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Ketanji Brown Jackson don't NEED a brother

Ketanji Brown Jackson don't NEED a brother
By Byron Crawford • Issue #396 • View online
Internets,
If you’re a black woman, and you’re not married to a white guy with a weak pipe game (nullus), you have to ask yourself, Do I even want to be successful in life?
Because I’m seeing plenty of examples of black chicks married to lame-looking white guys ascending to some of the highest levels of the United States government, and I’m seeing relatively few examples of black chicks who don’t date outside the race being similarly successful.
Quick, name an example of a high-ranking black female politician married to a black guy. See, you can’t do it!
Maybe Maxine Waters is married to a black guy who’s somehow still alive. But they don’t count, because they’ve been married since before the Moynihan Report, when marriage for black people became optional.
Certainly, you’re not seeing very many examples of traditional black marriages, in which the guy doesn’t have a job, drops her off at work, drives around all day in her car and doesn’t have the decency to fill up the tank.
Meanwhile, in the married-to-lame-white-guys category, you’ve got newly minted Supreme Court Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson, Vice President Kamala Harris, Congresswoman Ilhan Omar, and I’ll also count Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, who’s neither married nor black, but she is on the Squad.
Brown Jackson is married to a white guy who’s a surgeon, who’s related to Paul Ryan, Mitt Romney’s VP pick in 2012, who listens to Rage Against the Machine in the weight room. I’d allow Mr. Jackson to operate on me (nullus), if there were no Indian guys on staff that day, or Jewish guys with oddly slender fingers, but that’s about as much as you can say about him.
According to an article I skimmed, they met at Harvard, where they both attended undergrad, and he was her first serious boyfriend. I took that to mean that he was the first one to hit it. She might not be aware that there’s anything better out there. She hasn’t worked in very many places with brothers who don’t have keys dangling from their belts.
As discussed in a past edition of Life in a Shanty Town, there’s a black guy at her new job, Clarence Thomas, but I’m not sure if he’d be interested. He tried to get with Anita Hill, so we know he’s willing to make sweet, passionate love to a black woman, but Hill, as I recall, had a perm.
Brown Jackson is fortunate in that Congress just passed a law making it illegal to bar black women from certain professions on the basis of their hairstyle. Otherwise, this may have become an issue in her confirmation hearing. I’m not sure if I support this law, and I wonder if the people who passed it are familiar with very many black female hairstyles.
On the one hand, if my public defender has slicked down “baby hair,” I’d feel somewhat more confident about being able to go home that evening, because I know she came there to argue. On the other hand, I don’t know if I’d want the same person doing my taxes. The law might not be as specific as it should be, and that just goes to show the value of black faces in high places.
One thing Brown Jackson didn’t have to worry about is anything in her husband’s background coming up in her confirmation hearing. You can just tell his credit is impeccable. She didn’t have to sweat him having warrants for riding around in a certified pre-owned Mercedes with a broken tail light, or “outside kids.”
I’m sure a lot of young black chicks are observing these developments with great interest. They might have to get themselves a lame white guy, they’re thinking. They’re not necessarily excited about the prospect of not being satisfied physically, but many of them aren’t very satisfied as it is, if their resting facial expressions are any indication.
Take it easy on yourself,
Bol

 

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