Originally, I had intended to write this long ass screed about how oppressed I am, because much like Bernie Sanders, I enjoy nothing more than broadcasting how horribly I am treated by society. It has taken me nearly a month to investigate what happened in July that led to my getting a call from the Capitol Police. The results of my investigation didn’t make me feel oppressed, necessarily, though maybe they should.
In the end I feel just a little bit sad, a little bit angry, and completely over Bernie Sanders even being a consideration for me at any time, ever. Thankfully, I don’t go to the polls until right before they close, and since I’m in Alaska, we generally have a winner by that time, so my stupid vote doesn’t even count for shit. Remember that for when I get high and mighty. Anyways, it happened like this…
There I was, minding my own business, and trying to avoid the swarms of Bernie supporters that flooded my account daily to accuse me of not being sufficiently leftist, or of trying to set Bernie up on a Rape Charge by talking about (this is not rape) Al Franken (apparently GF mentioned waist grabbing, which is also not rape, but I wasn’t in that conversation).
Then I got a call from a strange number. Like most people, I answered it, just in case I had won Publisher’s Clearinghouse, (never entered) or maybe even a long lost relative was trying to find some family member that I don’t know. This happens from time to time. Instead it was the last person I would ever expect to hear from. A cop. No, not Kamala, unfortunately.
Now, if you know me at all, you know that I rarely have any dealings with the police, I generally only hear from them if I contact them myself, or a certain person (who shall remain nameless) has gotten himself into trouble again. Once he said he was police, I got confused, I said, “Well, you must have the wrong number. Who are you looking for, again?” I mean, I clearly heard my name, but yeah right, no way in hell are the cops looking for me. He apologized and said he was looking for “Bianca.” Um? That’s MY name. WTF?
So, I said it was me, but, I was still sure he wasn’t looking for me. Then, dread overtook me. “Who died? Is everything okay? What happened, just tell me.” I just knew one of my relatives had to be dead, or must have killed someone, oh, I was about to get all crazy, tears were forming, ready to drop, and I saw myself both identifying a body, and simultaneously trying to defend a guilty cousin, but…. I was wrong. He was calling for me.
I asked him what this was all about, and he assured me everyone was okay. Curiously, he asked me where I lived, and I said, “Well, you just called me.” That made me suspicious, why wouldn’t a cop know where I was? He said he was just confirming, and gave me his office number to call right back if I wanted. Later I did call and hang up. Yeah, it was the police, and YES I KNOW THEY KNOW I CALLED, AND HUNG UP. SO WHAT? They called me first, so it’s okay for me to do that. But, I digress. It was clear he was a cop at that point, so I immediately got a bit irritated that he had made me nervous, but I kept cool, thinking wtf could this even be, identity theft?
He asked me a few basic questions first, I answered, but I ended with, “Okay, just tell me what this is so we can clear it up quickly, because whatever it is, yeah right, I’m not in it, it’s got to be bullshit.” I said something to that effect, and he laid it on me. Was I intending to murder Senator Bernie Sanders? Was I planning any trips? Had I been to Dc? No. No. WTF is this, hell no! The FBI had gotten a hot tip from a supporter of a sitting US Senator that I am armed and dangerous, and also ready, willing, and possibly PLANNING a trip to D.C. to murder Bernie Sanders. I immediately began rolling my eyes so hard they damn near won’t stop rolling to this day, a month later. I remember giving a deep sigh, and thinking, “Here they go with this shit.”
He was explaining how hard it was to identify me (it’s super easy), and how it took him a minute to track me down (takes Berners 35 seconds), and how he had spent a good minute looking through my tweets to, I suppose, find some violent tendencies. Poor guy.
The looking through my tweets thing is probably what took the longest (I am fucking prolific), especially since he would have had to contact Twitter to see them (account is deleted), since I was still in the process of changing my persona, and moving to a different account to try to hide from the Bernie-bros. I had decided in February that their obsession with me was unhealthy for ME, and I opened another account. It was just hard to convince people to move with me. And nobody wanted to hang out with me on my Game of Throne account. It’s kinda pathetic how regular me gets no love, I guess I’m just fucking boring compared to my alter egos. Meh, fuck y’all. Back to the matter at hand.
The officer filled me in on my major crime, and y’all? It some fearsome shit. I mean, I could go to prison, and immediately become a top OG off of this destroy, kill, slay, super-thug mega killa crime shit. (Can’t nobody catch my fade on crimes, for real.)
I had typed, into my very own browser, the words– and I did this of my own free will, I was not possessed by Al Capone, or the Queen of Florencia, or Snoop from The Wire. I typed, “I’m going to light Bernie Sanders up with these receipts.” or some raggedy, boring, redundant, been said a thousand times by me, you, yo mama, and yo cousin too type of drag I’m ALWAYS saying. I vaguely remembered a Berner saying something stupid about that tweet at the time, and I had explained to them that nobody was going to believe their bullshit since I am KNOWN for Bernie receipts.
I did what any hardened criminal would do when asked about my possible violent intentions. I laughed. Okay, so, I am not quite sure if that’s a normal reaction, or if I just laugh too much. Why has it gotten so ridiculous that they thought the fucking FBI would be fooled by an out of context tweet about “lighting Bernie up” with ANYTHING that’s not a weapon. Now, I have since realized, that they do, in fact, see receipts as deadly weapons, because saying anything that can be construed as negative about Bernie is a serious crime.
The officer said he had looked around the web, and he saw places where I was being discussed, I legit did not want to hear, so I stopped him so I could explain Bernie-bros to him. I know I ended the rant by saying, “Not everything is free! Why won’t they stop saying FREE” He agreed. Everything cannot be free, somebody has to pay, and clearly it would be the both of us. The investigation was over. I immediately took to Twitter to screech about it because I was shaken up. Why would someone call the FBI over such trivial bullshit? Swatting. Such bullshit. I will discuss it more later.
People bought me weed in the aftermath, just to make me feel better, and I am grateful to each and every one of you. If I were more organized I would have sent thank you notes, and I will, they’ll just be a little late, and I kinda need email addresses.
Even-so, I am still not quite myself. I don’t feel Brave all the time, usually I feel more resolute. I even changed my name from Wonderbitch, just because it made men instantly combative, and women too. When you take a strong name, people tend to want to break you; when you are a woman of color, those people will often be white. And they’ll be your “allies” more often than your so-called enemies. Being a highly visible woman of color on Twitter, or any social media, is often a full time job more than an activity to entertain oneself; it’s unpaid labor that we do to make sure that the voices of Black women are heard, through us. And while it can be painful to log on daily, and face the constant negativity that bombards us just for being Black, loud, and free, it is also a labor of love in it’s own way.
As it stands, I have been bothered by a young man who is ostensibly the one who reported me to the FBI as a future terrorist, or assassin. I was shown a screenshot of someone threatening to report me again, he was blocked, so I had to unblock him to see what I was being reported for this time.
Electioneering. Many ridiculous accusations came my way, I don’t actually have the energy to argue with idiots all day anymore, so I re-blocked him after replying to the post where he tagged the FBI, just letting them know that, once again, it was utter bullshit.
Do I blame anyone? Of course I do. I blame a culture that has become so concentrated in our own bubbles, that people see someone they perceive as slightly to the right or left of them as a dangerous foe. But more than that, I blame a nation that uses policing against blacks in such a systematic, and casual way that a young white man thinks nothing of reporting an innocent Black mother to the FBI for not liking his candidate for President. That’s why he did it. Is the candidate to blame? No, I don’t think so in this case, but I do think it is very unhealthy to feed anger to angry young men, to point at the moderate, and say, “There is your enemy, they are in your way. Never compromise!” Anger must have a target, and though I am to the left of Sanders, my blackness paints me as the Moderate, and my lack of Bernie love cements me in that sphere. I don’t know who to blame.
I won’t go into my perceptions of that young man, his issues are his own, and my only hope is that he has a stable structure in place, and people around who care deeply for him, and his future. And sure, I was screeching about vengeance, and payback, but, this is me we’re talking about. I don’t do revenge. I hold grudges, and collect receipts.
I will be documenting this election whether the Berners like it or not, and I will not spare them as others have in the media. I am not a journalist, I am not worried about access, or becoming the target of Bernie’s swarms. I already am the target.
Over 150, 000 people have been blocked by me over the past month, so if you are a good decent person who is blocked, I am sorry. You were following an asshole, and I block-chained them, you just got caught up in the mix.
I will be debunking some stupid shit people say about Kamala soon, and I will post the first episode of my podcast at this site, and will continue until further notice. If I get support for my blog and podcast, well hey, makes sense to keep it up. If not, that’s okay too, we have really great women of color writers out here, so I would ask that you at least support one of them. The pay gap is a real deal for us, and i see so much talent overlooked, and obviously underpaid. I would love to be able to pay them for posts, but we are just beginning, so I’ll hold off on jumping the gun.
It’s been a rough start because of the FBI thing, I just have not had it in me to write. I don’t know if that means I was shook, or it just fucked up my mentals, but I’ve been trying to get back into the groove. So, expect more posts, more podcasts, and hopefully less FBI drama.
Love y’all, so you take care of yourselves; nobody else will.