I’ll never sleep with more men than I can count on one hand. – me, a senior in high school who mistakenly thought there was value in identifying as a good woman. Back then male approval had a disproportionate influence on how I viewed myself and the world. I privileged it over my own thoughts, desires and needs. Deprogramming took time but now I say with confidence that good women are overrated.
Identity
Silencing My Longtime Frenemy, Imposter Syndrome
Usually it’s the partying and quasi-adulthood freedom that excites teenagers going off to college. For me, it was my freshman English class. I loved writing and was eager to improve. And I did, through challenging but affirming coursework. The affirmation came when my professor praised my magnum opus in her class, a 10-page paper she suggested I submit to a national writing contest. My confidence soared, but not nearly as much as it should have.
“Single” is Not An Insult and Damn Sure Not a Threat
I hadn’t intended on writing about this but since the Brought-To-You-Live-From-My-Mama’s-Basement brigade found the comment section of my last post, it’s only right that I do. These basement-dwellers took to their keyboards in a flurry of outrage over me pointing out the lack of standards we seem to impose on men. They warned that women like me only have wine and a desolate cat-lady life to look forward to. Somewhere along the way “single” has become the go-to attempt to debase women. I’m here to tell y’all (yes, y’all) that single is not an insult and damn sure not a threat.
When Promoting “Self-Love” Is A Cover for Sexism: The Curious Cases of Lil’ Kim & Kodak Black
If women received a nickel for every time we’ve heard admonishments about the importance of self-love, well, we’d likely have enough money to forego the whole process of getting there and just buy it instead. (Anything can be monetized under capitalism, amirite?) And for how much it’s preached at women, I’d imagine self-love would run someone a pretty penny. Throw in some self-worth and self-esteem as a package deal and distributers would be laughing all the way to the bank.
Black women do have a superpower (Hint: it’s not our strength)
Being a Black woman is lit. I pretty much feel like I could end there and Black women would be able to fill in the rest with charts, graphs and major talking points on all of the glory and splendor of being a Black woman. Part of our magic is that we create our own glory and splendor even though navigating this world as a Black woman is hard. But the payoff is immeasurable. Being a Black woman is like being in exclusive, members-only club that — try as you might, Rachel — you can only get into by both birthright and by shared social condition.