When I was really little, if I bumped into something, like a chair or something, I’d turn around and smack the shit out of that chair. I figured the chair had hit me on purpose. And it’s from that same stupid and infantile perspective, that white women hate Black women.
Now, as with most things in any narrative dealing with the idea of “race” in America, this antagonism has its roots in slavery. Massa had him a big ‘ol booty slave and… well, Missy Anne just ain’t have the goods. I mean, Missy was good for show and for producing the “legitimate” heirs and all, but what Massa wanted, as far as his desires were concerned, was something he could only find late at night after all but he and his victim had retired to bed.
So what was Missy Anne to do? She couldn’t blame the smoker; she had to blame the cigarette. But if Missy Anne had stopped to think for moment and consider that it was as just such an inanimate object as a cigarette that these women were being used, that, as women, the overwhelming majority of them were receiving no pleasure from this usage, no joy, nothing but shame and degradation, humiliation and powerlessness, Missy Anne might have matured a little and begun to work on a coalition that could still exist today between Black women and white women.
Instead, she turned around and smacked the shit out of the chair.
What else could she do? When Saartjie “Sarah” Baartman, the “Hottentot Venus”, was dragged as a slave to London back in 1810, white women weren’t dumb enough to believe that her big butt was considered nothing more than an “oddity” and that it was fascination with “abnormalities” that packed the house night in and night out where she was exhibited as some sort of freak.
The fact that the bustle became a European fashion necessity not to long afterwards disproved that.
Now, white women take their fashion dictates from the modern fashion industry, an industry dominated by, not at all coincidentally, gay white men – any surprise the current model ideal looks either androgynous or painfully similar to a teenage boy? – while Black women, due to sour grapes, apathy or, shockingly enough, possibly even self-contentment, have seemingly rejected those standards, letting their booties and titties bounce, and their thighs stretch the imaginations of their jeans, leggings and yoga pants.
And it couldn’t have helped that the things modern white women have fought for were thrust upon Black women by default. It couldn’t have helped that while white women were struggling to join the work force, Black women were already there due to the necessity of being a, if not the breadwinner.
Now football’s become an issue. Here, again, white women and Black women could have formed a coalition. But while a white Deadspin writer named Diana Moskovitz has gotten just about everybody up in arms over how badly Black NFL star Greg Hardy beat up his white ex-girlfriend, only a few folks have been called to arms by the likes of Kirsten West Savali of The Root who brings attention to another footballer, this time, a former player, now disgraced cop Daniel Holtzclaw, who’s about to stand trial for rapping and sexually assaulting 12 Black women and teens.
Now, It’s worth noting here that there’s always been the notion among some that Black women can’t be raped. That they either are inanimate or, if human, are so sexually craven that any advances toward them are appreciated.
Whatever the case, there’s not going to be a single Black person on the jury for Mr. Holtzclaw’s trial. And of the twelve jurist, only four will be women. And those four women will all be white.
Looks like the chair’s about to get smacked again.