PRIDE 2018

This wasn’t my first Pride, but it was the first Pride that felt like celebration to me.

Mississippi’s first pride was in 2016 and I was there. As everyone was getting ready to begin the march, one of the coordinators came around to the floats and told us that it was rumors that there were hate groups conspiring to rain on our first Pride parade. It was only months earlier during a Take Down the Flag rally on campus that the damn KKK showed up – right there on Ole Miss’ campus. Plausible as those rumors were, hate decided to let us live that day and the first Pride in Mississippi went over without a hitch.

At that time, I was just starting to come out to other people. I’ve always been a low key type of bitch and that was like the first time I stepped out on those hoes. Small as it was, it was liberating.

Fast forward two years and I’ve graduated from Ole Miss. In transit to NYC for the fall, I opted to stay with best fran in D.C. to try to ease the transition of living in the city and my first weekend in town was Pride weekend. What a welcome this has been!

There have been rainbow flags up all week leading up to the festivities and THEY’RE STILL UP. People have them hanging in their yards and store fronts. The more I walk around, I see they aren’t just out for the occasion.

This was the first time I experienced Pride as a celebration. Not an exercise in tolerance.

I used to get home sick when I was younger and I would be away from home for more than a week. It was the only home I knew and the only safe haven I had… as long as I behaved within the parameters set for me.

Once I started growing up and said “Fuck that,” home started feeling less and less like home.

That’s really it. The South, as it is now, is only meant for the straight and the white. And I’ve been on a quest to find a sense of home ever since.

I think this past weekend was the closest I’ve come to achieving that feeling.

Happy Pride

*Rolls Eyes*

I’m sure y’all have seen the story by now.

H&M UK decided to model a hoodie that read “Coolest monkey in the jungle” on a little black boy. Politics aside, whoever came up with the print ought to be fired because that is the clumsiest sounding phrase to grace an article of clothing – ever. It does not roll off the tongue, it doesn’t even look good. On a very superficial level, the shit ain’t even worth buying. Terrible marketing.

Now, several people took issue with it. Some folks even took the liberty of changing the design on the hoodie in response to the ad being deemed racist.


More like tone deaf. One can argue that tone deaf is the new racism but that’s another post.

Racial politics is a global phenomenon, but most of the backlash came from black people in America. Black Americans are generally a bit more conscious of the “dog whistle” terminology (and sometimes just outright racist shit) used by white folks to undermine different aspects of the black experience.

Monkey, tar baby, pickaninny, allat.

This isn’t to say that race doesn’t exist in the UK, but perhaps we can concede that the dynamics of racial politics are slightly different there. This obviously went through a lot of hands before it made it to the final ad and it’s just hard for me to believe that all those people had malice in their heart. Perhaps



The potential problems that could come of the logo were simply lost on them.

Or maybe this is me trying to make the world not seem like such a shitty place.

What y’all think?


Coming Up On a Year

I wouldn’t be surprised if Donald Trump had a lil touch of dementia. He’s clearly stressed and I know he’s not doing his sudoku puzzles in his free time.

I don’t know how this guy got elected but it wasn’t off my ballot. Do you see how this isn’t my fault and yet I’m the one being inconvenienced? He’s hell bent on this pissing contest with North Korea, he’s aggressively patronizing, and now this nigga claims he’s a “stable genius,” when questions about his mental stability came up.

Fuck Donald Trump.

I really can’t see this administration lasting much longer. 2018 is the year that something has to give. Like…


I ask: America, what the fuck is your problem?


He’s a Mean One

Your boy Trump did it again and this time it hit home.

If you didn’t know, I work at a certain Mexican restaurant. I’ve been there for nine months and I have to say, in that time, I can say without a doubt, it’s the best job I’ve ever had. Truly and honestly. 

But I digress. 

I’m quite fond of my boss. He manages to piss me off at least once every two weeks but he’s a cool mother fucker when he wants to be. He moved all the way here to Oxford to be the GM because he loves his job and the company we work for. He just had a kid too. 

The other day he announced jokingly, “Well, in a few days, I’ll officially know if I’m getting deported.”

Me, an intellectual: whet? 

“Yea, they’re voting to repeal DACA.”

Me, an intellectual: whet?

I clocked out a couple hours later and didn’t think much of it once I left because who thinks about work after they leave work. Lets be real. 

Fast forward to yesterday and I find out y’alls president actually managed to get that shit repealled. 

I keep our work GroupMe on mute. I only check it because they post the schedule on there, but I just happened to check it the day that the news came out and that’s where where I saw it. 

“Well guys, I have until June 2019.”

Y’know, I really didn’t expect to be as hurt by it as I was but, bitch, I was. 

I felt like swinging at the air like Tre in Boyz in the Hood after that cop put the gun to his head.

Up until now, I’ve managed to remain unbothered by the bullshit, political and otherwise but that shit really hit me. Once again, fuck Donald. 

He’s a liar. He’s dusty. And he’s fucking shit up in a major way. 

Life is Funny Enough Without Your Bullshit

Listening to this recent mailbag episode of The Read has me thinking…

In particular, the question called “Trump stole my swag” or something like that. It was a man writing who had just recently been married. Evidently they had hats made with a hashtag and the hats were red and the print was white. Just like Trump’s campaign hat. 

Fury and Crissle told him to retire that shit though he seemed reluctant to do so in his letter. Just because Trump took his swag, so he says.

One of my many random ass obsessions is symbolism. I mean if we think about it, that’s all that differentiates us from any other animal – the capacity to impose meanings on symbols or objects to organize our thoughts, communities, and cultures. The alphabet, our number systems, our vocabularies, our cultures are nothing but commonly accepted meanings that have been imposed onto arbitrary shapes that early people drew into the sand. 

Now look at us now. 

I said all that to say that symbols are powerful, and that red and white hat is one that tightens my sphincter anytime I see it. 

It was the horocrux that Trump imbued with a piece of his old and rotting soul, and thus I’ve come to see the hat as a symbol of ignorance, xenophobia, egoism, and out right fuckery.

Sometimes it’s not even a Make America Great Again hat. Even the color and style of it is enough to make me roll my eyes.

Now, I have a motley bunch of associates of all races. And some of them (who I really don’t know that well) think it’s cool to wear that shit “ironically.”

“You know I don’t really think that way in real life.”

*rolls eyes*

My thing is…  there’s plenty of things in life that are actually funny.

I think it’s funny how I’m in 20K worth of debt for a goddam degree that everybody told me I needed. 

I think it’s funny how bitches think they can try me in Walmart and cut me in the checkout line. 

I think it’s funny that some of these people out here really thought Donald Trump would be a good president.

The material is endless without you going for the lowest hanging fruit for a laugh. 

Bitch, THIS ain’t funny. This lunatic is going to kill us all. 

And the thing about symbols is that one they are assigned a meaning, it usually sticks and it’s hard to change it. 

So even people who wear the hat just for shits and giggles, or have a similar looking accessory at home, just retire that shit and have a seat. It’s okay. 

Besides, it’s probably best to let it be. The red and white trucker hat has been tainted for all eternity. It ain’t cute any more. 

Brain on Drugs #3

Classes have started again. 

Being a black face in white places has been a constant in my life. 

Classes at a PWI for someone who’s black used to be quite anxiety inducing. My neurosis goes back to elementary, a place where I was also a minority. 

I can never shake the feeling that I’ve got something to prove. And though I prove time and time again that being an intellectual isn’t just a “white thing,” there is still a pressure – a sort of performance anxiety. 

Perhaps none of these white folks actually consider me to be in some way inferior to them. Perhaps this paranoia is all in my head. It’s my senior year, and throughout my time here, in many of my classes, I have cemented myself as the smart, quiet girl in the back of the room. 

Yet still, there is the thought that I’m still competing.

How’s that for double consciousness? 

Whose Mans Is This?

You know… I went to sleep on November 8th confident that Hillary Clinton would be my next president. Then I woke up the next morning, saw the headlines, and thought, “Well, this ought to be fun.”

And y’all, what a ride this has been.

Whose mans is this? Can somebody get him before he kills us all?

I don’t look at the news anymore because that would be a frivolous exercise. But from what I’ve seen and heard through the streets and via twitter, this shit’s going downhill fast.

Y’know, I had a class with a guy who was an avid Trump supporter, last semester. When asked why, the only thing he could give me was that “Hillary is liar.”

And so is your mammy – for telling you that you were special as a child.

I’ve been fighting the urge for the past six months to track him down and ask, “How’s that working out for you?”

Before General George put the presidency down after two terms, he specifically gave this party system the side eye in his farewell address, essentially telling America that this party shit is cool or whatever, but don’t let that shit distract you from the real issues.

And now, some 230 years later, we’re suffering from the very thing he warned against – hyperpartisanship.

Donald Trump is the poster child for putting party before country and look where that shit’s got us.

America when will you learn to learn from the past? In the grand scheme of things, 230 years ain’t that long and in those 230 years, America has probably done more irreversible damage to this earth than the thousands of years of war, famine, and plagues that came before.

This man is single-handedly dismantling all the hopes and dreams of the leaders that came before… and ya mans did that.



Pronoun Play & Donkey of the Day

In light of Lil Duval’s (who?) antics on the Breakfast Club last week, it has me thinking a lot about pronouns.

The first time I was asked what my preferred pronouns were was in a college creative writing course. Kiese Laymon, my professor, on the first day did that shit that all teachers do on the first day of classes, but with a surprising twist.

“Everybody go around and say your name, major, and preferred pronouns.”

The concept of pronouns was not foreign to me, but it was still new. Not only could one identify as “he” or “she” but also “they.” As everyone said their names and their pronouns, everybody seemed to identify as cis-gendered.

Maybe I’ll go into detail about this in another post, but as my turn approached, I thought about being the odd bitch out and calling myself “they.” It was something that I’d contemplated in private before but never had the opportunity (nor the desire) to announce out loud.

Let’s not forget, I’m still in Mississippi. At the most Mississippi institution to ever exist. I wasn’t going to risk it, no matter how progressive these folks came off.

“My name is Victoria, I’m an English major, and my pronouns are she/her.”

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d somehow denied a piece of myself in the name of not making myself a spectacle.

Fuck Lil Duval, honestly and truly. From the depths of my heart. It’s one thing when the pressure to name your identity is self-imposed, but wholly different thing for someone else to take that agency from you, THEN DO IT INCORRECTLY. And fuck the three stooges at the Breakfast Club for entertaining that ignorance.

Do Better. Y’all know the niggas that listen to this show take what they hear and take a mile.

And you let the bullshit fly.


On the State of Things

As the world plunges deeper into the abyss, I keep waiting on god to show him/herself and press the reset button on this shit. If ever there was a time for Jesus to take the wheel, it would be now.

I don’t see this lasting for four more years. I really don’t. America has sunk to some deep depths in the past, but my god, this is just too much. I can’t help but wake up and think “How did we get here?”

L. O. mutherfucking L.

Highlights of the week include Sam Jackson putting these suckers, namely Ben Carson, in check in the most Sam Jackson fashion. I saw the video that prompted this response and in the final analysis, Sam was spot on. Ben Carson has only ever existed in the periphery of my attention. I haven’t taken him seriously since he decided he was going to run for President. Fuck that nigga. What a dummy.

Immigrants, my nigga?

On slave ships, my nigga?

But the idiocy paid off in my amusement and at this point in time, you better take your laughs where you can get them.

Inaguration Day Blues

I choose to pretend that none of this is actually happening. I’m sure that’ll bite me in the ass at some point, but hopefully, I can get away with it for as long as I can.

Donald Trump has been inaugurated as the 45th president of the u.s. and honestly I throw up in my mouth a little bit every time i see him. No, I did not watch the inagural address because I love myself. And I imagine donald trump can’t speak at length about much of anything.

As always, the antics on the internet have managed to keep my spirits high in this time of mourning.


This grainy still is of a man being punched in the face in the midst of anti trump protests taking place in D.C. But not just any man. It’s that guy who tries to call he and his “movement” the alt-right, but whose really just another bigot with a platform.


B. L. O. O. P.

That about sums up my feelings on the matter. My sentiments exactly.

Screenshot 2017-01-20 22.16.14.png

I chuckled. And I’m also sure Michelle probably had a Purell infused facial scrub after this one.


And of course, even a postmortem Professor Snape is serving up some scathing humor to get our minds off of the fact that in the fight between good and evil, good still manages to keep a sense of humor even though he’s getting his ass kicked.  May the odds be ever in our favor.

But probably not.