#I feel like I should do something for BHM… | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dystopiandilfs · 4 years ago

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I am never been so close to anti-stan then I am right now. Dreams Twitter fanbase started the biggest hate train on him because they themselves:

1. Took his inital tweet with the drugs comment as a race issue, like it was obvious that was not the intent or even the focus.

2. Got mad at his completely rational reply to a toxic Stan that used both white and adhd as an isult - the toxic Stan was saying his fanbase will dogpile them, well if you didn’t phrase your concerns in a toxic way in a public place maybe you wouldn’t be concerned about it. Like he empasised he had no intent to relate it to rap - and they see him say rap and fucking ran with it.

3. Got mad at him for disagreeing with someone generalizing his 23 million fans as anti-black, like even his stance on stans is entirely anti-generalizing, he literally denounced any that are in the same comment.

4. Bullied him into unprivating his account because they can’t share screenshots apparently.

5. Got mad a him for tweeting a fucking heart.

Then they turn around and blame the entire thing on the antis, like no. You blew it out of proportion and reacted like shit to everything he did. You are the problem. All the responses to his last tweet are “educate yourself and reflect” and “come back with a better apology” like no. He apologized when he shouldn’t have and you cyber bullied him. They are bloody proud of theirselves for “holding him accountable“ for something they misconstrued.

He needs to delete that stan video because they aren’t worth it.

First thing i want to say is that this post is going to be joint answered as evangeline is white so this is going to be answered by her and me as im half african half american. Normally evanageline would be voicing her opinions and adding ours in if we had any but as its a racism issue she didnt feel comfortable to voice only her opinions. However shes the one writing the post apart from this bit to keep up the consistentcy of the blog page. -Trinity (Basically Trin gave her thoughts using a voice note and I slightly edited it so the sentences were a bit more coherent and added both mine and the other admins opinions as Trin doesn't really use twitter unless it's through my priv account - Evangeline)

I will say that a lot of the fan drama that you see are a smaller group that is known to attack and harass Dream and anyone who disagrees with anything. Eventhough they are a small group they mass reply to everything and make themselves look bigger than they are. Not only that but the only thing they end up doing is overshadowing the original issue at hand which is fans harassing and being racist to eachother. So a lot of what I'm about to say is mainly what this group is doing and isn't at all a reflection of a lot of fans but it is something that needs to be talked about especially since a bunch of this groups members are either white or white passing but get mad on black people's behalf and is basically setting them up.

I don't mean to be rude or dismissive but a lot of people used this as an opportunity to trauma dump. Like I know going into horrible details about what you have to deal with is the only way to get the point across sometimes however harassing Dream and spamming him with stuff like "I was harassed because I'm gay" "I was doxxed because I was Asian" is lowkey weird. Like why are you telling this random guy on the internet that you were doxxed? What is he going to be able to do about it? Also not to defend Dream but how are you going to sit there and break one of his few boundaries whilst trying to educate him.

On top of that the issue was originally how racist some of the fandom are to black people but then other minority groups started talking about how they were also being stereotyped and attacked but all this is doing is talking over other minorities. For example a large group of fans started off talking about how they were being attacked by other stans because of their skin colour but then immediately started to harass and threaten others. Like some were clearly not being serious but dming people and update accounts to retweet and spread awareness isn't the move you think it is. Obviously a lot of them were genuinely trying to spread awareness and were trying to get the respect and treatment they deserve but all of that was being overshadowed by the few that were attacking and harassing creators and fans. Then a lot of it turned into minorites fighting each other over who was more oppressed which just makes the whole thing seem like petty drama.

I will say a lot of them were lovely. I am pretty uneducated on race based issues and how certain things effect people and can be racist so I was asking a lot of questions and most of them were nice. However I also got a lot of snarky ones like "google it" to questions that weren't general like "Is it mocking to call white people crackers and token white boy if you are a white person" or "is ______ considered micro aggressions"

However as usual it went from trying to educate your creators to who is the most oppressed and who can bring up more past drama that has already been addressed multiple times. I'm not being funny but the fact that some well known Dream antis were defending Dream and shitting on stans should really tell you how non productive this is. It went from "Hey Dream this comment is a bit weird can you delete it please" to "Dream you should stop being friends with this person and you should follow this person otherwise your racist" Like that's not helping anyone. The only thing that it's doing is breaking Dreams boundaries, setting Dream up and making stans look bad.

Like people were @ing Sapnap and George telling them to "collect the racist friend" like how is that spreading awareness. The whole thing went from being a good chance to educate to a big fucking joke that just made a lot of people upset and anxious.

Honestly the whole thing was pretty fucking hypocritical like you can't talk about being harassed whilst harassing people into hearing you out. A lot of the issues seemed really gatekeepy to me as well. One that I saw constantly get brought up was that the only people allowed to say dy*e were black lesbians as they created the word. Like a big topic was a misuse of aave but not a single person actual explained what it was or gave examples all I saw was "mcyttwt needs to stop using aave language it's offensive" like you can't claim to be educating people if you don't explain. Not everyone can access websites and caards that get linked because of regions or web rescrictions so they're not helpful either.

HOWEVER I will agree that a lot of their points were completely valid like the whole thing of "Feral Feb" over shadowing BHM and whenever Dream listens to rap people complain and call it bad music are two really good examples. I listened to a few twitter spaces to learn a bit more and things that were said in there was all good info that would be genuinely helpful to know and it really did help edcuate me however not a single tweet said any of it and that's why people don't understand what they're doing is wrong because nobody explains it.

A lot of the issues that people had with Dream were so weird as well like a lot of them were self oppression and turning normal things into racism. A lot of the issues had the same energy as the 404twt fans who were genuinely mad at Dream for having a colour that George couldn't see and they were harassing him and claiming that he was purposely excluding diasbilities.

Usually we would add more but Trinity got a bit upset and stressed so she had to stop answering various asks and the other admins are all white or white passing and don't feel like it's our place to put our own opinions. We will try to answer other asks with similar thoughts later - Evangeline

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mikeymagee · 7 years ago

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Hello! I was reading through the notes on your post about Black Panther and I'm confused about some things. What's wrong with non-black POC aspiring to achieve the same representation that black folks got with Black Panther?

There’s nothing wrong with wanting representation. There’s also nothing wrong with demanding good representation for an underrepresented group of people.

The problem however, is that a lot of these discussions happen after Black people have made strides for themselves. I’m not sure if you were around during the #OscarsSoWhite controversy back in 2015/2016, but I certainly was. April Reign, a Black woman created the hashtag as a means of getting better representation for all marginalized groups (including Black people, NBPOC, LGBT, Women, people with disabilities, etc) Now the people who spoke up the most during this were Black people (and that’s not to say there weren’t NBPOC’s. and other marginalized voices speaking up, but Black people got most of the attention (whether because we were louder, or because of hypervisibility or what have you) and Black people got most of the brunt and criticism. Saying that we’re “Just looking for things to be upset about” and “This doesn’t even really matter” and people were all up in Ms. Reign’s mentions with their racist shit.

Once the controversy hit the big stage, suddenly more and more NBPOC were beginning to speak up, but when they did, it was only to criticize Black people for not placing ALL POC’s in the limelight.

Look at the #NotYourMule tag on Twitter for more information (and there were plenty of think pieces on the hashtag as well).

It’s like, when Black people advocate for something we’re always “Complaining too much and that’s why we’re behind” but once our voices and issues come to the forefront of conversations, suddenly other groups demand that we “quiet down” so they can “speak” even though there’s nothing stopping them from advocating for their own issues.

like when MIA criticized Beyonce for not speaking about Muslim lives when she had the perfect opportunity to speak on those issues herself.

Or when Ming Na Wen only spoke up about #OscarsSoWhite when it was time to criticize Chris Rock (a Black man) for not being “inclusive enough”

Or when Gina Rodriguez kept opening her mouth to belittle Black women and the strides Black people have done in the entertainment industry (many of whom are/were Afro-Latinas)

Or when Aziz Ansari in that episode of Master of None pretty much threw shade a black people because “We have Beyonce and other Black people to advocate for our issues while Asians don’t”

Or when Salma Hayek spoke over Jessica Williams when she was trying to talk about her experiences being a Black woman.

Or every Black history month when I, and many other people I follow/know have to explain that 1. There are other months that celebrate the history of non-white people and 2: No, it’s not Black people’s fault that they may not get as much attention as BHM.

I remember when Aquaman was first making the rounds on the Twitter verse and there were plenty of people pretty much demanding that Black people show up for Aquaman the same way we did for Black Panther. There seems to be an undercurrent of entitlement to our labor, our voices, our movements, and everything else we do.

And these are just a few examples. They only ever seem to find their voices when Black people are making headway for out own issues (and again, that’s not to say ALL NBPOC do this, but enough do that it is a sticking point for a lot of Black people.)

I’ll even give you another example. I’m a gay man, and in the 2000′s the biggest phrase for the LGBT movement was “Gay is the New Black” as if Black people had “had their turn” and needed to step aside and let “The New Minority” take the spotlight. And what that did was not only appropriate Black Civil Rights iconography, but also erased Black Queers (like myself) and made it seem like we didn’t deal with both antiblack racism and homophobia at the same time. People are more than happy to take our history and our iconography to make strides for themselves, while also erasing and ignoring Black people they come in contact with. Why?

I’m all for solidarity. I’m all for working together so that everyone can have a voice and good representation, but I am not here for other groups trying to make Black people feel guilty for trying and making strides for our community.

And Crazy Rich Asians, Aquaman and Coco all did very well in the Box Office, and yet I don’t see any think pieces demanding that we have a “Mexican Aquaman” or a “Polynesian Crazy Rich Asians” or an “Asian Coco”. And why should we? Each of those films were beautiful in how they portrayed their varying cultures and no one is saying “We need a Non-Asian/Non-Mexican/Non-Polynesian” version of these narratives, but for some reason that’s what everyone seems to say whenever we get a Black film.

Yes, I want inclusion and diversity in all facets of our entertainment but I’m sick of being made to feel guilty about taking pride in seeing how wonderful and beautiful Black people can be and are.

EDITED: I edited out a term in my response that can be considered offensive towards the Disabled community, thanks to the recommendation of @beefnap.

#nbpoc #race #asks #long post #black people #solidarity

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gotboredwrote · 6 years ago

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Hot Space Buns // BHM

Pairing: Brian May x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.6K Style: One-Shot Warnings: Fluff, swearing Summary: The boys are gaining popularity and are hiring more and more crew in order to prepare them for each show, including a hair/makeup/clothing team. All crew members end up being close friends with the band, including Y/N, the primary hair stylist. One funky photoshoot and one stupid bet later, Y/N gets to have her way with the boys on stage, and the one serious member of the band can’t help but laugh about it, too. Permanent Author’s Note: To clarify, I write because I get bored. Nothing is meant to be professional in any way, nor is meant to offend, cause anxiety, cause anger, cause sadness, or promote disagreement among readers in any sort of (semi)permanent way. A/N: @bensrhapsody and I make a great team wherein she sends me ideas/requests and I write them how I see fit, and this is one of those instances. Lena, you are a dumbass treasure, so I hope you like this (and all future requests of yours to come)! Also, I debated making this a platonic!Queen x Reader fic, but then I was really drawn to Bri for this one and making this about him somehow, so yeah. Also, I know the title is a pun on the Hot Space album and this doesn’t take place then, but the title is cute and they needed to be in the early 70s so their hair was long so get over it lmao.

Masterlist

It goes without saying that anyone who starts a band, no matter how much they will deny it, wants to some degree to end up famous. They want people to hear their music and relate to it. Queen was no exception, and despite the fact that half of the band was not egotistic, all four boys were pleased with the success they had been getting. It was becoming too big for just the four of them and a manager to handle, though, so it was time to start hiring teams to help them out with whatever was needed so they could focus on their jobs – the music. Finance teams, roadies, electronics people, security guards. They had to hire everything and everyone. Including a hair, makeup, and costume team to appease Freddie and Roger’s wishes. This team was not a large one, in fact there was only one person for makeup, hair, and costume each. But the three of you made it work. The boys were writing their third studio album at the time, which eventually was titled ‘Sheer Heart Attack,’ and one of your bosses decided that it was time for the album cover shoot. She had a few ideas in mind for you and your companion teams that you were not so sure about, but you had to do what your bosses told you, despite your better judgement. So, the minute the boys walked into yours and the make-up artist’s trailer, you gave them a look of concern and bemusement.

“Did anyone actually tell you boys how we have to make you look?” Your coworker, whose name was Angelica, was trying extremely hard to not laugh throughout her sentence. She was the more bemused one in this situation, you were more concerned.

“Frankly, I think what they said is ridiculous, but maybe you lot won’t think so.” You unsuccessfully tried to hid the worry in your words, because Brian chimed in right away.

“What are you two going to do to us?”

You and Angelica gave each other looks, and just pointed at their respective chairs so you two could get started. Freddie and Roger sat down excitedly, seemingly ready for whatever wild idea you two had, while John just moved at his normal pace. Brian, on the other hand, stayed still right where he was, taking your tone of voice to heart more seriously than he probably should have. You decided to walk over to him, since Angelica already started working on Roger’s make-up and Freddie was enthusiastically talking to a very tired-looking John, and check up on him. You did not like the scowl he had plastered onto his face.

“What’s wrong, love? You’re not one to not listen to us.”

“What do we have to wear?”

“You’ve never been concerned before, Bri, what’s this ab—”

“Have I hid how insecure I am that well for you to not notice? Well, I guess I need to explain myself then, but yeah, I… I hate doing these photoshoots. I’ve read the tabloids, Y/N, and while it has nothing to do with yours or Angelica’s abilities, I know that I am the least attractive member of Queen.”

You had trouble comprehending that these words were coming out of Brian’s mouth instead of someone like John’s. Brian never presented himself as shy or insecure, and you were starting to feel dread creeping up on you, because you were being forced to add to this feeling. You took a moment to gaze into his eyes, ones that, at the moment, were filled with dread and insecurity, but held on to the smallest bit of hope that you would say something to him to make it all go away.

“Brian May, you are incredibly smart. You seriously cannot be daft enough to think that those tabloids have any semblance of truth to them, right?”

Brian just continued to look at the ground. Clearly, that was not enough to make him feel like himself again. You took it up a notch.

“Not only are you smart enough to know those idiots are just jealous, but I happen to think that you are very attractive no matter how we end up making you look. I get to see this face and this hair,” as you spoke you fluffed up his curls even closer to high heaven, “every single day, so I know for a fact that it isn’t ugly. Far from it, love. Now, do me a favor and sit in your damn chair so I can get to work on the first hairstyle of yours that might make me take back what I said just now.”

Finally, you had gotten Brian’s attention, and thankfully no one else in the room had seen the exchange, otherwise you know you would have heard some snarky comment from Freddie or Roger, or both. Brian did what you asked of him, and by the time you had started working on his hair, Angelica had finished with Roger’s make-up and began to work on John’s, leaving Freddie to talk to Roger. Except to look at Roger, he had to look past Brian and Freddie saw what it was you were attempting to do with Brian’s hair, and called you out for it.

“Darling, how exactly do you plan to get that mane into a hair tie?”

“I’m sorry, what—”

“A HAIR TIE ARE YOU BLOODY JOKING?!”

“This is astounding, Y/N! Look at our masterpieces!”

Angelica snorted so loud at the sight in the mirror in front of you two. She had finished their make-up, which was simply a dark eye-look with natural colored everything else, and you had managed to get all four of the boy’s hair into dual buns on the sides of their heads. It was clearly not the aesthetic of the album, since you had been hearing them play it for the last few months, but like always, you had to listen to your boss. Whatever they wanted was what they got. You did admit, in your head, though, that none of them looked really ugly. It was just completely out of character. Begrudgingly, the boys made their way over to the studio where the black backdrop was set up for the shoot. Your boss looked really happy when she saw what they ended up looking like, but she could also see the cogs turning in your head once the actual shoot started. She was not the biggest fan of you when you had an idea you thought was better than hers, or a fan of yours, period.

“Y/N? A word, please.”

If you had not turned your head right at the exact moment you heard your name, you would have seen Brian turn to look directly at you with a look of concern. He knew you and that one particular boss butted heads quite a bit over vision differences, so he made sure he was always around when she was so he could be there for you if you needed to get away. He told himself he did this because all the crew members became good friends with the band, but deep down he knew that there was more to it than that, just like how Roger had a thing for Angelica and John had a thing for Veronica, the costume designer (in this house we support the Deacon’s). He was called back to reality when he heard his name being called for the next photo, so he did not get to see what kind of interaction you had with your boss.

“Look, I’m extremely proud of the work you and Angelica did, so why is it that I feel like I need to be concerned about the look on your face?”

“Magda, look—”

“We have been through this, you do not call me Magda, you call me ma’am or madam. You lost the right to call me by my first name when you disobeyed instruction on the last album.”

The situation she was referring to actually had nothing to do with what you did, it had everything to do with what you did not do. Magda had wanted you to do something extremely drastic to all four of the boy’s hair for the ‘Queen II’ album cover shoot and she wanted you to do it without telling them you were going to. Queen is not what people think of when they think of a hair band, but their hair is extremely iconic nonetheless, so when your boss suggested that you chop all of it off without telling them, you made the choice to not do that because you knew it would kill them, especially Roger and Brian. You ended up telling them that that time around, nothing would be done to their hair, it needed to stay natural, and the boys did not mind. Despite the fact that the cover for the album ended up becoming one of the most beloved images Queen had ever put out, your boss was livid with you. She cared about success, obviously, but she cared about having dominance over her employees more. So, a clear and blatant disrespect to her authority was the last thing she wanted in her life.

“Sorry, ma’am.”

“So, because of that disrespect, I have to repeat myself. What is going on inside your head right now?”

“I’m… not sure if you’ve actually heard any of the album, but this hair that you wanted them to have? I actually think they look pretty good and pull it off, but it-it-it just doesn’t fit with the sound of the album.”

Your boss sighed rather loudly, earning the attention of the cameramen and the band, Brian looking at you wide-eyed out of concern, realizing you had been communicating with your personal she-devil for the last few minutes without him by your side.

“Well then, simple hairdresser; what the hell would you have them do?”

The jab at your profession stung, you could not lie to yourself. You had wanted to do hair ever since you got yours first professionally cut. Something about the atmosphere felt like a place you could be yourself in, and when you got into beauty school, you took that as a sign that this was what you were meant to be doing. It was even more solidified when you booked the job working with one of the biggest bands in the world. At hearing the words your boss said, Angelica and Veronica had sunk into themselves off to the side of the backdrop, Roger, Freddie, and John all stared with wide eyes, and Brian’s eyes narrowed into tight slits indicating that he was just as furious as you. Instead of responding to your boss, you just decided to walk over to the cameraman, asking him if you could make some changes before the next round of photos. He quietly nodded his head, and added a ‘help yourself.’ You nodded back before making your way over to the boys.

“I’m going to take your hair out of these buns, as well as you pull them off, and then add some ruffling to it. Okay? Just give me one minute…”

After your one minute, each of the boys had their hair cascading down their shoulders once again, and you had even added some small volume to it through the use of your hands pulling and fluffing. You did not want to instruct them on how to sit, so once you felt happy with the way their hair looked, you walked backwards so you could see all four of them together, solidifying your feelings towards the new looks. You smiled, trying to force away the tears that were still threatening to spill from your boss’s earlier words. The four boys could see you were struggling to keep yourself together, and the other three looked at Brian knowingly. They all knew about their schoolkid-like crushes on the crew members, so they were attempting to egg him on to make you feel better. You started to turn away to allow the cameraman to reposition them, but before you had turned around fully, you saw Brian jolt upward, almost hurting and locking his knees in the process. You looked back and up at him with doe-like eyes as he slowly walked toward you. When he was face-to-face with you, he placed both hands tightly on your shoulders, giving each of them a tight squeeze before speaking.

“For what it’s worth, love, I didn’t hate the buns.” Then he leaned in and captured you in a loving hug, complete with some back rubbing. Now speaking at a volume loud enough for only you to hear. “But I love that you know us well enough to stand up to that witch, and I admire you for it. Thank you.”

You latched your arms around him desperately, not allowing yourself to speak because you know the words would have just gotten stuck in your throat and you would have looked like an infant with how hard you were starting to sob. But now it wasn’t out of sadness, it was out of gratitude. Brian let you go, offering you a small smile before walking back to his bandmates, who were all staring at him knowingly. You went back behind the camera and made your way to Angelica and Veronica, who opened up the space between them so you could sit between them and you could all watch the boys you loved. In the way that they loved you. And imagine your pride when the photo taken from right after you fixed their hair ended up being the cover of the album. Your boss was fired the same day the image was selected.

“Absolutely not, I would never agree to that bloody bet.” Roger’s voice was booming in the back of the tour bus, arguing with you over an idea you had just suggested, riding off the adrenaline still of having your photo be chosen for the second time as the album cover.

“C’mon, Rog, it would be fun! Guys against girls!”

“I may be dumb sometimes, Y/N, but I am smart enough to know that women are smarter than men in general. You lot would win, and then we would just embarrass ourselves.”

Then it was Angelica’s turn to speak up, hoping she could convince Roger to change his mind.

“Rogie, love, I would love to do this, I think you should let us girls join in on your Scrabble competitions every now and then. We are just as much a part of Queen as you are. We want to feel included. What d’you say, lovie?”

You, Angelica, Veronica, and Mary were watching the cogs in Roger’s mind turn around and around before he finally settled on a decision.

“Oi! Lads! Get your arses in here! We got a game to play!”

“So. what exactly is the plan here?”

All eight of you crowded up in the back of the tour bus, waiting to hear your explanation of how the bet was going to go. You had explained the basic idea to Roger before anyone else, and then when the other girls heard him pouting, they joined in. And thus began the first ever girls versus guys Scrabble game Queen had ever taken a part of began.

“We’re going to play in teams. Myself and Veronica, Angelica and Mary, Brian and John, Roger and Freddie. Scoring will be by team, but then at the end of the game, the girls team scores will be added together, as will the boy’s teams scores. One game only, unless somehow there is a tie. If we win, on the next show, you lot have to let me do your hair up in the buns again. And you have to stay like that for the whole show. If you boys win, then we will all wear our hair in the buns, and you can choose what outfits we wear as well. No cheating, or the other team wins by default. This is for one show only, as well, none of us gals are that mean. Sound fair?”

With a cacophony of nodding heads, the game ensued. You had hoped what Roger said about women being smarter than men really was true, because you did not want to see what the boys would pick out for you to wear. With the exception of Angelica, all you girls were relatively modest people. You knew that they would want you to wear something scandalous if they won. Initially, everyone was getting small words and just slowly collecting points. No one seemed to pull ahead right away. Then John got a word that was worth over 20 points in one go, and all four of you started to sweat. That skyrocketed his and Brian’s score, you just knew it, and you had no idea how many points Roger and Freddie had racked up yet. You kept playing, worry nagging your mind throughout the game. Then it was time to add together team scores to see who would be wearing buns at the next show, and possibly no clothes.

“Between us lads, we have 145 points.” John spoke calmly and politely, not wanting to give away the fact that he had been planning what he wanted Veronica to wear this whole time.

The four of you girls all turned to look at each other with somewhat neutral expressions, but could not contain your excitement for long. Wide smile’s broke out across all of your faces as you turned back to look at the boys, who’s faces you all could see were breaking watching your smiles spread. As if you had planned it in advance, the four of you simultaneously yelled out your score, proud of the outcome.

“146 points!”

“You’re fucking joking.”

“Dammit, darlings! Who told you could be so good at this game?”

John simply sighed and looked down into his lap, while you and Brian made eye contact. You could see the insecurity flooding back into his brain through the look in his eyes, and without wanting to make it obvious that you felt bad, you offered him a melancholy smile, trying your best to subliminally tell him you were sorry it worked out this way but you would make it up to him somehow. It was your idea, after all, to do this bet. He did not have to agree to it, but something told you he did because it would make you happy. Once the game was put away, it was really late in the evening and everyone just wanted to sleep. When the tour bus with you eight on it pulled into the rest stop, following the other busses touring with you for equipment and other crew members, the three girls went back to their bunks on the other bus, and you told them you would meet them there in a moment, that there was something you had to do first. You gently pulled back the curtain to be met with Brian’s bare back.

“Bri? You awake?” You spoke so quietly you could hardly hear yourself.

“Hmm? Y/N? What… what’re you—”

“Just hush and come sit with me, love.”

After Brian managed to get his lanky form out his bunk to follow you to the table in the back of the bus, you started speaking before he could ask any questions.

“I’m really sorry. I completely forgot about how insecure that hairstyle made you feel, and frankly, I thought of the bet because I saw how annoyed Roger looked with himself with them in and I just thought his temper showing in the show would be funny—”

“Y/N.”

You looked at Brian, hoping that he did not look angry at you for what you had started. He looked tired, sure, but there was no anger hidden in his features. You breathed out a sigh of relief that you had not lost one of your best friends because of a stupid bet.

“I promise it’s okay. It’s not like I’m making the choice alone, the other lads are going to be there doing the same thing. Plus, I could tell you said you’re going to make it up to me later on. Yes, I understand you enough to know that look from earlier.”

You heart swelled twice as big knowing that he knew you as well as you knew him.

“Plus, on the bright side, I think we all know who looked best in those buns anyway. My curls just make it perfect, wouldn’t you agree, love?”

“I couldn’t agree more, Bri.” You smiled sweetly at him, and this time, he sleepily returned the look. “But hey listen. I’m actually really tired and the girls are waiting for me in the other bus, so I’ll just see you tomorrow for the show, okay?”

“I’d like to get back to bed myself, I’m pretty cold now.” He chuckled sweetly. “Goodnight, love.”

You and the girls had gotten the guys ready for the show, and once they were in their group dressing room, you scurried off to make a change to your appearance where they would not see you, namely Brian. You figured the least you could do would be to make the whole situation up to him at this show, and get your embarrassment out of the way. You quickly made a beeline for the costume department, Veronica lending you a helping hand, but stopping short at first when she noticed something about your hair.

“Y/N, you do realize we won the bet, right? Your hair doesn’t have to be in buns, too.”

“I know. I made a promise to Brian, don’t worry about it.”

“You starting to feel for him like how I feel about John?”

“I guess you could say something like that, Ronnie, but now is not the time, and I’m not sure I want my heart broken by a literal rock star. Help me find that damn shirt.”

“Okay! Okay! But you’re really playing into what it says, dearie.”

The shirt in question was one that had been tossed at Brian during a show toward the end of the Queen II tour. It was large, even too large for Brian to wear to some extent, and it was solid black. On the front was a rather handsome picture of Brian’s face, and on the back, it read ‘BRIAN MAY’S #1 FAN” with the Queen crest on the bottom. Sometimes as a joke, or on his birthday, one of the boys would prance around with the shirt on when on stage or something to that effect. You decided that you would wear it, with nothing but a small pair of shorts that would not be visible underneath since it came halfway down your thighs, along with your new hairdo during the show and hope to catch his eye. And catch his eye you did. Freddie had decided to start chattering with the audience, something he had gotten into the habit of doing at larger shows now because hearing one random concert-goer shout out a response was never a dull moment for the boys. As Freddie was talking about this and that, the other three boys caught their breaths, readjusted equipment and stuff like that. At one point, Brian had looked up from his guitar off to the side of the stage you were standing on, and locked eyes with you beaming back at him. You raised your arms up in the air to give him a better look at the shirt, then spun around so he could read the back, and turned back to face him. Then you let your arms flop to the side and tilted your head a little aggressively to the side. Your hand then came back up to point at the buns, and your smile turned into a full-blown laugh. Just as you did this, Freddie was telling the audience about the bet and why their hair looked this way, and he asked all the boys a question, Brian completely not hearing him because he was so wrapped up in you. Freddie managed to sneak a peek at just what Brian was looking at, so he decided to make a cheeky comment to all the people in the audience just to embarrass him.

“Brian isn’t listening to me, the boor. He’s too busy staring at the girl who on multiple occasions has called ‘the prettiest damn thing his eyes have ever seen.’”

The audience roared with screams and laughter, while Brian went as red as a tomato, earning more laughing from you. He smiled at you through the embarrassment, because you clearly were not rejecting what Freddie had told the audience. It gave him confidence. After the show, Brian came and found you seated on top of a stack of his guitar cases, yanking out his buns while walking over.

“Freddie made a whole ordeal about pointing you out tonight, why didn’t you come up on stage and embarrass yourself like we did?”

“I said I’d make the bet up to you, not all of your fans. This look is just for you, Bri.”

Brian shyly smiled at you, forcing his face to the ground. His insecurity taking over again. He hated how vulnerable to it he was.

“Was Fred lying on stage?”

“Hm? Lying?”

“About what you called me.”

You saw his Adam’s apple bob. Clearly, that was not the sentence he thought you were going to ask him. But somehow, his confidence came back, and he asked you a question in response.

“I’ll tell you the truth about that if you tell me if your shirt is telling the truth.”

“Deal. The shirt is almost the truth. Well, it is. I am your biggest fan. But I almost wished it said something else.”

“And what is that, love?”

“Brian May’s #1 groupie.”

He almost choked on air. Not what he expected you to say, and not as forward as he expected you to talk, either. You wanted to be his groupie.

“When-when you say… groupie…”

“I think you know what I mean, Bri. Except I wouldn’t want you to forget about me the next day. I would like all the benefits of being a groupie, but with mutual respect involved.”

“So… my girlfriend.”

“If you want to put a label on it, I mean…”

“I think I can arrange that, most ravenous girl I have ever seen.”

“What?”

“Freddie was almost correct on stage. I never said pretty. I always said ravenous.”

“O-oh…”

“And I still mean it, love.”

Brian then closed the space between you with a passionate kiss that was just so Brian. It was not driven by lust, despite the conversation that had just happened. It was soft, gentle, but somehow completely satisfying. Just so Brian. At one point, you felt his hand slide up your side, half expecting him to stop at your chest. He was a man, after all. Except that he did not. His hand kept going up your body till it was on your neck, then your cheek, and made its way all the way to the top of your head. Then you felt it. You felt his large hand take hold of one of the buns on your head and lightly pull it to the side, forcing you to move your head to side so he could deepen the kiss further, showing you his appreciation for how you looked in those buns. His kiss was relentless, so he completely swallowed the moan that left you, signaling that he had made you desperate. He pulled away just enough so he could speak through ragged breaths.

“I think…I could get used to seeing… you in these buns more often, sweetheart. Think you could arrange that?”

“I’ll wear them every damn day if it leads to this, Bri.”

Permanent Taglist: @bensrhapsody @chlobo6 @gardnerlangway @xtrashmammalstefx

Brian May Taglist: @ziggymay

// If you want to be added to either taglist mentioned above, or the one for another character I’ve written for, send me an ask here! //

#brian may #brian may x reader #queen #fanfiction #fanfic #hot space buns #buns #sheer heart attack #hairdresser #hairstylist #scrabble #freddie mercury #roger taylor #john deacon

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sweetswesf · 5 years ago

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Black History Month 2020

Happy #BlackHistoryMonth!

I grew up knowing Black greats, my REAL history, and of the injustices my people and I have faced. I learned this from family, educators, and my own experiences. My dad had framed photos of Muhammad Ali, MLK, Malcolm X, Jesse Owens, Bob Marley and many others on the wall of his office in my childhood home. My grandfather had a mix of the same in his office. My grandmother kickstarted my love for researching and collecting history when she archived articles covering 9/11 for me after I was horrified by the news coverage that day in 4th grade, watching the events take place on TV before she dropped me off to school.

I have celebrated Black History Month in the past, but not with the passion of someone truly trying to draw something of value from it. I got exhausted with previous BHMs, honoring the same people year to year who died 50+ years ago, when there were plenty of other Black people living and worthy to be honored. I was also inspired to do this by the people (even Black people) who spoke openly about why Black people are not due reparations, why Black women are not fit for marriage, why Black people should “just listen to police”, “get Masters degrees”, and “build their networks”, to solve their issues (real excerpts from well-intentioned but awfully miseducated colleagues and other people I have had convos with on Black issues), and their plans to go skiing on MLK Day because it was simply just another “holiday” to them.

Black history month is for you and still important, even if you are not Black, because it’s great to recognize why you have what you have, and no one is free until we are all free. One way to remove guilt and fear of something you do not know is to educate yourself on it. It has been proven that racism, discrimination, and the fear of “others” causes depression, suicide and wrongful deaths. Black history month is about saving lives. Dr. Woodson, the creator of Black History Month, said so himself: “If a race has no history, if it has no worthwhile tradition, it becomes a negligible factor in the thought of the world, and it stands in danger of being exterminated.”

It wasn’t until Nipsey was assassinated that most people recognized all the philanthropic and entrepreneurial things to build generation wealth that he did. It was a prime example of if we don’t value our people and our stories in the here and now, they will be subject to the interpretation of someone else who does not have the experiences of you and your people and possibly unable to give it its proper due. Stories are meant to be told to free someone else.

When I was a freshman at USC, I chose computer science as my major with aspirations of working in tech after graduation. However, after feeling like an imposter as one of the 4 Black women at the college of engineering’s freshman orientation, I dropped the major. I did not know any professional Black female software engineers, listened to the stereotypes and other fallacies like “Asians are good at math and science” and thought, “Black people must not be good in tech.” I didn’t know there was a whole community of Black techies around the world, building apps, running tech companies, raising capital for tech companies, participating in groups like /dev/color (which I am currently in), and the like. I wasn’t exposed.

I am fighting “imposter syndrome” even today as it takes years to reverse feelings of inadequacy and conditioning. I am finally a software engineer though (intern right now :)), and want to focus on getting better and ensuring no other Black woman or person of any identity feels that they cannot achieve something simply because they don't see themselves represented there.

I know there are still some people however living like this: living in doubt of their capabilities because they have not seen representations of them accomplishing what they are dreaming of. To help erase this, this month, I highlighted lesser known doctors, teachers, activists, billionaires, venture capitalists, athletes, artists, revolutionaries, military leaders, scientists, astronauts, economists, authors, software engineers, businessmen/women, and entrepreneurs of the past and present to remind someone (and myself) that despite discrimination, we are capable of greatness. Capable of being our ancestors’ wildest dreams.

This month, I:

- Attended various BHM events (Lyft’s Black Vendor Expo, Black Joy Parade in Oakland, etc.). - Contributed a BHM piece for Lyft’s newsletter that was shared with all and displayed in all HQs and some driver hubs. - Created a BHM deck that was distributed to all Lyft employees and displayed in the SF, NYC, Nashville, and SEA offices. - Joined a Black org. - Attended and got my playbill signed by the beautiful Black cast of Hamilton. - Gave my dollars to various Black businesses. - Referred a Black candidate for a role at my job. That person received an invitation to on-site interview. - Studied the African Diaspora. - Drank more water. - Refreshed my schedule to recommit to focusing my goals. - Committed to teaching others about how to build generational wealth by committing to serve my church’s ministry for financial health. - Spent significant time researching the 2020 Democratic candidates. - Supported various Black creatives. - Studied hidden heroes of American history, some of which were blood relatives. - Listened to more episodes of the Podcast ”1619”. - Joined a new Black org: Hip Hop for Change. - Contributed to my church’s scholarship fund. - Called out racism and oppression and had some hard conversations with people of significant influence in tech. - Checked my balance in my bank account at the Black bank One United. - Was kinder to the environment by eating less meat. - Finished a novel faster than I ever have.

I don’t share all this to brag, I share it to show that celebrating Black History Month does not have to be drab and making a difference in your community is much harder AND much easier than you think. It annoys me when someone who wants to be an ally asks, “What can I do to help?,” when there are obvious answers all around or a Google search away. But, I recognize we’re all somewhat culturally clueless, so, I found some solutions we can start on to help fix the world’s race problem.

This month, because Black history is full of “power, poison, pain, and joy”, I felt my highest of highest and lowest of lows through my studies. I will continue to research my history, honor and financially support the accomplishments and dreams of my people. I'll be focusing on these issues in particular:

- Expanding the scope & scale of Black businesses - Increasing Black homeownership - Lowering the Black wealth divide - Growing the capital of Black-owned banks - Freeing those serving sentences for non-violent crimes related to cannabis, since it is now a billion-dollar industry - Improving the quality of and access to education for Black Americans - Diversifying tech

I won’t be posting those here as frequently as I did this month, because researching and writing these post took hours daily. Although time well spent, it is time again to refocus that energy posting on Facebook to creating my own contributions to Black History offline.

Thank you to everyone who liked, shared, or subscribed to my posts. A significant way to celebrate Black History Month is just to learn, listen, and be open, so kudos to you for simply doing that. I encourage you to continue that, silence your feelings of guilt because God has forgiven you, and focus on making your life and the lives of others better. If you don’t do it for yourself, at least do it for generations that follow you.

Please share with me, either in a reply to this post or personally, your feedback on these posts, questions you have following, or ways you celebrate/plan to celebrate.

I’ll end my post with this: - Expect more from yourself and others. - Get up. Stand up. Show up. - Nothing beats time. - Every dollar should have an assignment. - Health is a large form of wealth. - Be kind to one another. - We’re better together.

Love y’all.

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bumblewave531 · 4 years ago

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odinsblog · 7 years ago

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Hi there!! Do you think other poc can celebrate the meaning behind BHM? I heard an Indian-American man in my class say that as a poc, he should be able to celebrate February as well, since it represents the struggles African-Americans have faced, just as much as his people. It was a curious thing to hear.

Nah, unless that person self-identifies as a Black person---as in, has a black parent---then I think they’re way off base. The thing about Black History month is that it’s supposed to celebrate Black people. If we don’t draw that line, we’ll end up having white Irish people arguing that BHM is somehow supposed to be about them too.

And I’m assuming you aren’t talking about a Native American, but rather someone who’s ancestry is from the country of India?

I hate to admit this, but ordinarily I’m inclined to let it slide when a white or non-black person incorrectly uses the phrase, “people of color” and “Black people” interchangeably, as if they’re the same thing (hint: they aren’t). But I think this is probably a good example of why making that distinction is important.

Moving on ... my (black people’s) diaspora is a big tent though, right? There are Latinx people who self-identify as white, and there are Afro-Latinos who identify as black. If they’re black, regardless of nationality, then yeah: BHM is about them too.

Otherwise, your classmate can go kick rocks.

I feel like the crux of the matter is that a lot of marginalized groups often try to use black people’s struggles as a mule to carry their water? Sometimes the struggles of oppressed groups may be very closely related, and even have some of the same root causes---patriarchy, white supremacy, or classism, to name a few---but we have different histories, and we experience oppression differently. They’re important differences that should not be ignored.

For example: I always cringe whenever I hear white gay people say something foolish like, “They’re treating us just like they did Black people,” or “Gay rights is the new Civil Rights movement.” NO. Don’t be the loser who utters those words. That’s ignorant and it’s a form of erasure. The struggle for Black Civil rights has never ended, and there are black gay people being oppressed for their race ~and~ their sexual orientation. Pride Month shouldn’t be lumped in with Black History Month, and BHM shouldn’t be lumped in with Pride month.

Can black people fly BLM flags at Pride parades? Yes. Absolutely. Can gay people fly the rainbow flag at BLM marches? Yes, of course. There’s intersectional overlap, and they aren’t mutually exclusive movements, but they are not interchangeable movements. AND THAT’S OKAY. The two can augment one another, but they’re different holidays for a reason.

Sometimes that kind of thing (like what your friend said) is unintentional, and other times it isn’t. Either way it’s sad because it’s needlessly divisive, and I can promise you that other oppressed groups have their champions. They have activists who have spoken out for them, they have activists who have started important social justice movements, both abroad and domestically. No one needs to insinuate themselves into a minority they aren’t a part of to celebrate that group’s accomplishments.

Non-white people shouldn’t be fighting with each other for table scraps of recognition anyway. Certainly not in the country our ancestors helped build. This is not a competition and we should not be fighting each other. Holding the oppression Olympics is counter productive, and only serves the interests of the people doing the oppressing.

SN: standard disclaimer applies - I cannot and dO not speak for all Black people.

#audreyoppar #ask #answered #black history month #intersectionality #black history

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thefashionableintrovert · 7 years ago

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Valentine Gift Ideas for Guys

Hey You! Happy February and Black History Month!

Everyone knows February for its cold weather, BHM and for its sale of cheap candy. We also know February for the Valentine’s Day! I recently saw an article about whether women should go all out for valentine’s day for their boyfriends/husbands as they do. I was humored but not surprised to see the outrage from men in the comments, most of whom said that the guys needed to be wine and dined just as much as the women once in a while. But we all know buying gifts for guys, whether it is your father’s birthday or a Christmas gift for your brother, is difficult. How do we give gifts of appreciation to the men in our lives in a world where hyper-masculinity is still a thing, and getting flowers and chocolate will make you look “soft”, and/or he has a hard time showing emotion. Let’s break that barrier and get him something thoughtful this year and the many to come.

I have constructed a list of how you can show appreciation on Valentine’s Day to the men in your life, whether it is you boyfriend of one year or your guy friend from class that always compliments your hair. This gift ranges as low as $5 so it is perfect for any budget!

Hopefully this will be the last ultimate gift list you will need!

Gift Ideas on Valentine’s Day for Him

Get them a card. I know this seems like the lazy route, but I’ve always appreciated a nice card. Get him one with a gift card (with a store they really like but rarely go in) and a nice thoughtful message. DO NOT LEAVE THE CARD BLANK! Write about how much he means to you, how he inspires you to do better every day, or maybe something encouraging to start off the year. Words can do much more than material things.

Make a video message. A card isn’t his thing? Try creating a “video” card about him, and throw in some memories from the year you two have had. This doesn’t have to go down the sappy route, throw in some funny/embarrassing moments in your video, or some throwback photos of him when he was younger. It will surely make him laugh, and he will appreciate the effort you put in. Don’t forget to put it on a DVD or USB stick and give it to him physically.

Pay for the dinner bill. Take him out to dinner (and a place HE likes to eat). Guys like to be wine and dined too, so let him know before ordering that you will be paying for the meal. It may take some convincing at first, and he might even be uncomfortable with the idea if you bring it up too late, so let him know early that this is something you want to do to show your appreciation.

Art. Artwork or a poster from a an artist or a graphic designer is always a great gift, especially if it is custom made. If you want to go the extra mile, find a local artist and pay them to paint/draw a portrait of your special someone.

Buy him something practical. If you have been hearing him complain about something often, find a way to solve that problem. This is affordable yet very thoughtful, it shows that you are listening.

Does he take tend to miss the bus to his commute to work or class in the winter? Treat him to a $50 Uber Gift card so he can get a luxury ride.

Is he trying to grow out his hair and beard? Make him a hair care package/basket with fancy shampoos, treatments and hair picks.You can even throw in The Art of Growing a Beard, a book by Marvin Grosswirth.

Does he live in the gym? Buy a small gym bag and fill it with essentials like protein shakes or Gatorade, and throw in a nice smoothie/water bottle.

See him peeking in a particular clothing store every time you go to the mall? Buying him clothes/shoes will always be appreciated.

Splurge & Get an Accessory. Nothing wrong with a nice watch, cap/hat or designer sunglasses. Guys like jewelry too!

Get him a video game. I didn’t know how expensive one game for a Nintendo Switch cost. He would definitely appreciate it if he is a gamer. If you REALLY want to splurge, get him the whole console lol.

Too busy to go out to eat? Order him lunch. Send a surprise lunch order to his workplace. Not only is it thoughtful but it shows that you know what type of food he enjoys (or doesn’t enjoy). Make sure to get the restaurant to write a nice valentine’s day note for him as well, and let them know it is a gift. If you have time you can even deliver it yourself (just make sure he is comfortable with that). Surprises are always nice. Uber Eats and Just Eat are both great, just put his phone number and the address of where you want them to go.

Get Party Favs! If your male companion is a fun extrovert who loves to entertain, get him an item that would make him be the life of any party. From collectible shot glasses to social card/board games, anything that will be fun with a group or just the two of you.

Make a scrapbook of memories. If you have a lot of photos of each other, print them off and put them in a photo album, scrapbook, a custom social media calendar, array of snow globes, string with clothing pins, mood board, etc. Always remind him of the good times you have shared with each other.

Does he love music? Make him a playlist! Super cheesy but if he is a true music lover he would love to receive a playlist with his favourite artists on a CD or USB stick. If he has a vinyl player you can be creative and make a record of the playlist. You can splurge and even get him wireless headphones, or even speakers so he can play the playlist aloud.

This is my wonderful list of ideas, if you have any more ideas PLEASE feel free to add unto my list! Sometimes we forget that the men in our lives need love too on Valentine’s Day, so don’t forget to put thought into the gifts for your Valentine!

Sincerely,

ArienneJay, the fashionable introvert

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pixelatedlenses · 8 years ago

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“You Can’t Have Black Faeries”: Black Magic, Representation, And Fantastical Reads and Writing , or How I Started Writing Black Characters on Tumblr and Never Looked Back

So I’m going to preface this with the fact that this is a veritable essay that kind of winds: it’s not really organized and would never be published on a formal news site. It’s just my story, all of what I remember, and clocks in around 6ish pages. It was important for me to write this during Black History Month because over the last year, I’ve undergone a lot of changes, and my writing has changed with it. I hope that you’ll read this and ask questions, and continue to support me as I change even more. I love my blackness, I love my writing, and I love sharing it with you all. I suppose here’s the roots of how I got to be Spencer Avery, my pen name that I use for my core writing, outside of beng Tomi for art and light novels.

It’s my story, and is more stream of consciousness than anything else. Basically: enjoy, is what I’m trying to say. Also, this is, of course, one of the supplimental pieces I mentioned in my post about writing about BHM in Japan. I hope you come to understand another part of me, and see why my black is beautiful. .

I can honestly say that at 24, I love writing black characters.

I stick representations of myself –my culture, fat black folxs, nerdy black folxs, magical black folxs– into whatever I can, whether it’s a mundane romance tale set in a perfectly normal world or a princess stuck in a tower. It became important to me about… eh, three years ago that I start to normalize those kinds of worlds, that Black folxs were just as magic as a Tolkien elf or a Harry Potter wizard. We belonged in those worlds alongside European styled magics too.

But it wasn’t always like that.

I started writing fanfiction at age 13. I was confused about a lot of things: I felt wrong in my black skin, about liking girls over boys and flowers, felt at odds with the black girls that teased me and bullied me into buying them snacks. (And also called my mother fat to my face, which yeah, we both are, but you don’t get to call her that, you know? Geez.) Most of all, I think feeling a sense of nothingness prevailed: I was a black girl playing at being good enough to be white, playing at stepping outside my ethnic roots to somehow feel capital-N Normal.

Video games, thus, became a home for me: I found myself in Naruto, felt at home in the vast worlds of Kingdom Hearts, was brave and empowered in Pokemon was somebodies hero in the countless rpgs stacked next to my bed. I don’t think its an exaggeration to say that I spent more time connected to a set of double a’s or a charger than I did reflecting on myself. I think now, a lot of Blerds –black nerds – often do: we’re pushed out with anti-blackness from our own black folx, and left to imagine ourselves as meaningful in somebody else’s world. It’s quite sad, and perhaps why now, I write so much fantasy and fiction featuring a black character overcoming: it’s a message that still needs to be heard and echoed.

Nevertheless, I was a lonely kid. It was the height of MySpace, I was a digital roleplayer under the all too ridiculous name Naruko Fai Uzamachi –I literally just let out the most pitiful Regret Groan – and I was still on the hunt for that last, little taste of acceptance.

Hence writing.

I put up my first fic on Fanfiction.net sometime in 2007, most likely May. It was a hot mess, but I’m saying that millions of words later in 2017. At the time, it was a release: I was deep into the 801 –that’s Yaoi for the uninitiated, taking from the alternative pronunciations for 8, 0, and 1 in Japanese – community, having found a weird, hypersexualized acceptance amongst likeminded women who felt pushed to Western society’s fringes. I was everywhere I could on MySpace, Aarinfantasy, and any board I could find to somehow make my 14-year-old heart ache less. Fanfiction was there as another balm: I have memories of sneaking onto the computer at midnight, trying to turn the brightness down just so to not wake my mother, and clacking out my feelings about depression, hurt, growing up, and wanting desperately to belong to something.

(As I’m currently at work, I won’t like it: it’s explicit, and I don’t’ look at things like that on my on hours. I can tell you it’s called “Land and Sky” and was a SasuNaru fic, a hot pairing even in 2017. You can look it up on my Fanfiction.net account, and for fun, do a live reading with your friends. I’ve tried to rewrite it multiple times, and may try this year as it’s the anniversary and my writing is hopefully better. I think perhaps that’s my penance for teenage me’s horribly written yaoi: rewrite a SasuNaru fic every ten years for the rest of my life. Of course, it’s funny now: at the time, I was Ride or Die about that fic.)

This led to me often seeking solace in Asian characters: they were the closes analog to me. Brown and black faces didn’t match me in terms of how I felt; they reminded me of the same mocking laughter, harsh hands, and hurtful words that were hurled at me daily. I didn’t want to like them, but perhaps a part of me also realized I needed something. Asian person –specifically Japanese character – offered that something. They were ethnic enough in my young eyes, and were close enough. Sometimes, characters were a tanned brown, many shades away from my dark skin, but felt cousin to my desire for acceptance.

(Now, of course, I realize that wasn’t the answer and that Japanese-Americans are often ridiculed for their own desire to enjoy their culture, while Westerners –predominantly Americans of European descent – often police fan culture within Anime and Manga or general Japanese pop, and that has often led to exclusion. That’s not to say there aren’t black folxs out there policing Japanese-American consumption of their own culture too: there certainly are, and they’re just as wrong.)

Writing, thus, developed into a series of long worded fanfiction pieces that I posted all across the web, primarily on FF.net, which was my stomping ground for a very long time. I can still google my many pen names –Syrus Gardenia Fuze, which apparently I asked to be called, dozens of Japanese names with African-esque sounds, and eventually, Nagone, which I took kanji –immaturely and without any knowledge of the language, as I was studying Spanish and not even Chinese yet to understand characters and radicals– to mix together to form “a strong sounding name” which I still use today, but hope to change this year actually– and find my pieces. I get hits daily from kids going through the same growth I did: kids who message me asking questions about the fictional worlds I built, kids who express the same sadness, heartache, and loneliness of being classed as different. PoC kids who tell me that they’re looking for themselves and found it in my writing.

Growing up certainly hasn’t changed in a decade, you know?

However, by the time that college rolled around, fed-up, still black, now queer me was tired, and fanfiction wasn’t always doing the same things it had. I was sick of school, wanted desperately out and to move to Missouri for college, but was stuck in a mundane year. After a blow up at my bullies which resulted in me getting kicked out the band hall and nearly breaking a bass clarinet from dropping it on the ground, I stopped writing: I just flat out gave it up. It felt like it was putting away childish things, tucking away the past, and would let me move on.

Of course, at this point, you’re realizing that I didn’t stop as I’m talking about writing. Let’s continue.

I came back to it in college after my father died because I need Home again. I was still focused on Japan and Japanese media because Japan was cool: I hadn’t had the realization that Japan was a country, and hadn’t really delved into my studies that would lead me to a degree in History and Asian Studies focused on Japan and on showing a 360 view of the nation rather than “it’s got pop culture!” I was still hiding from being black: high school had brow beat me with “Why do we need Black History Month?” gorilla masks when Obama got into office –with friends remarking that I should be proud on of my people made if at 17 and 18– and general Southern Fried Racism that I was more than willing to reject being black. My pool of genuine black friends had grown from two to six: I added a few men into the mix -almost all are college friends I still love- and was steadily working towards some awareness that I was black and not secretly a white girl beneath.

Home was in writing more fics: still primarily yaoi, though I had dabbled in yuri and girl’s love with the arrival of my first partner. I was a bit more brazen and brave about what I wrote, and started showing PoC women together instead of solely Japanese men. It was a radical change, and made me feel a little bit better between regretting being queer and loving college. But there was still a stark absence of anyone black: in fact, I honestly can’t remember ever writing a black character for most of my early writing life.

So, I bet you’re wondering when that black part will come in?

Well, it starts probably in 2013ish when I made my writing Tumblr.

I’d heard about Tumblr through my fourth partner, an asexual with a penchant for wanting a mixed child because they were “cute” and wanting a boy despite being agender and stating that no one should choose gender.

(I should add that they often remarked they wanted to spin the sperm of their donor to increase the rate of a boy, and would be sad to not have their child come out how they wanted. It made me feel very gross, and I was not at all sad to break up with them. It was for the best, and I hope that they realize now that it’s kind of gross to want a mixed child for their aesthetic and not because you wouldn’t mind having a child with multiple cultures. They were a nice person, but it’s alright to accept that nice people -even me- have microaggresions that we must constnatly work at.)

I started with a cosplay tumblr: it was dedicated to my costuming which I did often enough, and was made with the mindset of being a black cosplayer. This was a huge change, and it came solely because of an event the year before: namely, the murder-death killing of Trayvon Martin, a boy who was sent to rest by a man who is, simply put, a racist and hated him for his skin.

That changed my world: it was like I’d been literally seeing black and white, and suddenly, there was an entire spectrum of Brown that I fit into. I was a black person, ahd the potential to get killed for my skin, for not being submissive, for being a perceived threat, and that was scary. It was the kind of thing that, for months, kept me awake. I saw, for the first time, the ugly face of kind racism: I had white friends remark that President Obama wouldn’t know how it felt to lose a child like that because he was only half-black, and he was the President, one of the good ones. I saw that perhaps, I was perceived like that: that my intellect, my quiet nature, my bookish ways, and my gentleness were only Right because they were White, that a percentage of people around me where trading Me for being Good, and a Good Black.

(Insert another groan.)

So my writing changed with that: it became more active, more constant, and eventually in 2014, solidified into this blog with all the meager beginnings I could offer. I remember my first posts were from a roleplay senior year: they focused on the characters of our werewolf campaign. I think after that came some reposts from FictionPress –I really want to start utilizing that again this year, alongside Wattpad and other sns for writing– and then… well, then I started writing for myself. It started with fae –I’ve always like fae since I first read Holly Black’s Modern Fae series, specifically Valiant, sophomore year of high school– and so I started to transplant black features onto them. My fae ranged from sweet to scary, were villains, heroes, lovers, and friends. They were varied like I felt I was: black had stopped having a singular identity or word bubble of terms that were solely “ethnic” and was a mass of very difficult faces, all living very different lives. I mirrored that onto the supernatural, and it worked: I started to gain ground and felt that I was doing something right. It felt good, and that momentum carried into grad school, picking me up when I was down, giving me a place to escape, but also critically write about big feelings.

Simply put, writing was good.

(I also got into Legend of Korra heavy and started writing fic again. I’ve been on a two year fic break, but plan to pick it up soon, after I finish my current project which I still can’t talk about.)

You’d think that after nearly a decade of writing, I’d have written for myself, but I always think I was writing for others: it’s a habit I still struggle with because I’m a people pleaser and want to make folxs happy, but writing for myself was the most freeing thing I could ever reward myself with.

Now, I’d love to tell you I remember my first black girl, but the one I remember most –and the one that’s fairly well-known and recent– is Cobalt “Colby” Johnson, a college-aged, plump, chubby black girl from my novella Gelid. She’s from 2015, her story written in a month in a cast of all non-white characters. Colby is probably one of the dearest characters to my heart, and when I get a chance, I will rewrite her purposely quickly written story into something bigger, seal up her plot holes and give her more body.

Colby, as a character, was not originally meant to be an analog of me: I never set out thinking, “Yeah, this is me, but if I ended up in a crazy, month long adventure”. At the time, I was writing her as a challenge: finish one thing, and it would mean I could finish anything I set my mind to. Surprisingly, when I did finish, it gave me the strength to do just that: finish things, even if it took time.

Colby was the culmination of all the things I felt that big black girls needed: adventure, an acceptance of self. She was my swan song to the me that hated being fat, to the me that hated being fat and black, to the me that thought other black girls also wanted adventure. It was important to me that I give that adventure and have the black girl win: I gave her winnings in the form of a solid relationship with her mother that was genuinely healthy, a good friend, and the power of being a diety essentially. Certainly, thinking now about the story, there’s massive plot holes to how that all happened, but that wasn’t the point: it was getting that story out of me and out for people to engage with.

Regardless, Colby became me because writing is a part of me: every character takes from their owner, right? Colby was no different. But she was magical because she did something special to me, and made me crave writing again.

(Please search the Gelid tag on the blog. I really love this story because it changed me, and once I wrote it, I finally stopped looking back to my mistakes and started to change my writing to be more self-serving. And hey, if there’s enough interest, Gelid will receive a published rewrite and maybe even an ebook form like I had formerly planned.)

After that, a cork was popped, and I’ve been writing a lot more black girls since. Black folxs I should say as most range from AFAB persons to trans and genderqueer, genderfluid and fully other: dragons who take female form but are just them, otherworldly entities, fae who don’t need human gender roles. Honestly, I feel the momentum is still here even though I had to step back from writing to transition my life to Japan. I’m still writing black girls, though now, my life is influenced by half-Japanese and African-American folxs, writing for an often underserved part of Japanese society.

The fantastical is a powerful thing, you know, and when a pen is your sword, you can do a lot of great things. I wish that younger me had the ability to see that would be our reality one day: yet I’m glad I didn’t because realizing that was sweet, if not hard fought for, and makes writing even more valuable to me.

This year, of course, will bring more black girls, along with Japanese writing, largely because of my new environment. I have plans for many stories with all black fae communities, returns to old characters like Colby (Gelid) and Flavia and Sorrell (Polychromatic (18+), a piece from the wonderful SSBB, which was a dream come true!), a magical girl series called end game that contains black duotagonists, and lots of other stuff. I won’t reveal my entire hand: I want to keep some things close to my chest, but I can say that 2017 –and perhaps the rest of my life– will be the Year of Black Magic, of celebrating my skin through writing, of realizing worlds where real society is tossed out and equality, fairness, and mutuality reign.

I’m going to end this telling you that I’m still a work in progress: a decade of actualized self-hate is not cured by writing some pretty badass black folx overnight, or even in a few years. Loving my blackness, writing my blackness, and living both of those things are a daily effort, and sometimes, it gets beaten down and I feel worthless because ultimately I am a human. I’m not invincible. Yet I still find the ability, day by day, to rise up and be proud of me.

I’m but one of many black writers, but I’ll say that I’m proud: a decade of writing, a decade of The Struggle, and I’ve arrived. I love my life, and especially love my writing. I hope to share it for as long as I can on here, and everywhere for the rest of my life.

Say it loud: Spencer Avery’s Black and Proud!

tl;dr: I won’t ever have an all white story again, and honestly, probably never a story without 96% POC characters. It may be the case that I’m that one writer with the Token White Person in the future: I often wonder if that’ll be true. I don’t mean that in a negative way either: I love writing characters, but I also think it’s important that little black girls and black folxs can see themselves succeed not through strife, but through living in other worlds and engaging with life without having to always Overcome. Strife is not a Black Descriptor: it’s not all we are meant to do. Once I write black, I sure ain’t going back: ugh, that’s the wrong tense, but you get the point. I love writing representation for people who look like me, who are dark brown, darkly toasted, and proud. I don’t know if I ever could stop: the thought makes me rather sad. I hope that 14-year-old me who sought representation in tidbits, in girls like Tally Youngblood who I desperately hoped had an inkling of actual melanin, would be proud: that me would love to know that there are fae and witches, princesses in towers and deities that look like me: black, curled hair, big-brained, and adventurous in whatever they do.

#black history month #bhm2k17 #writing while black #pocharibhm #black writing #black characters #poc characters #think piece

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