I’ve heard this so many times it’s sad. I actually wish I had a bill for every time I’ve heard some variation of: “You shouldn’t just write for one group of people.”
Or — this one is a personal favorite — “Why are you being so exclusive? Don’t you think everyone needs help?”
To which I say:
Ok.
Sure.
Mmm-hmm.
Whatever you say.
You still not gon’ stop me though. ‘Cuz:
1. I know you tryna run that same tired ass game that keeps Black women contemplating why the nonsense you’re spouting sounds right but still gives them the icks
2. I know you don’t have my audience’s best interests at heart, and
3. I do.
Black women are an underserved market in media. We contribute millions to the economy when it comes to spending, much of which is generated through data-driven digital advertising. But when it comes to consistently creating positive, uplifting content that encourages us to care for ourselves and for one another?
Crickets. Or we get here and there and have to deal with a deluge of backlash because how dare you not suffer black body?
Brands and companies are quick to sell a thing that they say will make us happy, or help us achieve some goal we won’t actually realize by way of a shortcut that doesn’t actually work. But when it comes to genuine encouragement? Empowerment? Support? That real deal holy field information that you need to make your life better? That you may not be getting at home ‘cuz your mama learned it too late, or not at all ‘cuz she’s still caught up in the bullshit?
Where is it?
I’ll wait.
You get snippets of positivity from social media, and thank God. But sometimes you need more than 45-60 seconds. You need to be able to follow a voice that consistently cares. It’s why influencers are so influential.
We — and I follow folks too — know we can depend on our preferred social media baddies and YouTubers to be there for us. To offer something we like, that we enjoy, preferably something we can learn a little something from, even if we’re learning by association.
So, why is my blog any different? Because it’s more substantive? Because it’s potentially more honest? Because I will die and go straight to hell before I will lie on here?
My blog isn’t actually different from social media. It’s just long-from content as opposed to short-form or video.
It’s just something about when you dig into shit and start pointing a crooked finger at what’s not right in the world that makes a certain type of person tight.
To which I say, by all means. You can be tighter than Dick’s hatband. I’m still gon’ be on here once a week, talking shit to Black women in the hopes that we will live better. Be financially free. Have wonderfully nurturing and fulfilling relationships. And look and feel our very best.
Period.
I’m standing on that business.
Who gon’ check me, boo?
I ran out of cliches, but you know what I’m sayin’.
Because the gag is, this is not — and never has been — a zero sum game. Detractors who benefit from you staying in the dark will always try to dim any light that illuminates a better path. That’s all that “create something for everyone” rhetoric is, verbal hyperbole to distract you from the fact that you are dancing at the end of someone else’s string — not your own.
Because the other gag is, what’s good for Black women is usually good for absolutely everyone. Why? Because we are among the most generous souls walking the earth. We share. We gift. We extend grace, knowledge, everything. Sometimes to our detriment. And it’s that piece that TMB was created to combat.
Black women don’t need to create something for everyone. We don’t need to always consider everyone else when we do or say or make something.
We do not need to hold up the world on our shoulders. Especially when we do so and habitually don’t get shit in return. If you think that, you are literally why this blog exists.
So, tell me again why my blog for Black women is a bad thing?
Dude. Bye.
Run that all lives matter shit on someone who doesn’t engage in critical thinking. ‘Cuz if it was true, there would be no need for my kind of commentary.
Kellye Media 