D’Angelo’s “Untitled” is on BET, your forehead pressed against the screen trying to look down, praying there’s a few more inches of TV. you don’t know what drives you to press your skin to the screen filled with his skin but you let yourself be driven, be hungry, be whatever this is when no one is around. you don’t know what a faggot is but you know a faggot would probably be doing this. you don’t know what a faggot is but you know you might be one. You don’t know what you are but you know you shouldn’t be. but you know that when D’Angelo sings how he sings looking how he looks, inside you something breaks open & then that odd flood of yes, a storm you can’t call a storm but the wind sounds like your name.
The first friend I made in Elizabeth, New Jersey was a white kid named Billy. As a New York transplant my Dominicano look wasn’t too popular with Jersey folk. I had an afro, wore dress pants, a collared shirt, and black leather shoes with little gold buckles. Most of the kids just wanted to know what my thing was. Billy and I couldn’t have been more different, but we got close pretty quickly. Despite the fact that Billy’s parents wouldn’t allow him over my house, my grandmother allowed me over his. She took one look at Billy’s blonde hair and blue eyes, and at his mother’s middle class American manners, and pronounced their household safe. “Where are you from?” Billy’s mother asked, referring to my grandmother’s heavy accent. “I thought you were black.” On that day I couldn’t have imagined how many times I’d have to answer that question in my lifetime. “We’re Dominican.”
According to TMZ, Rachel Dolezal—the former Spokane, Wash. NAACP leader who lied for years about being black—is a frequent customer at Spokane’s Palm Beach Tan, where she gets spray tans to darken her skin. Well, of course. TMZ’s source says Dolezal prefers the “medium” shade of the Mystic Tan brand.
There has been much ado about the newfound notion of “black gay privilege.” In numerous tweets, blogs, and a certain Huffington Post article, it has been articulated as a special benefit enjoyed by black gay men. This “privilege”— produced by white anxiety and white supremacy—supposedly enables us to evade the traditional economic struggles experienced by straight black men.
Three months ago, I sat in my bed frustrated with myself. I was upset at all the life choices I'd made up until this point. Physically and mentally exhausted, I ran out to get an energy drink; I'd needed a caffeine-enriched charge to help meet a deadline. And then it happened: later, rushing to the bathroom, I tripped and went hip-first into my desk, knocking the energy drink onto my laptop, its red liquid bleeding into my keyboard.
Holy Mount Zion, a soccer team in England's all-Jewish Maccabi Southern Football League, has been suspended from league play for, it seems, fielding non-Jewish players and pretending they were Jews. The team had apparently been under suspicion for some time, and was asked by the league to "provide proof" that all its players were, in fact Jewish; they were ultimately done in by a Facebook photo in which supposed Jews "Danny Potter" and "Simon Laub" were tagged as—and revealed as—"Mariusz Mielniczuk, a Polish-born personal trainer, and Javier Guevara, a banker who had previously studied and worked in Bogota." (A referee had previously suspected something was up when players called "Danny" "Mariusz" on field, and also when "Danny" didn't know his own birthday.) The manager has admitted to the ruse, but questions remain, The Jewish Chronicle reports: