We are not equally oppressed. There is no joy in this. We must speak from within us, our own experiences, our own oppressions—taking someone else’s oppression is nothing to feel proud of. We should never speak for that which we have not felt.
—bell hooks (but I actually first encountered this as my friend Leilani Visesio’s Facebook status update).
rself u o ry
So this is the last time I’ll be writing for Salient and I know y’all are gonna miss my on-fleek musings on everyday life and politics, but don’t cry too much, I’m the next Kanye so I’m not dead yet and you can follow me on Twitter and Instagram if you really miss me that bad. We could write about anything we wanted for this issue and I was like mean, but was also like woah. It’s like you’ve gone out for lunch in this mean ass foodcourt and so there’s all this choice and then there’s all this pressure to choose the very best one, and yet your instincts are telling you all these conflicting things so you end up just getting a cheeseburger. This was gonna be the cheeseburger. But I hate to break it to ya, it’s not. Cos as much as it’s tempting to write palatable bullshit, I feel like I’m fundamentally betraying myself when I do so. It’s not my responsibility to be generous as a writer, a female writer of colour for that matter. I don’t have to explain anything to you; don’t have to write political shit all the goddamned time like you want me to; don’t have to ground my writing in the sensual feminine sensitivities that you crave from me: as one of few voices of colour, difference and minority in this magazine—that is my implicit role. In any white institution that I’m involved in these and more are the
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