This morning, during my routine perusal of the Internet, I came across an article about Katy Perry’s Prismatic tour. Folks were all in their feelings about Perry’s dancers, who looked like caricatures of Black women. Katy donned a baby blue dress embellished with an ankh and the eye of Horus, while her dancers wore hoop earrings, padded body suits with protruding body parts, sunglasses and short black wigs. All they were missing were nameplates that read Bonequesha. Then it dawned on me, their costumes are mummy wraps. Oh. They’re mummies, not Bonequeshas…Duh. (Catch my sarcasm?)
Must Read: I’m Not Here For Miley’s Antics
It’s ridiculous at best, yet I don’t feel compelled to start a Twitter revolution or write a think piece about it. Am I losing my Black card? Am I broken? No. I’m just over mainstream artist’s (a la Miley Cyrus) misguided cultural appropriation and the people who are so offended every time it happens.
As a Black woman, there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t encounter an extra stare on the train, an in-depth glance from a stranger attempting to trace my hair to its root. I am fully aware that the White person next to me probably judged me based on the music they overheard from my ear buds.
I have a choice. Do I wallow every time a White woman turns the diamond in her wedding ring to face inward? No. I go on about my day because if I focused on every subtle bit of racism in the world, I’d be more concerned with living life under a microscope than making it to work on time. It’s OK to be offended. I was recently offended by the woman who breastfed her baby in her graduation gown on the lawn of her college graduation, but I didn’t spread it to the masses.
Being offended is OK, but we don’t need a think piece about it every time. M’ kay. Thanks!