People get ready, The DaddiGirl Griot is coming out of the gate with a Bitches Brew so strong, that it’s guaranteed to ruffle some feathers and blow some minds, as I testify my intention to neutralize the sexist, misogynist and racist notions that now claim, “gender identity issues and oppression trumps, sex-based oppression.” The current radical feminist movement has been dubbed nothing more than “a cackling floc of henpecking Trans, exclusionary, radical feminists” or TERF’s for short.

“Damn that dyke! There she goes again, picking at our cancerous sores infected with misogyny. Didn’t she get the memo? Folks is tired from hearing all that flack about patriarchies systematic raping of the land and its people!” No worries, a sister can relate, I know it’s a lot of pressure because patriarchy demands our silence and collusion with its methods. News flash earthlings, this struggle is all about our survival, our sustainability.

Whether you burst through the waters of your birth mother’s womb or you were surgically removed from that sacred portal, you came to this planet naked, covered in blood and slime. Someone or something was there to greet you, when you took your first breath. Was your arrival prepared for? Were you greeted with love and affection? Were you born into chaos? Did you experience any birth trauma? No matter the circumstances of your terrestrial arrival, your bio-chemical machine began recording life’s experiences through memories, sensations, movement, sounds, vibrations, dreams, emotions, taste and touch.

Do you remember your first disappointments? Santa Claus wasn’t real, daddy didn’t show up again, nobody liked my outfit, or your guardians couldn’t afford to feed you. That beautiful brain of yours, took in all that information and promptly outsourced your reactions to some part of the body. Maybe you shed crocodile tears, felt a pain in your heart, fell sick or were ready to whip some ass. Regardless, the cardiovascular, endocrine and central nervous systems played a vital role, in you feeling your humanity.

When did you first discover that magic little button called the clitoris that swelled when you got excited? Do you remember when you woke up with your first hard on and how your member throbbed? Once again, our beautiful brains outsourced these responses. Perhaps you had no inhibitions and wanked off, shamed yourself, shared the good news or started asking questions. No matter the path taken, an intimate relationship with one’s self or another person, involves some serious electrical engineering between the reproductive system, pituitary gland, the heart and that damn brain, that can’t decide to go for it or shut down those emotions, cause love stinks!

Who perpetrated the first trauma against you? Who did you tell? Who listened? Who healed you? “Ease up DaddiGirl, you may trigger some of your readers repressed memories!” I can’t help but create a sense of empathy with my audience, before dishing out pearls of wisdom.

I moved to the San Francisco Bay area in 1987. For those who didn’t know, this was one of the flyest places to live if you were a lesbian of color. The bay area was a international epicenter for all things Black, female and lesbian. Clubs, conferences, activities, businesses, publications and the arts were being promoted, housed and distributed with the Black lesbians political, social, spiritual and sexual preferences in mind. I was also blessed to sit in the classrooms of Black lesbian leaders like Angela Davis and Audre Lorde, who educated women about the validity of Black feminism and what it meant to live within a lesbian consciousness.

The regular caressing my woman’s breasts and basking in her creamy filling, coupled with the language of Black feminism; pried open, then relentlessly unpacked my baggage of silence, rage, disappoint and fear. Learning the true story of the African woman’s kidnapping, our global selling and the atrocities set forth by generations of an ancestral pandemic, rife with self-loathing, mistrust, and emotional toxicity, changed my life. Finally, I knew my origin story and vowed to maintain the critical thinking and emotional courage, required to face the patriarchal demons, lies and curses that took up lodging in my bones and spirit.

Now might be a good time to run and grab that shovel because I’m about to shoot some serious shit.

As a Black, lesbian, female, born in America, I’m not afforded the luxury of getting to play the “I can’t pretend this shit isn’t real game.” Within the sectors of society that govern the law, economy, religion, health, education and family, the Black women is keenly aware of being finely groomed to consider everyone else’s needs first, take ourselves out of the game or see ourselves as less than. Black females know all too well, that narrative set to repeat. “Too Black, too loud, too cold, too big, too skinny, too dark, too light, secretive, repressed, hyper sexual, temptress, always angry, why don’t you smile, pussy’s too smelly to eat, but fucking in the asshole is just fine, bridge builder, Black Mammy, superhero, ride or die bitch.

Since it’s barbaric inception, patriarchy has been the greatest threat to the female species and our ecosystem. Patriarchy demands that the female separate herself from her physical body, by disavowing her emotional, biochemical connection, to her body. Patriarchy deems the female body processes of menstruating, menopause, pregnancy, a dripping cunt, female ejaculation and multiple orgasms, as infamous threats to male dominance and something to fear, eliminate or control. Patriarchy especially hates lesbianism, because it knows that female on female love, kicks that penis to the curb, no matter how it’s concealed or revealed.

I keep my ears to the ground and eyes open, when it comes to observing the latest LGBTQI communities political, strategies and cultural practices. I detest having to say this, but the Daddigirl needs to report some alarming developments, emerging from the gender identity/ gender queer/movements. During the late 2000s, I started engaging on social media platforms like twitter and Facebook and began noticing a sharp increase in the blatant sexism, misogynist memes and attacks leveled against feminism, female biology and female sexuality. The anonymity of the internet emboldens fools to press “post” or “tweet” and share their most ignorant diatribes. It is now 2018. The candid dialogue and decisive actions needed to abolish patriarchy are being silenced, sabotaged or struck from the record.

The female’s fight against patriarchy, pales in comparison to the pop-nouveau, “biology is irrelevant or one’s sex at birth means nothing” doctrine. Hell, I’m jealous! Any male with a cock, can claim to be or feel like a female and cash in on all those slim pickings and limited opportunities, girls and women, scratch each other’s eyes out over! Wait, lets not get ahead of ourselves or get sucked into delusions of grandeur. Patriarchy doesn’t offer the privilege of claiming your cunt or clit as a dick. And don’t get upset when your declarations of “I feel like a male or I have lady penis”, still won’t get you a membership at the gentlemen’s club. I pass as man, so trust and believe me when I tell you, the smell of sweaty balls, sex, sin and cheap cologne permeates throughout the men’s locker room!

Those theories and best practices spawned from people in the gender identity movement, who seek to relegate the female from her biochemistry, spirit or experience, need to be called out, taken to task and in put the time out room, where they’ll a receive a “free” decolonize your mind, body and spirit make over. Let me be clear, just because you identify as gay, a fag hag, genderqueer, trans-masculine, cross dressing, polyamorous or bi-sexual, that doesn’t excuse you from the critical thinking required to examine patriarchy’s harm to all of us. I know it’s nice getting that funding, walking the red carpet or being the bell of the ball. But at whose expense? The master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house.

Times up earthlings. That two-dimensional armchair activism, hiding behind your brand or speaking through memes, ain’t cutting it no more! It’s time to pull up those grown up panties and take our shit to the next level, by honoring the females right to embrace her species, cultivate her affinity spaces and feel safe in her own skin.

Release the ego’s fear of a planet without patriarchy. Come on peeps we can do this dance. It starts with a held-out hand or an embrace, that leads to moving in tandem with the divine rhythm of love and grace. I know you’re nervous, but just take a sip of my tea, then you’ll soon see, this bitches brew, could set us all free.

http://www.pippafleming.com #thedaddigirlgriot