Guest Post: Baby Power Dyke on Ru Paul, John Mayer & Black History Month

Due to boring circumstances beyond my control, I will not be online much in February. Fortunately I’ve been able to line up a number of stellar guests to fill in for me. Most are writers, but I also thought it would be fun to get some publishing types to explain what it is they do, teach you some more about the industry, and answer your questions, as well as one or two bloggers.

Today’s guest blogger is Baby Power Dyke whose blog I discovered last year and instantly fell in love with. She’s rude, smart and funny. We have shared crushes on Rachel Maddow and Melissa Harris-Lacewell. So, clearly, she has excellent tase. She is my kind of a gal.

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Baby Power Dyke is a smartass. She’s an actor in New York City who is terrible about auditions. She lives in Brooklyn with the love of her life, who is also an actor and is muchMUCH better about auditions. Nonprofitting supports her blogging and acting habits. She loves cheese. She was born on April Fool’s Day and thinks that because of that, she receives the best birthday presents ever. She’s terrible about mail. Her personal theme songs are “Voodoo Child” by Jimi Hendrix and “Don’t Rain on My Parade” by Barbra Streisand.

BPD says:

It is Black History Month and boy am I feeling the love.

Just yesterday Rush Limbaugh (or as I like to think of him, the Phantom Menace) derisively referred to the health care reform bill which is swimming its way upstream through Congress as a “civil rights bill” and “reparations.” To be clear, what he means by using “civil rights bill” and “reparations” as a pejorative is “this health care bill is another attempt by the lowly, lazy, complaining Black folk to take bread from the mouths of hard-working honest White Americans. First they took February, what’s next? March?.”

Last week the fine gentlemen of Pi Kappa Alpha decided to throw a party to “honor” Black History Month which included a very helpful how-to for the ladies so that they might properly comport themselves as “Ghetto chicks.”

Ghetto chicks usually have gold teeth, start fights and drama, and wear cheap clothes—they consider Baby Phat to be high class and expensive couture. They also have short, nappy hair, and usually wear cheap weave, usually in bad colors, such as purple or bright red. They look and act similar to Shenaynay, and speak very loudly, while rolling their neck, and waving their finger in your face. Ghetto chicks have a very limited vocabulary, and attempt to make up for it, by forming new words, such as “constipulated”, or simply cursing persistently, or using other types of vulgarities, and making noises, such as “hmmg!”, or smacking their lips, and making other angry noises,grunts, and faces.

But it was John Mayer (singer, songwriter, Poor Man’s Stevie Ray Vaughn) that got the month started off right with an interview that he did for Playboy where he proved that he doesn’t have the good sense (or graces) that God gave Kanye West.

    MAYER: Star magazine at one point said I was writing a tell-all book for $10 million. On Star’s cover it said what a rat! My entire life I’ve tried to be a nice guy.

    PLAYBOY: Do black women throw themselves at you?

    MAYER: I don’t think I open myself to it. My dick is sort of like a white supremacist. I’ve got a Benetton heart and a fuckin’ David Duke cock. I’m going to start dating separately from my dick.

    PLAYBOY: Let’s put some names out there. Let’s get specific.

    MAYER: I always thought Holly Robinson Peete was gorgeous. Every white dude loved Hilary from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. And Kerry Washington. She’s superhot, and she’s also white-girl crazy. Kerry Washington would break your heart like a white girl. Just all of a sudden she’d be like, “Yeah, I sucked his dick. Whatever.” And you’d be like, “What? We weren’t talking about that.”

That’s an official Nice Guy FAIL.

These harbingers of Black History Month can get a girl a little down.

But not me. I am thankful that I have a partner who loves and cherishes me for the supreme delight that I am.

I am also thankful for the amazing strong black women (SBW) that I have in my life as role-models.
 Without my mother, Oprah Winfrey and Barbra Streisand, my confidence in my smokingness (both intellectual and physical) might have been dimmed by that young-man whose mother must be really ashamed of him right now and who is actually making me sympathize with that Jennifer Aniston person.

But lately I realize that I’ve been leaving out one deserving woman in my SBW list of might: RuPaul.

Nownownow, I know what you’re saying, “But BPD, RuPaul’s been around since forever how come it’s taken you so long?” Really, I have no excuse.

From the revelatory, Super Model, with its clarion cry that got me through many a grueling show choir rehearsal (damn you mirrored gym) to the present RuPaul’s Drag Race—which is not about cars1 —RuPaul has given me the balls to get through the tough times. RuPaul has made me the man I am today. And by man, I mean small black lesbian gay-dandy.2

When I’m about to do something that seems super important, I think, “You better work, bitch!”
 I chant, “It’s time to lip-synch for your life!” when it’s time for me to move mountains.

Click here for vid.
. . . Minute 37 is where the real magic happens.

RuPaul is about knowing who you are and owning your fabulousness. RuPaul is about ripping people’s faces off with your fierceness and leaping in your stilettos over the shit. Most importantly RuPaul is not about some trifling mess of a boy that even Ghandi would slap.

With Ru and the other SBW in my life, I know my worth. I’m not even going to sweat it. Because I know, that despite how hurtful and how hateful what John Mayer said was, it’s not about me. It’s not about any other woman of color (or woman, frankly) in the world. It’s about him and the dick-shrivel that he is. I’m not waiting for the world to change. I am the change that I seek in the world. I am the light that I want to see. I am fabulous. I am fierce. I am magnificent.

Come for me, bitches.

  1. But just . . . can we all agree that if RuPaul hosted a muscle car show with, say, Joan Rivers or Tina Turner—that pair would be a mother-fucking wig-off—that show would be ridiculously awesome. []
  2. 2010 is the year of the bow-tie. Look out people! []


  1. Belongum on #

    Now I know that stereo-typically (being a fella and all) I shouldn’t be laughing myself silly given the term you’ve employed: “dick-shrivel”.

    But THAT was such a ‘colourful’ phrase (not to mention potentially frightening one :-O) I just had to say – WOW!

    I didn’t know you mob got a whole month to celebrate your ‘blackness’ (said very much tongue-in-cheek)… we only get a week here in Australia. Well it’s actually a Day in that week – but we tend to stretch it out you know – cos we’re greedy like that!

    Must be because there aren’t very many of us apparently 😉 and it’s called NAIDOC Week. National Aboriginal and Islander Day of Celebration.

    I’m bloody certain that our government know not the irony of appointing such a title to our National ‘Celebrate a Blackfella’ Day. I swear if I get offered one more bowl of Kangaroo stew and a slice of bloody damper at one of these events, I’m going to…

    … probably accept it grudgingly from the ‘Old Girl’ or ‘Aunty’ or ‘Granny’ (actually all respectful terms amongst Aboriginal peoples) who made it and put her heart into it. Later I’ll curse the silly bugger official who set her up as a token Blackfella in the first place – because the same bloody cultural cliches get trotted out – each and every year.

    I’m very lucky – I have many whitefella friends who cringe at the very same things surrounding this as I do – so I don’t despair for all Australians…

    … just ‘some’ of them! 😉

  2. Karen Healey on #

    I laughed until my belly hurt at this post. It is possibly my favourite of this wonderful month of awesome guest blogs.

  3. Gilibug on #

    A. Afraid the imbedded clip is not working for me, more’s the pity.
    B. Not that I question your judgement – I would not dare to question your judgement – but I’m dying to read why exactly you categorise Barbra Streisand as an SBW. I get S and W, it’s the B for which I’m sure you have a fascinating explanation.
    C. Love it! Thanks Justine for hosting such great guests.

  4. Najela on #

    Yeah, I was kinda hurt that John Mayer said that about Black women as well, especially since I’m a Black woman that happens to enjoy his music. I feel sad for liking that, but then I was thinking… “I personally think he’s ugly, so why am I so offended?” It’s probably because his music is one thing and his personality is something completely different.

    The “Compton Cookout” is a disgusting. The thing that disgusting to me is that people are saying that it’s not a big deal. There’s a whole group on Facebook complaining that everyone is taking it too seriously. I don’t think we’re taking it seriously enough. I’m too sad about the racefail to even get as angry as I should. =/

  5. Craig Laurance Gidney on #

    Bravo. Great post.

    On Rush: He really wants to be the Grand Dragon of the Teabaggers.

    On Mayer: He’s just macerating in White Privilege.

    On Ru Paul: Fierce!

  6. Julia Rios on #

    BDP, There is nothing about this post that doesn’t make me adore you. You rock! And yes, totally, about RuPaul and Joan Rivers or Tina Turner hosting a car show.

  7. Baby Power Dyke on #

    @ All
    Thank you all for your kind words. I am very flattered.

    Wow. Celebrate a Blackfella. I hope that there’s something missing in translation that I am just not getting.

    We get a whole month, but as my Uncle once pointed out, it’s the coldest and shortest month of the year.
    Personally, I am a fan of just claiming months as my own. I claim April as my Birthday Month. I claim June as the Month of the Gays. I claim October just Because I Like It.

    @ Gilibug
    I will root around for the link to the video. It takes a while to load but, if you can wait for it, so much awesome happens around minute 37 that it totally makes the wait worth it.
    Also, I cannot take credit for calling Babs a SBW. Kathy Griffin made a joke about how Barbra Streisand was a Strong Black Woman and it just hit home for me. It suddenly explained my years of un-wavering (and at times for my mother, unnerving) love of all things Streisand.

    I know, right?
    1. Just because there’s Free Speech in America and you can say whatever you want doesn’t mean that you should say whatever you want.
    2. Just because you have the right to assemble doesn’t mean that America is best served by an assembly of jackasses.
    3. Just because YOU didn’t mean any harm (or think that what you were doing was barn-burningly offensive) doesn’t mean that the fella in the hood next to you feels the same way. In fact, if you go to a party where everyone is wearing white sheets and talking about a dragon and you stay at that party because, you say that YOU don’t mean any harm – uhm, I don’t believe you. It’s the same thing with these kids who got an invite for a “Compton Cookout” during Black History Month, which listed as its dress code stereotypes of Black people and included in its menu chicken and watermelon.

  8. Rebekah on #

    Silly Limbaugh – the women have already taken March. I think April’s still free, though.

  9. Lauren McLaughlin on #

    “Dick-shrivel” is, quite possibly, the greatest word ever invented. I salute you.

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