Die, fist bump, die!
I swear. You do a little gesture to celebrate the fact that you’re now officially “the Man” of the Democratic Party and it becomes the most talked about piece of nothing in the history of pieces of nothing.
I have no problem with the “fist bump” aka dap, showcased as the Obamas celebrated their ascension to the top of the heap Tuesday night. It’s existed since forever in the black community. Or at least since the 1970s. It’s so ingrained that it isn’t even about coolness anymore. My father gives dap and he hasn’t been cool since 1972. Along with church, dancing and Juneteenth picnics, dap is just on that long list of “ordinary shit black people do.” It doesn’t have anything to do with anything. It’s not that deep or complicated. Most black people like Al Green and turnip greens. It’s not rocket science.
Of course, that doesn’t stop people who are completely removed from black culture to discover it via Michelle and Barack Obama and go on and on about it like this is the late 90s and they’re screaming “Waaaaazzzzup!” at people because they saw it in a Budweiser commercial. It’s like when my editors discovered what “bling” meant and started putting it in headlines. White folks get that look on their face like they learned a “secret” about black people. Like how some of my white friends saw the Chappelle Show as an anthropological study on what black really think.
Um … no.
Sayeth the folks at What About Our Daughters:
It’s our job to analyze these things so I am not a killjoy, I thought it was cute and a sign that they are friends not just husband and wife, so that’s nice, but the media’s obsession with that small gesture plays into the fact (IMHO) that the most ordinary of things to Black folks even after being in this country since before its founding, is somehow EXOTIC.
Right now I am rocking braids. While it no longer annoys me, you would be surprised how many non-black folks are entranced by my hair and feel the need to comment on it. As if hair braiding is witchcraft or voodoo.
Be careful about basking in the first pound because if this much attention got paid to the first pound, just wait until the weeMichelles decide they want to take swimming lessons or something and they start rocking cornrows. Just wait until everything that they do that may somehow be “ethnic” gets cooed over and psychoanalyzed. The “First Pound” is cute and all right now, but is every single thing that the Obamas do that is “different” get dissected , it is going to get really old really fast.
What About Our Daughters goes into a much more extensive round-up of fist bump coverage, which is bordering on obsession in this “black people are different” reportage. I’m just going to lay low until then next, “Oh my God! Barack just said ‘holler at ya boy!’ What does that mean!?!?!“