It’s that time again. Prepare your hearts and minds for the purveyor of pressed together unpolite truth. We present to you the musings of Ms. Mya Seals. Myalogy 101.
“Some of the nastiest, most vile, demeaning people I have encountered on The Good Book (Facebook that is) have been the pro-Blacks. And I say that having electronically lived through Trayvon, Mike Brown, Eric Garner, Ray Rice, JRW and Afroman.
“Tuesday was one of those days that separates the men from the boys, the mouth breathers from the Mensa society, left from right, sisters and brother, creationists and the science community, Biggies and ‘Pac-ers: St. Patrick’s Day. Yes, a day that no one really gives a flip about led to me and several other participants being called: stupid, lost, pathetic, pitiable, uncultured, unaware, and a whole lot of other un-words. Yep, because some folks wore green, had a drink with Seamus O’Brien, marched in a parade, dared to cite their Irish ancestry, we ain’t black as those who didn’t participate. A misguided young lady even had the nerve to suggest I had Stockholm syndrome.
“Me? Stupid? An accusation made by a stranger, no less? Me — who was educated in some of the best majority Black schools (Beasley, Whitney Young — look it up) in Chicago; who knew the names and products of over 50 Black inventors by the age of 9; whose mother made sure her education didn’t stop in the classroom and taught me about the ancient civilizations of Africa before I knew algebra; who attended not one, but two HBCUs…yeah, I could go on, but I’m not ’cause I don’t have to defend nor prove who I am, nor what I know … just as long as we’re clear on the fact that I ain’t stupid.
“What I am though, is tired. My participation in the St. Patrick’s Day parade doesn’t make me any less Black than your dreadlocks make you down with the cause. From where I’m standing, if you were so about your people, you would turn these moments — Patty’s Day, Cinco de Mayo (which I’m celebrating the life out of, so get ya diss game tight), et. al, into building moments. But, nope … because you are so nasty and vile, you choose to name-call and take yet another opportunity to draw a black line in the black sand to explain to me why I ain’t Black as you. Why my Black ain’t good enough. Why?
“If you wore green today, but don’t ever wear red black and green — “KILL YO SELF!” What if I wore green on Sunday, am I still Black and do I still have to kill myself?
“If you celebrated St. Patrick’s Day, but didn’t celebrate Black History Month — “KILL YO SELF!” OK, but I did Black History posts every day during February (well I started off doing them), I went to church first Sunday — my very unashamedly Black and unapologetically Christian church for the special service, so do I still have to kill myself?
“I don’t see any other culture celebrating King Day, so if you celebrating theirs — “KILL YO SELF!” Well, which is it, are we partying on King Day or not? ‘Cause, I’m always down to get drunk and party. You looked down with great disdain when them MLK party flyers hit the scene, but how else will the masses know that it’s party time!!!! Also, please advise: I worked on King Day. Does that make me blacker in your eyes, because I didn’t celebrate the day “The Man” gave to us after ordering the murder of our beloved leader or am I loyal to my massa? And do I still have to kill myself?
“Sigh.
“And it doesn’t stop at the holidays.
“Last week I saw a post that hung Kendrick “I Want a Darker Girl in the Video” Lamar in effigy, because he was on the cover of Rolling Stone with a girl who looked like me, or at least her hands and belly were the same color as mine, because that’s all you could see of her. This is a problem, because this cover model and me ain’t blackity black black black. Sorry Kendrick, you ain’t Black enough either for letting this happen. This discussion, like most when discussing the relative blackness of anything, devolved into what I described before: namecalling; disrespect — yet again it was suggested someone was stupid; and a cesspool of negativity.
“It’s sad that our one common trait (black people ain’t a monolith), our one common trait, our blackness, regardless of if you are my color or Lupita’s, is the one thing we use to divide ourselves. And nastily at that.
“I’m gonna go now. For one, I have to check on my friend Brendan, who went out with his co-workers to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. I need to make sure that he is still Black. And for two, I have to check on the progress of a story I pushed to be on the air about a young Black girl makin’ moves outchere. I also need to make sure that we cover that story I told a news anchor about regarding Kennedy King College being in the running for the nation’s top award for achievement and performance in community colleges. And snap! I gotta hit up Micaeh to see if we can get pull some Dolphin power together to get her Oscar-winning Black client on the morning show.
“I work every day to make sure the right images of my people are shown where I work and where the world can see them, but these green jeans I wore yesterday prove my lack of Blackness.”
The unedited version of this article, the one with all the curse words and slick talk, can be found at https://www.myalogy.com.
