"On one occasion with a dear friend and fellow actor in Seattle (who happens to be white), I was sharing my perspective about race in the theatre and explaining some of the privileges afforded to him because he was a white actor.
"One example of these recurrent advantages is being seen as “race-neutral”. In theatre, it’s an advantage to be white not because casting directors are racist, but because they’re human. Humans see color, whether they admit it to themselves or not. And in the absence of color, humans are more open to a first impression that isn’t tainted by their perception of a particular racial identity.
"Just the thought of my friend having a tangible and unfair advantage over me because of his whiteness drove his sense of ideological stability into disarray. Suddenly, I was being made to feel as if I had inflicted harm on him by having an honest conversation. Simply making him aware of observable fact had caused perceived mental harm, and real psychological stress."
— Seattle actor J Reese on an experience discussing casting inequality with a friend. (via jean-luc-gohard)
people who say blacks instead of black people are just in a hurry cause they have a white nationalist meeting to go to
Only thing more frustrating that blatantly anti-Black misogynist Black men are those who ‘love us’ so much they ignore our lived experience. ‘I love Black women with all my heart and so do my friends, so you must be exaggerating, immersed in the brainwashed exception.’ Fuck that dude. Your love is worthless if you can’t respect Black women enough to care that so many are regularly attacked/bullied/trolled by YOUR PEERS. ‘I love y’all! I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Perhaps you don’t because you’re too busy singing your own praises to find out. ‘My mom/daughter/partner are everything. God is a Black woman.’ Then concern yourself with men who delight in degrading us. Don’t fact check me.
It must be nice to exist in an alternate universe devoid of anti-Black misogyny. But most women with Black features are here in the real world. I don’t need to be your Queen or Sistah. I don’t care if you worship a God with nappy hair and nose wide like mine if my lived experience < your opinion.
It’s not enjoyable to recount/recall the fact that men, who have little girls that look like me, think I’m dirt on the bottom of their shoe. The last thing I want or need to do with my free time is fabricate verbal abuse from Black men AND all other groups. It happens. End of story.
She spoke a WORD here. A WORD! I seriously stand in a tug of war position between these two types of Black men. One directly attacks me and harms me in almost unspeakable ways. The other runs in but not to defend me, call the former one out or even to talk about how Black men’s misogynoir oppresses Black women. Nope. He arrives right on time to say "not ‘all’ Black men harm" even as one is actively harming me. He also arrives to gaslight me, claim I don’t support Black men and claim he loves Black women despite our “betrayal.” Basically, my lived experiences are ignored.
So yes, she spoke a word!
I wanted to write about the raw smoky, spent feeling left from thinking about the attack on the playground but I really can’t. I don’t think I can say anything that wouldn’t come off as offensive to Asian bloggers. I understand why.
Instead I’ll talk about when I first started being bedridden. If you have no advance notice, your life is a mess. Food in particular. I was always hungry. The first couple months all I could think about was food. But that’s not what I wanted to say. There was a trumpet player in the neighborhood. He would practice in the afternoons. It was like a friend to me. I didn’t want to be in a world like this, everything was off but this trumpet. Made it seem like something knew right. Miles let trumpet sound like a beautiful sorrow.