#WhatMakesABlackGirlMad

I think Twitter really ought to get some sort of disclaimer on its site. A mandatory Terms and Agreements page that prepares you for the experience; WARNING: You are about to witness some extremely i’gnant shit.  So when that moment comes and you find yourself staring at your timeline in a blank stupor and suffer a subsequent nervous breakdown triggered by the sudden realization that this generation has the combined I.Q of a hamster–you can’t sue anybody.

It may have very well spared me the countless mental meltdowns that’ve occurred since my joining; including (but not limited to) being subjected to hashtags like #HoesOutHereShapedLike, #CelebritiesWhoLookLikeTheyStank, and of course, #WhatMakesABlackGirlMad.

I know what you’re thinking. The last doesn’t look all that bad. Hell, it could even be an opportunity for young people to discuss the social, political, and economic issues specific to black women lives, right?

Wrong. You obviously don’t know how this works.

Hashtags serve two purposes: 1.) Giving tweeters yet another opportunity to post pictures of their schlongs, and 2.) Giving the green light to political incorrectness and stupidity. It’s like every time you see that little pound sign next to those conjoined words a little timer goes off: Ding! TIME TO BE AN ASSHOLE.

So, naturally, the most popular response to #WhatMakesABlackGirlMad was some variation of “getting her weave wet”, (followed closely by some variation of “seeing a black man with a white girl”).

Yeah. I know. I don’t want to talk about it, either.

I do, however, want to retroactively delete all of those tweets and replace them with the ideas of People With Active Brain Cells, thus:

[Read the rest of this post and more at my blog, http://thenegress.wordpress.com]