I have held off for quite a while, keeping myself from
addressing this whole Paula Deen scandal, which for me would have almost been a
non-issue if weren’t for the “I support Paula!” and “Leave Paula Alone!”
messages that are currently plaguing my social media.
I feel like Paula Deen has touched my hair. Without
permission, she has reached her grubby little butter-laden fingers into my
historically nappy kinks and then acted surprised at the societal repercussions.
For some context. I was once sitting in one of my favorite
coffee shops rocking my teenie afro enjoying some time with friends. I soon
felt fingers, not my own, deeply embedded in my natural curls. As I turned
around, a young white woman smiled at me and said “I love your hair.” While I
am sure she meant no harm, I wish she could have loved my hair from afar. When
she put her hands in my hair, she didn’t know that she was reaching into my
history; In those curls, she could not feel all the times I had been called a
nigger, talked down to by teachers, called “so well spoken.”
I am not so bothered that Paula Deen, a 60 something
Southern white woman used the “n-word.” I wouldn’t go so far as to say I
expected it from her, but I have learned that racism and its friends often find
a comfortable home here in the South.
I get it. Mistakes were made. Your apology does not nullify
that fact or even offset it.
Apologies say, I made a mistake. The rest of your words told
me that she was completely ignorant as to why.
What bothered me was that she found no error in her
yearnings for the antebellum south where “professional” suited black man served
white people. Her sentiments echoed something deep seated and oppressive, not a
glimpse of the olden days where the “n-word” was not such a big deal that she references
as context. The historical context that Paula Deen should be recognizing is the
one that oppressed black people into these performances of “professionalism.”
Paula was longing for a minstrel show for her and her guests as if we are pets
to make run around and dance. Shall I dress in my best house negro uniform and
wait in your restaurant, Paula? Or should I clean your house? Perhaps you would
it more appropriate that this cute little, professional negro tend to your
garden and property? Would you be upset if I married into your lovely white
family, Paula? Yes, yes you would. That is not my place. My place is to amuse
you with how dignified and articulate I am in the face of... you know... being
colored and whatnot.
Paula Deen is a woman that would host a wedding at a
plantation. Paula Deen is woman that would make a mistake and then try to blame
society. Paula Deen is woman that would
pet my hair out of love.
As Mrs. Deen has said, she is what she is. She is not hero.
She is someone that got a little too wrapped up in the hegemony and forgot that
those “professional” slaves were people.
Paula Deen is a racist.
Leave Paula alone?
If she can leave her antiquated, oppressive yearnings about
the proper South alone? Maybe.
