Type “r” in Google search and “Rachel Dolezal” is the first option, right now. Go ahead. Do it. Open a new window and try it. Okay, maybe not when you read this, but trust me while I was writing this, that was the absolutely case. See?
With all of the Twitterbees going crazy with the #AskRachel posts–when I’m not spitting into my hand with laughter–I do have a vague sense of dismay. I mean, this whole thing is like if Diff’rent Strokes meets Outer Limits in a Stephen King setting with “story by” credit attributed to Walter Mosely and edited by the folks on Love and Hip Hop. But I digress. Aside from the outright lying, the cultural appropriation, the hiring of a dark-skinned man to play her father, and the creepiness of claiming two of her adopted brothers as sons, I do wonder which policies she was advocating for will come to a grinding halt because of her, shall we say bending, the truth like Beckam. All she had to do was be white and stay that way. But now it’s like in Law & Order when we find out that a snitch has been lie-snitchin’ and then all of the previous cases he done lie-snitched on are called into question. She just called for whatever relationships she was building, assets she was acquiring, or locks she was dreading to come unraveled and fall into a perm-free pile of straight blond strands on the salon floor.
“Clarissa! Girl, get off yo’ damn phone and come sweep up this hair!”
Look, I condone nothing. But it burns me up that this woman’s foolishness may lay waste to some legit good she was doing in the black community. I guess you live and you learn. But she’s been living for a while and ain’t nobody learnt that she ain’t even the Zoe Saldana in this Nina Simone of a situation. She’s straight up Betty White. (see what I did there?) Cuz I for dang sure thought the dress was blue and black. But what do I know.