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I& #39;ve been observing this Jessica Krug/Fake Black Lady shit from the sidelines. It has lead me to an interesting thought, in terms of #BlackGirlMagic vs. #BlackGirlsAREMagic:
My original thought became a commodity when the hashtag was shortened for the sake of Twitter& #39;s old 140 character limit. It became a thing to have instead of simply what you ARE. Words matter, especially verbs.
That commodification lent itself to gatekeeping, useless stratification, respectability and lawsuits. 
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Black Girl Magic no longer was about authenticity, integrity or birthright. It was just a thing to put on & walk around in declaration, no matter who you were. Look at all the spin-offs (see: JLo) that popped up. Black Womanhood became a thing that could be usurped & corrupted.
That& #39;s what made me think of Ms. Jessica Krug. One day she just decided to put on a sparkly cape and decide that Black Womanhood was a thing she could possess just because she wanted to.
She didn& #39;t care that the cape she put on was hand stitched by my Ancestral Mothers into my blood and bone. That their blood, sweat and tears were rubbed into my skin & that& #39;s why I shine how I do.
She just wanted the shine.
She just wanted the shine.
She wore the Sacred like a costume. And a rack of niggas let her do it. At Black women& #39;s expense.
Our Divinity is not casual costume for damaged white women.
Let& #39;s try to never forget that.
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Let& #39;s try to never forget that.
