — raises the stakes — higher than ever — and all White people can do is either observe without judgment — or casually assume that a twelve-year-old boy getting shot in the gut for doing nothing at all — was probably as a result of his imposing phsyique.

For Black people who find themselves cheering on a woman who is making a mockery of everything we stand for as a community that has to soldier on through the pain and sorrow of our existence — there has to be a major disconnect that activates the acute unawareness of what you are and how that translates in the grand scheme of things.

Quite frankly — I’m appalled that someone like Dolezal was bequeathed a prominent platform to hock her wares — when there are plenty of distinguished contenders of authentic standing — that should be given the spotlight as reward for overcoming the horrors of a disorderly society.

Diamond Reyonolds is the Black woman who witnessed her boyfriend’s murder by a White cop — in the car that also contained her toddler daughter. As Philando Castile bled to death from his gunshot wounds — Reynolds maintained her composure as she filmed the violent encounter — while her daughter quietly cried in the backseat.

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Who will produce a film about Diamond Reynolds?

Why isn’t Reynolds being feted with a documentary — that tells the unfiltered story of how Black women and Black children are emotionally fucked and then discarded by the very system that screwed them over?

Instead we have a White woman — whose privilege sets the stage for her ability to be given numerous chances at perfecting her acting skills in a grandiose way — because her story is fascinating enough to garner those opportunities.

No matter how hard she tries to convince us otherwise — there’s no way in hell Rachel Dolezal gets to live her life as a Black woman.

It’s ironic that her “wokeness” deprives her of being able to make the distinction between her Whiteness and the Blackness of Black women who can’t transform into White women — as a way to escape their fate.

The fact that a film about her life was even produced with celebratory fare is proof enough that she’s a White woman. Her story gets to be told in a way that is supposed to sway us from being too critical and possibly encourage our need to give her damn break — based on the evidence of hardship and victimhood.

Meanwhile — there are Black women who have suffered and are still suffering from the disadvantages that come with a disposition that can’t be methodically altered in ways that prevent us from serious threats — ranging from beatdowns in restaurants to being thrown in a cell and left for dead.

Dolezal’s desire to be Black isn’t an inherent need that is healthily devised from someone who happens to be passionate about the mission statement of a community that she desperately wants to serve. If she were pursing this avenue with honesty and integrity — there would be no need to resort to a performance that costs a lot more than its worth.

At the end of the day — the freakish nature of a White woman who thinks she be can Black because she owns that right — is the disturbingly offensive legacy that Dolezal has initiated — and it will continue to do her no favors — regardless of her lifelong endeavor.

It’s time to let this pitiful story retire without benefits — and focus on distributing the heroic efforts of women who were born Black — and narrowly got through the gauntlet of their assigned peril with the authority to ceremoniously share their testimonies.

Those are the women that need and deserve our attention. White women with braids — who only fuck with Black men to breed biracial children to champion their defunct causes will never make the cut.

And that’s a promise.

Written by

Juggling Wordsmith. I have a lot to say!

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