In the case of these innanets, It’s important to make the distinction between commenting in a forum and commenting on someone’s personal page. If it’s in a forum, criticism can often be misnomered as hate. Especially if it breaks from the status quo of the post. When you call out an inconvenient truth or call attention to an issue that the comments en masse are clearly ignoring in favor of applause, you will undoubtedly be labeled a hater. However, if it is pushing the conversation forward and elevating the engagement, it is absolutely not hate, it is critical commentary, which is something we as a society are painfully lacking. However, on a someone’s personal page, no matter how constructive you think your criticism is, if it is not solicited, it is not necessary to share, and probably won’t be welcomed. I know that may seem antithetical to my previous point, because yes, constructive criticism is valuable! However, in the case of the internet it is pretty much impossible to constructively give unsolicited criticism to someone who you don’t even know outside of the digital space. So often folks are shocked when they share their criticism (constructive or not) of and with a stranger and it’s not met with open arms and a deep discussion. This is because these innanets have created a false sense of access and connection. Folks forget that even if you are a fan, follow someone on a platform, and have seen their breakfast, their cat, and a cute dress that they got on sale, it doesn’t mean that you know them. It sure as hell doesn’t mean that they owe you an explanation or a conversation simply because you chose to engage. So many seem to think that just because they support someone’s work or their persona, that their criticism, which is simply just an opinion, should be met with acceptance, regard, and merit. When it is not, they feel they have been dismissed or disrespected. Stop it. Being a fan of someone does not entitle you to them. They are not an object, they are a person. Celebrity does not make courtesy and consideration any less expected.
In these Wi-Fi times, being conscious of how we interact with each other is far too often met without etiquette or concern. Thoughtlessness has been born from the disconnect of humanity due to the shift to connections made digitally. You can leave a comment that seems innocuous to you, and completely ruin someone’s entire day while never having to actually have an exchange with them. It has now spilled over and affected how we interact outside of the web and must be considered in our everyday life as well. When engaging, think to yourself, “Would I be cool with someone saying this to me?” When determining if your input is constructive criticism or hate ask yourself, “Does this comment elevate, or just distract?” The old adage “if you have nothing kind to say, say nothing at all” is often a solid ethos to stick to when scrolling. You of course are entitled to your own opinion, you just don’t always have to share it with the person you’ve got an opinion about. In my case, if I don’t know you, and I’m not hurting you, I mean this from the bottom of my heart, don’t @ me. I genuinely don’t care what you think about what I’m doing if it ain’t in support of it. Namaste.
Nonetheless, when it is solicited, being able to give valid, helpful criticism is a useful skill that everyone should have and that folks around you, especially those that strive for excellence, will truly appreciate.
The Day the Innanets Broke Me
THAT ONE TIME
Once upon a time, I aspired to be a rapper. In doing so I did what all rappers do and every so often would freestyle over beats that were buzzin’. My rapper name was Amanda Diva. So, it was only natural that when Beyoncé dropped “I’m a Diva” I hopped on the record with some bars about my own Diva status. I had no idea it would almost take me out the game.
Whenever I would do a freestyle or had a new song, I would service the hip-hop blogs of note and, along with the MP3 of the record, I would include a promo pic as artwork to post along with the bars. In this particular case I sent along with the MP3 a pic of me in my usual uniform, spandex & kicks. One blog in particular decided that they would not be using my provided pic and instead opted to use one they found in a Google search. The pic was from the Black Lily festival in Philly where I had performed with The Roots in red heels, a black-and-white strapless romper, and—surprise—a red Kangol. None of that sounds too crazy, right? Well, what was crazy was that the pic had been taken from an angle that was rather suggestive, aka it was by someone standing in the press pit and pointing up toward me, their camera lens aimed directly toward my vaginal beyond. All it took was some imagination and you could see right through those two layers of cotton. Imagination is a beautiful thing. So is time, when you use it wisely. You know who has a lot of imagination and a seemingly endless amount of useless time? Internet trolls. They are a legion of angry, insufficient pricks, forging through the innanets, like Gollum looking for the ring, to find someone’s day to ruin. That day was my day.
I won’t even tell y’all the name of the site, because I refuse to give it any more play than it has already gotten. The (bitch-ass) owner of the site, along with choosing to post the suggestive photo, placed with it a caption that read, “Amanda Diva versus the comment section.” I’m over here, tryna rap, and this dude, who I’ve never had any interaction with, let alone an acrimonious one, is using me to incite his legion of losers to attack, and like the men and women of the Starship Enterprise, when he said, “Engage,” they went to warp speed with the wackness. It began basic enough, with negative comments about my rhyming abilities, which is par for the course. However, it quickly spiraled into sexual explicitness. I didn’t even know it was happening until I got a text from a friend asking if I was okay. Incredulous, I asked why, and he sent me the link. I was blown away. Comment after comment demeaning me in any way possible. I remember one that read, “Amanda’s hair looks like pretzels and cum,” and another, morbid and grotesque, that read, “I wanna take her eyeballs out and nut in her eye sockets.” It was shocking and disturbing to read, to say the least. They didn’t even care about the music, they were focused on nuclear-level hating and it was an extinction-level event. Scrolling, I was clutching my pearls when I got to a post from the actual owner of the site. In the midst of madness he could have taken the post down. He could have steered the convo in a different direction, but no. This man, again, whom I had NEVER met before, who ran one of the biggest hip-hop blogs out there, for some reason, had a vendetta against me and was gonna see it through. He quipped, “Y’all done with Amanda or can I put up the next post?” and they responded by going even more ham in their inhumanity. Needless to say, I went from disturbed, to LIVID.
I hit the Twitters. I contacted dude directly and publicly, asking why he would encourage his commenters to come for me and his callow reply was, “I will not censor my forum.” Here’s the thing y’all: it’s one thing to censor your forum, it’s another thing to embolden them. That night I went to see Precious (hey, Gabs!) and I remember, while in the theater, getting texts from folks saying I shouldn’t have said anything to dude because, THE INTERNETS. “You can’t beat him.” “He has too much clout.” The overlying commentary being, “If you want to be an artist you have to deal with this.” Now, yes, as an artist you have to deal with haters. Folks hating on your music. Folks hating on your comeup. Folks hating on your kneecaps and saying they look like Patrick Ewing, tho??? Yes, that is hilarious, but NO, that’s not a part of the “Mama, I made it!” package! Furthermore, blogs planting the seeds of your destruction without any real cause? What part of the game is that!? We all know the internet is the wild wild west, and EVERYONE knows, “Never read the comments” but this was over the line because it became a verbally, sexually explicit attack on my body. As a woman, that’s not about hating, it’s all about sexism, patriarchy, and plain old disrespect. While they were typing, their bum ass’s moms prolly came downstairs and asked if they wanted a sandwich. NO. I was not going to remain silent. No, I was not gonna just, “let it blow over,” because this was not about folks not liking my music or thinking I can’t rap, this was about a blogmaster purposefully posting a sexually suggestive photo of me, a woman, to dri
ve traffic to his blog and using my likeness as chum to feed the sharks circling the drain of his shit bowl excuse for a digital publication.
I gathered myself, defied everyone’s advice, contacted Ms. Info, and asked if I could post an open letter to the innanets on her blog.
She obliged. Here it is from 2009:
The homie Amanda Diva has been in the hot seat this week and sent this letter over to address said hot seat and the folks who turned up the burners. I am running out to an appt but I wanted to get this up before I did, because this week, the debate on sexism and censorship lead to some terse Twitter moments, a biting Complex poll, and some interesting thoughts on both ends. So I’ll check back in a few.
Amanda writes:
Well I pretty much got mollywhopped by the internet this week and labeled “emo,” “emotional,” “triflin’,” essentially, “a pussy punk bitch” for speaking out against the ill treatment of women in regards to a blog post on the popular *insert trash blog here.* I thought it would dissolve but after day two of being internet murked I decided to take a shot at clearing up a couple things.
When I first read the comments on *insert bum blog here* I wrongly read them as being written to myself. Normally, were they simply referring to my music, I would’ve said “fuck ’em” and kept it moving. But there was something so personal, at first, about the sexually explicit nature of the comments that they really hit me. In reading more of the foulness I then took it as an affront to women in the game in general. Real talk, we put up with SO much BS from dudes simply based on, “I mean, niggas will be niggas. You know the game,” but fuck that! It doesn’t have to be that way and the disrespect should NOT be accepted . . .
Viewing the comments like “I wanna f—her raw in her c—,” and “She looks like she takes n–in her face,” (ewww nasty) etc. and the blogger’s indifference of them honestly made me feel like, “dag here we go with another forum for dudes to objectify and completely demean us.” It wasn’t about me wanting respect as an emcee but more so me wanting at least the minimum as a woman. So, I approached (not attacked as some have been insinuating) *insert bitch-made blog owner here* because I felt a “way” about his handling of it. In the end however, I felt like he understood my point and have no ill feelings toward him whatsoever. There was no “twitter fight” of any sort. What I look like fighting on twitter?! Gimme SOME credit y’all, lol.
Then the epiphany. A friend of mine pulled a Mobb Deep and dropped a gem on me. He said, “Listen Deev, the commenters aren’t talking to you, or women. They’re talking amongst themselves about their IMAGE of you and other women. They see you and other chicks and they see a target to get their frustration off on, their jokes off of, etc. They think hey, “They put themselves out there so we’re entitled to get at ’em! They don’t care! They’re off in the fun land of showbiz!”(<–he really said that word, haha)
You know what though? They’re right! Normally I wouldn’t care. Normally I would’ve laughed and went right back to recording, but I admittedly stepped off my square for a second and forgot these facts:
1. The blogs don’t love you but I nonetheless love the blogs and do appreciate their support of independent artists and personalities like myself.
2. The commenters on a lot of blogs are just bored, angry, resentful, etc. and wallow in it with each other at the expense of whoever’s face is posted, regardless of how nice, talented, smart they are because for some reason it makes them feel better.
3. Artists, especially broads, ain’t allowed to EVER have a sensitive moment without being considered “pansies” and getting written about! (Ask Kanye! LOL)*
4. Not all bloggers/tastemakers feel it is their job to influence their readers. They call it censorship. I call it responsibility. Tom’ay’to, tom’ah’to.
Of all those facts though, there is one thing that I, every other woman in this biz, and most importantly all bloggers and commenters know and must never forget:
Them same folks talking all that mess would NEVER say a word of that to our faces . . . let alone get a chance to nut in ’em!!! HAHAHA!
So yo, let’s move on and have a great ’09 folks! I hope you enjoy Q-Tip & my video for “ManWomanBoogie” droppin tomorrow, and Tuesday finally begins the Obama era :)
Woohoo!!!
Deev
In hindsight, I let him and the whole situation off easy. Why? Because I felt like my only option was to have grace and poise where others didn’t. That’s the nature of these innanets, constant commentary being hurled at you along with commentary on your commentary. All you can do is live your truth. My truth is that I am a person. Somehow people think that intelligence makes folks unable to make mistakes, that being considered “pretty” alleviates insecurities, and that celebrity makes folks impervious to criticism, to hate, and to disrespect. It doesn’t, and in the case of being a celebrity, along with praise and support you’re also receiving all the above in BIG. ASS. QUANTITIES. Regardless of your social status, be conscious of what you put out there into the interwebs. Life went on. I later ran into dude from the site and he scampered away like that viral vermin he was/is. I later transitioned out of music, and via Instagram my introspective videos served as fodder for fools. Nonetheless, I remember coming to the conclusion that regardless of the opponent, were it a person, or the whole world wide web, I would not entertain anyone’s suggestion I be afraid to speak on injustice and unfairness whether it was directed at me or others. These innanets are not to be feared but be to be utilized.
* It was 2009 pre-MAGA hat.
CHAPTER 6
Glow On
Affirming Your Excellence & Shinin’ on These Hoes
GETTING ONE’S “GLOW ON” IS EASIER SAID THAN DONE. This ain’t the glow you have cuz you just passed your driving test or cashed that paycheck you’d been waiting on, or that morning-after luster when your crush lived up to the hype! No. When I say “glow on,” I’m talking about a luminescence that comes from way down deep in the depths of you, past your skin and bones, beyond your gut, ascending through your heart, out from your soul. You know the tune “This lil light of mine/I’m gonna let it shine”? That’s the glow I’m talking about. Your light, and how you let it shine. Yet, though all of us have it, not all of us are aware of, ready for, or know how to change the ways we are dimming our glow’s glimmer.
In a world that’s become obsessed with “likes” and “RTs,” the superficial has become a landing site for a lot of folks’ self-exploration. I’m not saying don’t use your assets—if you got it, flaunt it! But why stop there? If you’re really trying to make the most of your time here by being your best self, wouldn’t it seem natural that you’d have to know your full self in order to do so?
See, that’s the part that gets people shook. Contrary to popular belief, no matter who you are, or what walk of life you come from, in this lifetime we all go through a lot of shit, and instead of facing it head on, a lot of us simply do what we can to actively ignore it and keep it moving. Some folks try to sex it away, or dissolve it in liquor, or smoke it into a cloud. Some attempt to run from it by moving, by flying around the world and masking it with new experiences, or by literally trying to run it off like it’s that pesky freshman 15. Others don’t even acknowledge the trials they’ve faced. They treat struggling like an unwanted child wizard and hide it in a cabinet under the stairs, wash their hands of it, and go about their daily life.
However, inevitably, it outgrows the cabinet, it’s at the bottom of the bottle, or it’s right there at the finish line, meeting you face to face. If you’re not ready it can take you clear off your feet, knocking the wind and the glow out of you in one fell swoop, and have you flat on the grass like you just asked D-Bo for your bike back. Nobody wants that. Instead, I say choose to adventure into your own unknown. It’s easier said than done, but find ways to explore the parts of you that confound you, confront the elements that frighten you, and redefine the beliefs that no longer serve you. Sure, you may find some memories
that need dusting off and dealing with, you may even stumble upon a demon or two that was lurking around with a battle axe chipping away at your security, but the reward is that in doing the work, you’ll find strength and courage and resolve that you didn’t know you had, and that is the fuel you’ll need to get your glow glowing.
I believe that everybody has a candle within to guide them. Some people seem born with theirs aflame. It’s lit! Yours may take a few attempts. Just know that the person you follow on Instagram that always seems #blessed has trouble keeping their glow burning just like the rest of us. It’s understandable, all sorts of things can get in the way: insecurity, the Saturn Return, that full set of baggage you need to unpack in therapy, and the arduous path to Living in Your Truth, to name a few. Though getting your Gandalf on and duking it out with your demons can seem daunting, be encouraged, because the power is all within you. You don’t need anyone else’s approval, or any achievement of success, or any level of privilege to get to work on clearing the way for your candle to do its thing, thus enabling you to do your thing! Deciding to do the work is your choice, and with choice comes freedom! Whether spoken in the prose of Shakespeare, “This above all: to thine own self be true,” or spit in the verse of Rakim, “It ain’t where you’re from, it’s where you’re at,” to glow on is to emanate self-love from within and let your light be a beacon of boldness that lets the Universe know I’M HERE.
Small Doses Page 24
