In case you people haven't noticed, I am black. My online experience has been pretty good (otherwise, I wouldn't have wasted this much time in cyberspace) until I reveal myself as a black man in online discussions. Then the racists and other whites who think they know better will start rolling in, dismissing my point of view and hurling all sorts of sickening things at me.
And do you know what? Fuck em. They do that shit to get a rise out of you, and if you ignore them and don't let them get to you, they don't need to be a problem.
Feministing has just recently taken down an interview she did with a black feminist blogger who writes under the pseudonym Nubian because the latter was dismayed over the number of hateful responses the post has gotten from those same troglodytes who live to do that sort of thing. Well, I'm glad she no longer has to worry her fragile little head over the fact that black people have known since their birth: that racists exists and they happen to take their shots at blacks. Christ, where would we be if the likes of her populated the civil rights movement, in which being cussed at by anonymous douchebags was the LEAST of the problem blacks active during that time had to face?
Feminist bloggers have had to deal with mysogynist dickheads all the time (e.g. see the types of e-mails Amanda Marcotte of Pandagon received after she left the Edward's campaign). It's unfortunate but it comes with the territory. Blacks who blog about racial issue will have to deal with racists online as well.
Nubian, in an ironic attempt to insult someone who respected her opinions enough to give it a wider airing, says she does not call herself a feminist anymore. That is just as well, because real feminsts do not cower away whenever some idiot says "bitch" or "nigger." Real feminists do this:
On Monday, March 3, 1913, clad in a white cape astride a white horse, lawyer Inez Milholland led the great woman suffrage parade down Pennsylvania Avenue in the nation's capital. Behind her stretched a long line with nine bands, four mounted brigades, three heralds, about twenty-four floats, and more than 5,000 marchers.
. . .The procession began late, but all went well for the first few blocks [picture]. Soon, however, the crowds, mostly men in town for the following day's inauguration of Woodrow Wilson, surged into the street making it almost impossible for the marchers to pass. Occasionally only a single file could move forward. Women were jeered, tripped, grabbed, shoved, and many heard “indecent epithets� and “barnyard conversation.� Instead of protecting the parade, the police “seemed to enjoy all the ribald jokes and laughter and part participated in them.� One policeman explained that they should stay at home where they belonged. The men in the procession heard shouts of “Henpecko� and “Where are your skirts?� As one witness explained, “There was a sort of spirit of levity connected with the crowd. They did not regard the affair very seriously.�
But to the women, the event was very serious. Helen Keller [picture] “was so exhausted and unnerved by the experience in attempting to reach a grandstand . . . that she was unable to speak later at Continental hall [sic ].� Two ambulances “came and went constantly for six hours, always impeded and at times actually opposed, so that doctor and driver literally had to fight their way to give succor to the injured�. One hundred marchers were taken to the local Emergency Hospital. Before the afternoon was over, Secretary of War Henry L. Stimson, responding to a request from the chief of police, authorized the use of a troop of cavalry from nearby Fort Myer to help control the crowd.
And don't get me started on what the black civil rights activists have to deal with. It's safe to say that they didn't have time or the luxury for thin skins.