protecting our white women, or “don’t let the well-spoken black man in the big, white house fool you…”

Listen up, white women. This one’s for you.

White women of America, I’m worried about you.


I’ve taken some time, and given this matter some real thought, and what I am left with, is a feeling of absolute terror about your collective future and overall well being.

As it happens, having observed several of your lifestyle choices these last few years, I’m beginning to have legitimate concerns about your safety, and the long-term sustainability of your particular race-gender strata.

And I don’t blame you. I don’t blame you at all.

I blame Barack Obama.

That’s right.

The President of the United States.

But he’s not alone.

He has a co-conspirator.

The Conservative, Evangelical Right.

Yep. You read that right.

Barack Obama and the Conservative, Evangelical Right are acting in concert with each other for the singular purpose of bringing your particular race-gender subset to absolute, irreparable ruination.

It seems as though President Obama’s mere presence in the White House has fueled radical talk, spurned on, and perpetuated by, the Right.

The substance of this radical talk?

That we are living in a post-racial America.

Time and time again, our friends on the Right have assured us that we need only look to Pennsylvania Avenue’s newest resident to evidence the fact that the topic of race is no longer a viable issue of debate in this country.

Listen to me, white women. Listen good.

It’s a new day.

It is.

But it’s not the newest motherfucking day ever. K?

Like, we’ve put on a fresh coat of paint, installed hardwood floors, and upgraded to stainless steel appliances, but the plumbing is still old as a bitch. Like, 400 years old.

Here’s where you all come in.

Now, it seems as though—and, forgive me, maybe this has been building for a long time and I simply haven’t noticed—you all are getting more and more, howshallisaythis?hmmm—BUCK in your interactions with black women like myself.

And let me be the FIRST to say that this is FINE. FINE.

Irrespective of our don’tfuckwithmepersona, black women do NOT have the franchise on being the baddest bitches around. You do not have to take shit off of anyone. Ever.

No matter what more left-leaning, politically sensitive pundits will tell you, you are under no obligation to lay down rose petals in the paths of all blacks that you encounter (though, i must admit, this would be lovely). It is high time we all acknowledge that white people are not their collective past, and are not accountable for the ills perpetrated on the black race for the preceding generations (Editor’s note: I reserve the right to be legitimately angry as to the derivative, sub-surface, Establishment, systematic shit that goes on today).

So, let’s be clear. You don’t owe anybody anything, white women. You don’t have to cower in fear of the Laqueeshas, and the Rafiheenas, or the L’ShellaMichalas. Those black bitches don’t run you. You don’t have to be afraid of shit.

But……….. and i’m just saying this as a practical mattter—
Maybe you should be.

Laqueesha, will still straight STOMP your ass, in this “postracial America.” And I guarandamntee, that if, and when she does, this “new day” is suddenly gonna seem old as a motherfucker.

Now, be it resolved, that no race of people is more capable of rendering a sound asswhooping than another.

I do not think that white women are soft, or punks, or unable to deliver as many thrashings as a black woman. I watch “Bad Girls Club.” I know what’s up.

My concern, rather, is that, some of you all, perhaps caught up in the euphoria of President Obama—and idunnoforcertainwhoamitosay?—have lost sight of, or, are maybe not really even aware of all of the anger that black women continue to have—not towards you personally, mind you, but in general—about our place in society. And, even if this anger is not about you, when you rise up and get, you know, BUCK, it brings it allllllllllll back to us.

And, suddenly, we want to fight you.

Sad, I know.

But true.

And, let me tell you. The heart of my concern for your well being doesn’t stem from the potential interactions you will have with the Laqueeshas, or the Rafiheenas. Oh no. I’m worried about your interactions with the Debras, the Rachels, the Foolers.

Because, even I, an educated, well-bred, woman, has, from time to time, wanted to step out into the street and fight a white woman like a man.

And therein lies the problem.

You all are under the impression that I’m post-racial, too.

No, no, Boo.


I’m racial as a bitch.


All caught up in it.



And, now that you are aware of this, white women, let me reiterate that I do not expect you to cower in fear of me. That is ridiculous. I don’t hold any ill will towards any person that I do not know. White people have given me beautiful things. String cheese, Vampire Weekend, Gerard Butler. Both of my dogs are white!

And when I am wrong, say I’m wrong. When you take issue with me, say that you do. Call me out on all of my shit. Confront me.

But I beseech you.

Watch your motherfucking tone.

That’s allllllllllllllll I’m saying.





I won’t talk wild to you. And i’m gonna need your solemn oath that you won’t talk wild to me.

Because, while our exchange may get heated, and while both of us are aware of our ability to say whatever the hell we want to say, I’d bet my hands that a whole one of us isn’t expecting to get punched in her motherfucking mouth should the convo take a turn in the wrong direction.

And that’s yet another problem, white women.

Yet another problem.

You’re getting black girl buck, and expecting white girl results.

If two black women, no matter how professional or old they are, get into a verbal sparring—irrespective of the venue—both of those women know full well that a potential outcome of the conflict is some ultimate physical confrontation. We are all well aware that, at any point, some shit could pop off, and an unusually mouthy bitch might have to take an elbow to the face.

I don’t know if you all are all cognizant of the fact that black women—and I’m not saying that we encourage violence, or want it; most of us abhor it and all of the stereotypes that exist with respect to our relationship with it—go into an argument knowing that, at some point, they might have to “put [their] hands on this bitch” should she happen to get out of pocket.

So you, too, should comport yourselves with a working awareness of this potential outcome.

And that’s all I wanted to share.

I just want you all to be safe.

And loved.

I want us to have an open dialogue with each other on things both trivial and substantive. Our respective peoples need that dialogue so desperately, and I welcome the opportunity to have it with you at every pass.

But, might you get your ass whooped should that dialogue get unexpectedly contentious, and you happen to talk down to me or invade my personal space?


“Yes, you can.”


4 Responses to “protecting our white women, or “don’t let the well-spoken black man in the big, white house fool you…””

  1. 1 mememoi
    March 29, 2010 at 5:10 pm

    hilarious. i love your blog. especially that article about knowing how to reign in the bougie when getting your hair did. too funny.

  2. 2 sundaze
    April 4, 2010 at 8:52 pm


  3. April 19, 2010 at 7:32 pm

    This is soooo appropriate to my thoughts… i have this one particular coworker, Christi, who needs to read this message… hopefully before i hand in my resignation and then issue her coinciding ass whooping.

  4. 4 Moran
    May 20, 2010 at 3:16 pm

    Both your dogs are white?! ha! I’m so mad you typed that.

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a history of my meanderings….


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