Happy Independence Day, friends.
I couldn’t care less about the Fourth of July. Especially after this year showed us how screwed up this country really is. So, I decided to take a page from white folks and hijack this holiday for my own agenda. But we can still chat about freedom. Sexual liberation if you will.
The dominant narrative about Black women and their sexuality has been authored by everyone but us. Rumors started on the plantation by jealous wives because their white husbands raped enslaved women. That spiraled into racist propaganda developed during the Jim Crow era. Either a mammy or a jezebel. On one end of the spectrum, a sexless human whose sole purpose was care-taking and on the other, a hypersexual temptress. The posters may have changed but the binary is very much present. We’ve even developed our own culture-specific dichotomy. The modern day virgin or madonna dilemma looks a lot like “Are you a Lauryn Hill or a Cardi B?”
Baby, do you really think we’re only one? Imagine thinking Lauryn wasn’t also getting her back blown out. Or that Cardi doesn’t have emotional depth and intellect.
Don’t play yourself.
Don’t play us.
When you try to fit the vastness of Black womanhood into those two categories, you not only have us fucked up but you rob us of our humanity. Because to be human is a dynamic experience.
To be human is to explore and evolve.
To be human is to possess the ability to read a book and ride a dick.
To appreciate your pussy and politics and the intersection of both.
To be human is to be sexual and intellectual or neither if you so choose.
Allow us the space to be sexually free and fluid. Include all of our experiences, voices and stories in your feminist pieces. Because even though shows, and movies, and media are embracing feminism and, with it, sex positivity, Black women are still left out of the conversation. The same outlets praising Kim K for the fearless, feminist, and unapologetic ownership of her body are the same ones calling Black Chyna a gold-digging, ratchet stripper or shading Beyonce for deciding to show a little titty or ass. And in real life, without the protection of money, wealth, and a stan club, us ‘around the way girls’ get judged mercilessly for our sexual exploits. The unfortunate truth is, though we’ve been sexualized since birth, the consequences of us exercising our sexual freedom are more harsh and enduring.
So, why am writing a sex blog when the repercussions are real? When I know that it may piss off an employer or stop a man from pursuing me?
Because I like challenges and I don’t like rules.
Join me as I choose to celebrate this day of freedom in my own way. Remembering that I am not tethered to racist topes, imaginary binaries, and rigid gender expectations. On this Independence Day, allow yourself to truly act, speak, and think however the fuck you want. Especially in the bedroom.