I found a dream that I could speak to | A dream that I can call my own.Etta James
Earlier on Facebook, I responded to an article about vulva-themed cupcakes sold by a bakery. I remarked that, “I hate Americans.”
Well, minutes later, Facebook sends me a threatening message about violating community standards. According to Facebook, my statement was construed as hate speech and subsequently, next time, they were going to permanently ban me. Two-strike rule and all.
Of course, my comment wasn’t meant in the context of true hatred. Any and everybody black in the comments knows that when we make such statements, such as “I hate humans,” “I hate you,” what we’re really saying is that we’re sick of attention whores, your ass for posting about attention whores or seeing stupid shit from stupid people—many of which happen to be Americans. *giggling my ass off*
We’re not saying we want to burn America to the ground or overthrow the government. We’re just saying there are a whole lot of people seeking attention by any means necessary, especially if such attention makes money. But Facebook, with its hating ass, doesn’t know that, because Facebook doesn’t speak the language of The Blacks [© Trump, circa 2016]. Facebook speaks WASP. And when WASP say they hate America, it means somebody can get this mass shooting.
I could have argued with them and requested another review of my statement, but why? From what I’ve been through with them in the past, they’d only maintain it was hate speech by sending me the same generic response they’ve sent in the past. I believe it rare when an actual human takes the time to review a violation. Again, just based on my history with Facebook.
But I’m not mad at Facebook and its wizards behind the curtain. Like Facebook, I’ve got my own platform—AND I’m listening to Prince’s Ultimate album, so I’m in a fuckin’ good mood on this rainy Friday night. If ever Facebook decides to make good on its threat and ejects me from my borrowed seat at their children’s table, I can always gone back to my own house where my chair is solid—at the big table.
Damn thieves in the temple.