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Serena The Great

Serena Williams Isn’t Yours To Love

We got this!

Yes, we have this on lock. To those who enjoy finding ways to dethrone the best athlete in the whole wide world — your futile attempts only serve as the pitiful evidence of how uncomfortable you are with the notion that a Black woman can actually excel in a genre that is reserved for the elite.

When you hear the name “John McEnroe” there is the avalanche of past behavior that helps to endorse the validity of White male privilege. The tennis icon never missed an opportunity to strut in front of his competitors — and the live audience who most certainly could relate to the shabby charms of someone that has almost nothing to lose being the anointed bad boy of the circuit.

Screaming obscenities at the umpire, tossing his racket on the ground, flailing at the audacity of being called out for his obvious disrespect for a sport that treated him fairly — by making him a world-class champ with millions to gain despite his erratic image — those are the qualities that White men can operate with seamless adherence — and little or no consequences.

So, of course this same human feels composed enough to continuously throw darts at a fellow comrade of the same sport — who still hasn’t received the nationwide adulation that befits an athlete of her immense stature and irrefutable achievements.

There is no need to present a roster of reasons why Serena Williams is the Black woman that most of you can’t stand. Of course it makes sense that an aging legend would see it fit to point out the limitations of her ranking — especially when men are involved — particularly White men.

It’s that constant reminder that buzzes on cue to warn us of the line that can’t ever be stepped over. You can have your Black president for this amount of time, and hey, we will even throw in an extra special. But, once that time is up — it’s back to the familiarity of Whiteness — at all costs.

Well, here we are — back in the Whiteness!

We have White men proclaiming their supremacy with swords, daggers, guns and venomous statements — that provide the attention they lack at the expense of trying to prove the Greatness of a country that will surely eat them alive in due time.

Serena took care of John — the way she always does. It was a Grand Slam, and despite her fragile condition, she was able to give that wining serve without flinching and with the authority of a champ.

Serena Williams isn’t yours to love if you’re not feeling generous and fair. There are enough of us willing and able to lift her away from the garbage and hold her long enough to cleanse ourselves from the doubt that we are in fact — perfection.

The gorgeous shoot in Vanity Fair, is the latest gem — as the visible bump protrudes with the immaculate shape of an offspring — that already comprehends the awesomeness of this environment that provides shelter.

Some criticize the choice to bare it all — dark skin, black skin, skin that isn’t Beyonce’s. Skin that doesn’t hide the Blackness in a coating of purity. Skin and lips that are unapologetically enhanced — to heighten the significance of Blackness that is undiluted — and suffering from scarcity at the ignorance of a people — that are still enslaved with the mentality that almost eradicated us — and continues to threaten our existence.

Yes, some White people will judge and do all they can to make the inferiority complex we weren’t born with — blossom with buds for future entrapment.

But when we do this to ourselves — the tears of sorrow will never wash away the betrayal.

Beyonce’s pregnancy shots connived the web into a standstill. She is capable of Christ-like rapture because of her flawless presentation. The intermediary between the warring hues — due to features that are aesthetically pleasing and safely admissible.

There is no darkness — just the light and it shines as a beacon of what we can’t ever escape as we publicly chant otherwise.

Serena Williams is more than Black enough for you. But, for those of us that dwell in a place far, far away from the spiteful haven of guilty transparency — she could be even Blacker than she is now.

Her template could rival the hardness associated with women like us that won’t boast the softness and allure that makes it easy to dismiss and ridicule with celebrated mockery from our own men — coupled with demeaning fare from the men who learned from the best.

We got this!

Don’t look too closely and choke on the imagery of a woman who has given love — will birth love — and will be loved for how much she loved herself.

It’s what we do in these streets that are paved with potholes — waiting to silence us with a deadly gobble. We strut past the menacing climate with the swag of a victor — dripping in sweat — with the SHINY, SHIMMERY, BLACK AS HELL covering — that gives the night blots of envy.

Serena is ours to love. And, no! You can’t have her.