“I know you ain’t talkin’ bout my mama?!” –True Thompson: The Turrible Turban Years

The oppression of True Thompson, like a hairline that has finally grown in, has brought me out of hiding.  I just couldn’t sit still another day, fingers motionless, avoiding the keyboard with its missing letters, waiting for someone to come to the rescue of a blackish baby from its whitish mother.

Free True Thompson’s hairline!

I decided that I, Holliday Vann, would have to free True Thompson . . . from the tyranny of her white mother . . . and that ugly old lady turban!!!

First of all, I gots nothin’ ‘gainst no turbans.  India, Aunt Jemima, Nick Cannon knock yo-self out!  And, truly, I understand a whitish woman wanting to protect her blackish baby from the mean-girl-evil-osity of the Internet and its multitude of trolls.

“I see you, True.” –Auntie Jemima

The head scratcher is this.  When she combs through and finds what her low self-esteem detects as a “fatal” flaw in her blackish baby, what would make a white woman choose to suppress the nuisance—the thing she detests—by any means necessary?

I’ll tell you what.  Oppressor blood.

Having no black blood running through her blue veins that has DNA memory of a dark past of being locked up, locked down, shackled, hog-tied, or lynched, Khloe Kardashian will never understand why it is oppressive to screw a turban on a blackish baby in fair weather or any weather, especially in summer.  If white people had empathy, a white woman would only need to ask herself if a man, woman, child, or mangy dog would want to wear a fucking knit hat in 90-degree heat!

If any of the Kardashian Klan were worthy of the friendship of Beyonce Knowles Carter, Queen of the universe and Queen Mother of Bad-Ass Blue Ivy Carter, the Blackish Queen would have dropped some All-Black-Everything Knowledge on you shameless, wanna-be-Black Kardashians.

While you were pretending to know what to do with a Blackish baby, have any of you ever seen Beyonce smothering Blue Ivy’s hair under a hat in 90-degree weather, even when Ign’ant Negroes and Klueless Krackers alike were coming for her Berry-Blue princess?  No, nawwww, and hell-nawwww.

It takes a strong woman to be strong enough for her daughter to let her—and her motherfuckin’ hair—be free.

A whitish woman, like Khloe Kardashian, with her own body issues, low self-esteem, and still guilt-tripping about twerkin’ in a bed with a man (Tristan Thompson) before the bun was done with his last baby mama, will tend to hand-me-down the same self-loathing to their blackish babies.

I say, “Nay, bitch, nay!”

Take da hanky off!  Take da scarf off!  Take the turban off True Thompson’s head!  Whitish women, if a blackish baby’s hairline is too scant in places (like the perimeter of a yard whose dog has run down the grass), Stop!  Posting!  Pictures!  Of!  Her!  Head!  Post pictures of her hands!  Post pictures of her feet!

If one filters True, doesn’t that make her False? How about sliding a glove on that gigantic tranny-hand.

Pick apart the blackish body parts that a white woman like you can be proud of, and post pictures of the black parts only a gutless white woman like you can love until the hairline is no longer the dreaded hairline of Katie Ledecky—which is like an invisible fence.  Then just wait awhile . . . until the hairline has grown in like grass . . . until it has grown in high enough for a whitish woman with a low-ish sense of self to feel comfortable hiding behind.

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What you think is truly going on with Khloe and True?