Last night I dreamed I was assigned to do makeup for a white woman. I had very pale concealer and my job was to help her reduce redness. She ordered me to put the concealer on my hand before applying it. I remember looking at the pale blob on my hand, like a foreign splotch, and then starting to apply it on her face, as she leaned back and closed her eyes, pursing her blood-red lips.

Before I went to sleep, I read about the people of faith murdered in their church, about my friends crying out “How long, O Lord,” my white friends doing #whitefolkwork and calling other white folk to task for speaking out lest they too become complicit in the crime, and my black friends, exhausted, but committed to remembering those who died and not glorifying the person who chose to terrorize an already oppressed people.

My dream, processing what it means to be under white supremacy. Processing how the pedestal of white womanhood prevents other women from being viewed as true women in US-America, and from being in solidarity with one another. And ultimately, for white women to be defined as white women only in relation to the cishet-white-male gaze.

Remember the victims of the Charleston massacre. Via Jacki Chuculate​ and Derk Brown​

–Cynthia Hurd, 54, St. Andrews regional branch manager for the Charleston County Public Library system.
–Sharonda Coleman-Singleton, a church pastor, speech therapist and coach of the girls’ track and field team at Goose Creek High School
–Tywanza Sanders, 26, who had a degree in business administration from Allen University, where Pinckney also attended
–Ethel Lance, 70, a retired Gilliard Center employee who worked recently as a church janitor.
–Susie Jackson, 87, Lance’s cousin who was named by a relative and was a longtime church member.
–Depayne Middleton Doctor, 49, who retired in 2005 as Charleston County director of the Community Development Block Grant Program.
–Mira Thompson, 59, a pastor at the church.
–Rev. Daniel Simmons Sr., 74, Minister – died in a hospital operating room.



Skyscrapers beneath me, I plummet downward, the wind whipping past, the skyscrapers suddenly flashing up close below, beside, slowly rotating as I spin with them. My heart and breath jerk for a moment and I know I can yank myself out, breathe deeply, open my eyes to the gray shadows and yellow lines on the wall, chest pounding, panting. I feel like I’m on the precipice of an impossibly high roller coaster, mind unable the grasp the depth of the blue sky beneath and all around me, one tiny narrow red track straight down until it becomes a pinprick omigodomigodomigod… no. Stay.

I lean into gravity like I’m belaying, but instead of hanging taut, I fall faster, not a dart or a leaf, but a thin sheet of metal, falllllflipflipfallllllllllllllllflipflipflipfalllllllllllllllllllltuuurrnfalllllllllllllllllllllllllllllahhhhhhhhhhhhhh