the Super Sistah Blog

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Blogging while Black February 6, 2011

Like driving while black, blogging while black comes with occupational risks. Just like fights break out on the playground, the blogosphere can be a hostile place filled with bullying kids.  Recently I clashed with a site that made me feel like I was Rodney King and they were the cops. It’s a big bad blog with enough site visits per day to make this blog weep. The site: whataboutourdaughters.com is as popular as my site can only hope to be. They inspired me. Or so I thought. This is what I did to piss the site off.  By now you know the Super is sassy and sarcastic. I have my own opinions and those aren’t for everybody. For instance, I could care less about the Steve Harvey scandal and the fight brewing between the comedian and his ex-wife.  But when I stumbled upon the blog post and read the commentary dissing and dismissing Steve’s female fans as mindless fools without class. I took offense.  The Super is all about the sisters so I took the bashing personally.  I began my post reply on this black blog with…..judgmental much? Instantly the site’s author, the blogmother started breathing fire. This is a part of what she said to me: “The Super Sistah is no sister at all, she’s a MALE-IDENTIFIED woman who thinks women are disposable and men are Gods. Steve Harvey’s agent needs to get off this blog!”

Now dem be fighting words. So I fought.

With shaking hands I whipped off a snarky reply and sat back waiting for the dog fight. My blog is a little Chihuahua but it’s scrappy and knows how to bite. After a day or two of waiting I realized the site had no intention of posting my reply. It was all for the best. I hate when black blogs fight.  It just would have gotten ugly, ultimately ending with protective Vaseline covering my keyboard and my monitor pulling out her monitor’s weave. What would have been the point? If I scrap I try to do it over something more important than a celebrity’s personal life. Maybe my post reply was too cryptic or I caught the blog on a bad day which made it treat me like a white journalist reporting from the Middle East. Being blasted online was like getting a cyber bitch slap.  So that’s what a backhand feels like. My cheek is still stinging. I better get used to it. I’m a little blog with a big mouth. If the blogosphere is anything like High School then I think I just got punched in the eye and shoved in the locker by the school jock. No one said blogging while black would be without its occupational risks. My keyboard’s eye is swelling but I’m still typing. You can’t silence me.

Have you ever been bullied because of your beliefs?

Blogging while Black

 

Black Girl Screaming January 7, 2011

I’m reading a book called the Purple Cow. It’s a marketing book for developing businesses, brands and standout products. The premise behind the book is that if you want to be remembered you have to do remarkable things, be extraordinary and do what it takes to separate yourself from the herd and the crowd. To attract attention you have to stand out. Being ordinary, mediocre and a basic brown cow won’t do.  Halfway through the book and I’m already contemplating suicide. It asks me to do all the things I hate: namely speaking to strangers, abandoning fear and letting go of my insecurities and inhibitions.  I think the author might be on the pipe or some mood altering substance.  Already my hands shake, my mouth gets dry and I feel real shivers down my spine when I have to approach the unknown woman and tell her about my blog. Now I have to come out of my shell even more? I feel the beginnings of a heart attack? I feel light-headed with the mere idea of being the mouth piece behind my brand. Couldn’t I just pay the dude that sings on the train a sandwich and some Skittles to spread the word for me?  My greatest desire is to write quietly and be anonymous.  That’s why my Super Sistah mask suits me. I can see you but you can’t see me. The problem with my plan is that if I’m quiet, shy and laid back both my name and I will become extinct. A year, an hour or a minute from now no one will remember me. I will live a life of quiet disappointment and soundless misery. It’s not gonna work. If I want to blow the roof off the house that traps my dreams I have to be brash. So let’s get loud everyone. Split eardrums like the best Bose sound system. Rattle the walls like a Rock concert at full blast. Shout so that God can hear your dreams from the clouds.

In your life are you dying quietly or are you screaming?

Are you screaming?

 

The End of Cliff and Clair? July 25, 2010

Filed under: Love-Relationships,Race/Ethic Issues — thesupersistah @ 11:14 pm
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Super Sistah likes to travel and she likes to visit all sorts of places all over the globe.  Recently she visited the neighbors to the North —Canada.  In this cold air country, the home of the maple leaf, the moose and the booted Mountie, I discovered something disturbing about the black male inhabitants who call the place home.   Now black people are black people everywhere and dependent on our geographical location there are things that mark us culturally.  As I wandered through the malls, the restaurants and streets in this country renowned for its beautiful landscape, low crime rates and its civility, I kept on wondering why I found some of the men there lacking. If we know a little bit of our history we know that many slaves escaped to the North and sought out freedom and assimilation there.  Was that why the men seemed a little watered down to me? I couldn’t figure out what I had against these brothers to the North and then it hit me.   

Despite its stereotype as a very white country, there are places in Canada teeming with women of color from every country and continent on the globe.  In Canada the black women are multi-cultural, spicy and flavorful.  Yet as I walked through the place it struck me forcefully that it seemed black women had no power and no prestige. Super Sistah saw black men pass sisters by without a glance or a look. What was the cause?  How did we get to a place in time where black men had so many options that it wasn’t even a consideration to date within their race?  It seemed wrong somehow that beautiful black women didn’t even warrant a steamy look or an overly long, potentially raunchy stare.  It was sad and it was soul-destroying.  As I looked around, I saw black men with ever race of other on the planet.  I rarely saw a Michelle Obama, a Halle Berry or a Gabrielle Union attached to a black man’s side.  It occurred, but it was rarer than it should be. Instead brothers strolled on with hands clasped with all versions of Pretty Pale, Sorta Exotic, Almost Ethnic, Barely Black and everything in between.  I can’t tell people who to love but when did the Cosby Show’s Clair and Cliff become obsolete?  

Is dating and mating exclusively other considered a preference? Is this place in the North a sign of things to come? Is this the beginning of the systematic demise of black love?  

Cliff & Clair Huxtable

 

The Racial Divide July 18, 2010

Filed under: Pop Culture,Race/Ethic Issues — thesupersistah @ 1:14 am
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Super Sistah would like to lay claim to being an intellectual giant. I’d like to impress the world with my brilliance and discerning taste. I would like to say that I’m a scholar and that I feed my mind and keep abreast of current events by being a student of CNN, Anderson 360 and the talk show Huckabee.  Instead to my shame, I get most of my current event data from my secret obsession—a steady dose of ET and Extra.  It’s this silent killer, addiction to celebrity gossip, which brings me to the topic of my latest blog.  I try to keep current, so last weekend through my undeniable  source Access Hollywood, I learned that LaLa Vasquez and the basketball player Carmelo Anthony got married at Cipriani in New York.  The masses instead of wishing this young couple well and hoping that they’re not a casualty of marriage Hollywood style, was instead preoccupied with something so insignificant that it hardly bears mentioning.  A viral comment under the couple’s picture resulted in an online war so ferocious that I wished for a moment that Mr. Martin Luther King himself would have risen from the grave to mediate.  One unsuspecting African-American male made an unspeakable faux pas when he posted the comment, that it was nice to see two black people get married and doing the right thing towards unifying their family.  Did anyone agree with such a nice sentiment?  Did anyone care? No, instead the negativity exploded because the poster had the nerve to call the bride black (she’s a dark-skinned Puerto Rican) along with the groom,who is a self-identified African-American who supposedly has some Spanish ancestry.  What the Hell!
 

To my Latina readers please help me out here. I’m not from New York originally so I get confused by the negativity that radiates when someone has the audacity to identify you with the black race. Super Sistah has been to the Dominican Republic and South America.  Studying the history of the people there, the facts state that the racial compositions of most Spanish people are a mix of European (Spain), Native American (indigenous to the land) and African (yes, the mother land). Even if I’d never read that history, my eyes would have told me. Help me out Spanish people. I love y’all but you’re confusing me. Rosario Dawson and Zoe Saldana look like they could be a part of my family.  Why does it seem that you claim your European side with so much pride but scorn your African ancestry?  Is being black a crime? Since I’m told by the US census and the forms on all government applications that Spanish is an ethnicity and not a race, why do you react so violently when you’re linked to us?  If this was a family reunion, it’s obvious we’d be if not brother and sister, at least very close family. Why is being black and Spanish thought to be mutually exclusive? Why does one cancel out the other? Why do you hate being called black when our stories, our struggles and our cultures are intertwined so closely?  Yes, yes, I get it. You’re brown.  As you know, Super Sistah is all for claiming your identity. But denying your roots and your heritage won’t change the blood flowing through your veins or your DNA.   

Tell me everyone. What are your thoughts?  Does being brown cancel out being black?   

The Bride and Groom