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Black Girl Malice

Close encounters of the woman-on-woman hate kind because it's Women's History Month, and I'm still mad.


December, 2016

Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, non-binaries, transgenders et al. There is a rant in progress on the premises. Proceed with caution.

I consider myself quite resilient. There's no insult I can't counter, no shade I can't rebound, no jibe I can't dig right back over the net. I don't lose my footing often but there is nothing, nothing more disheartening than the sting of a fellow black woman.

It's a tired narrative. With the mushrooming popularity of the #BlackGirlMagic hashtag and predicted box-office sensations like Hidden Figures on the horizon, it's hard to discuss this biting stereotype among black women today without sounding like you need to catch up with the times. Like Taraji at the Emmys, we are all here for our sisters. But there's no smoke without fire, no matter how hard you try to wish the stereotypes away.

Barring names and details because unfortunately I'm not quite that petty despite my small audience, this particular fiasco stung more than most because I tried. I don't normally with anyone but for her, I did and this was mistaken for submission. Talking it out, in hopes that she would rectify her transgression and we could move past it, proved futile.

Instead, I got weakly defensive claims that I could easily have done the same thing to her.

But... like, I didn't though?

And this will be my umpteenth brush with this paranoid aggression. If it's not falsely assuming my neo-British accent* makes me think myself above them back home, it's that I have my sights firmly locked on their boyfriends - and I really don't know where that one comes from because I barely fit an A cup, have acne scars I never cover up and zero physical coordination; not exactly Mrs Steal Yo Man material. This often imagined threat WOC particularly feel the need to defend themselves from is maddening on one hand, and deeply troubling on the other. The prevailing theory is that this vitriol is rooted in a residual hatred of blackness, and that may well be but this epidemic permeates like wildfire. Once bitten, twice shy as they say. My attempts at driving home truths that her spite would be damaging to the career she hoped to build fell on deaf ears and I swore to myself this would be the first and last time I pander to race- or gender-motivated over-amiability. I wouldn't

*Seriously, it's a mess hotter than my yo-yoing British-American spelling.

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