You know, I’m not one to string and fling sentences together for media and culture topics. I’d much rather read a study than read lips on a screen.
But one late night, with nothing on TV, I watched The Rachel Divide.
I didn’t plan to write about her, but the documentary disturbed me for days. And with my buttons pressed, I have to press letters on keyboards.
Right away, and all the way — I reject the injustice of it all.
It’s an injustice that a white woman says she’s trans-Black with no middle passage in the transatlantic slave trade.
It’s an injustice for her kids and all the people she told lies.
It’s an injustice to Black women and Black people everywhere.
These are ill-gotten gains and fame which are worthy of blame and shame. This is a cultural appropriation from head to toe. And when I looked at Dolezal’s receipts, oh, has she snatched many items.
Dolezal also plays on the keywords in my life sentences. She uses my best talking points to tug and trick me.
