Notes from a bitch – backlash…

Let’s jump right on in, shall we?
The other day an Anonymous left a comment on my personal blog, AngryBlackBitch.
“It’s not too surprising that you are on welfare. Get a job, get a life, stop making me pay for you to stuff your face with fried chicken. If you have time to blog, you have time to work. Get a GED, and apply for a real job so you don’t have to be a burden to us all.”
Of all the trollish comments I’ve received in the four years I’ve been blogging this one was rather tame. ‘Tis kind of precious…in an assumption laden old-school racist kind of way. I mean, to combine a call for this bitch to get off my lazy black ass and get my edumikation on with a fried chicken reference requires a level of internal confusion that is rarely articulated in just three sentences.
Mercy.
When I read that mess I thought of a post Renee of Womanist Musings wrote Looking at Fem2pt0 and the Feminist Web. The post and the discussion in the comment section that follows explore, among other things, the climate in which women of color blog…the assumptions, dismissive responses and lack of listening that aren’t that far off from the sentiment behind the comment listed above.
Even as eyes roll.
Even as knees jerk in response.
Even as backs get up.
I can’t get past the question of relevant conversations and who gets to decide what is relevant and what isn’t.
I’ve felt the backlash that comes from daring to question and discuss race beyond the accepted areas of driving while black, shopping while black or working while black.
And I have received the warning that thou shalt not turn that critical lens on feminism.
I realized that, no matter how much I’d like to convince myself otherwise, those warnings…those comments and emails that defend by dismissing and chastise as a parent would a child…have had an impact on me.
As a matter of fact, I think trying to soldier through in silence has amplified that impact.
In the past few months I have avoided rather than confronted.
Blogging through this past election cycle about the issues of race, class and gender that emerged through it has been exhausting and in many ways deflating.
And I tried to move past that when working through it is what I really need to do.
Even as eyes roll…knees jerk…and backs get up.
So I confess my sins and offer a thank you to Renee for providing a vehicle through which I was able to see the truth of them.
They call it a struggle for a reason.