Bloggers, critics, and even fellow feminists have moved on. And yet, here I am, still pained by the way Swift exploits the culture of women of color while simultaneously objectifying their bodies.
We sat there in his car, in the snow, in the street, in total silence. That’s when I felt his fist crash against the left side of my face.
Apparently I hadn’t gotten the memo about it being mandatory for all women of the African Diaspora to be eternal fans of Beyoncé Knowles.