Five Reasons Why I Don’t Care About the Remy Ma vs. Nicki Minaj Shenanigans

A curious thing happened on my various timelines about 24 hours ago, suddenly the interwbez was all aflame with talk of Nicki Minaj’s healing time from those butt shots she swear she didn’t get, and Remy Ma who we haven’t heard from since she was conceited for various reasons.

Curiousity, a growing, I settled in to my Facebook with my new glasses perched on my face. With a hot cup of tea in hand and scrolled through people’s various reactions to a kinda old school vs. sort of new school Black female rap beef that I didn’t know was cooking.

Remy Ma dropped the diss track heard round the world, and did everything in that song except say Nicki was U-G-L-Y and ain’t have no alibi.

Remy Ma has since become the MVP of throwing shots, and offering up enough shade to shield us all on a hot summer day.

Other than scrolling through some of the social media reactions, and reading Luvvie Ajayi’s hilarious post, I actually don’t care about the well-done beef between the two rappers because…

1. Catfights between Black women are divisive

I’m not sure if Nicki Minaj and Remy Ma know that Orange Voldemort is leading the free world or not, but there are plenty of outside forces trying to tear down all of the brown people, and I simply cannot participate in any tomfoolery that undermines Black women doing anything except uplifting one another.

2. If anything that Beyonce does is considered overrated, why we still grabbing popcorn to watch public Black figures go at it?

A funny thing happens when public figures start verbally sparring, particularly Black ones, it’s like the fact that their pettiness is actually none of our business goes out the window, and we become personally invested in which Black figure can be the slimiest. If you don’t care bout Beyonce’s twins, why are you placing bets on whose diss track will be the pettiest?

3. We have all of like zero mainstream Black female hip-hop artists right now.

The 90s gave us female rap powerhouses and 2017 gave us name calling between to Black female hip hop artists who need to do be working on their craft, knowing darn well there’s already very little representation in the genre as is, unless you choose to prescribe to stereotypical attributes and make crap music.

4. It’s none of my business.

Neither Remy Ma nor Nicki Minaj have done anything for me lately and I will receive no royalty checks from any of their diss tracks.

5. Publicity is the real MVP

Remy Ma and Nicki Minaj could be in all of the cahoots, when “Shether,” dropped last night the two women could have been out pop lockin’ and taking shots together for all we know. What’s the fastest way to get back in the public eye? State publicly that you have issues with another celebrity and watch social media freak the f*ck out. Nicki Minaj will probably not respond, in order to keep Remy Ma positioned as the uncouth hater. Remy Ma is not Miley Cyrus, so when Nicki asked her “What’s good?” she responded. But I take it with a grain of salt, same way I do all of these beefs. Society already positions Black women negatively, and I can’t watch tomfoolery unfold if it reinforces those misconceptions?

Do you care about the Nicki and Remy beef? Did you dismiss the diss track?

Let me know in the comments, and as always may you #FindSomeTLC, the same way those two women need to do.

-Tiff

Dear White Men,Who Love Black Women

pexels-photo-91227.jpegDear white men who love black women,

I know that there has been a rise in your interest in being touched by the hands of those who practice #blackgirlmagic, as evidenced by the high number of Caucasus mountain descendants sliding into my Tinder, Okcupid, Bumble, Instagram and stopping me on the sidewalk to inquire about whether or not my hair is real.

Kudos to you, for putting in your dating profile that you prefer Black women, who have been dipped in resilience and anointed with melanin. But when I ask you why you’re declaring to the world that you prefer your berries blacker because you think the juice is sweeter, please stop telling me that it’s “something about us.” Did you survey every brown girl and come to the conclusion that we were special?

When I ask you why you like us, do not tell me because we are stronger than other women. I mean we were slaves soooo, we learned to develop a little more muscle in our existence. I am not whatever caricature you have in mind, I am strong because I’ve never not been reminded of my difference. I’ve built a stronger social immune system as a result of my culture.

Dear white men who love black women,

#Blacklivesmatter is not a pickup line.

Dear white men who love black women,

Police jokes are not funny, but your oblivion to your own privilege is hilarious.

Dear white men who love black women,

No you may not touch my hair.

Dear white men who love black women,

You don’t see color because you have chosen to pretend to be blind.

Dear white men who love black women,

You do not want mixed babies, because despite their %50 pale DNA, they will be considered %100 threatening, no matter how loose their curl pattern is.

Dear white men who love black women,

I’m not sure who you thought you were talking to.

Dear white men who love black women,

If you don’t see color, why do you declare blind love for people who look like me?

Dear white men who love black women,

I am human first, black woman second, despite what you’ve heard.

 

Why I Volunteered At A Women’s March, As A Black Woman

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“On Saturday (Jan.21), as throngs of women gathered to shout, listen and raise ironic signs in the name of “solidarity,” I felt little desire to join them — and by “them” I mean the marchers of the white variety.”

Those are the words written in an article on The Grio, written by a black women named Iyana Robertson, which expressed the sentiment, that the march was yet another extension of white feminism at its finest, and that it will change little for the women of marginalized groups. Robertson’s opinion is not unique to her as on the day of the march and in the hours that followed I came across quite a few posts on social media where black women admitted to sitting this one out, because when have white women ever radically defended our right to exist?

I wasn’t really planning on writing this post at first, when I signed up to be a volunteer at the march that took place in Philadelphia, I didn’t give it a second thought. I am a woman, I want fully autonomy over my body, and both the PATRIARCHY and Trump’s wacky toupee upset my spirit, so the decision to give my time to a cause for women was a no- brainer.

Two days later, and I still don’t regret volunteering and waving my sign in the air, like I just didn’t care. But let’s talk about the white elephant in the room shall we? While I don’t agree entirely with the idea that Black women should not have participated because white women do not show us the same level of support, there are key things to takeaway from this march.

White feminism is very real, and it always has been and will be ,and if you need an example of, it’s a white Twitter user who tweeted that we need to #stayonmessage instead of focusing on things like the fact that 53% of white women voted Trump into office.

It goes without saying that fighting racism and systemic oppression has never been as “trendy,” as pro-life vs. pro-choice or LGBTQ rights. But the point that often gets missed, is that we never said that our case was more important, we only said that it matters just as much, and yet goes unmentioned in the other fights for equality.

So for that, I understand why some Black women chose to sit this one out, it’s because while over a million women may have march all around the world, you will never see many of those same white women with signs and pink hats at a Black Lives Matters rally screaming about how I deserve to not receive ten cents less than my white female peers or how my little brother deserves to walk the streets and not fear police.

But here’s the thing, institutions are not in the favor of the marginalized, because they have never been and while progress has been made, we continue to have to plead for our reality to be validated.

Activism does not and should not exist in a monolith, you can not be a member of the privileged and choose to stand for one group and not the other, or else your perception of intersectionality is deeply misguided.

I volunteered for a march in my city that was organized by a white woman and her white husband, because I know that the march was not for me and because I know that while I cannot completely turn away from many of these systems, I can work within them.

And for me on that day, showing up and saying that I have a right to be here, the same way that I have a right over my body and my choices, felt right.

I could have sat at home and frowned at the fact that white women were now flooding the streets because their rights were threatened, when Black people have always had their rights threatened, but what would that have achieved?

The march may never have a direct impact on my life, and perhaps it was all just noise.

But as a member of the marginalized I have to make noise, I am already expected to keep my head down and go along with what is handed to me, and the world would prefer that all women remain silent.

So I thought it was time to make a little noise.