How NOT to be an Ankh N*gga

30 Jun

Dear Black men,

If you find yourself often posting and believing things like this: 


Or this: 


If you spend a good chunk of you time hating on certain “types” of Black women.

Then you may be an Ankh N*igga. 

According to the Curvellas of Black Tumblr, an Ankh N*igga is:


If you fit the description, chances are, most of the Black Women on the internet can’t stand you. And though you stand preach Black unity, you spread a Black hate like no other. You need to be stopped, immediately.


So here’s help

Use these 3 steps to cease your Ankh N*gga tendencies:

Step 1: Check Your Respectability Politics at the Door

You may rock your Tutankhamun shirt with the Eyes of Horus chain all you want, but if you’re flashing your Kemet gear while criticizing Black women who own their sexuality and do not perform in ways that you agree with, your self-righteous, fake consciousness ain’t worth shit.

As I mentioned in a previous post, respectability politics, the view that only certain Black people who fit a narrow mold are worthy of respect, works to further restrict and shame, rather than liberate. By praising one idealized type of Black woman while shaming another, you create a very small prison cell for us to function inside of, a prison that is often demanded from our white counterparts. So you can hashtag #StayWoke til the day you die, but unless you learn to respect all Black women and drop your respectability politics, your views will constantly spew white supremacist ideology. You’re a walking oxymoron.

Step 2: Remember that #BlackWomenMatter. All Black women matter… the Janelle Monae’s and Blac Chyna’s alike deserve your respect.

As I explained a while back when this meme was circulating:

back women COMPARISON

Black women are more complex than the Ratchet Hoe vs. Educated Sister dichotomy you seem to have engrained in your mind. Just like how you ask to be treated like a human being, we too want to be treated as people, not one-dimensional stereotypes. Just like you, we carry burdens from racism, white supremacy, sexism, and more. We have to show one another love. Remember, the rise of Black Americans requires the rise of all Black people, including women, children, the poor, and our LGBTQ fam. 

Step 3: Uplift Black people with compassion and an open mind, rather than criticism and hate. 

There’s not really much to explain for this step: If you really cared for your people like you say you do, then stop dividing us into categories based on who is worthy of respect and who isn’t. You don’t uplift people with shallow judgment. You uplift with conversations. If you really love Black people, then show it.

Black men, I love you and will ride for you. Please show the same sentiments.

PS- Now, I know name-calling is not polite. No matter how fitting the name is, I won’t really be using it. It gives such a powerful symbol (the ankh) a bad name by associating it with a negative concept. But I did want to bring to light a problem in the Black community.

PPS- I also heard “Shea Butter Bitches” is the female equivalent. 

Sources (I learned of the concept “Ankh N*gga” from Black Tumblr):

7 Twitter Chats Black Folks Should Check Out

11 Jun


There is never a dull moment on Black Twitter. Whether folks are going in on celebrities’ shenanigans, criticizing the latest installment of cultural appropriation in fashion or just being all-around awesome with tweets that will make you laugh so hard you spit out that tea you’ve been sipping – Black Twitter is always lit.

Twitter chats bring all of that and more with intriguing online conversations covering a number of different topics.

Catch up with these Twitter chats throughout your week… read more.

Hey Fam, I published this article on Blavity. You can check out the full article there. Hope you enjoy!

I Can’t Read Another Slavery/ Jim Crow Narrative Right Now

2 Jun


Nearly two years ago, my boyfriend was working at Best Buy, when an older black man came in asking where he could get a copy of Fruitvale Station. When Ryan asked him what Fruitvale Station was, the man judgingly responded “Damn black people never heard of Fruitvale Station,” and walked off shaking his head. 

That man would have had words for me too, since I also hadn’t seen the movie. 

Lately, I’ve also been dragging my feet on seeing Selma, and have avoided reading the recently released God Help the Child from my favorite author, Toni Morrison. And for the last several years, two of the black feminist fiction must-reads, The Color Purple and I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, have sat on my reading list and book shelf untouched.

Though it’s a teensy bit embarrassing to have not read and seen some of these iconic books films, I have to admit, they haven’t exactly been of high priority for me.

On the news, social media, and in our everyday lives, we are inundated with accounts of police brutality, racism, white supremacy, injustice, oppression, and our nation’s embarrassing inability to embrace diversity.

This is not easy stuff to read or hear about, much less, experience.

I currently have “oppression narrative fatigue.” With all of the horrible stories of police brutality and the increasing number of victims added to the list on a frighteningly regular basis, sitting down to read a Jim Crow-era narrative like The Warmth of Other Suns (another I’ve been slacking on) seems to add more pain to the current mood.

Sometimes, I have to take a break from those stories. So I mix in a little fantasy, sci-fi, mystery, and if I’m feeling super cheesy, romance. Black authors write oppression narratives well—but they also thrive in other genres.

I just finished reading Melissa Harris Perry’s Sister Citizen and am currently reading Patricia Hill Collins’ Black Sexual Politics. Both are Black feminist books that discuss injustice experienced by black women in our society. And when I’m done with these, I’m moving onto some fantasy, starting with the novel B. Sharise Moore’s Taste. Then I’ll read some Afrofuturism with some lesser-known black authors from this awesome list.

But I always return to the narratives about our history. Those Toni Morrison-esque— remind-you-of-where-you-come-from—narratives are important. Though heavy, they are also inspiring. They arm us with knowledge.They remind us how hard our ancestors fought for injustice, and give us guidelines for how to do so in current situations.  These narratives are also stories of triumph, where characters overcome difficult situations and remind us that we must do the same. And of course, they are not always read in schools—we have to read them on our own.

So maybe, after my break, I’ll dust off The Color Purple when I’m done with my sci-fi and fantasy books.

 I’m an avid reader, always on the hunt for a good book. Recommend your must-reads in the comments section.

Photo courtesy of Sarah Browning via Flickr.


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