So this morning on my way to work, I decided to do my daily perusal of the Twitterverse. You know – see what’s poppin’ on #BlackTwitter, who dropped a new album (hint: this chick did. and it’s phenomenal), which of my friends went to the gym today (hint: none of them).
During said leisurely morning reads, I stumbled across this little gem:
*Insert eye roll here*
Listen – I’m all for this movement. I spent far, far too many years of my life starving myself and
flat-ironing burning my curls to try and look like Kate Moss.
I never quite got that look down. So am I mad about the fact that suddenly, everybody wants a derriére? Not even a little bit. For curvy women, it’s a glorious time to be alive.
You know what I am mad about though?
The audacity of Vogue to laud them as the women who heralded in the “era of the big butt”. As if hundreds of thousands of women of color didn’t struggle to pull clothes over their child-bearing hips and ample posteriors long before Iggy Azalea woke up one morning and bought herself an ass. As if Jennifer Lopez is the only woman of color in the game with an ass. As if the booty wasn’t admired and desired long, long before Kim Kardashian posted hers on Instagram.
What about Erykah Badu? What about Tracee Ellis Ross? Or Selena? Serena Williams? Or any of the millions of other women who flaunted, shook, and embraced their curves long before Jen-effing-Selter began taking “belfies” (that word actually makes me gag a little)? Are y’all effing kidding me?! We’ve been hip to the game. “Take the average black man and ask him that – she gotta pack much back!” (Thank you, Sir Mix-A-Lot).
Look. I’m not mad that y’all came late to the party and suddenly want to tell your friends how dope it is. That’s cool, tell everybody. But give credit where credit is due. If I show up to your fancy dinner party, have a grand old time eating your food, and the next day wrote a piece in the New York Times about how good your guest’s dinner party was, you’d be pissed. Understandably so. You were the one who dropped 1G on food, the one who spent all morning in the kitchen cooking and then all evening cleaning. All your friend did was show up and eat some food. And now your guest is getting write-ups in the NY Times and making millions off of it!
See why I’m mad?
All Kim Kardashian/Iggy Azalea/Jen Selter/etc. has done is plop her ass down and profit off the assets (pun intended) that women of color have had for ages. We have been paraded around, mocked, deemed unattractive and unworthy, and used as props for decades. We’ve been taught to hate our bodies and our full figured curves. So for Vogue to declare it’s “officially” time to celebrate those same assets because now some white girls went and made it “cool”? Tuh.
columbused discovered” the big booty and conveniently just erased the “color” from it. Oh yeah, they name drop a few necessary women of color (I’m looking at you, Beyonce and Nicki). But by and large, we are removed from the equation; the word “African-American” is darted around, the author blithely coins 2014 as the era of the “big booty” without nary an acknowledgement of the fact that appreciation for curvy women has been around a hell of a lot longer than Vogue has chosen to acknowledge us. “Still, it would be another decade before people were “ready for this jelly” to become the ultimate standard of beauty.” Shawty, what? Let’s just call a spade a spade, shall we? White folks at Vogue have suddenly realized that “hey, maybe you can be attractive and not wear a size 00”. *round of applause*
So fine. Y’all have realized that asses are indeed fabulous and now you all want to inject botox into your rears and take belfies. Do you, boo. But for heaven’s sake. Title your article some shit like “Today I Woke Up and Realized That I Can No Longer Deny That Women of Color are Dope as F*ck (But I’m Still Gonna Try)”. That would be more accurate a description.