Your Redeemer

“No page views til you say you’re sorry for your Beyonce post,” a voice just said. No many page views lately. Just one today, so far. I suppose this is the price you pay for telling the truth, as opposed to maybe, I don’t know… Writing about recipes and your pranks on your fake husband. That’s a summation of one vegan cooking blog I used to read. I didn’t understand why people liked this blonde, white woman so much, I figured it had something to do with the appeal of someone who seemed at once naughty and nice at the same time, the thing people most want to be… to escape devil whirl, of course, where it was central for them to believe they were BAD FOR EVERYTHING UNDER THE SON, except for thinking they were pieces a shit worthy of suffering. That’s what I do here, I let you know the ONLY thing you do wrong. And that is thinking you’re a piece a shit worthy of suffering and limits and half truths and whatever appearances can do to cover up how lowly and disgusting you are for wanting a black woman.

A voice just said something about white man thanking me for forgiving them for spitting in my face in the sixties and redeeming them now, something, something… You’re welcome. You are not forgiven, however, for being so prim and proper today, a time when I can knock the shit out of you for spitting in my face, which is the equivalent of what you’re doing anyway by pretending I don’t exist. And don’t fucking open the door for me, you dumb bastards, acting like you acknowledge I’m a woman, too, just like your white wife. When really I’m just a woman too black for you to marry. I can do the door opening myself, as you can fucking see. So full a shit. Stop pretending there’s nothing wrong. That’s what you can do.

“They said it was your crusty butt crack that kept them away,” a voice just said. We all know that’s not true. But whatever. There are plenty a other black woman out there, just find a inappropriate one like me, please. Those are the ones who are black, for real, the ones who will REALLY forgive you instead a pretending that nothin ever happened–or happens today still. We talk about you by the way and corrupting you the right way. I know, I know, too nasty, but sometimes nasty things must be said. I made that up. It was just one person–who was cool as shit whom I went to school with. She was a waiter at a restaurant full a yas as her coworkers. I guess one or two a ya’s looked kinda nice to her.


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