There are a few things I rarely do on my blog. First, I rarely link to large blogs or mainstream sites. Second, I rarely name anyone on my blog. I think I'm about to depart from that. At least for this post.
It was never about one incident, or one blogger, or one site, or one problem.
It was never just about how it was all white folks who got to throw back at a bloggers' lunch with Bill Clinton.
It was never just about Burquagate.
It was never just about the racism spewed at Nubian in comment threads at Feministing.
It was never just about the cover of Full Frontal Feminism.
Or the cover of It's a Jungle Out There.
It was never just about the aftermath of Katrina.
Surprise, it's not even about Gloria Steinem's pathetic New York Times article that called gender over race.
This was well before WAM! was bedazzled with unflattering reviews.
Or when Seal Press went off its rocker.
This was even before the Margaret Sanger's comments of racism, sexism, and disgrace.
It was never just about Jena 6.
It was never just about Megan Williams.
This was before discussions of appropriation and credit.
This was never just about a revised proposal for Yes Means Yes.
It was never about one blogger. Not BFP, BA, or any one singular voice.
There never was a whole lot for me to say about these events. Somewhere inside, I wonder if I have become that Adult I most feared: the one who's seen too much to hope. I've got a list down my arm of what I wanted to write about: allies, racism, imagery, technology and accountability, invisibility vs. invincibility, and privilege
and then the list got too long and I suddenly