"THE BLACKER THE BERRY THE SWEETER THE JUICE/
I SAY THE DARKER THE FLESH,THEN THE DEEPER THE ROOTS!" ---TUPAC

Monday, May 19, 2014

MALCOLM X QUOTES ON BEING AFRICAN!- FROM YEYEOLADE.WORDPRESS.COM

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MALCOLM X QUOTES

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ON SELF-ACCEPTANCE
We cannot think of being acceptable to others until we have first proven acceptable to ourselves.
Malcolm X Speaks
ON AFRICAN AMERICANS
We’re not Americans, we’re Africans who happen to be in America. We were kidnapped and brought here against our will from Africa. We didn’t land on Plymouth Rock – that rock landed on us.
Malcolm X, Harlem, cited in Goldman, “The Death and Life of Malcolm X”, p.157

One of the things that made the Black Muslim movement grow was its emphasis upon things African. This was the secret to the growth of the Black Muslim movement. African blood, African origin, African culture, African ties. And you’d be surprised – we discovered that deep within the subconscious of the black man in this country , he is still more African than he is American.
Malcolm X, February 14, 1965 (taken from the essay ‘Malcolm X, our revolutionary son & brother.’ by Patricia Robinson
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Sunday, May 18, 2014

BEAUTY! -BLACK ALBINO BEAUTY! -FROM THANK GOD I'M NATURAL ON FACEBOOK


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RHIANNA ATI LIL KIM ARE BLEACHING!-GOD GAVE YOU BEAUTIFUL BLACK SKIN BUT YOU WANNA BE WHITE?-SHAME ON YOU!-DAPADA!-CHANGE BACK TO YOUR BEAUTIFUL BLACK SKIN CAUSE THOSE POISONOUS CHEMICALS ARE GONNA KILL YOU LIKE IT WOULD HAVE KILLED MICHAEL JACKSON-SKIN CANCER,MANY OTHER DISEASES ARE CAUSED BY BLEACHING! -FROM 360NOBS.COM

FROM 360NOBS.COM

Fashion posted by

LET’S ADDRESS A SERIOUS ISSUE: BLEACHING

LET’S ADDRESS A SERIOUS ISSUE: BLEACHING
Bleaching, toning, skin lighting, insert any other term or name you’ve heard. Let’s be brutally honest here, bleaching your skin is BLEACHING no excuses please. You’ve heard the stories of people taking dangerous pills to genetically manipulate the colour pigmentation of their skin, all for looking a tad lighter, or spending hundreds of dollars on spa treatments, creams and body serum to rid your body of its natural melanin.
On a psychological level, it’s beyond fascinating. An individual must be genuinely dissatisfied with the colour of their skin to go out and look for a means through which the colour they were born with can be manipulated. A lot of times we blame it on the images we see on the magazine covers, music videos and editorials. Every day, rap artists pick the Latinas and Hispanic vixens to feature in their videos. The lighter she is, the prettier right? Watching music videos with light skinned girls in them sends a clear message, “There is no place for you if your skin tone doesn’t meet up with the criteria”. Hence, whenever you switch to MTV, you are reminded to do something about your skin tone.
Whenever you open a magazine you are confronted by a perception of beauty that is so fake and extreme, I always wonder how women buy into it. It doesn’t help that we watch our favourite superstars get rid of their natural identity by dipping their hands into a jar of bleaching cream.



Rihanna is one of the many stars that has come under speculation for the drastic change in her skin colour.

Lil kim has been very vocal about her bleaching habits, stating that over the years many men have cheated on her with lighter skin women.  (Am I the only one rolling my eyes?)

Vybz Kartel recently came under fire for bleaching his song and has since inspired many diss songs by fellow Jamaican artists.
Bleaching or toning or whatever it is called these days, is extremely dangerous to the skin and rids the skin of its first protective layer. Once you begin to bleach, your skin can not withstand the UV ray from the sun hence causing more damage. It seems like such a hefty price to pay for the satisfaction of appearing lighter in complexion. I mean what is the problem with us?? As Africans, there is no such thing as being too dark, it is after all OUR identity.
Lucy About Lucy
Make up artist, wardrobe stylist monster. Addicted to the trends, living for fashion and beauty AND lipstick with super powers, faithful blogger who's obsessed with stuffing her face with gummy bears. I personally love people that always have a beauty question for me to answer.
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15 Comments

  • brown
    May 25, 2011 9:43:28 am
    its quite amazing that these examples cited above all looked better with their original skin tone SMH
    Pls dont get me started with us-Naija peeps
    Reply
  • creme
    May 25, 2011 9:57:45 am
    This article is on point…3months ago,i ran into an old classmate and i just walked past.not because i am now a snob but the fact that the last time we shared suya back in school she was a dark beauty and now shez white.she called me and had to tell me who she was and i was like WTH!!! her face looks really nice i must say…but her feet and hands look like shez got pink socks and gloves on with black designs on the knuckle region.Sadly this same friend of mine had a baby recently and had to get stitches.she has been going back to have the stitches done over and over again because her skin is weak due to her *bleaching* and wont hold the thread.The slightest strain on that area causes another tear and her body is pretty messed up right now.y’all better learn.
    Reply
  • Nike
    May 25, 2011 10:54:00 am
    I’m naturally light skinned and up until I moved to Naij, I didn’t really see the big deal about my skin colour ‘cos it doesn’t define who I am. A lot of people ask me what cream I use blah blah and when I tell them, they raise an eyebrow thinking I’m lying…I don’t know what our fascination is with lighter skin, it doesn’t make you better than the next man, it might get you a few attention but that’s all it is…attention! I think India Arie said it in her, you’re not skin people!
    Reply
  • Nike
    May 25, 2011 10:55:19 am
    *song*
    Reply
  • bola
    May 25, 2011 12:43:19 pm
    I dunno about the others but i cant tell u that Rihana cannot be said to have bleached.you should note that most of these celebs use bronzers that make their skin tone darker.
    Reply
  • Chidinma
    village maiden
    May 25, 2011 2:41:47 pm
    @bola na wa for u o! Abi u no sabi bleached skin wen u see one?
    Rihanna don bleach biko…I rem her from her pon de replay and if it’s loving that u want video…n girl that girl used JIK on herself…EOD!
    Ermm Lucy, is it that we don’t have ‘culprits’ abi bleached victims back home?
    Reply
  • Damojo
    May 25, 2011 9:23:50 pm
    CREME, U r a bastard for this comment. U really got me ROTFLMAO.
    Reply
  • its me
    May 26, 2011 12:46:55 am
    bleachin is good. embrace it. im bleachin and i like it. i look so much better now that i wAS b4. i assure u. if u use d right product u will NEVER regret it and if u spend good money on it. ul gt good results. for further enquiries. contact me on 08022907309. a trial will convince u.
    Reply
  • creme
    May 26, 2011 8:02:00 am
    @ITS ME skin cancer is real o
    Reply
  • Chychy
    May 26, 2011 8:44:39 am
    When I was little, I always thought my fair skinned sis & cousins were prettier & it didn’t help that everytime we were all together, people were always appreciating their “beauty”. As I grew I began to appreciate my complexion cos I do not have to worry about acne while my light skinned sisters, well, let’s just say that any little money given is spent on unnecessary skin products. I heal easily which is one exciting part of my dark skin, thanks to my pigment. Will I ever want to “improve” the color of my skin? Hell no! Black indeed is beautiful.
    Reply
  • Chychy
    May 26, 2011 8:47:42 am
    Did I forget to mention that I’m also prettier than my “yellow & almost yellow” sisters now that we’re grown?
    Reply
  • psssst
    May 26, 2011 3:39:02 pm
    i tink ppl can alter the complexion if they want , it is their body .. if the get cancer , i wont go n get chemotheraphy with them , if it is hot and they start to smell .. i dnt care as long as they dont come near me … and i dnt also care n wont compplain as long as they dnt offer me their cream
    Reply
  • Clear
    May 29, 2011 4:16:10 pm
    Toning and bleaching are different!
    Reply
  • Inez
    December 04, 2011 12:14:43 am
    I don’t know what this rap is all about, but I do know one certain thing; when Naija sun tans me I must remove the tan. I need my own complexion not the sunburn I get everyday from going out in the sun.
    Reply
  • YEYE AKILIMALI FUNUA OLADE
    May 18, 2014 2:22:37 pm
    BLEACH AND DIE! IN 20 YEARS OR SO YOU WILL BE DEAD CAUSE YOU CAN’T PUT POISONIOUS CHEMICALS ON YOUR SKIN AND NOT HAVE DEADLY RESULTS OF SKIN CANCER-MICHAEL JACKSON, OR KIDNEY FAILURE OR SO MANY OTHER THINGS THAT WILL KILL YOU! SO IF YOU ARE SO BRAINWASHED TO REJECT YOUR BLACK GOD-GIVEN BEAUTIFUL SKIN,START READING UP ON THE TRUE HISTORY OF THE BLACK RACE FROM THE BLACK EGYPT ON UP AND YOU WILL FIND YOURSELF PRAISING GOD FOR MAKING YOU BEAUTIFUL BLACK! CHECK US OUT AT-www.bleachanddie.blogspot.com!
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Monday, May 5, 2014

BLACK BEAUTY!-TRUE BLACK BEAUTY! -GABOUREY SIDIBE- OUR BLACK SKINNED BEAUTY CRIED HER HEART OUT! --FROM VULTURE.COM

FROM VULTURE.COM

GABOUREY SIDIBE-OUR BLACK SKINNED BEAUTY CRIED HER HEART OUT! --FROM VULTURE.COM






OUR BLACK SKINNED BEAUTY LOOKS MUCH BETTER THAN THIS PALE-ASS-SKINNY-WHITE-GIRL!











Last night's Gloria Awards and Gala, hosted by the Ms. Foundation for Women at Cipriani 42nd Street, doubled as a public 80th birthday party for the great Gloria Steinem, meaning that things got extra festive. In addition to the awards (given to Marissa Nuncio, director of the Garment Worker Center in Los Angeles, and Cathy Raphael, the outgoing chair of the Ms. Foundation board), there were speeches from Chelsea Handler, Amy Schumer, and Gabourey Sidibe, among others. (Also: a cake.) Sidibe's long, wonderful speech — about baking cookies, confidence, and feminism — is transcribed in full below. It is worth your time! (And be sure to check out Amy Schumer's great speech from the same event when you're done.)
I'm so excited to be here. Really, really excited. Okay, I'll get to it. Hi. One of the first things people usually ask me is, "Gabourey, how are you so confident?" I hate that. I always wonder if that's the first thing they ask Rihanna when they meet her. "RiRi! How are you so confident?" Nope. No. No. But me? They ask me with that same incredulous disbelief every single time. "You seem so confident! How is that?"
 
When I was ten years, in the fifth grade, my teacher, Miss Lowe had announced that my class would be having a holiday party right before the Christmas break. She asked if we all could all bring snacks or soda or juice to the class party. She also said we had the option of cooking something, if we like. I was so excited. I immediately decided that I would make gingerbread cookies, and that everyone would love them. I told my mom my plan, and I asked her for money to go buy the ingredients. She thought I should just buy store-bought cookies, but I told her, "Those cookies didn't have enough love in them!" I had to make the cookies. So I bought the mix, and I bought cookie cutters in the shape of Christmas trees and bells, and I made a practice batch of cookies that went horribly wrong. Good thing they were a practice batch. They were awful. And then the night before the party, I made another batch of cookies. And they were also awful, but they looked a lot better. I carefully put the cookies in a Ziplock bag, so I could take them to school the next day. When I got to school that morning, I could not wait until that party. And I was so proud of those cookies, and all the effort I put into making them, I started to think that maybe I wouldn't just be the first woman black President — maybe I would also be a celebrity chef! I mean, why limit myself?
 
The party was set to take place during the last hour of school, and I waited excitedly for it all day long. Finally, it was party time. My teacher asked what everyone brought, and I proudly announced that I had baked cookies for the class. I think I felt prouder knowing that everyone else just bought stuff. I was the only one who made anything, because clearly, I'm a little more clever than anyone else. So as the party starts up, I walk around the class, proudly offering cookies to everyone. No one took a cookie. No one. No one except Nicholas, who was the first person I offered one to. But after a few of our other classmates set him straight, he actually caught up with me as I walked around the class, and gave the cookie back. I walked around the class trying to hand out cookies to my class, until I ended up back at my desk with the same amount of cookies that I started with. I sat at my desk alone, eating those gross gingerbread cookies that took hours to make, all by myself. I put chocolate chips in them, that's why they were gross. I wasn't surprised. I just forgot for a moment that my entire class hated me. I had zero friends from the fourth grade to the sixth grade. Who the hell was I baking cookies for? I really got so excited to bake that I had forgotten that everyone hated my guts. Why didn't they like me? I was fat, yes. I had darker skin and weird hair, yes. But the truth is, this isn't a story about bulling, or color, or weight. They hated me because... I was an asshole!
 
Yep. I was a bossy, bossy asshole. See, remember when I said that I thought I was more clever than everyone else? Well, I did! And I told them that — every single day! Those kids couldn't get a word in edgewise, without me cutting them off to remind them that I was smarter, funnier, and all around wittier than them. I was always sarcastic — I called it my birth defect. And let's face it, kids don't get sarcasm. They don't appreciate it. They never knew what I was talking about. And when they would say, "Wait... huh?" I would say, "My God, Alicia, read a book!" I know. I spoke differently than them, I just did. I sounded more like a Valley Girl than a Brooklyn girl. My classmates always asked me if I was adopted by white people. I'd say, "No. Both my parents went to college." I know that was rude, but I'm still really proud of that. To be fair, in my neighborhood, not everyone's parents had the opportunity to go to college. Most of my classmates' parents were teens when they had them. My parents had me at age 30. My father was born in Senegal. His father was the mayor of the capital city, Dakar, and my dad often took my brother and I back home with him to visit Africa, while most of my classmates had never stepped out of the Lower East Side. My mother was a teacher in high school, that's why I went there, but my mom also had a voice, so when I was nine, she quit her teaching job to go sing in the subway. She actually made more money as a singer for tips than she made as a teacher! I know! And she was quickly becoming the underground version of Whitney Houston. She was the strongest, smartest, and most talented person I had ever known. Even today, I don't want to grow up to be anyone as much as I want to grow up to be her. I know!
 
The point is, I was a snob. I thought I was better than the kids in my class, and I let them know it. That's why they didn't like me. I think the reason I thought so highly of myself all the time was because no one else ever did. I figured out I was smart because my mother would yell at my older brother. She'd say, "Your little sister is going to pass you in school. You're going to get left behind and she's going to graduate before you." But she never said to me, "You are smart." What she did say was, "You are too fat." I got the message that I wasn't pretty, and I probably wasn't normal, but I was smart! Why wouldn't they just say that? "You're smart." It's actually not that hard. My dad would yell at my brother, "Gabourey does her homework by herself! Why can't you?" But he never said to me, "Good job." What he did say was, "You need to lose weight so I can be proud of you." I know. So I got made fun of at school, I got made fun of at home too, my older brother hated me, my dad just didn't understand me, and my mom, who had been a fat girl at my age herself, understood me perfectly ... but she berated me because she was so afraid of what she knew was to come for me. So I never felt safe when I was at home. And my response was always to eat more, because nothing says, "You hurt my feelings. Fuck you!" like eating a delicious cookie. Cookies never hurt me.
 
"Gabourey, how are you so confident?" It's not easy. It's hard to get dressed up for award shows and red carpets when I know I will be made fun of because of my weight. There's always a big chance if I wear purple, I will be compared to Barney. If I wear white, a frozen turkey. And if I wear red, that pitcher of Kool-Aid that says, "Oh, yeah!" Twitter will blow up with nasty comments about how the recent earthquake was caused by me running to a hot dog cart or something.  And "Diet or Die?" [She gives the finger to that]  This is what I deal with every time I put on a dress. This is what I deal with every time someone takes a picture of me. Sometimes when I'm being interviewed by a fashion reporter, I can see it in her eyes, "How is she getting away with this? Why is she so confident? How does she deal with that body? Oh my God, I'm going to catch fat!"
 
What I would say, is my mom moved my brother and I to my aunt's house. Her name is Dorothy Pitman Hughes, she is a feminist, an activist, and a lifelong friend of Gloria Steinem. Every day, I had to get up and go to school where everyone made fun of me, and I had to go home to where everyone made fun of me. Every day was hard to get going, no matter which direction I went. And on my way out of the house, I found strength. In the morning on the way out to the world, I passed by a portrait of my aunt and Gloria together. Side by side they stood, one with long beautiful hair and one with the most beautiful, round, Afro hair I had ever seen, both with their fists held high in the air. Powerful. Confident. And every day as I would leave the house... I would give that photo a fist right back. And I'd march off into battle. [She starts crying] I didn't know that I was being inspired then. On my way home, I'd walk back up those stairs, I'd give that photo the fist again, and continue my march back in for more battle. [She pulls a tissue from her cleavage and dabs her eyes] That's what boobs are for! I didn't know I was being inspired then, but I was. If they could feel like that, maybe I could! I just wanted to look that cool. But it made me feel that strong.
 
So, okay, we're back in fifth grade, and I just had been rejected by 28 kids in a row. And I was sitting alone at my desk, with an empty Ziplock bag, crumbs in my lap, and I was at this great party that I had waited for all week. I waited all week for this party that I wasn't invited to. And for some reason I got up, I sat on my desk, and I partied my ass off. I laughed loudly when something funny happened. And when Miss Lowe put on music, I was one of the first ones to get up and dance. I joined the limbo, and ate chips, and drank soda, and I enjoyed myself, even though no one wanted me there. You know why? I told you — I was an asshole! I wanted that party! And what I want trumps what 28 people want me to do, especially when what they want me to do is leave. I had a great time. I did. And if I somehow ruined my classmates' good time, then that's on them. "How are you so confident?" "I'm an asshole!" Okay? It's my good time, and my good life, despite what you think of me. I live my life, because I dare. I dare to show up when everyone else might hide their faces and hide their bodies in shame. I show up because I'm an asshole, and I want to have a good time. And my mother and my father love me. They wanted the best life for me, and they didn't know how to verbalize it. And I get it. I really do. They were better parents to me than they had themselves. I'm grateful to them, and to my fifth grade class, because if they hadn't made me cry, I wouldn't be able to cry on cue now. [Dabs tears] If I hadn't been told I was garbage, I wouldn't have learned how to show people I'm talented. And if everyone had always laughed at my jokes, I wouldn't have figured out how to be so funny. If they hadn't told me I was ugly, I never would have searched for my beauty. And if they hadn't tried to break me down, I wouldn't know that I'm unbreakable. [Dabs tears] So when you ask me how I'm so confident, I know what you're really asking me: how could someone like me be confident? Go ask Rihanna, asshole!
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