So this past summer I decided to get a grindr (a gay dating app) and this dude hit me up he was fine as hell and had muscles. So we meet up and we fucked and it turned into like a summer thing. So the school year starts and the nigga my p.e teacher
Take a facet of crime, and then look at television shows/movies that feature those criminals as protagonists.
White serial killers.
White political corruption
White drug dealers
I mostly want to talk about this as a TV phenomenon, but pick a crime, any crime, and Western media has probably made a movie/TV series/play/etc. with a white person that romanticizes the criminal activity. No matter what, a white person can do whatever terrible crimes and still have a TV/movie fanbase that loves them.
When you see black or brown people committing crimes on screen, you are to see them thugs and criminal masterminds and people to be beat down.
When you see white people committing crimes on screen, you see a three-dimensional portrait of why someone might commit that crime, how criminals are people too, and how you should even love them for the crimes that they commit because they’re just providing for their families or they’ve wronged or they’re just people and not perfect. This is particularly a luxury given to white male characters, since there few white female criminals as protagonists.
If and of the above shows were about black or brown folks, there would be a backlash of (white) people claiming that TV and movies are romanticizing criminals and are treating them too much like heroes and that it will affect viewers and encourage violence and “thuggish” behavior. And yet fictional white criminals get to have a deep fanbase who loves these white criminals, receive accolades and awards, get called amazing television that portray the complexities of human nature. Viewers of these characters see past the atrocious crimes and into their humanity, a luxury that white characters always have while characters of color rarely do. The closest that mainstream TV has come to showing black criminals as main characters is probably The Wire, and even then, the criminals share equal screen time and equal status as main characters as the police trying to stop them.
The idea that crime can be so heavily romanticized and glorified to such a degree is undoubtedly a privilege given to white characters. The next time you hear someone talk about Dexter Morgan or Walter White in a positive way, it may be an opportunity to rethink how white people can always able to be seen as people no matter what they do, while everyone else can be boiled down to nothing but a criminal.
I always felt extremely uncomfortable with this trope because, not only is it racist, but it tends to feed into the already too common propensity society has to humanize, romanticize and exonerate irrevocably terrible white men. Like if you’re a white man and you commit awful crimes, you will likely go down in history as a legendary celebrity and historical figure
Fuck I look like eating pussy nigga, Square up nigga
My nigga you have lost your way
EATING PUSSY IS THE GREATEST THING A YOUNG NIGGAS MOUTH CAN EXPERIENCE
Pussy in ya mouf is like the cool side of the pillow on a summer night
Pussy taste sweeter than the last piece of halloween candy
Pussy feel better in ya mouth than the perfect clap back when a nigga try to violate you
PUSSY TASTE BETTER THAN COOKIE DOUGH OREOS NIGGA
The great philosopher Leon Lewis once said
"A real nigga eating pussy cause i like cat A real nigga sucking pussy cause i likes dat Licked her so slow I licked her so deep She said you eat pussy but you can’t out-eat me I eat the pussy cause i love to make the hoes cum You blessed with the dick I’M BLESSED WITH THE TONGUE”
EATING PUTHY IS IN THE 10 #TMG COMMANDMENTS
RIGHT IN BETWEEN “THERES NO SHAME IN A MAGNIFYING GLASS” AND “NAIR IS YOUR FRIEND”
Here it is: You have been touched so many times that a hand on your back doesn’t make you flinch anymore. Your legs spread effortlessly, your lips bloom, your hands turn to waterfalls.
We were seated across from each other, having a conversation about the weather, when his hand slipped under the table. Your eyes widened for a second and then you went right back to spitting up thunderstorms and floods.
I wonder the last time you were touched and felt something; when you didn’t just close your eyes, lie back, and hope it’d be over soon. You’ve told me story after story about the bedrooms you’ve seen. Boys who lived with their mothers. Men with shiny, modern lofts overlooking screaming cities. Women who decorated with candles and stacks of books. I wonder when you last brought someone into your bedroom and let them see something besides the smooth insides of your thighs. When they saw your journals, your dog-eared books, your photographs, your thoughts.
You are better at the language of sex than love. I get it. Sex is simple. The game of “grab your clothes and go” always plays out the same. There are rules and restrictions in it: don’t ask them to breakfast first, don’t leave anything behind, don’t text back, don’t get attached. Sex, when it’s just sex, is easy. It’s nothing. And that’s fine. But being wanted is one thing and being loved is another, and I wonder now if you say “I love you” with a shut mouth, shut eyes, and open thighs.