Autum Ashante was accepted into the University of Connecticut at age 13.
Stephen R. Stafford II entered Morehouse College at the age 11 with three majors.
Tony Hansberry II at age 14 developed a time reducing method for hysterectomies at Shands Hospital
Honor them by sharing this post.
The most important line in the whole damn song. MESSAGE.
The only historically accurate line in the whole film.
All my life I’ve felt like I was living my life I’m the wrong body. My gender was almost correct (I switched to critical-female last month), but my race and ethnicity was completely wrong. I was born white with pure European ancestry, but I’ve always found myself liking rap music, fried chicken, and I could run really fast. I loved basketball and watermelon has been my favorite scent of all time. As I grew older, society and media taught me that these interests are not typical of a white person such as myself. My interests were more normal for black people. I felt ashamed to eat chicken in front of my family, scared to wear my favorite watermelon body mist, and scared to show my basketball skills on the playground (because I was white and a female and we all know how females aren’t supposed to show their athletic skill in public) When I was in high school I really wanted to join the track team but I was so scary to try out because I knew I would be ridiculed by my white peers for betraying my own race and by my black peers for trying to encroach onto their territory. I allowed my racial dysphoria to dictate my life for too long.
Last week I have came to the realization that just because my skin is white and I am “genetically” (genetics is a social construction) Caucasian, that doesn’t mean I am white. I’m black. All the signs are there and I feel black, therefore, I am trans-black. Yesterday I decided to embrace my new identity and wear blackface out in pubic. I went to the mall so I could buy some outfits that were less white and conservative and guess what… I faced nothing but oppression and ignorance. I was told I was a racist biggot by black and white people. Why wold I be racist against my own race??? I’ve never felt so horrible in my life. People have no idea how much I’ve suffered my whole life, hiding who I really am from everyone. I have no friends of family for support and nobody knows the real me. They have no idea how much courage it took for me to wear my blackface out un public. No, it’s not blackface, it’s my identity. All these cis-ethnic scum degraded me for finally wearing my identity on my face. What I hope to accomplish from this post is to prove to the world that trans-black is real and we have real emotions. So please read and share my story and help me educate the oppressors out there.
It’s not racist, guys. She’s rejecting her whiteness and her privilege!
You go girl. Destroy those power structures!
Tim Wise, if this is your real tumblr I have zero respect for you after this post. As an aspiring sociologists and as a black woman this is sick and disgusting. This privileged little girl is literally stereotyping black people into one dumbass box of hooligans who “love fried chicken, watermelon, playing basketball, and can run fast”. I really did think you were an astute sociologist. It is so beyond disgraceful for you to reblog this. This girl is gonna go right home, wash off her black face and still have her privilege at the end of the day and think that blackness is only those simplistic constructs she discusses. So for you to endorse this garbage is beyond my comprehension. Also trans-black is not a thing. STOP.
The fuck is this?
This is so weird.
A total troll. And a damn racist one to be exact.
When I was 16, I had a fake I.D. and decided to go to a gay bar by myself because some friends bailed on me. While there, an older gentleman bought me a drink. He wasn’t a creeper, and he definitely wasn’t unattractive. I accepted the drink and began talking to him. No big deal. As the hour progressed, I felt myself feeling strange. I mentioned that I felt like I had a headache, and this guy helped guide me out of the bar. As we were walking down the street, the thought of, ‘Oh god, he’s drugged me, I’m going to die’ came to my head. I tried to get away, but I was so drugged up that I could barely walk, let alone speak. It also didn’t help that I had really large ‘goth’ platform shoes because I was going through a phase. Anyway, this guy brought me to his suv and began undressing me. As a final act of defiance, I hit him over the head with my platform shoe. He then punched me, and I remember thinking, ‘Why don’t they ever give workshops to gay guys about being victims of rape too?’ While I was as careful as possible, I never saw the guy slip something in the drink. I even watched the bar tender make the drink. Anyway, I lied there completely paralyzed while this pervert was lubing up. I locked eyes with his for a moment, and that’s when it happened. A very large and angry drag queen opened the door of the vehicle and beat the shit out of my attempted rapist. She and her other drag friends helped dress and care for me while the police arrived. I was saved by a group of guardian drag queens. They were basically the modern day ‘angels from heaven.’
God bless drag queens.
I will always reblog this
Whenever drag queens are present, you best believe they will save the fuckin day.
Oh fuck yes.
If this isn’t on your blog I’m judging you.
Every time a bell rings, a drag queen gets his wings.
God bless drag queen omg