What all those books told me was that: this internalised self-image of black ugliness, black inferiority – it’s a lie.
And one that’s taken root inside, deep; like a particularly insidious form of brain cancer.
Because Lil’ Kim just announced to the whole world that as far as she’s concerned, Black just isn’t Beautiful.
We can bleat about “intersectionality” and “patriarchy”. But just for a moment, let’s not blame anyone for the fact that Lil Kim has such a compromised self-image – and let’s not [equate Kim]( with Rachel Dolezal, the white NAACP leader who purported to be black, last year claiming a controversial “transracial” identity.
Dolezal may have permed her hair but she never changed her features or her skin tone, nor was she filled with tragic self-loathing. For now, let’s just accept all this without trying to blame anyone.
But after years of plastic surgery and progressive skin-bleaching, and who only knows what she’s done to her hair, she’s not black any more.
Kim, who seems like a genuinely sweet, if vulnerable woman, explained back in 2000 that she’d always been told by men – “even the ones I was dating” – that she wasn’t pretty enough. But I doubt there was a single black person on this earth – male or female – who didn’t look at Lil’ Kim’s new, white face and feel a deep, inscrutable pain.
Victoria Anderson ne travaille pas, ne conseille pas, ne possède pas de parts, ne reçoit pas de fonds d'une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n'a déclaré aucune autre affiliation que son poste universitaire.