You’ll find her in shopping centres, posh boutiques and anywhere she can splash the cash on material things. She is the ultimate material girl, armed with her Louis Vuitton purse , fierce heels, a full face of Mac, and fourteen inches of Remi Goddess sewn to her head. She is the black bitch and she possesses a critical eye, that exceeds that of her of her white counterparts.
I had an exchange with a pair of black bitches this afternoon at Whitely’s shopping Centre in west London. As I was entering the ‘Miss Thangs’ were leaving, and shared a snigger over the way I was dressed. I had tied up my afro up with a multi-coloured African scarf, along with my trademark wooden dangly earrings. Lets just say I have an ethnic, bohemian look that I feel reflects my general outlook.
“What the hell does she have on?” Black bitch number one stage whispers to black bitch number two. (It always confuses me when people whisper loudly, defeats the purpose just a bit.)
“She looks ridiculous.” Black bitch number two replies.
I immediately felt incensed by these comments and couldn’t control the “Black bitches!” heckle that escaped my mouth. They turned around in disbelief that I had been so openly rude. You see black bitches don’t understand direct confrontation, they only say how they really feel behind your back. They gave me two dirty looks and then stomped off, in their killer heels, swaying their hips as they went.
It was silly really to react the way I did. In hindsight it makes sense that by them commenting on the way I was dressed only reflected their own insecurity. The clothes, the heels, the make-up and fake hair are only there to cover up a deep disatisfaction they must have with themselves. Moreover, I think they were the ones that looked more ridiculous with those weaves trying to emmulate Europeans. Someone once told me that black women wearing straight weaves is as ridiculous as a horse trying to look like a rabbit. I am beginning to agree.
Black women have slowly become over critical of their sisters. Black womens’ comments on eachother are much harsher than the odd bitchy remark white women make on each other.What struck me about these black women is that they failed to embrace afrocentric style. Surely as black women they should welcome a sister who is not afraid of her dark skin, her kinky hair or her full lips. But no, If a sister ain’t trying look white, she just don’t look right.
