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I went on a late night store trip with my sister to get some stuff and we saw a recent magazine with Beyonce on the cover, calling her “the world’s most beautiful woman”.

Who says? Who decided?

She’s beautiful and she’s not without talent. But the media just makes me sick with this shit.

So they pick the Black/mixed woman who dyes her hair and may even lighten her skin, may even wear six tons of makeup. They pick one woman, of all the beautiful Black women to hold up on some pedestal labeled “the most beautiful person in the world”. And who the hell decided that?

But anyway, there were white people around us at the checkout line when we saw the magazine and my sister mentioned it sarcastically as we were getting our stuff bagged up. So I voice my opinion about it: Beyonce is being called “the most beautiful person in the world” because she’s almost as close to passable and white as they could find among celebrities with some talent. I don’t care that it was “just one magazine” publishing this. I am sick of the Beyonce and Other Select Acceptably Black Women of Fame, Fortune and Looks Beauty Pageant running through my life.

As we were walking home, my sister accused me of talking louder because white people were around. [She’s always like that when Shannon starts “talking political”.] She said she didn’t want them to feel bad and be offended. And I was like why in the fuck should my valid observation and analysis offend them or make them feel bad? And why the hell should I care? I didn’t hush up because white people were around because I don’t fucking have to quiet myself so they feel better about the beauty standards and valuations that people who look like them inflict on everyone.

It was another infuriating evening of being made into the villain, being made to sound wrong or rude, for speaking the truth and not silencing myself.

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