the peanut gallery.

                Recently,  a friend of mine used the term “peanut gallery” during a conversation, and their response to my request to be more specific wasn’t as explicit as I would have liked.  Between my handy dandy dictionary.com app and previous knowledge of the situation, I answered my own question and was more aggravated than I’ve been in some time.

Peanut gallery (n)—1) people whose criticisms are regarded as irrelevant or insignificant (resembling uneducated people who throw peanuts on the stage to express displeasure with a performance); "he ignored complaints from the peanut gallery"

                2) The upper balcony in a racially-segregated venues such as a theatre to which black patrons were restricted; Any source of heckling, unwelcome commentary or criticism, especially from a know-it-all or of an inexpert nature

I found it disconcerting this "peanut gallery" hadn't said anything to me directly. Sure, faces had been made and sarcastic remarks were thrown around, but nothing of any serious concern was said. Passive aggressive antics don’t make so much of an impression on me now that I’ve embraced the power of direct confrontation. (2011 mantra: closed mouths don’t get fed.)

I wonder if all women deal with this. I’d hate to hear that the only people that suffer from the “crabs in a barrel” mentality are those that possess this beautiful melanin and kinky hair I adore. But if we are, I posted my personal solution to the problem on my tumblr earlier today.

i’d like to host a convention for all of the black women in america that are descendants of slaves. i want us all to know that it’s okay to be nice to each other. it’s okay for us to be genuinely happy for and supportive of each other. it’s not always necessary to do everything in your power to outshine others. we can be friends. we can treat each other as sisters. we can focus our energy on things much more productive than tearing each other down.

and i want every black woman and girl to come. i want everybody to just sit down and have one big meeting. one talk. and i don’t care how long it would take. we’re missing camaraderie. we don’t understand the importance of interdependence. we don’t love each other anymore. i honestly wonder if we ever did.