Lockdown has been an experience. The world around me has been scary and chaotic, and my habits have changed to cope. I started off with the best intentions, with dedicated walks and bike rides for exercise and a change of scenery. But this past month especially, it has been difficult to find the energy to go out for more than the most essential errands.
It's been difficult to hear yet more news of police brutality killing yet more innocent black people in a system designed to eradicate us. It's been difficult to hear the statistics, of how black people are several times more likely to die of Covid-19 than white people, and yet the government seem largely unbothered because to class my people as high risk would be to lose our labour that this country relies on to exist, as we are more likely to be key workers. What can I say? Life is pretty un-kawaii and I feel I would be doing not only a disservice to my community but also to myself by not even acknowledging this pain and trauma for the sake of maintaining a breezy, easily readable format on this blog. I would never have started a blog post like this in the past. But I'm a bit too long in the tooth to worry any more about making white people uncomfortable by talking about reality, and while I'm not expecting everyone around me to become a social justice activist, I do expect more than the deafening silence I've experienced from people who should absolutely know better. If you do not care about racial injustice then you do not care about me. End of.
Sometimes I feel like giving up on having an online presence entirely. I don't get off on photo likes, follower numbers, and looking for some level of fame or notoriety. But equally, I cannot underestimate the importance of representation. I may be at a point in my life where I don't need anyone to tell me that I can be whoever I want to be, but I wasn't always like that, and there are still countless black people out there who aren't there yet.
When I started off in this fashion, I was one of maybe a handful of black people in the lolita community. My low quality YouTube videos from the channel I had circa 2011 caused me to receive a message I will never forget, from a black girl who genuinely didn't know that black people could wear this fashion, too. It was so unexpected for me; I didn't realise my channel with barely 100 subscribers could reach someone in this way and do something important. Years later, I was hanging out with some "friends" (all white) who began making fun of a black lolita YouTuber for saying that she wanted to be an inspiration to other black girls out there. They found it hilarious; how could this upstart believe that her YouTube videos be inspiring anybody when we all know that race doesn't matter, right?
Another incident found my white, lolita ex best friend complaining about the fact that it wasn't fair that a black girl had been chosen to model for Metamorphose at a London lolita event. She didn't see anything wrong with saying that "they only picked her to seem PC" in my presence. I would read her blog where she'd try to portray an image of being a kind person who was a great friend and socially aware when she was anything but, until I couldn't keep up the facade anymore. I deserved so much more than walking on eggshells while hurt ravaged my insides for the sake of sparing white people the truth that if they are not actively anti-racist, then they are perpetuating racism and benefiting from it by default.
I considered not posting pictures of myself to end this stream of consciousness, but I do still want to share the happy moments, because black shouldn't have to be synonymous with pain and suffering. I desperately want everyone to step up for black people so that we get to tell more happy stories, get the opportunities we deserve, hear about wonderful black achievements, and see more photos of black people beaming with pride because they are thriving at whatever it is they do. My voice is important. We've read those quotes about how existing as a member of a marginalised group can feel like this radical, political statement, because society doesn't want us to survive, and it most certainly doesn't want us to thrive. So here I am. Surviving this pandemic. Dressing in my favourite clothes to work at home in a job I love (and doing really well at if I do say so myself, even in spite of everything I'm up against in this world).
When I started off in this fashion, I was one of maybe a handful of black people in the lolita community. My low quality YouTube videos from the channel I had circa 2011 caused me to receive a message I will never forget, from a black girl who genuinely didn't know that black people could wear this fashion, too. It was so unexpected for me; I didn't realise my channel with barely 100 subscribers could reach someone in this way and do something important. Years later, I was hanging out with some "friends" (all white) who began making fun of a black lolita YouTuber for saying that she wanted to be an inspiration to other black girls out there. They found it hilarious; how could this upstart believe that her YouTube videos be inspiring anybody when we all know that race doesn't matter, right?
Another incident found my white, lolita ex best friend complaining about the fact that it wasn't fair that a black girl had been chosen to model for Metamorphose at a London lolita event. She didn't see anything wrong with saying that "they only picked her to seem PC" in my presence. I would read her blog where she'd try to portray an image of being a kind person who was a great friend and socially aware when she was anything but, until I couldn't keep up the facade anymore. I deserved so much more than walking on eggshells while hurt ravaged my insides for the sake of sparing white people the truth that if they are not actively anti-racist, then they are perpetuating racism and benefiting from it by default.
I considered not posting pictures of myself to end this stream of consciousness, but I do still want to share the happy moments, because black shouldn't have to be synonymous with pain and suffering. I desperately want everyone to step up for black people so that we get to tell more happy stories, get the opportunities we deserve, hear about wonderful black achievements, and see more photos of black people beaming with pride because they are thriving at whatever it is they do. My voice is important. We've read those quotes about how existing as a member of a marginalised group can feel like this radical, political statement, because society doesn't want us to survive, and it most certainly doesn't want us to thrive. So here I am. Surviving this pandemic. Dressing in my favourite clothes to work at home in a job I love (and doing really well at if I do say so myself, even in spite of everything I'm up against in this world).
Blouse: Vintage Primark I think
Jumperskirt: Pup in a Cup- Btssb
Socks: Bodyline
Cloud Telephone: Vintage Emerson. Gives me Prince "Raspberry Beret" vibes.
I need to take some time for rest and self care. That much is obvious; I am tired and I cannot be in battle mode all the time. But I am not going to let this society destroy me, silence me, and benefit from my efforts while chewing me up and spitting me back out. Not without a fight.
Thank you for reading. Stay safe out there, and please consider the black community at this time if you are not part of it yourself. Black lives matter, and I will say it until the world finally believes it. Will you?
https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/#
