Dissecting Black Pussy: PT 1

As some of you may or may not know, I am in grad school. I am working on an interdisciplinary MFA degree. And part of the work is about my talk Black Pussy, as well as the ways in which I use social media to educate, entertain and to build community. Updates on this blog will be included in my studies. I will include all of you through my journey of self-actualization and creation. This particular post may be updated several times as I try to hash out the different dynamics of the talk, the cluster fuck of intersectionality of the incident that sparked me to do Black Pussy and to educate you as well as myself on how race, class, religion and whorephobia played an important role in the situation I was involved in.

At the bottom of each post next to my signature, you will see an updated date/time list so you will know when additions or changes were made to the piece. Unfortunately, I don’t think I will be able to point out exactly where I made the changes. Please keep in mind when you read that some of the formatting may be wonky, or repeat sentences will be present. This is a result of Grammarly messing with my shit.

I have since removed the posts that tell the beginning of this nightmare. But as time goes on you all will eventually get what I am talking about. To make a long story short, I fell in love with a client once. And it went bad, really bad, and for many reasons. Here, in this first section I am analyzing and contextualizing the role the wife played in this with her privilege, since she was the one that hired me for the job. It’s a long convoluted story which will be the basis of my work, at least in this first semester. I have tried to fully get over this situation. Or to “move on. and get a life”, as she ordered me to do a year ago. But I think this situation is forever imprinted on my brain, as I never knew I could love like that, be hurt like that and be used that way. Normally, I should say, when I was less aware of how pervasive racism is, the actions of my client and his wife would have seemed like everyday bullshit. But when you wake up and become aware of the subtleys of racism, you also become eager to unpack it. All the writing won’t be perfect at first, I sometimes work with an editor. And I do my best editing AFTER I have written and posted. Sad but true.  And keep in mind, as I do my studies my focus is on making the work available to audiences outside of an academic setting. This is because I am aiming to fill the void that I feel an academic framework avoids, the layman. Or the person who is quite capable of understanding a variety of theories and philosophies, but may get deterred by the use of complicated dialogue. So if you are expecting work ladened with complicated words and phrases, you are probably not gonna get that from me. At least not right away, on these pages.

So let’s begin.

I told him one day I would provide to him the breakdown of her and why I can’t stand her. And in the event she is still stalking me online and he or his spies are still monitoring me, there’s this for all of them. I link these to all my social media profiles. So in the event they miss it here, they are sure to find it on the other pages. I will also make sure to link this to my website, because as a child of Shango, I don’t fuck around.

Before I go on let me be clear. Neither him or me are off the hook for our involvement in this clusterfuck. We have both contributed our fair share to this drama. However, this first section is dedicated to her and understanding her pathology of racism, classism, nerve and privilege.

He asked me once: “Why do you hate her? She fed you, gave you money, left the house so we could be alone. She came back, made breakfast and left again.”

I can’t recall my exact response to that. [But I will add it when I remember]. It was along the lines of slave narrative. As in, just because the slave master fed me and gave me a place to sleep, doesn’t mean he wasn’t slaving me.

But this is what I make of of her. I will explain this section in more detail at a later time: White people are the only people on earth who can literally hijack your culture, then throw you out of it. That is what you call White privilege. Think of it like this, you are Black and belong to a Black group. Let’s say you joined the group some time after a good meaning White person. At some point that, good meaning White person, decides you can’t be a part of that Black group anymore. That’s historically how race works in America. White people can be whomever they want, while you, well, you get to be dismissed from what you came from. What I am talking about here are the symbolisms that plagued much of this story. And this is just an introduction to who I see her to be.

In regard to her hiring me: She never asked me if as a healer I was capable of or willing to have my energy used in a specific way. Instead, she minced words (said he needed “healing” instead of just saying he needed a good fuck). And assumed many things about me. Then she put me in harm’s way by never revealing to me that her [Black] husband had issues with Black women. I would only know that he internalized racism at the end of our relationship when she finally admitted this to me on the phone. She did this not only because I was in the sex business, but because I was Black.  Whether or not she was aware of it is irrelevant. Blind racism is still racism. And this sort of behavior is embedded in White psyche. There are exceptions but she is the rule.

Because of these factors, conclusions were drawn where she felt she could use me as she pleased. Public perception of my line of work and the hierarchy of respect that comes with specific titles of individual jobs, allowed her to violate me and discard me without ramification. So essentially she raped me. And if you read the news, sex workers can be raped and even killed and the general population turns a blind eye. This is why when I lost my shit when this went down, I proceeded to drag them both and name names. I was well aware of how society views me, and because of that, like many people, but particularly her, thought it was ok to handle me the way she did and knew essentially she would get no flack for it. Me being Black and a sex worker represents a population of womyn who are disposable and only afforded phony respect when we are being pandered so we can be abused.

Violence in sex work is often framed around the sensational aspects that the media and celebrity endorsers have conditioned you to recognize. Murder, pimps, trafficking, drug use etc. The truth is that much of the violence sex workers endure when pertaining to their clients come in non-physical forms. Robbery, not paying us or short changing us. Rape of our humanity, our rights to chose how we will utilize our energy. And the power play that happens with each and every exchange, which I blame primarily on how society burdens us with its problems, by blaming us for being homewreckers instead of preservers of institutions such as marriage. Vectors of diseases, instead of the ones that set the trend on how to be safe. And paints us all as victims without acknowledging that much of the workforce victimizes women in different ways. Think lower pay than men for the same job. And not even hiring women who want to feed themselves and their families because they have children or that are pregnant. When this violence is framed around a caste system, we are not afforded housing, jobs or the right to be with our families, if they are even allowed to take money we earn from this form of labor.

What that White woman did in that situation dishonored my work, my integrity, and my compassion. It was an incredibly hard pill to swallow when I think about how I came into the situation wanting the work to be more about her than him, and how that backfired. Womyn have a tendency, because of patriarchal norms, to want to make sure our male spouses are happier even if it comes at our expense. She needed to feel whole again. He needed to do the work. Instead, she tossed herself aside and made room for him to be emotionally and physically happy, while making herself miserable.

In the same breath, however, she is the inspiration for me to never allow White nonsense on any scale. That much I will thank her for. But that doesn’t mean I like the or respect the bitch.

BH

First posted Feb 20, 2017

Updated Feb 21, 2017 4:48p

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