Butt Shaming

Now, that I have sobered up from laughing at Kanye West’s twitter beef and the subsequent Amber Rose meme’s, let’s have a discussion about butt shaming.

I understand why Amber Rose had to come for Kanye. When you bring someone’s child into your petty tweets over something you clearly misunderstood, you have to expect to get body slammed by any reasonable person. If Kanye has married his dream girl, why does he keep bringing up Amber Rose anyway? Seems to me that if he were truly over her and their relationship he would wish her well and keep it moving. Instead, he seems to find ways to insult her, unprovoked. But I digress.

Let’s get back to what many saw as the death blow to end Kanye’s rant and force him to delete his tweets. In response to Kanye’s disrespectful remarks about Amber’s and Whiz Khalifa’s child, Amber Rose tweeted:

Awww @kanyewest are u mad I'm not around to play in ur asshole anymore? #FingersInTheBootyAssBitch☝

— Amber Rose (@DaRealAmberRose) January 27, 2016

Lol @kanyewest Now u wanna delete ur tweets cuz Muva has arrived? #TwitterFingers #UrGettingBodiedByAStripperNigga

— Amber Rose (@DaRealAmberRose) January 27, 2016

And then the memes began. I even reposted the tiny, deflated Kanye on Amber Rose’s finger meme. But once I finished laughing, I had to question why was that the ultimate dis and why did we find it funny?

In the rap community, as well as the black community, men who are seen as effeminate or gay have often faced ridicule and even violence. Only recently have any black, male rappers come out as gay or bisexual. It’s still somewhat taboo in an industry that applauds machismo. Jhene Aiko can sing about eating the booty like groceries, but a man, a black man in particular, dare not express his interest, or enjoyment, in being stimulated anally.

But why? Anal play/butt play is nothing to be ashamed of, and can be quite pleasurable for men (and women), whether they are giving or receiving. And yet, it still makes some people anxious and can be used as a weapon to shame, discriminate against, and also to kill.

I have to admit that I have once engaged in this behavior myself. I was upset and felt disrespected and so I lashed out against an ex in much the same way Amber Rose did, although not on social media, it was still in a public format. I felt horrible afterwards and apologized for using against him what had taken place in the privacy of the intimate spaces of our relationship.

I don’t suspect there will be any apologies or forgiving moments between Amber Rose and Kanye West any time soon. And although watching celebs have breakdowns and beat downs on Twitter can be entertaining, we all need to be cognizant of how language (or tweets or memes) can be used to shame. And while it may or may not have any impact on the celebrity, it can make others feel targeted and create a dangerous atmosphere where people are unable to be and express who they are.

Let's Talk - TBT

“Hello.”
“Hey girl. I have a story to tell about the other night.”
“Did you go see him?”
Laughter echoes through the phone.
“Well, talk to me!”

The story begins with the question:

“Why are you here?” I can hear him question me and my intentions. I try to smile and give him my usual flip remark. He leans in closer and again asks, “Why are you here?”

The way he is looking at me; even in the dimness of the candlelit room I can feel the intensity. My thighs are sweating and my heart is pounding. I’m a little nervous about what may come next. Was I too forward, coming over here at this time of night, with such a short dress on, nothing underneath? Have I misread his intentions?

As these thoughts are flowing through my mind, he reaches out, pulls me up from the sofa and turns me around, placing his arms around my waist. This time he whispers in my ear, “Are you here for company or sex?” I can barely reply, “I’m here for both.” He begins to gently kiss the back of my neck. Mmmmm, his lips are so soft. I can feel the butterfly wings fluttering in my stomach. He guides me down the dimly lit hall into his bedroom. Maxwell’s ‘Til the Cops Come Knockin’ has grown faint.

The bedroom is as expected, stylish with contemporary furniture fitting of someone with his taste; and more candles. He leans me across the bed and returns to kissing and licking the back of my neck. A few minutes go by and he steps back and pushes my dress up around my waist to admire my ass. I feel his hands caress my thighs, my cheeks, my swollen lips. And then he’s gone. I am so enthralled that all I can do is continue to grip the sheets in heated anticipation of his return. My patience is soon rewarded as he returns and now positions my right leg on the bed so that he can enter my waiting pussy from behind. I can feel my sugawalls adjust to his thick, latex-covered dick causing me to grip the sheets tighter. The slow, rhythmic motions of his hips and the workings of his fingers on my ass and my clit are driving me crazy. I feel myself about to cum after only a short time of this clitlicious attention. Just then he whispers in my ear, “Let it go”. He nibbles on my earlobe and continues chanting, “Let it go.” And with his coaching I do let go and my body begins to shake uncontrollably. It’s late and I don’t want to disturb his neighbors so I bury my face into the bed so as to stifle my screams of ecstasy. After a few seconds or so, I begin to calm down; I’m not shaking as much, my breath begins to steady. But he wants more. He tells me not to stop as he continues massaging my clit until I am cumming again.

Seconds become minutes, minutes become hours and he only stops long enough to tantalize my feet, my legs, my breasts with his hands, his lips, his tongue. There are moments of laughter, passionate kisses, and silent stares intermingled with the moans and screams of pleasure. I’m pleading with him to stop, but don’t stop, ecstasy; oh, sweet rhapsody. I feel as though I’m suspended between two life planes. Lawd, who is this man that has, in one night, erased months of loneliness and neglect, and calmed the hunger inside that threatened to devour me?

Our bodies have finally come to rest with legs intertwined. Through half-closed eyes I can see the flicker of the candle’s flame, and Maxwell is again singing in the background about making love until the cops come knocking.