Originally appeared here, mamusa writes as if she were the President of the United States.
Morning ladies and gentlemen. I’m sorry to carry such bad news today. But one particular group of American voters has reached an alarming crisis situation. Though we saw it coming, we never prepared for this.
For now, and in these troubled times, never mind that the group represents the majority of new Hiv/Aids cases in the States or suffers more deaths from late-stage cancers than any other US demographic. And until I leave office, let’s pretend that 60 percent of this group’s child-rearing households are not single-parented and totally stumped about their kids’ college financial plans.
Please America, fear not what we know. Rather, fear what we have yet to learn.
Today, some spin-doctors say the most pressing threat to our democracy is this so-called rise of anti-American sentiment spawned from our errant and vicious displacement and killing of enough Iraqis to fill one-and-a-half-Manhattans—roughly 2,280,000 terrorists.
That’s just not true America. In fact, our biggest menace can only be described in a question. In God’s name…
Between Barack and Hillary, how could the black female voter possibly choose a presidential candidate without abandoning her tribal loyalties?
Even Asians like Margaret Cho are concerned for the black woman especially since “there are too many people running.”
How torn and weak must this typically strong-headed black female voter be, I imagine, and without the slightest clue where to bank her cash-only political agenda.
I mean, let’s consider her needs: her 9-5, her cranky kids, her bloated ankles, and pricey hair-care products. Think about it: will the answer to her nightly, beautifully sung gospel prayers be a black man who embodies her dream for racial equity in the economy; or will it be a white woman who represents her struggle for reproductive rights—after all, fewer unwanted children equals less crime. And what about her fight to triple her pregnancy-leave days? More than anything, she’s got Hillary’s back right? A recent study proves there’s a primal yet unspoken bond between women who’ve both taken back their cheating dog of a man.
Still America, all votes aren’t in yet. And though a small society of Super people will decide this election, we must assure the black women votes. Quick, we must meet her where she is—competing feverishly on American Idol and “just lookin”-shopping in upscale malls. Forget surveying a massive, random sample of black women—one or two perspectives will be just fine.
And journalists, you have a special, challenging duty ahead of you. First, you must not resort to your collegiate lexicon in reporting. Speak in her language. And whenever you interview a notable, A-list celebrity black woman, throw her a curve (basket) ball. One minute, inquire about Iran and China. Then as she scrambles for nouns and verbs, suddenly smack down the race and gender cards. Only then, I believe, will her knee-jerk reaction reveal the ancient secrets of black women’s triple consciousness—where sex, color, and salary oppressions meet for a big dance-off.
And please, don’t be scerrred if the black woman tries to talk family values and issue. Just do anything to stop her: go to commercial, turn off the recorder, jump up and yell “Clearance sale at Payless!” Finally, before she sprints out the door, promptly inform her of her group’s rights to remain ignorant.
After all, white women can vote for Barack because he prioritizes children in his health care plan.
But black women can vote for Barack only because his face reminds them of a delicious peanut m-n-m.
And for her male counter-parts, lest we forget:
White men never shape political policy around race and gender.
But black men, when they can vote, measure the candidates’ array of black cultural accoutrements and then decide which candidate who’s betta suited foh a brotha.
With that said America, we can turn this crisis around in 2008.
In the mean time, I’d like to thank everyone for supporting this great nation.
Thank you citizens, thank you Mexicans, and God Bless African-America.