#sgg manifesto

[secretgoongrrl]

this is, at its core, a raceplay blog.

I'm a white trans girl who grew up in a very white part of the U.S. Inevitably, even with very liberal and well-intentioned parents, I developed a type of racism that a lot of white people my age are carrying around whether they realize it or not: the fetishizing of Blackness, both Black culture and Black people's bodies themselves. I've grown a lot and done some actual atoning since I was young and stupid, but I have never been able to escape the core of it: a combination of racial fetishization and white guilt that makes submitting to Black dom/mes extremely hot.

some people believe their Black supremacy kink -- whether they call it "BBC," "Blacked," "BNWO," etc. -- isn't racist. those people are wrong. Raceplay is racist, no matter what; the problem is, that's pretty much exactly what makes it hot. in one direction or another, raceplay involves the erotic re/enactment of racism for the pleasure of, hopefully, all parties involved. it is a sexual expression of racial tensions and anxieties that still linger in our brains, even if we rationally know better and conduct ourselves with respect in all other aspects of our lives.

I also think raceplay gets a bad rap for a good reason. white people who engage in it tend to behave so shittily to others -- people in their scenes, people who they drag in without their consent, etc. -- that even PoC who would otherwise be interested in playing with them are instead repelled, traumatized, and quickly distance themselves from the kink. again, this is true for white people who claim to love the "BNWO" and Black supremacy play just as much as those who like "bleached" stuff and whose fetish content plays on actual white supremacy. a lot of people focus only on Black men and talk shit about Black women, and then don't even respect any part of the Black men they "worship" except their cocks. the trend of referring to Black men as "a BBC" in particular is so deeply fucked up and I wish it would go away. (at least call it his.)

having spoken extensively and played with Black raceplay enthusiasts in particular (both dom and sub), this whole dynamic really sucks, because a lot of us this feel that this kink really can help provide an outlet for frustrations with ourselves, others, and society. (apart from race revelations, i've also seen raceplay help people better understand their sexual orientation and process real abuse, but that's another post.) it requires a fuckton of negotiation and cultivating actual respect, but I don't think consensual raceplay is uniquely harmful, despite its somewhat deservedly negative reputation.

so that's where I'm coming from in making this blog. in sum, i mostly want this page to be an exploration of Black supremacy and white inferiority, presented as ethically as I'm capable of. I used to blog about this on cohost, but now I am giving Tumblr one more shot. I'm also on pillowfort as secretgoongirl.

blocks are expected and respected. if any of the above intrigues or excites you, on the other hand: hit up my asks, you reprehensible bigots.

[diceriadelluntore]

In Sospeso

Quanto siano sciagurati i puntini ce lo dice questa modesta serie di variazioni che raccontano che cosa sarebbe accaduto alla nostra letteratura se gli scrittori fossero stati timidi. “Sao ko kelle terre, per kelle fini que ki contene trenta anni le possette…parte Sancti Benedicti”. “Laudato si’, mi’ Signore, per…sora luna e le stelle.” “Come a la selva…augello in la verdura”. “S’i fosse…foco, arderei lo mondo.” “Nel mezzo…del cammin di nostra vita.” “Santissimo e carissimo e…dolcissimo padre in Cristo dolce…Gesù.” “Qual sulle trecce bionde ch’…oro forbito e…perle, eran quel dì a vederle.” “Era questo frate Cipolla di persona piccolo, di pelo rosso e lieto nel viso e il miglior…brigante del mondo.” E via via, sino a “L’anno…moriva, assai dolcemente” e “Io ero, quell’inverno, in preda ad…astratti furori”. E pazienza per la brutta figura che quei Grandi avrebbero fatto. Ma si noti che l’inserzione dei puntini, esprimendo timore per l’arditezza del parlar figurato, può anche essere usata per indurre al sospetto che sia figura retorica un’espressione che pare pianamente letterale. Facciamo un esempio. Il Manifesto dei comunisti del 1848 inizia, come è noto, con “Uno spettro si aggira per l’Europa”, e ammetterete che è un gran bell’incipit. Pazienza se Marx ed Engels avessero scritto “Uno…spettro si aggira per l’Europa”, semplicemente avrebbero messo in dubbio che il comunismo fosse cosa così terribile e imprendibile, forse la rivoluzione russa sarebbe stata anticipata di cinquant’anni, magari col beneplacito dello zar, e ci avrebbe partecipato anche Mazzini. Ma se avessero scritto “Uno spettro si…aggira per l’Europa”? Allora non si aggira? Sta? E dove sta? O è che gli spettri, spettri essendo, appaiono e scompaiono di colpo, in un battibaleno, e non perdon tempo ad aggirarsi? Ma non finisce qui. E se avessero scritto “Uno spettro si aggira…per l’Europa? Avrebbero voluto dire che stavano esagerando, che lo spettro cara grazia se circolava per Treviri, e gli altri potevano stare ancora tranquilli? O avrebbero alluso al fatto che lo spettro del comunismo già stava ossessionando anche le Americhe e, vedessi mai, l’Australia?

Umberto Eco, Secondo diario minimo, Bompiani, 1992 pagina 147 e sgg.