White supremacy is at a crossroads as racists fight among themselves

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Photo by Tasos Katopodis/Getty Images

White people, I have a few questions.

Why don’t y’all respect the police? During the recent insurrection at the United States Capitol building, some of your skinfolk dragged a police officer down a flight of stairs, then beat the person with the American flag. I thought your people revered law and order. Aren’t you the group that believes that law enforcement is infallible? That Blue Lives Matter? The rampage at the Capitol shattered my perceptions of a supposedly non-violent group.

Now I have to ask, why do white people destroy property? The viral videos of your skinfolk breaking into the Capitol and ransacking the building are quite disturbing. I always believed your people held the symbols of dominance to be sacrosanct. Many of you think that stone, concrete, and bricks are more important than the lives of your fellow human beings. To see some of you defacing a building that you cherish is causing my brain circuits to get fried. …


What the coup attempt at the Capitol says about us

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Photo by MIKE STOLL on Unsplash

As a Black woman, my feelings about the United States are extremely complicated. As much as I want to love this country, I can’t summon that emotion because the institutions that are purported to serve all of our people, don’t serve those that look like me.

However, I don’t think I was ever more disgusted with this country than I was yesterday.

Yesterday, Congress met to formally count the Electoral votes for Joe Biden’s election. It’s a ceremonial event and usually would never make the news cycle. However, our current White House resident had to show his ass.

Trump held a rally away from the Capitol for his cult followers before the Congressional event took place, because he’s still bitching that the election was stolen from him. He incited the crowd by uttering things such as, “If you don’t fight like hell, you’re not going to have a country anymore. Let the weak ones get out.” …


In a world that teaches us to hate ourselves, loving and accepting yourself is a radical concept

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Photo by Guilherme Stecanella on Unsplash

In one science and psychology article I found, self-love is defined as having a high regard for your own well-being and happiness. Self-love means taking care of your own needs and not sacrificing your well-being to please others. Self-love means not settling for less than you deserve.

It’s an idea that sounds great in theory. However, putting it into practice is another story.

See, to me, the definition of self-love as well as the phrase, “you’ve got to love yourself first,” always leave me puzzled. They’re the equivalent of someone telling me that something is right in front of my face but I can never see it. Self-love to me is something that I’m just automatically supposed to have, like I’m supposed to have all ten fingers and toes. It’s such an elusive concept to me because it isn’t something that I’m supposed to have because of my intersections as a Black queer woman. …


I’m not contorting myself to be meek just to soothe your fragile egos

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Photo by Etty Fidele on Unsplash

If anyone has written and published content over a significant period, they’re bound to get criticized. I’m no exception. Granted, it hasn’t happened often on this platform, but I’ve had my share of haters. As a Black queer woman, I’ve had to learn to grow a thick skin fairly early in life to deflect the constant assaults on my humanity, or else I wouldn’t survive. My writing is no different.

To elaborate, one hater recently posted a comment that made me snort. It wasn’t even a response to a story that I’d written but a response to a comment I made on another writer’s story relating some of my experiences navigating a world not designed for me. …


How this endless year changed me for the better

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Photo by Jessica Felicio on Unsplash

If one wants to get technical, January 2020 wasn’t that long ago. In a more typical year, it wouldn’t be. But the immense stress and disruption that 2020 wrought resulted in the distortion of our sense of time. 11 months now feels like 11 years. Or 11 decades.

Back in January and February 2020, I didn’t sense anything amiss in the atmosphere. Everything was smooth sailing at my day job. Two of my friends had birthdays in January. I celebrated one of them with a brunch. I met up with the other friend for drinks at a neighborhood bar. There were dinners with other friends. Karaoke with more friends. I also volunteered at several nursing homes, where I assisted residents with bingo and karaoke. …


Is centering my pain and trauma causing more harm than good?

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Photo by jurien huggins on Unsplash

Throughout the 51 years that I’ve inhabited planet Earth, the message is that I should have a pretty shitty life. Statistically speaking, I am several times more likely to die from pregnancy-related complications than white women. Since I don’t have what is considered a “white woman’s” first name, I am 50% less likely to get a response to my resume than a white person. And I am at least 30% more likely to experience domestic violence than a white woman.

I’ve documented a good part of my pain and trauma on this platform. It’s easy for white readers or men, in particular, to think that my agony consumes me to the point that I can’t recognize joy. That I’m unable to see the humanity in anyone who isn’t Black or male. That I’m the poster child of the “angry Black woman.” …


Getting through the holidays doesn’t have to be a Herculean task

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Photo by Element5 Digital on Unsplash

Challenges That COVID Brings

As a single, childfree woman, I’ve long agreed with the assessment that the holidays are the “season of hell.” Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, as well as Valentine’s Day, symbolize couples and families eating and laughing together, sheltering each other from the stress of the outside world. Those who lack partners and/or children are subject to scorn or pity from those who felt lucky enough to bring another life into the world or were “picked” to be another person’s lifelong partner.

In a year that’s upended life as we know it, the holidays are no exception. We’re at a time of year where socialization increases. Normally, many parties with our friends, families and co-workers would fill our time and make the decreased amount of sunlight in our hemisphere bearable. That’s not supposed to be the case this year. We’re being told to cancel our celebrations due to a potentially deadly virus. …


The responsibility for maintaining democracy shouldn’t just be up to me

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Photo by Gayatri Malhotra on Unsplash

For what has become a too familiar refrain, I’m getting praise for saving America from itself because I didn’t vote for a demagogue. It’s a chorus that I’m finding increasingly irritating. Because I shouldn’t have had the burden to save an entire damn country fall on me.

As a Black woman, I am part of the most consistently engaged demographic group in American politics. Between 2000 and 2017, the Citizen Voting Age Population or CVAP of Black women increased by 31 percent. Today, at least 15 million Black women can cast their ballots in United States elections. …


What the 2020 Presidential Election says about America.

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Photo by Alex Perz on Unsplash

Election Day Is Traumatizing

Election Day is triggering for me.

Four years ago, on Election Day, my previous job fired me after I’d done nearly two years of service. Their reasons were vague. “It’s not working out.” I’ve long ceased ruminating over the real reason.

After losing my job, I’d gone to vote, then laid low for the rest of the day. I went to bed around 1 am that night, confident that the candidate I voted for, Hillary Clinton, would win. When I woke up the next day around 8 am, I found out through social media that Donald Trump won, plunging me into a living nightmare. …


Their daily fight to survive racism often left them too exhausted to give me the love and support I needed.

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Photo by Trust "Tru" Katsande on Unsplash

I am blessed that both of my parents are still alive, though neither is in good health. My mother struggles with diabetes and a heart condition. My father has hypertension, kidney failure, and heart failure, and is on dialysis. He also contracted COVID in the spring, though we didn’t know this until the antibody test three months later; he could have easily been one of the nearly quarter of a million dead in the United States right now.

While I am grateful that my father isn’t dead and my mother is well, I have ambivalence about our relationships, as we’ve experienced long periods of emotional strain. …

About

Vena Moore

Dismantling white, male supremacy one word at a time.

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