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somebody almost walked off wid alla my stuff
not my poems or a dance i gave up in the street
but somebody almost walked off wid alla my stuff
like a kleptomaniac workin hard & forgettin while stealin
this is mine!
this aint yr stuff
now why don’t you put me back
& let me hang out in my own
self

These are the words of Ntozake Shange (from the 1976 play, For Colored Girls …) that echo through my head and my heart when met with the idea of what it is to be a woman. For years, men have walked off with my stuff and have told me how to live in this body and exist on this earth, and as soon as I work up the gumption to push them back in ways that resonate with me, women come to take their place. This is not an attempt to rag on women, especially not Black women, rather a depiction of what I perceive as truth.

Though liberation reaching many of us, and support of one another becoming our mantra, centuries of pain and oppression on the grounds of race and gender have still caused others to build up a defense, however part of their immunity remains tainted. Survivors of trauma may shrink themselves in an attempt to avoid the repercussions of drawing attention to self. It is no different with Black women. It has become ingrained in us to perpetuate standards of patriarchy as a means to fall in line and survive. We’ve subconsciously done the labor of convincing ourselves that we, too, hold the same beliefs that were meant to hold us captive, and those who originally enforced these belief systems are of no threat, so we partake in an alliance, and we begin to snatch away the essence of another woman in the same way that has been done to us. This presents itself as Stockholm Syndrome at its finest, however, in contrast with the condition, we’ve actually had prior relationship with the captor.

A new wave of feminism presents itself as a sexual revolution, especially among Black women. Though I personally find this joyous, controversy brews. With the ghost of Jezebel haunting our community, this revolution scares us. Her spirit reminds us of a history that has erased our humanity by reducing us to a lascivious nature. As Black women we have worked to be more than what we were painted to be through Jezebel, and in essence closed ourselves off from sexuality out of fear of being categorized as such. Our stuff has been taken.

Hoe and slut were the worst things to be called, and yet all over the place Black women are embracing not only our sexuality, but these shameful terms for humanity’s sake, and to say, “Black women can be all things so get used to it. We know that we are much more, but this part of our humanness still matters.” They are taking back their stuff — their freedom.

Unfortunately, there are still Black women equating piety and modesty to value — particularly in the realm of romance. In a world that has become fascinated with body counts and sexual experience, mainly in relation to women, we have been conditioned to believe that the sexual “purity” of a woman is what will make her valuable enough to love, and being deprived of such for so long, we’ve opted to fall into the trap out of fear of being alone and cast aside as unworthy. It is as if we are trying to prove that we are not for consumption, but our value is dependent upon consumption.

Statements like, “All the hoes are getting wifed up,” say that we do exist for the consumption of others. A form of respectability politics, this teaches us that this particular type of consumption is worth more than sexual consumption, almost to say that the presentation of the meal is what makes it digestible. We do not have to adjust ourselves in order for people to stomach us. Maybe they just need a stronger stomach, or maybe they have no business trying to consume us in the first place.

I love Megan Thee Stallion. Her presence says, “F**k you. I’m here, I’m skilled and I look good, too.” Her lyrics represent the fun in sexual liberation and agency. I live to see her shake her ass, and body rappers with her flow all in one swift movement. Rather than beef with other women, she is doing the industry and the Black community a service by openly expressing support of them, and yet, even this is met with disdain.

Rappers like herself, Cupcakke, Cardi B, City Girls and countless others are discounted because, “They only rap about sex,” or show their bodies, or are only seen as “strippers” in the rap game. These have been statements made by men, but I have seen women in agreement — and it is infuriating. It’s as if these women want some acknowledgement for not having to partake in the expression of their sexuality in order to be successful. Well, here are your accolades. Congratulations. You’ve made it to whatever point you wanted to be at and your sexuality played no role. Now, understand that these women made it too, but they just chose to do it a bit differently than you and that’s OK.

And let’s not forget to acknowledge their predecessors, Lil Kim, TLC, Foxy Brown, Trina, Missy Elliot, Nicki Minaj, Khia, Salt n Peppa and so many more who did womanhood their way, were and still are voices in women’s empowerment and sexual liberation, and operated in a loudness that said, “You’re gonna take that s**t and respect me, too.” They are, to this day, still very well respected. So now, what weight do your sentiments hold? I am not here to shame you, beloved. We are growing in this together, but we have to be open to some hard truths to do so.

In short, all of that is to say that we are progressing, but we still have a ways to go. This was not just an examination of other Black women, but of myself as well. I have been guilty of all of these things at some point in time. No, we did not create these thought processes, however we are still reinforcing them. We reinforce them every time we shame a Black woman for being too sexual; every time we claim that we are worth more than another woman based on a lack of modesty; every time that we assume that the choice to do womanhood in this way means that she does not value herself.

By all means, sis, get it how you live, but understand that she’s doing the same. There’s power and freedom in her stuff, so give it back to her. I know you really want it, but she’s the only one who can handle it.