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White womanhood wins again. Her victim, Terence Crutcher, will be legally remembered as some thing so fear inducing as to deserve being killed. The only person with means to enact the more immediate, grievous harm was this white woman, Betty Shelby.

Police officers ultimately choose to engage. They can decide to enter into a situation that is scary or not. White people have this option. Life for us, Black peoples, is scary. John Crawford, Reykia Boyd, and Tamir Rice never knew what they’d done to warrant being shot. Aiyana Jones may not have ever even known she was hit. She was here; and then not.

But with these realities, and in this world, Black men’s fear doesn’t register. We are fearless, not because we are thought to be that courageous but because we are thought to be mindless and only capable of manifesting base desires. Being feared removes the possibility of being afraid. And perhaps, even here, I’m being generous in my assessment. Black male fear doesn’t register because being, itself, is not a possibility while living in Black skin. There is not-being and existing as nothing. We live as shadows, vaguely resembling something like a body, but ultimately, a projection. The white imagination is an unfamiliar and harsh source of light.

White femininity, however, is a convenient position of “less-ness” and is treasured as the passive wing of patriarchal power. While not able to contribute to the structuring of systems, they are not removed from and will not divorce themselves of the ability to wield their men, real men, men with “cocks” that mean something, against Black men. White women partner with white men as ever imperiled damsels. The imagined “forever” threat, posed by Black men is reason enough for violence to be visited on the entirety of our populace. They provide the impetus, but keep clean hands.

White women wield their men’s penises as though they were their own. Betty Shelby is a daughter of the creators of this world; white judges, politicians, clergy, academics. Nestled comfortably in the legacies of brutal, penised people, she walks free. Another one of our bodies is committed to the ground, the archive; added to the foundation of America.

Identify your enemy correctly. There is no such thing as a Black man having a dominant position with a white woman. Not in the bed or on the street, unarmed and standing outside of your car. The “cock” she wields by proxy is much more powerful than our dicks, and no amount of lying to ourselves will change that. There is no terror brought to the white man by the thing you think makes you a man. Betty Shelby out dicked us.

Our brotha got nine hours of deliberation.


Story here.

About The Author


In all he does, Preston is unapologetically Black and has the utmost faith in Blackness. He is a creative with a very soft spot for children also having founded Sonus Village, a community that centers the voices of children and gives them the tools, room, and safety to advocate for themselves and the world they want to build. He's the lead singer of Socialite with which he loves to perform (of course he does...he's a Leo). He's a budding adventurer and spends his leisure pouring over essays and books in critical race theory to ponder Blackness, Indigeneity, marronage, and radical/revolutionary thought and divestment.

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