The following collages may not fully nor literally capture how you address racism (white supremacy), but for purposes of polling, I’ve narrowed the options down to the two most polar opposites.
So, the answer to the question isn’t necessarily which is the exact representation of how you address the matter, but which of the two best illustrates your approach in addressing and/or confronting racism (white supremacy).
Red or Blue: What say you? #dontBSyourself
Every time Black women collectively admire a man for whatever attribute they find appealing, there’s a salty a** collection of Black men who pop up to shame them for it. It’s like clockwork.
Sisters were “whorish” for lusting over D’Angelo, “color struck” for admiring Jesse Williams, “ratchet” for liking Jeremy ‘Hot Felon’ Meek’s looks (not actions), “thirsty” for loving Idris Elba, and “Negro bed wenches” if they dug Fitz or Jake with Olivia (Scandal).
WHO is this elusive mystical, miracle mystery man that Black women can collectively adore, and not be shamed by these clown shoes, clit-blockers? No one. That’s who.
You see, it doesn’t matter if the man is light, dark, creative, criminal, conscious, real or scripted, if Black women admire him, the Black Butthurt Brothahood will rise up to put them and/or him down.
This beta male behavior is masked as respectability, misogynistic modesty standards designed to control Black women’s bodies by way of their minds.
Truth is, quasi-conscious misogynists will never, ever be satisfied with any man that Black women choose, even if Black women chose them.
Call it what it is, fellas: insecurity.
Be man enough to admit that you don’t feel man enough. Stop putting sisters on the defense for being appreciative of positive traits you don’t possess, and maybe you’ll be more appreciated for positive traits that you do possess. #dontBSyourself
Imagine the repercussions and public backlash if the roles were reversed in this pic: if this Black cop had clenched and gripped a fist full of this Becky’s vagina without her consent to the amusement of his Black girlfriend (who later tweeted it as a joke).
You don’t have to imagine. You already know; he (and his amused girlfriend) would be strung up by sundown.
If someone is having difficulty seeing #WhitePrivilege, #entitlement, and the sense of white dominion over Black bodies, show them this post. This is literally a pictorial illustration of all three rolled up in one. And if they still can’t see it, f*ck ’em. Keep it moving.
There isn’t a [sane] Black woman alive in the United States who’d think she could just snatch up a White cop’s c*ck in a pic with her Black boyfriend, and she not get arrested or worse.
This is some of the Beckyest sh*t I’ve seen all week… and it’s only Tuesday. 😒 #dontBSyourself
This was originally a private message that I sent to personal friends and family who’d reached out to me after Prince died, knowing what he meant to me. I had not intended to publish this, but my friends were touched and encouraged me to share it. “Be vulnerable, Sunn.” And so here I am. With you. With Love.
For days I’ve been in a haze trying to find the words to adequately pay homage to a lifelong influence, Prince, but finding myself mute. It’s not that I can’t think of what to say; it’s that I can say so much. Too much. It feels like watching TV static with my eyes pressed against the screen. Sensory overload, emotional white noise. How can I lament the passing of an idol I never considered would ever die? I can’t.
I’ve avoided all-things Prince since his death was announced. I haven’t seen any tributes. I don’t watch TV at all. I stay away from social media posts about him, quickly scroll pass any image of him or mention of his name. I don’t click any links my friends tag me in concerning him. I have virtually quarantined myself from the pandemic bereavement of others around me and the world who also admire him.
So, to all of you, my friends, who wonder why I’ve yet to pen an eloquent goodbye to someone you know has made such a profound impression on my very existence, sorry. This won’t be that. I’m not even going to publish this. I just personally want you to know that I deeply appreciate you all, and that your care for me is mutual.
The truth is, I never actually have been capable of capturing what Prince meant to me. I was a wildly eccentric, weird little Black boy; a prodigious creative who felt validated the first time my favorite aunt (RIP) played Prince songs for me on her cassette player under granddaddy’s shade tree. I was so young when her young life was tragically cut short that–other than her funeral being the first and only time I ever saw daddy cry–playing Prince for me are the only memories I have of her.
The first time I actually saw him was on an old PBS program, and I couldn’t tell if he was a boy or girl… I didn’t care. He was Black, talented, and weird, like me. My parents were very strict Pentecostal Holiness evangelicals. No “blues” (secular music) was allowed in our house, period. So, when Prince came on, I turned the TV volume down very low and leaned in to watch him. I wanted to see what my aunt saw in him. Instead, I saw myself in him… who I was and could become: Sunn.
I was 3 years-old and heard voices in my head. Constantly. A synesthesiac, I could taste colors in the sky, translate scent to sounds, and hear melodies in droplets of water from a leaky faucet. None of this made sense, until I realized I was an artist.
Growing up, I had very many artistic inspirations, but very few influences. The distinction being people who inspired me to be creative and those who inspired me to be a creative. Prince–and my oldest brother, my first idol–is in the rare air of people who were both inspirational and influential, as an artist and individual.
So, when the devastation of Prince’s death really hit me, I didn’t assuage the hurt by immersing myself in my treasure trove of his music. Instead, I found myself scrolling through a playlist of my own music, listening to songs that were directly inspired or influenced by him. These are not necessarily songs that sound like Prince, but Prince-like songs that remind me of his omnipresence in my universe.
I didn’t rush to record a Prince tribute after his death. Because I’ve been paying tribute to him all of my life in my own music, and that is where he lives on for me.
I was an apt pupil. From Prince’s production, I learned how to stack vocals, play all of my own instruments, pay meticulous attention to detail in the mix, and how to lyrically walk the tightrope between romantic and raunchy, sacred and sacrilege.
Even after I found my own voice(s) as an artist in my own right, I would still place Prince Easter eggs in my music as an ode to him. Just as he did with his idols, James Brown, Jimi Hendrix, and Smokey Robinson. Creatively, I no longer need training wheels, but apex artists like Prince remain the kickstand of my creativity.
You’ve all been with me at various stages of my evolution, if not with me through it all. So, you’ve probably heard these songs before, and maybe knew the story behind their lyrics, but never knew the inspiration behind their existence. These are just a few songs of mine that wouldn’t exist without Prince. I couldn’t think of a better way to share my catharsis with you all… I trust that you understand.
Again, I apologize that I can’t truly convey the profundity of this moment. It’s just impossible for me to summarize in one sitting what I’ve been trying to say since I was 3 years-old under my granddaddy’s tree: Thank you, Prince. I wish U Heaven.
CREDITS: ‘Eros‘ from Sunn – Sassafrass | ‘If Cassie Wants To Play‘ and ‘Christopher‘ from Sunn – The Price of Tea In China | ‘Divine Order,’ ‘Drop,’ and ‘Drug of Choice‘ from Sunn – After Dark | ‘Dear Jane‘ from Sunn – Good Morning, Stranger | All Lyrics, Vocals, Instruments & Production by me (Sunn), except where otherwise indicated.
As the world’s heart collectively hangs heavily for Prince today, my hometown, old friends, and I also mourn the unfathomable loss of another talented musician, beloved being, and definition of cool: Eric Brantley. You may not have known him, but to have known him was to dig him, deeply. He mattered. He matters.
We played on the same scene and shared many mutual friends. I didn’t know him as well as my brothers, Dustin and Daniel, but I knew of him well enough to know that he more than deserves the outpour of Love and profound sense of loss, especially given the tragic end to such a triumphant life. He also deserves justice.
I will be reposting this to all of my social media pages in hopes that someone in the know might see it and say something. Perhaps, chances are slim of that happening, but it’s a chance worth taking. If you know anything that may lead to the arrest of Eric’s killer(s), please contact the proper authorities or Crime Stoppers at 554-1111 | 1-888-CRIME.
This is for everyone Eric touched, all who Love him, and most of all this is for Eric. Gone in the flesh, but never forgotten. #JusticeForEricBrantley
UPDATE: Suspects Arrested – ‘Police say teens rode around looking for a target before killing Eric Brantley’
De’Andre Marquell Murphy (left) and Jahmal Jerome Green Jr. are wanted on murder charges.
London Tiera Shyann Maybank (Cannon Detention Center)
Victoria Vanessa Deas (Cannon Detention Center)