Why I Hate The Internet: The Game (rapper) and His Wayward Fingers

Technology has been a blessing. We can do things now that we couldn’t do 5, 10, and 15 years ago. One of those things is wide access to the internet and social media. For all its good, though, one of the worst things about these advances is that anybody can post anything no matter how wrong it is and they’ll have an audience that believes they’re right and agrees with them. Now, that may seem like a strange thing to say coming from a blogger, but it’s simply the truth. I mean, I get on here and talk shit all the time. Love it, hate it. It is what it is.

But what I cannot…will not let slide are statements like that in the following screenshot made by famous rapper The Game (government name, Jayceon Taylor):

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Of course, my first reaction was something along the lines of, “If he doesn’t shut the fuck up right now..!” My second reaction was something snarky like, “They don’t think past Friday, so why would they plan for next Thursday?!” My last reaction, the one that matters, was to point out the lack of fact of his statement.

Let’s back up though and analyze the post for what it is. It’s steeped in a type of misogynoir that overlooks the harm perpetrated against Black women and girls by Black men. It overlooks the violence perpetrated by Black women and girls by non-Black men. It’s the kind of misogynoir that has allowed the Chicago illiterate who shall not be named to continually violate Black women and girls and go unchecked for well over two decades. Similar to the racists who claim Black people have it “easy” because of food stamps, it seeks to give credence to a self-made plight by pretending that Black women have no plight whatsoever.

Now that that’s out of the way, I want to take some time to school Mr. Taylor. According to the Violence Policy Center citing numbers from the Federal Bureau of Investigation, as of 2016, Black women were nearly always murdered by someone that they know and usually with a gun.

The study goes on to say this: Compared to a black male, a black female is far more likely to be killed by her spouse, an intimate acquaintance, or a family member than by a stranger. Where the relationship could be determined, 91 percent of black females killed by males in single victim/single offender incidents knew their killers. Of the black victims who knew their offenders, 58 percent were wives, common-law wives, ex-wives, or girlfriends of the offenders. More than 10 times as many black females were murdered by a male they knew than were killed by male strangers.”

Further, an 18-year perusal by the CDC of 18 states found that while the nationwide rate of female homicide was 2 per 100,000, for Black women, it was 4.4 per 100,000.

And we may as well talk about sexual violence, too. Black women are disproportionately prone to being victims of sexual violence.

What’s telling is that one of the risk factors for sexual violence against women is a sense of hostility towards women. The Game is in an industry known for every third word being a pejorative for women (Black women, in particular) like, “bitch” or “hoe.”

One of the community risk factors for violence against women is the tolerance of sexual violence. I just finished pointing out that “the community” allowed the Pied Piper of Pedophilia run roughshod over Black women and girls for over two decades (closer to 3, really).

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I hate to break it to The Game and all the other Black men who think Black women are walking around doing Irish clicks over puddles like Fred Astaire, totally secure, but we are probably more at danger than you are. I’ll tell you why very shortly.

But, while we’re here (insert sarcastic smirk), let’s talk about this violence that renders you all unable to make plans a week away. That violence? Yeah, that violence is perpetuated by you all as well. I’m certain I don’t need to say any more on that.

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So to recap: y’all kill us (and our children). Y’all kill each other. Do Black women a favor and stop trying to drag us into what is clearly your own maladaptive pathology. If you can’t make plans for next Thursday, look to your left and your right while you’re in the studio laying phat beats, (or, you know, a mirror), and you’ll see the reasons why.

 

Rot In Pieces: On XXXTentacion, Black Hypocrisy, & Delusion

Last week, a rapper called XXXTentacion was killed in a drive-by. News of his death was reported on pretty much every major news outlet. I had heard of him only because a few weeks before his death, he was a part of Spotify’s short-lived campaign to no longer endorse the music of artists who had histories of abuse.

I wasn’t surprised to hear that XXX (from now on, that’s all I’m typing because I don’t feel like typing all that shit) was killed. I mean, you live by the sword, you die by the sword. When you build your life around glorifying or making light of violence, it’s no surprise when violence stops by unannounced and eats everything in your house, including you.

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What was troubling was how Black people reacted to XXX’s death with weeping and gnashing of teeth knowing that this was a person who, based on his history, would sooner kill them than appreciate their blind devotion. But, before I get into the meat of this piece, let’s briefly travel down memory lane, also known as XXX’s rap sheet. According to this article, he was into bad behavior as early as middle school (I’m excusing the stabbing incident at age 6). He had done time for a number of other crimes like gun possession, robbery, and assault. At least one of his earlier assaults was against a cellmate he referred to in an interview as a “faggot.”

The coup d’ grace was domestic violence, which happened more than once and included beating, strangling, punching, etc…his then girlfriend after threats to do things like cut her tongue out and stick a BBQ fork up her vagina.

Since XXX’s death has been announced, we’ve been beleaguered by people, famous and not, sending e-condolences to XXX and his family. We’ve also been beleaguered by memes and tweets scolding those of us who either generally don’t give a damn or feel like XXX got his just desserts considering all the mayhem he visited upon others during his short life.

Those e-admonitions about our lack of sympathy made me think about the delusion and hypocrisy in the Black community where Black male pathology is concerned.

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I got this meme from Facebook. A “friend” shared it yesterday and when I looked at the source she got it from, it was a committed hotep. I’m sure whoever made this meme thought he (because I’m willing to put money on the creator being a male), was on to something brilliant. Well, he’s not. The truth is that the way society in general, and the Black community specifically is set up, if Maya Angelou had died a young sex worker, nobody would have cared and in fact would have tried to blame her death on her own actions.

I can hear it now, “Well, if she hadn’t been turning tricks, the pimp/John wouldn’t have killed her. She should have gotten a normal job as a maid.” There would have been no empathy. No declarations of how she could have eventually grown and reached a spiritual and emotional maturity that would have surely caused her to become someone great.

How do I know? Well, my years of being Black and a woman, and therefore having to deal with everybody’s bullshit has taught me some things. Plus, I’m generally an astute, highly observant person in my own right.

This is the same community that blamed Sandra Bland’s death on her being “sassy” and not knowing when to shut up but wanted us to rend our garments and open our wallets for Alton Sterling, who had his own history of domestic abuse and was a sex offender. This is the same community that had  #fasttailgirls that brought awareness to the fact that Black girls are often blamed for the evil actions that men perpetrate against them. When you take internalized misogynoir into account (all the women who co-sign this bullshit), it’s like an avalanche.

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My second observation is our tendency to make up fairy tales even though all evidence suggests that what we’ve constructed will never be the truth. The only difference between romanticizing XXX’s potential to become a decent human being and my recurring daydream from ages 6-8 that I would marry Ralph Tresvant, followed by Jordan Knight, and then Shaquille O’Neal (in 7th grade) is that I at least knew that none of them would happen.  XXX is gone. He’s never coming back. He was not “the next Tupac.” He was not on track to become some law-abiding citizen who respects women and supports anti-domestic violence initiatives. Talking about a rehabilitation of which there were no signs is delusional. To be quite honest, even if XXX were planning to change once he got back home, it doesn’t matter because he didn’t make back home. XXX did exactly what he wanted to do while he was here. His book is concluded.

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Thirdly, these attempts at comparison make no logical sense. Being a sex worker, as Maya Angelou was, doesn’t inherently entail beating people to a bloody pulp. In fact, women who engage in sex work are far more likely to be victims of violence than to perpetuate it. Further, single motherhood isn’t a crime. Kweisi Mfume’s arrests for “suspicion of theft” didn’t leave a woman beaten almost to the point of being unrecognizable. If people like Jidenna and the hotep want dangerous criminals to have the chance to “grow” and develop into something less heinous, they need to move people like XXX in with them, take them to the altar, and wish upon a star; and in the meantime, pray that they don’t trigger these people to the extent of being threatened with sticking kitchen utensils up their genitalia.

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As a parting gift, I can’t help but point out the hypocrisy of celebrating the downfall, harm, or death of a politician who held an unfavorable political ideology but mourning someone who was a walking nightmare and frankly a danger to all women but that’s for another time.

Until then, I hope the people who XXX inflicted his brand of terror upon are able to sleep a little easier and that at least one weight is lifted.