Dear Miley, Keep Your Fucking Hands to Yourself

The more I think about it, the angrier I get. I plan to write a more detailed post about it soon, but suffice it to say that I am NOT. HAPPY. about Miley Misappropriatin' Cyrus manhandling that woman's ass on stage. It was triggering as fuck to me, and here's why:

I have had white people I barely know feel like they can do what they please with my body. I have had my ass slapped in: gym class, the lunch line, at work (by both coworkers and by a gang of white children I was supposed to be in charge of at the time). I have had people make unsolicited comments about my ass, rate my ass, and once my supervisors at a camp I was working at took a picture of my ass in a bathing suit and then showed that picture during the big end-of-summer slideshow. All of the white counselors had multiple pictures of them hanging with the kids, or doing fun/funny things. I, one of the very few WoC counselors, got a picture of my ass on the big screen. It was mortifying.

So sorry Miley, I don't give a much shit about your unbreathable latex panties or the angle of your lolling tongue, or even how shitty your music is. That's on you- you do you and it's none of my business. What IS my business is how you treat the people in your employ and the message that sends to black and brown women about their worth. About their "rank" in the bodily autonomy food-chain. About how they can expect to be exploited by even their supposed sisters-in-arms. You wanna be down with black folk? With black women? Start by treating us like human beings, not like fucking pokemon. Learn more about the history of the people you borrow from, so you can avoid that Sarah Baartman shit. And, for God's sake, keep your fucking hands to yourself.