Black Woman Blogging

One black woman's views on race, gender, politics, family, life and the world.

Monday, May 25, 2015

Doesn't Take Much to Make Me Happy

Doesn't take much to make me happy . . and make me smile with glee . . . .

~ "Best of My Love," The Emotions

Although I'm viewed by many friends and family members alike as a driven, high maintenance, Type-A perfectionist with high standards and equally high anxiety, the truth of the matter is this:

It doesn't take much to make me happy.

No, really.

This year, I told myself that I would use what I have and enjoy what I have.  Many of the things that make me happy are low cost or free (at least free to me), easy, and/or within my possession or reach.  In honor of the near-beginning of my favorite season of the year, summer (YAY!), here's a list of the little things that make me happy, in no particular order:

1.  My husband, Black Man Not Blogging (BMNB).  No, this isn't to say that he's perfect or we're perfect, but we're good enough together.  We laugh ALOT.  We have some insider stupid jokes that have been running between us for years.  Never judge a marriage by what you see.  There are things that go on within a marriage between two people that outsiders will never know and, even if they did, they wouldn't understand.

2.  Iced Sweet Tea.  There is nothing like a glass of iced sweet tea with lemon on a hot summer day.

3.  Backyard barbecues.  Gotta love'em.  You set up the grill, and I'll make Memphis Minnie's Rib Rub and slather it on anything that was formerly a living animal and watch you grill it (I'm afraid of the fire, though.  I tried grilling once when BMNB wasn't home, and I almost burned down my backyard tree and fence.)

4.  Graduations.  I don't care if you're graduating from kindergarten or a doctoral program.  Graduations just warm my heart to bits.

5.  My home.  Not because it's big, because it isn't.  Not because it's posh, because it's far from that.  I enjoy my home simply because it's mine.  There are small touches everywhere -- my summer vegetable garden; the roses, dwarf orange tree and jasmine that I planted in the backyard that make the backyard so fragrant whenever I walk out; the artwork and family photos on display; the mostly used furniture that I've spruced up with pillows and whatnot; my piano; the struggling magnolias in my front yard that were a gift from my neighbor; the tons of books on my shelves and coffee table -- all of these things make my home a comfort to me as soon as I walk in the door.

6.  Finding NWT clothing items at the Goodwill.  Here's the context.  Yours truly has a weight problem.  That said, I don't think I should have to look like a schlumpadinka just because of it.  I also don't think I should pay a fortune for clothes for a size that I think is temporary.  For whatever reason, I've been able to find lots of NWT (New With Tags) items from the Goodwill in my size in the clothing brands I like -- Talbot's, Jones New York, Tahari, Liz Claiborne -- for no more than $10 each.  I've even found NWT shoes -- Joan and David, Etienne Aigner, Anne Klein -- for no more than $12.  I like looking nice for work, but I just don't believe in paying a lot of money for things that depreciate, which leads to my next favorite thing:

7.  Free coupons.  The Sacramento Bee newspaper calls me every once in a while to ask me to subscribe, and I always tell them "no."  Why? Because they leave the Sunday coupons in my driveway for free.  Why subscribe to the paper if you can get the coupons for free?  When I'm at the top of my couponing game, I can easily save $8 -20 bucks per grocery trip.  That easily pays for my Roku, Netflix and Hulu Plus accounts.  I know you're thinking that's not a lot of money, but it's free money to me.

9.  Fresh vegetables from my own garden.  Until you've had freshly picked tomatoes, zucchini, carrots and lettuce from your own yard, you really don't know what vegetables are supposed to taste like.  Top off the tomatoes, lettuce and carrots with homemade balsamic vinaigrette dressing ( balsamic vinegar, extra virgin olive oil, Italian seasoning and one or two crushed cloves of garlic), some fresh mozzarella, some fresh French bread and a glass of wine, and that's living, my friend.

10.  Reading the magazines to which I subscribe.  I subscribe to a lot of magazines -- O Magazine, Real Simple, Sunset, Essence, More, HGTV Magazine, and Everyday with Rachael Ray -- but I rarely have time to read them when they come in.  Curling up on my sofa with my old magazines and a glass of sweet tea or wine is a good time as far as I'm concerned.

11.  Day trips in California.  No shade on the rest of the 47 continental states, but IMHO California is the most beautiful of the lower 48.  The sad thing is that I don't make time to see much of its beauty despite the fact that I live here.  Daytrips are an inexpensive way to see all of California's beauty if you live here.  In what other state can you trek to mountains, beaches, forests, lakes, various wine countries (even Placer and Nevada counties have vineyards) or the desert and make it back home by dinner?  I've decided that seeing all of California's state parks is on my bucket list.  Need ideas?  Check out Sunset Magazine for some great tips for daytripping or camping in California.

12.  Having friends and family over for dinner.  Again, something that I don't do nearly as much as I would like to, partly because I do have high standards for what I serve to my guests and I end up intimidating myself into inaction.  I'm working on that, though.

13.  Morning coffee on the patio during summer.  I love to have my morning coffee on my patio during the summer and listen to the birds chirping.  The downside of this is that my backyard is so small and my house so close to my neighbors that sometimes I hear things I really don't want to or should not hear.  Sometimes I smell them, too.  Let's just say that some of my neighbors are extremely 420 friendly.

14.  Books.  I love to read, and I don't make enough time for it.  I rarely buy books new, though.  Again, the Goodwill and my local library have been my friends in this endeavor. I haven't bought an e-reader yet, but that's coming.

15.  Trying new recipes.  I have a cookbook collection that is to die for.  I also get lots of recipes from all of the magazines to which I subscribe.  I like trying new recipes and adding to my cooking repertoire, especially since I'm not a natural cook and am highly dependent on recipes.  The folks at O Magazine, Real Simple and Sunset provide killer recipes.

16.  Upcycling.  I like taking used stuff and making it new or interesting again.  I spray painted a used brass floor lamp I got for $10, and its new rubbed bronze color fits perfectly with the finishes in my home. I'm hoping to finish sanding and painting some headboards and tables I acquired used and cheaply.  Yes, I do watch Lara Spencer's "Flea Market Flip" religiously.  I get a thrill out of taking something that someone else has discarded and making it new and fashionable.  Don't judge me.

17.  Massages from Zen Spa in Roseville.  $60 bucks for a 60 minute massage.  No membership fee.  Sweet.

18.  Homemade Limeade.  It's not summer for me until I've had that first glass of homemade limeade.  Cook 2 cups sugar in 2 cups water over a low flame  and stir until the sugar dissolves, then let cool.  Add the mixture to a pitcher along with 2 cups fresh lime juice and 2 liters club soda.  Add sugar as needed to taste.  Enjoy.  Thanks, Martha Stewart!

19.  Hot baths after a hard workout.  Since we're in a drought and I don't work out much, this rarely happens.  However, the feeling of sitting in a hot bath with bath salts, bubble bath, and scented candles burning after a hard workout?  Sweet.  Even sweeter when BMNB is in the tub with me.

20. Writing this blog.  'Nuff said.

Happy Summer!



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Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Time for President Obama to Return the Favor (Black Folks Ridin' Hard for POTUS)

Dear President Obama,

I listened to your comments on the looting going on in Baltimore yesterday.  All I could think was, "Here we go again."

Let me get to the point:  You're quick to criticize black folks when we don't live up to your standards, but you're slow to criticize non-black folks when their failure to live up to any standard of decency leads to the murder of black folks.

As one reporter noted, you did not walk the streets of Ferguson.  You were silent about Eric Garner.  I've not heard you utter the phrase "Black Lives Mater."

But the minute that black folks -- young black folks at that -- begin to loot and riot in response to the racial transgressions you barely acknowledge?  Then it's on.  You jump on the obvious bandwagon and, despite your race, fail to add anything to the conversation that non-blacks don't already think and say.  You fail to add the context that your experience as a black man in America would cause to come to you naturally.  Or at least it should.

Sure, it's easy to call young black people "thugs."  It's easy to confirm the pre-existing stereotypes.  But you have a higher calling and a greater debt to the very people you condemn so easily.

You have a higher calling because you know better and you were put into office in part because you were expected to lift your voice for black people at most, or at least to make sure that black people are treated equally under the law.  Make no mistake -- many black folks had their doubts about you.  I know for certain that many black women would not have voted for you but for the fact that you are married to Mrs. Obama, enabling you to wear her "race rank," for lack of a better phrase.  The idea behind black folks putting a black man in the White House was that he -- you -- would bring your life experience with you and deploy it for our equal treatment and everyone else's education. For many of us, the reason to vote you in for a second term was to give you the political freedom to speak to the uneasy issue of race that you didn't have in your first term.  The idea was that you'd have nothing to lose and you'd expend some political capital on the uneasy issue of race.  Instead, you chose to use Eric Holder as your proxy.

To make matters worse, your comments on Baltimore embodied Professor Derrick Bell''s Third Rule of Racial Standing from his book, "Faces at the Bottom of the Well, " to wit:

Few blacks avoid diminishment of racial standing, most of their statements about racial conditions being diluted and their recommendations of other blacks taken with a grain of salt. The usual exception to this rule is the black person who publicly disparages or criticizes other blacks who are speaking or acting in ways that upset whites. Instantly, such statements are granted 'enhanced standing' even when the speaker has no special expertise or experience in the subject he or she is criticizing. (emphasis added).
And when the President of the United States disparages black people, without adding the context to their actions that he knows or should knows, this exception to the rule of racial standing becomes all the more stronger.

But you knew that.

You chose to call them thugs when you could have quoted Dr. King about the nature of rioting:  "Riot is the language of the unheard."  You didn't put their actions into context,   You simply brushed all of those who looted with a broad brushstroke, with an easy sound bite, knowing that you wouldn't have to bear the consequences of the condemnation you heaped upon them and those who look like them.

Enough. Is.  Enough.

To borrow a turn of phrase from your girl Ms. Bey, black folks have been ridin' hard for you, Mr. President.  Ridin' hard, even when you've done things that, quite frankly, we and most of the free world didn't understand (like that "line in the sand" with Syria that you couldn't back up).  We understood why you couldn't consistently address issues of race in your first term -- because they would be a distraction from all the other issues you had to tackle -- the economy, two wars, health care reform, etc.  But we put you in a second time in hopes that you would be free to speak about, and do something about, race in America.  Because being the first black President -- hell, being the first black ANYTHING -- comes with its own set of responsibilities.  One of those is to make it better for those who look like you and don't have the same power or platform that you do.  This idea that you have to be a President of all the people and not just one group is undermined by the fact that we're Americans, too, and our race problem is America's race problem.  And yours.

Mr. President, Black America has been ridin' hard for you.  It's time for you to return the favor.  You could start by explaining us instead of being the first to criticize us.

Sincerely,

Black Woman Blogging

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Saturday, November 29, 2014

How to Socially Vaporize Inappropriate People (as Well as President and Mrs. Obama Have)

I think we can all agree that the GOP legislative staffer's comments on Malia and Sasha Obama's dress and behavior at the latest turkey pardoning ceremony were  inappropriate and offensive.  What I've found interesting, however, is how the remarks have not even been acknowledged by President and Mrs. Obama (and yes, she's not "Michelle," she's "Mrs. Obama."  She will be the First Lady or a former First Lady for the rest of her life.  If you didn't call Mrs. Reagan "Nancy" or Barbara Bush "Barbara," you don't call Mrs. Obama "Michelle."). 

"Ah," I thought to myself. "Social vaporization."

What is "social vaporization," you ask?

It's the refusal to dignify the offensive actions of a person and, in many cases, the ignorant person who acted, by ignoring them and their act.  Social vaporization to its fullest effect is treating the person who offended you like they don't exist.

There are some segments of our society that have made social vaporization a high art form.  Too often, when someone does something that offends us, we engage in social jiu jitsu -- we attempt to use that person's offensive conduct to harm them.  We deride the offender's conduct in their presence, try to correct the conduct, or inflict the same conduct upon the offender.  We also give the offender what they want:  Attention.

That's just way too much energy.  Social vaporization is so much more efficient.  To see social vaporization at its best, you need to be around old money Southerners.  Of all races.  They socially vaporize people by politely ignoring the conduct, removing themselves from the offender's presence with a polite excuse ("Could you excuse me for a moment?  I need to say hello to a dear friend of mine across the room."), and, depending on the magnitude of the transgression, never making themselves available to be of help to, or in the presence of, the offender.  They stop taking the offender's calls.  They decline social invitations from the offender.  And they do so without expending as much energy as it takes to wipe their behinds. 

I've had to socially vaporize people.  One was a house guest who made inappropriate comments about one of my family members shortly after I had experienced a death in my family.  Said house guest has never stepped foot in my home since.  Vaporized.  I don't even expend energy thinking about relenting and having this person in my home.  I made my Whitney Houston-inspired "Hell to the no" decision years ago.  Poof.  Vaporized. 

I, too, have been socially vaporized.  A lovely lady was trying to groom me for membership in The Links.  I didn't realize it at the time, and with my sense of Delta superiority, I didn't think it mattered.  I didn't respond appropriately to her overtures, didn't make it a priority to attend the right events.  She socially vaporized me.  I deserved it.  I was not ready for what she was offering.  And I learned to respect The Links.

But old money Southerners?  Talk about social vaporization.  They socially vaporize people so well that the people who are vaporized don't even know they've been vaporized.  The vaporized simply think that the vaporizers are just busy, going through a difficult time, or overwhelmed with family obligations.  In fact, vaporized folks often create excuses for those who vaporize them because they can't imagine that they have been socially vaporized.  The vaporizers treat the vaporizees politely when encountered, but that's about it.  Vaporizers don't explain.  That would be an unmerited expenditure of energy for people who don't deserve it.

Why socially vaporize someone?  Because they're probably not going to change, you can't raise them (because we all know you can't raise grown people), and it would raise your blood pressure to be continually assaulted by their inappropriate or insensitive behavior.

So how do you decide whether to socially vaporize someone?  Ask yourself the following questions:

1)  How offended was I by what the offender did?  If the answer is "extremely," then ask yourself:
2)  Do we even have a relationship?  If the answer is "no," vaporize them.  If the answer is "yes," ask yourself:
3)  Is this a relationship worth saving?  If not, vaporize them.

Vaporizing someone is like forgiving someone. Forgiving someone is giving up the hope that the past will ever be different.  Socially vaporizing someone is giving up the hope that the offending person will ever cease to offend you.

May the force of social vaporization always be with you.

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Another Generation of Second-Class Citizens (Ferguson and Lionel Ritchie on My Mind)

Black Man Not Blogging (BMNB) and I are jaded.  Or rather, numb.  We were not surprised by the grand jury verdict in the Michael Brown killing.

We both agreed that it was senseless to loot and burn the businesses of innocent business owners in Ferguson, especially if those businesses employed those in the community and/or were black-owned.

We both agreed that if Michael Brown had reached for the officer's gun, his fate was sealed, not because he may not have been justified in reaching for it, but because, once you do, your killing by a police officer becomes justifiable.

We initially disagreed about the way forward.  Kind of.

"We have to teach our young men to be smarter," he said.

"Smarter?", I asked.

"Yes, smarter." BMNB explained that police officers act out of fear, specifically their fear of black men.  The answer, he said, was to teach all our sons that police officers' fears can cause them to be killed and that, no matter what, there are certain things you as a black man can't say or do to a police officer and expect to live to tell about it.

"Damn," I said.  "Do we have to raise yet another generation of second-class citizens?  My dad grew up seeing black men lynched because they didn't address a white man the right way or they looked at a white woman too long.  Your generation was raised not to run at night or make any sudden moves when stopped by the police.  Black people have always had to raise our sons to expect to be treated as second-class citizens.  Do we as black people have to raise yet another generation of second-class citizens?"

I hung my head.  Then I remembered a story Lionel Ritchie told in an episode of Oprah Winfrey's "Master Class."  He talked about growing up on the Tuskegee University (then Tuskegee Institute) campus and living in a racism-free bubble during segregation until he ventured off campus.  He spoke of how when he was a child he drank from a white water fountain in town, and white men then started to threaten his dad.  He just knew his dad was going to kick their behinds.  His dad only told him, "Get in the car."  Years later, he asked his dad why he hadn't stood up to those white men. His dad replied:

"Son, I had two choices that day.  I could choose to be a man or I could choose to be your father.  That day, I chose to be your father."

It made me realize that it isn't about being a second-class citizen.  It's about having our young black men survive the experience and live to tell about it.  If they don't live, they can't tell the tale of what happened to them.  Only forensics and police officers put on the stand during their own grand jury hearings (WTH?) will tell the tale.  And if young black men don't live to tell what happened to them, it can't be changed for the next generation of young black man.

"We need a protocol for all our young men to follow when they encounter the police.  A protocol that we can all agree on, that's nationally recognized.  I don't know if it's 'Hands up, don't shoot' or what, but we need a protocol that we all train our young black men to follow when they encounter the police. We need to teach that protocol in the churches and the schools."

"Then we need to train the police on that protocol," said BMNB.  And then he said something that made me even more jaded:

"You know that every day there are black men who do all the right things when they encounter the police and still get killed, right?"

"Yes, I know."  But we have to start somewhere.

#FeelingPowerless
#BlackLivesMatter

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Sunday, November 23, 2014

Don't Be a Volunteer for The Dysfunction Games (May The Odds Be Ever In Your Favor)

Gentle Readers,

The holidays are upon us once again.  Mockingjay, Part I will be opening on Thanksgiving.  This gave me food for thought: 

Don't be a volunteer for The Dysfunction Games this holiday season.

I  read "The Hunger Games," the first of a trilogy by Suzanne Collins, but did not read the other two books.  I read it for a neighborhood book club composed of mostly stay-at-home moms. We were planning to read both "The Hunger Games" and the second book, "Catching Fire."  I couldn't get past "The Hunger Games."  I was deeply disturbed by the idea of young people being chosen as "tributes" to kill other young people until only one was left standing.  I was even more disturbed by the fact that this was considered a YA novel and was being assigned in our local schools.

The stay-at-home moms loved the books.  I questioned their taste and never returned to the group.

If you've read "The Hunger Games" or saw the movie, you know the hunger games portrayed in the movie are rivaled in real life by what I would call The Dysfunction Games:  The weird, awkward, and oftentimes offensive social interactions that occur during the holidays when families with dysfunctional behavior and unresolved issues try to socialize in spite of their behavior and issues.

Truth be told, many folks participating in The Dysfunction Games don't know they're dysfunctional.  They have no filters, no sense of boundaries, and/or no manners.  And they're totally unaware, bless their hearts.  They're old enough to know better but too old to be raised better than they were.  All you can do is pray for them.  And avoid them.

Then there are the folks I would call "The Volunteers."   Like the protagonist in "The Hunger Games," Katniss Everdeen, they volunteer to be all up in the game.  Like Katniss, they know the game is wrong, evil, and offensive.  Unlike Katniss, they go in thinking they can change the game, i.e., get dysfunctional people to behave like they're not dysfunctional or, even worse, to see the dysfunction of their ways.

Don't be a volunteer.  You ain't Katniss Everdeen.  Here's why.

Katniss volunteered for The Hunger Games for a higher purpose -- to keep her younger sister from being killed in the games -- and with an edge -- superior skills as an archer.  Even if you have a higher purpose, i.e., to keep Aunt Mae-Mae from slapping the piss out of Cousin Mookie -- you probably don't have the superior skills necessary to make this work. Unless you're a psychiatrist, psychologist, licensed clinical social worker or counselor, you do not have the skills to succeed in The Dysfunction Games.  You need to sit your behind on the bench and just watch.

However, the most important skill to have is to know when you're volunteering.  Did someone actually ask you to intervene between Aunt Mae-Mae and Cousin Mookie?  Even if you were asked, did you decline?  If your answer to either of these questions is "no," you're a volunteer.

Don't be.  It's only going to get worse.  Inevitably, someone will get drunk and start telling all the family secrets about affairs and the questionable paternity of some of your relatives.  Trust me, you ain't Katniss Everdeen.  You do not have an edge in The Dysfunction Games.

Happy Holidays.  May the odds be ever in your favor.

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Thursday, October 9, 2014

Black Woman Blogging Solves the Ebola Crisis (You're Welcome, Federal Government)

NOTE:  This post includes language not suitable for viewing at work or by the easily offended.

Dear Federal Government,

Not to put too fine a point on it, but you fucked up.  Big time.  You allowed a disease for which there is no known cure, only treatment, to come to our country, a place where it is not indigenous.

What the fuck?

Since you can't even keep the President safe, I can't trust you to keep me safe, and I'm far less valuable than the President.  That said, let me dust off my Master's in Public Affairs from the Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Affairs, Princeton University, (AKA The Degree I Never Use), concentration in Domestic Policy, and help y'all pull your heads out of your collective asses.  It doesn't take a Princeton degree to do this. 

Step One:  Admit That You Don't Know How Ebola is Spread

The explanations for how Ebola is spread are not explanations -- they're theories.  Y'all really don't know how it's spread, and until you admit that, we can't take the steps we need to take.  First, everyone was saying that it's spread by contact with bodily fluids and not by airborne transmission.  Now you have folks saying that if you're within three to four feet of someone with Ebola who sneezes, and the effluent gets in one of your mucous membranes, you might get it.  And there are cases in which you're not quite sure how fully protected health care workers got it.

And then you have Dr. Anthony Fauci pontificating about how it's spread.  Really? Isn't he the doctor who was first out of the gate saying that HIV/AIDS is spread by normal household contact?  Despite all the work he's done since in HIV/AIDS research, I'm not willing to treat him as a credible source on the transmission of Ebola.  I'd rather wait a few years after he's had a chance to study it.  But we don't have a few years.  We have a few weeks.

So, step one is to admit that you don't know how Ebola is spread so we can move on to step two.

Step Two:  Ban All Travel To And From The Affected Countries, Except for Aid Missions

Yep, I said it.  Ban all travel to and from Liberia, Guinea and Sierra Leone until this is under control in their countries.  Why?  Because they haven't contained Ebola where it started, and our only line of defense here is accepting people's travel histories on faith and taking temperatures at five airports.  Really, Federal Government, that's the best you can do?  For a disease for which there is no known cure and little if any experimental drugs available?

I call bullshit.  You can't control what you can't contain.

Ban all travel except for aid missions, which leads to step three:

Step Three:  Treat Affected Health Care Workers Where They Contract The Disease

Sorry, but if you leave America and get Ebola in West Africa while serving as a health care worker, you get to stay in West Africa and be treated.  If you decided to join this battle, God bless you, but you knew what you were signing up for.  You don't get to bring risk of the disease to the rest of us who didn't sign up for that risk here in America.  Sad to say, but if more health care workers from America had to be treated where they contracted the disease, it would make step four move faster.

Step Four:  Use Old Military Ships As Mobile Hospitals to Treat Ebola Patients in West Africa

Instead of trying to build MASH hospitals in the West African heat and humidity, use old military ships -- from all of the G-7 countries, not just us -- as mobile hospitals to treat Ebola patients in West Africa.  Transport them out by helicopter.  While the ships serve as mobile hospitals, build the land-based ones quickly. The key is to isolate the sick as soon as they are diagnosed, and as far from the rest of the population as possible.  Nobody leaves the ships alive unless they are well.  When it's all over, burn the ships and sink them.

Step Five:  Quarantine Everyone Who Came to America From West Africa During the Outbreak

Yep, I said it.  Quarantine every last one of them. And their pets, too. Sorry.  Actually, no, I'm not sorry.

Step Six:  Raise Money.  Fast

Every one of the industrialized nations needs to do an EFT (Electronic Funds Transfer) to Doctors Without Borders like yesterday.  Trust me, if Wal-Mart can demand same day payment for my past due credit card bill (I paid on time, just not the right amount), surely we have the means to transfer funds to the NGOs on the ground within hours, not days, so they can get all the life saving equipment they need.

Along those lines, where's the Ebola Telethon like we had for the tsunami victims in Japan and Thailand?  Where's the Ebola fund raising anthem like "We Are The World"?  Lionel Ritchie, you need to write a song quick, fast and in a hurry.  Bono and Elton John, gather your celebrity friends and play Wembley Stadium.  George Clooney and Don Cheadle, y'all need to run this shit.  Madonna, wear a t-shirt that says, "Fight Ebola now" and try not to look anorexic while you're wearing it. 

These six steps are a good start.  Better than what the Federal Government is doing or is proposing to do.

You're welcome, Federal Government.  Now, pull your heads out of your asses.

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Friday, September 19, 2014

Facebook Got Stonewalled (Learn Your LGBT History)

Facebook got Stonewalled, but not in the way the term is usually used.  As they say, those who don't know their history are doomed to repeat it.

Anybody who knows me knows I adore drag queens because they can be better at being women than women and yet deploy their male physical strength when they choose to.  Nobody but a drag queen can dress like Diana Ross, throw shade like Bette Davis, and beat you down like Mike Tyson.  As Wesley Snipes said in drag in the movie, "To Wong Foo, Thanks For Everything," a drag queen is what happens when you have too much style for either gender.

Clearly someone at Facebook pulled the idea out of their ass that they would enforce their heretofore unenforced "no fake names" policy, and they decided to start enforcing the policy against, of all people, drag queens.

What part of Stonewall did this idiot not know?  Did this idiot not know that it was drag queens who set off the Stonewall Riots?  Drag queens who beat down police officers?  If a drag queen would beat down a police officer, imagine what she would do to Mark Zuckerberg's puny ass?

And not only did Facebook pick the most unlikely group of people with whom to pick a fight -- drag queens -- but they started with one of the most famous drag queens in the world, Sister Roma of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence.

What was Facebook thinking?  The Sisters are perpetual icons of Pride Parades.  If you were going to pick on some drag queens, why oh why would you pick one of the Sisters?

Well, Sister Roma fought back and threw shade, noting that Facebook had picked out drag queens as the first group against which to enforce their policy.  Now, I'm not Facebook's lawyer, but I would have imagined that, with Facebook having its corporate headquarters in California and selectively enforcing its policy against a well known San Francisco drag queen, they were ripe for an Unruh Civil Rights Act claim, but hey, I'm not Facebook's lawyer.

That aside, Sister Roma did her thing and Facebook had to back down and, as they say in politics, "walk back" their policy.

So Facebook got Stonewalled.

Learn your LGBT history, Facebook, so you won't be doomed to repeat it. Pick on drag queens at your peril.

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