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Expatriated Zulu and Charming Negress

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Hello fuckers. [Oct. 13th, 2016|05:37 am]
Expatriated Zulu and Charming Negress

There's a lot of shit I could/should write about. Politics, of course. Current culture. Social justice efforts. And personal shit too. Health, friends, experiences, renovating this house.

But a combination of ennui and hummingbird brain syndrome (if that is a thing) means I confine my (questionable) wisdom to Twitter these days. 144 characters, zip, boop, lost in the scroll of blatheryblahblah.

Frankly, any time I consider delving into the creation of a long-form screed, I get this internal defeatist telling me "eh, why bother? No one's gonna read it. No one's gonna care. You're not gonna be helping anyone but your ego. You're not gonna make a difference no matter how much effort you put into it."

So I don't.

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1991 MTV VMAs. [Apr. 22nd, 2016|01:57 am]
Expatriated Zulu and Charming Negress
[Current Mood |purple]
[Current Music |one day all seven will die....]

Prince. Yellow assless Battenburg lace outfit. Gett Off. First appearance of the symbol, probably first televised appearance of the NPG (with the lovely Rosie on keyboards and backing vocals).

Watch it here. http://theconcourse.deadspin.com/princes-1991-mtv-video-awards-performance-is-the-maybe-1772314076

In the pit was my friend's brother. He was beautiful. Michael Hutchence from INXS hit on him that night.

Hutchence died with a belt around a doorknob, choking his dick along with his neck.

My friend's brother died on 9/11, a probie firefighter and they never found a speck of him in the rubble.

And now Prince is gone.

"Tonight, you're a star...and I'm the Big Dipper."

art by Fauna93
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HELLO ALL YOU DIRTY IRISH MICKS [Mar. 17th, 2016|06:23 am]
Expatriated Zulu and Charming Negress




Go kick some fuckin ass you filthy plastic Paddies.
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Well fuck, I guess I should write something. [Feb. 22nd, 2016|03:15 pm]
Expatriated Zulu and Charming Negress
[Current Mood |meh]

But I don't feel like it.

Instead: remember these?

They always had them in the lobby of IHOPs. Man, you didn't even need to buy one of those little rolled-up horoscopes. Just spinning the dial round and round was enough. Thrumpitythrumpitythrump. Whirl that rainbow of wee tubes.

Your future is a series of TUBES.
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Fourteen years... [Sep. 11th, 2015|07:59 am]
Expatriated Zulu and Charming Negress
...nope. Still raw.
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The gift that keeps on giving [Aug. 25th, 2015|12:01 am]
Expatriated Zulu and Charming Negress

Any more? Add in comments please.
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(no subject) [Aug. 12th, 2015|04:54 am]
Expatriated Zulu and Charming Negress
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Can't sleep, feel sick, already tweeted the gist of this, but I want it said here in detail. [Aug. 9th, 2015|04:50 am]
Expatriated Zulu and Charming Negress
I'm scared of white people.

There. I said it. White people scare me. Large groups of them. Especially wearing suits. Most especially holding guns. The debates the other night...I didn't watch them live, but watched both of them the next morning.

I'm scared that the people who say the most outrageous, nasty things are getting the best numbers in the polls. Lots of different polls. Donald Trump isn't a laughable douchebag. Some unfathomable faction of America is actually thinking that it's a good idea to have someone that mean, foul-tempered, economically incompetent, and bigoted running the country.

I don't like that I actually sympathize with Megyn "pepper spray is a food product and Santa can only be white" Kelly.

I don't like all these people talking about brown people but not about the white people that engineered more terrorist attacks on US soil since 9/11.

No one talks about racist cops, no one talks about income disparity. They talk about imaginary boogeymen coming over the border wearing sombreros and twirling their bandito mustaches as they supposedly run around raping women. White women, I guess. I doubt they'd kick up a fuss if it was women in any other melanin bracket.

Run, Miss Flora! If you get raped by an "illegal", you can't be in the Miss USA pageant!

It took me a long time to admit this fear I have of the race I was born into. I'm not Rachel Dolezal. I think what she did was beyond disingenuous and totally fucking lazy. Having read about her biological family and their batshittery, I can see why she'd want to distance herself from that Duggar-ish crap, but there are better ways to be an ally than to pull some bullshit Iron Eyes Cody scam and get traction alopecia in the meantime (most Caucasian hair is not structured with the strength to be in cornrows for extended periods, sorry about your bald spots Rachel). The "Charming Negress" in my blog title refers to a line in Star Trek TOS.

That dialogue stayed with me ever since I first heard it as a kid. I like the idea of a future where words are not feared...because right now, words are worse than knives and bullets.

Tonight I expressed this fear to someone close to me. They said I was racist. I admitted yes, I am racist, and I hate that about myself. I am ashamed.

They proceeded to inundate me with line after line of "you want to kill whitey. Kill whitey! Kill whitey! can I quote Malcolm X? 'KILL WHITEY!'" and I was crying so hard I could barely breathe. I begged them to stop. They didn't. Then they said they were just teasing. They had no idea how hard it was to admit my racism and they thought it was okay to make a joke that was not a joke.

I remember being teased like that all through my childhood. I was the fat girl, the girl with the strange ideas beyond the grasp of her peers, the ugly girl who did not know how to play soccer, the girl who had glasses and bad skin and snarly hair who never had a boyfriend ever.

I was the girl who after I gave a presentation about my father's experiences in WW2, a rumor sprang up that my dad was actually a Nazi. Swastikas were drawn on my schoolwork when my back was turned. I came home with muddy footprints on the back of my shirts. My clothes were stolen, my money, my trinkets. My purse was grabbed and turned upside down and my sanitary napkins cackled over. If I got a wrong answer in class, I was jeered at for hours. It didn't matter that the other twenty times I got it right when no one else did. It doesn't matter if you're smart and know stuff. All that matters is that you're fat, ugly, don't know the rules of field hockey, don't own a Benetton shirt like all the popular girls with their gleaming permed hair and perfect handwriting.

They liked to see me cry. It wasn't difficult. There was always something new wrong with me that they could point out and exploit. I was followed home and pushed in the mud. My winter hat stolen right off my head along with a fistful of my hair. Once I carried a vegetable paring knife in my pocket and brandished it at them when they tried to grab my books and hurl them down the sewer. I got suspended for a week even though it didn't happen on school property. I never got my books back.

I saw kids getting teased worse than me. I tried to deflect attention away from them, onto myself. A martyr. A victim soul. I dunno what I was thinking. We're all supposed to be self-centered shits and wear these invisible helmets of apathy and keep our heads down in a flock, I guess. I didn't know how. I only knew how to cry and have no one stick up for me, at school or at home. I only knew how to give a shit and wonder why no one else did, and watch them in church on Sunday as they genuflected and ate the cracker and didn't take a single fucking thing taught in there to heart.

They said I was racist. I wasn't racist then. I am now. But I don't hate any white people, nor do I want to kill any white people. The only one I want to kill is myself. But I won't. I have promises to keep.

The person I confided in last night has no idea the shame I feel, and I don't think they ever will. I don't think I want them to know how badly it hurt. I don't want anyone else to feel this wrenched apart and raw and hideous.

I still love.

So I got my DNA sequenced... [Jul. 31st, 2015|11:30 pm]
Expatriated Zulu and Charming Negress
...and according to 23andme, I have 2.1% neanderthal while J. has 2.8.


Also I have some sub-Saharan African DNA. I am indeed a charming negress. J. has some Far East/Native American genome markers. He's pissed because it's not enough to get tribal benefits. Fuck that.
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Big image. Deal with it. That's my privilege. [Jul. 23rd, 2015|05:32 am]
Expatriated Zulu and Charming Negress

Privilege exists. Everyone pissing and moaning over the White People special that aired on MTV? Stop. Reflect.

You are not being asked to be ashamed of your status as whatever dominant subset you belong to. You cannot control that. You cannot control it any more than people who are oppressed and subjugated for their skin tone, gender, sexual preference, disability, or ethnicity could control where they were born and into what body they reside. And when people try to change their bodies, they are still vilified, i.e. transphobia and "passing".

I'm white, cisfemale, I can pass as able-bodied and cognitive. I was born into an economically privileged area of an economically dominant country. I had access to education. I have not known famine or dire poverty. I am bisexual, but married to a hetero cismale. I have health care and can obtain the medications I need to control my physical and mental conditions somewhat. I own my own home. These are some of my privileges and I am aware of them. I am neither guilt-ridden or proud of them. They simply are what they are, as part of me.

I take it for granted that when confronted by an officer of the law, I will be able to ask questions about the situation and the handling thereof without being considered "arrogant" or "troublesome" and I don't live with the fear of ending up dead.

I can apply for services at financial institutions and only worry about my economic status being a factor as to whether or not I will be approved for those services.

I can enter a realtor's office and know I can inquire about properties in any location without being deterred or rejected.

I can shop in stores without being closely monitored or tailed through the aisles.

People do not clutch their belongings or cross to the other side of the street when they see me. They do not thread their keys through their fingers or reach into their pocket, purse, or holster to fondle a taser, spray can, or weapon upon my approach.

I can walk into any hair salon in a 15 mile radius and trust that they know how to style my type of hair. I can find cosmetics close to my skin tone, and beauty aids that suit my needs, and the standard of beauty for my race is promoted as the ideal.

I can attend public celebrations of my ethnicity and culture (i.e. St. Patrick's Day) and not have the gathering characterized as a riot or potential breeding ground for crime and violence, and the existence of those celebrations is not questioned by the mainstream media.

Do I really need to enumerate this shit? Do I? That in itself is fucking privilege.

full disclosure: I have not watched the entirety of the White People doc, only clips from before the airdate. I don't have cable anymore. But the reactions I am seeing on social media are telling me that 40 minutes was not nearly long enough. Stretch it out to a Roots-length miniseries.

And then enroll yourself into one of Jane Elliott's workshops for a day. Experience it from the other side.

There is no shame in learning. You have time to learn.

And if you tuned this out after the first couple of paragraphs...you have much farther to go than you might ever realize.
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