Meet Ebony Brown, a writer I hope will be contributing to this website frequently, at least until she gets picked up by the Washington Examiner. This is a young lady to watch…
Black, Stacked and Republican
Recently in very casual conversation, a colleague informed me that I was “quite the unicorn.” This was particularly odd because it never occurred to me that there was anything peculiar about the respectable woman that I presented to others—at least not such a grand difference that would instantaneously nominate me as a rarity. So, I suppose it was happenstance that a young, conservative, female black American millennial would eagerly encounter what a clear majority would deem as an alternative-right wing blog.
I’ll also assume that those whom frequent this website have (rightfully) formulated a multitude of adverse opinions regarding black Americans and the black community, based on their (your) valid life experiences –that’s okay. I’m not here to greet you with hatred, disdain, or guilt trip you into providing reparations for “my people”. I’m here to share my experiences as a triple minority in our glorious country and to simply express my gratitude for the patriarchy, conservatism and white America.
I spawn from a shitty, dysfunctional family and broken household. My mother has two failed marriages and three psychologically damaged children as pervasive evidence that she was at best a subpar provider and an awful nurturer. Unfortunately, she fell prey to the third wave feminist dogma that encouraged her to abandon the oppressive male (my devoted and loving white stepfather) that refused to tolerate her headstrong domineering ways and thus indirectly became responsible for her children living barely above the state poverty line. In short, my childhood sucked ass. By 17, I would be relentlessly bullied for my deep brown complexion (colorism is a huge issue within the black community), tirelessly berated for speaking “like a white girl”, and verbally and physically abused by my peers for not socializing with enough of “my people”. A fact, the only positive notion associated with my childhood were my academic accomplishments. I was that token black teenager that occupied the largest table in the public library with research materials, enrolled in every AP course that was permitted, and was always that one exceptional student that teachers would gladly spend an additional two hours past their work schedule to ensure that I could make up any assignments missed, since many were aware that I was responsible for rearing my siblings.
Though accepted to several prestigious colleges and universities for stellar academic performance (and let’s be honest, being black didn’t hurt), I didn’t immediately go to college for the following reasons:
- No specific major in mind
- No genuine adult experiences outside of maintaining the home (not even a job)
- “Strong and Independent” mother failed to provide any of her children with an outline as to how to navigate life
In retrospect, it was a blessing in disguise. Shortly after a cross country road trip I would meet the man who would become my husband. And though a remarkably intelligent, approachable man with classic Italian features… he’d have a difficult time wooing me. It wasn’t a matter of personal attraction or lack of similar interests, it was simply because a foolish credo that many black women live their lives by: The quality black woman is to remain on reserve for a black man. She is often coerced into entering ANY relationship that would result in the reproduction of a black child (notice I didn’t state black family). The burden is specifically placed on black women to continue the survival of the black race—and the pressure is enormous! It’s true that majority roughly 88%, of black men marry black women (when they do marry), however black men are often encouraged to thrive and explore their options. This same standard doesn’t apply to black women. The pale mister and I learned this the hard way. I’ve been called an array of colorful things including:
- Race traitor
- Uppity nigger/Uppity negro
- White folk’s nigger
- White man’s whore (my personal favorite)
- Silver medal—implying that a white woman would be a gold medal (at least there’s thought behind that one)
Let it be stated that every one of the insults hurled in my direction have come from black people. The people of liken complexion, experiences, and ancestral background. These are the same people that blindly support the democratic party with their votes; even though most black people think conservatively or will agree with conservative views behind closed doors! Why? Simply because liberalism has successfully conditioned blacks to believe that the republican party, is the party of black oppression championed solely by angry, wealthy, old white men. Couple this with a third of black men incarcerated (at any given time in their lives) and unable to provide as husbands and fathers, add a predominately feminized and government aided household due to the absenteeism of men, then you too can obtain that glorious sweet spot that Hillary Clinton thought would surely propel her into the white house. Oh, wait—it didn’t. We trumped that bitch.
I was proudly part of the 4-8% (depending on the source) of college educated black women that voted for Trump and I occupy a small space amongst the 2% of American blacks that are registered as republicans. Obviously, I don’t give a damn about having friends. I openly detest race baiting black intellectuals such as Michael Eric Dyson or so called black academics like Marc Lamont Hill—whom boldly stately that President Trump selected “a bunch of mediocre negroes” to address the concerns of the diminishing black community. Fuck ‘em both.
I’ve rejected many black expectations, and in doing so I lead a fulfilling life. Acting “white” has led me to educational advancement, to financial comfort, to finding the man of my dreams while still in my twenties. I am thankful for all penalties administered from the self-appointed black policing administration while associating with white people. The most imperative lesson I’ve learned while experiencing life off the plantation is this: Black America teaches black youth how to survive and maintain what they believe was rationed out to them by white America. White America teaches ALL youth how to flourish and prosper beyond their original circumstances, regardless of their socioeconomic class or background.
Until next time,