Slur on Me


I was once a talker. I mean, I still am. I just choose to do it on paper. But catch me circa 2002-2004, I would be the first one to dismiss a tongue out of my mouth for having diluted my righteous no-meat saliva with remnants of dry salami. I didn’t do swine, n*ggas, nor rap that insisted on pounding the insides of my uterus to mush. Uh-uh. Don’t get me wrong, I still have my limitations as to what I will and will not accept into my personal space. I’ve just grown to be more interested in understanding my disdain toward certain things before rushing out to picket.

Living in a city, in which theories breed theories, I often times find myself not wanting to think. Whenever I have thought aloud, I would be interrupted by a spontaneous prayer or mystic chant insisting that I ask my ancestors for forgiveness. Fast forward to now, and I refuse to seriously talk about too much of anything. Conversations usually end up in a game of semantics and whether I am using the most un-oppressive and environmentally just gender pronoun to refer to myself. Would it be politically incorrect to self identify as a crouton?

With that said, I would like to introduce you to Franchesca Ramsey. I had found her in just enough time to cushion my fall from the soapbox. Otherwise, I probably would have yelped a tirade about how she’s engaged to a white guy.

Wait.

That is not the point. A thirty-five thousand dollar YouTube reward and speaking engagements at NYU are the point of this woman. She has been posting videos on YouTube since 2006, making this her fifth year as a vlogger as well as a woman who has had two things in common with me for half of a decade: 1) We both have locs 2)We would rather speak in giggles and laugh out loud.

Watch her video and see for yourself. I have been talking too much.

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