A fit about the fetishization of big booty bitches.

The age of the ass is upon us. J-Lo, Nicki Minaj and of course, Kimmy K are parading their slim waists and big booties all over mass media. Gone are the days of slim white biddies with big titties. Society has now been introduced to ethnic female bodies and all their glorious curves.

I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit that I find some satisfaction in this. Growing up I was always jealous of that slim white girl cheerleader Bring it On-esque body that was so popular. I could never have that typical white girl body. I was, and forever will be, a thick ass bitch. Even at my smallest, my ass and thighs were still the most prominent features of my body (and were the bane of my existence, and fuel for my eating disorder, for a very, very long time).

But something about this movement still sits wrong with me. It smacks of objectification and fetishization of female bodies. And worse, of ethnic female bodies.

While I was in France I wrote a paper on the Hottentot Venus. Link to Google doc of essay: here. Homegirl’s name was Saartjie Baartman and she was a Xhosa (South African) woman, who was taken on tour around the world (in a literal freak show) because of the size of her ass. She was exhibited as a freak, an anomaly, a spectacle. When freak shows in France and England went out of vogue, Saartjie became a prostitute and died shortly after of a presumed STI.

WAIT I’VE SEEN THIS SHIT BEFORE??

guilty disgrace: on being an irreverent bitch

I realized after writing my post on emotions that I forgot an absolutely huge one: guilt. It’s an emotion that I believe disproportionately (and negatively) affects women. And obviously I’m writing this post to tell you why I think bitches feel guilty all of the god damn time.

If you’re a woman, first of all, I want you to try something. Write down how many times a day you say “sorry” out loud, and how many times you feel like saying sorry. Then let me know how long it takes for you to feel guilty about how much you feel guilty. My therapist made me do this once and I was astounded. And then actually, really, felt bad.

As a woman, I constantly feel the need to apologize, and mostly that need comes from voicing my opinion. It doesn’t matter if I am speaking in class, to a professor I respect and trust, to my best friend, to my mom. I feel the need to explain myself, and why I am saying something in the first place.

“Sorry, but I just feel like…”

Why the hell am I sorry?

Bitch you ugly anyway! A fit about street harassment, race, and power

As if my readers needed another reminder (and they might, because they may be new!) I am half-black, black passing, and NOT-WHITE. I grew up in a predominately white suburb, and it was weird. Then I went to Chicago for my undergraduate education.

Something even weirder than growing up around a lot of people who looked nothing like me happened when I arrived in Chicago. Something that I had never really experienced before, but would effect me until I left. I was harassed. I was constantly hollered at on the street. While waiting for the bus, while on the bus (ditto for the el). I was harassed in bars, at clubs, in line at Walgreens, while smoking lunch-break cigarettes. Dude upon thirsty dude approached me, or yelled from a car. Bruh after can-you-fucking-not bruh brushed against my ass, cornered me in public, or pulled my headphones out. I experienced a never ending cascade of comments on my body, my clothes, my fucking not-smile (I’M ON THE CTA WHY WOULD I BE SMILING, SRSLY??), my hair. It did not stop.

Sound familiar? Watch this video.

This shit happened to me on a pretty reg basis until I moved back home where pretty much everyone is white.

What the hell is that about?

Let’s have a fit about black dudes, power politics!, and street harassment.

Crazy bitch: A small exploration of female psychosis and hysteria

Let’s talk about feelings! Not the fun, warm, fun, fuzzy feelings. The dreaded uncomfortable ones. Ones that make you squirm, warm your cheeks in horrified embarrassment. The ones that are considered taboo to express in public. The guy on the sidewalk rage-crying and clearly mentally unstable, that you cross the street to avoid. The woman you judge at Target for screaming red-faced at her heathen children sprinting up the aisles.

I wanna chat about sadness, depression, anxiety, rage, anger, and fear. And periods.

NOT EVEN THE SAME HUMAN WHILE BIOLOGY DOES ITS MONTHLY THING ON MAH BOD

a fit about FEMINAZIS, abortion, and defensive bitches

Yesterday I got called a feminazi by someone who attends my Church. He stated in an Instagram post that feminazis (who aren’t REAL FEMINISTS in his magically male eyes), are advocating for the MINDLESS MURDER AND GENOCIDE of innocent children, through abortion and opposition of an amendment in Tennessee that will shutdown all abortion clinics.

Obviously I couldn’t let something like that pass by, so I spoke my mind, was retaliated against (because who am I kidding, he’s not going to see the light from me of all damn people) and then I deleted him and removed him from my friends list. After this post he will disappear into the abyss of shitty scumbags I have encountered in my life.

lol, speaking my mind is akin to a psychological disorder!

Lest I be accused of simplifying and dismissing a huge issue (and perhaps a valid argument that abortion in America is genocide of innocent infant bebes), let me lay down my unsolicited thoughts on abortion, women’s choices, and defensiveness.