Like Black history, social media has roots. It serves several purposes for its users and it is effectual. Initially, people used it to stay connected with family and friends, sharing photos and goings-on. News media quickly jumped into the fold once the industry realized millions of people could be reached. At some point, that smooth ride shifted into fifth gear, and social sites became premier platforms to push anything and everything from apparel and music to presence and personality.

We the people became inundated with it all. I know I have. For some, their entire livelihood relies on social networks. I know mine does. As a writer and news editor, a great deal of my waking hours is dedicated to researching information, sourcing news and placing content. Overconsumption is a thing. As a consumer, there are times, I wanna throw the whole damn digital era away—but not yesterday.

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Yesterday, social media was as kind as a heap of shaved ice, swimming in cherry-mango syrup, on the steamiest August afternoon. It was as giving as butter pecan ice cream, resting lazily atop Sunday’s peach cobbler. It was mouth-watering, like a thick slice of salted watermelon washed back with hand-rolled and freshly-squeezed lemonade. Yesterday timelines were tasty.

Some earthly angel unleashed juicy jumbo dick naked images of Safaree, Love & Hip Hop reality star and ex-Anaconda boyfriend of Nicki Minaj. Though the couple broke up long ago, Safaree continues to be LONG, as witnessed when Safaree broke the innanets that will forever remain broken. I’m sure the world-wide-web ain’t the only thing he’s broken. From what I trolled, salavated, fantasized examined, Safaree has broken backs, bank accounts, beds, box springs, crotches, hearts, homes, kitchen countertops, language, limbs, and a uterus or two. Straight up with no chaser, that negro got a super-sized johnson. Like, he out here slinging a whole baby arm. Like, it’s all of Wakanda. I ain’t lying. While I don’t know the nature of his and Nicky’s relationship, I do know he would’ve been getting paid off my rhymes, too—whether he wrote them or not. Actually, he would’ve gotten top billing and top dollar for simple ad-libs. I ain’t lying.

I know I am not alone when I say that—or this: Women across the digital diaspora owe thanks to social media and the lone social worker, who gifted us such a curvy image and collective experience. This person performed community outreach, social service and Black magic via social media. This person is the real MVP.

Safaree has broken backs, bank accounts, box springs, crotches, hearts, a uterus or two... Click To Tweet

It was a bright day for social media. Black women’s history was made. Safaree’s, um, endowment was the catalyst, Twitter was the conduit for civic engagement. I witnessed all Black women, of varying age, background, social status, single, married, with and without children, committed to deep discussion without debate. To my delight, social threads were chock full of fiber-optic high fives and agreeable banter albeit the context was um, strokes. Black women traded notes and shared indecency, and yet we are still unsure how that tool fits in his draws much less anywhere else. Nonethelss, at once, we were on one accord. Yesterday, we saw eye-to-eye (eye-to-paynus and testicles, too). We were unified. We were sisters—for real.

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Word to Muva

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Ida Harris

Ida Harris is a journalist and cultural critic covering a range of topics that intersect with Blackness, including art, activism, pop culture, parenting and womanhood. Ida is especially known for her critical writing on sexual assault against Black women and girls. Her work is featured in ELLE , DAME , Blavity, Teen Vogue , and USA Today.

One Comment

  1. Girl, you ain’t lying!! For the first time in…EVER, my mom amd I had an honest woman to woman convo about our sexual lives. We were honest,giggly at times, but all around we bonded…over Safaree’s peen. Hmm…never thought I would ever say that lol

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