My final word on Rachel Dolezal: I shared the recent article on her by Ijeoma Oluo because it was an article by Ijeoma Oluo. Not because I think anyone should pay even one millisecond more attention to Rachel Dolezal.
As a rule, I prefer to let the people who are more directly impacted by this issue speak to it, when they feel like it. But since this is my blog, fine–let’s talk about my feels.
I hate the fact that this woman has a book coming out. I hate the fact that it will take up even a tiny fraction of the space and energy in this world that could have been occupied by an actual black woman with something to say.
The only useful function Rachel Dolezal can serve is to illustrate the problem of space in a racist society. I hope that her case is extreme enough to throw some light on more subtle problems of white bodies and white egos occupying spaces that rightfully belong to POC creators, artists, community leaders, etc..
Personally, I do not want black people to be forced to deal with this woman and her bizarre claims.
All I feel when I see or read about her is anger and disgust.
The reason I haven’t shared much news about her since the initial article describing her fraud is that I think she’s a parasite. The blood she is drinking is the validation and support available to black women.
Attention and engagement is too often a limited resource, in this world. If public discourse is a jungle, the public eye is the sun, and all creative people are plants struggling to absorb enough rays to bear fruit.
Dolezal blocks the sun for black women like a strangling vine. I want her to be torn down and trampled to the forest floor so that they don’t suffocate under her selfish narcissism.