Dear Stacey Dash:
I hate that I even have to write this. As a teenager, I thought you were so beautiful, and I loved all your movies. You gave us your best spoiled, bougie black girl in Moving with black comedy royalty, Richard Pryor. You were the spoiled Beverly Hills black princess everyone wanted to be in Clueless, and you were every bit the around-the-way girl we all wanted to be in Mo’ Money.
We loved you. We stanned for you. Some young black girl somewhere wanted to be you. What happened to you?
We were rooting for you!
Sometimes people get lost along the way. It happens to the greatest of us, and the strongest among us are able to bounce back from it.
This hasn’t been the case for you, and it’s baffling. From the stint on Fox News to your weird and obnoxious anti-black posts, I don’t understand what happened to the Stacey we used to know and love.
And this latest stunt? This latest move on your part? Straight blasphemy, sis.
Did you really fucking fix your fingers to come for the queen, Auntie Maxine Waters? Like, did you do that, girl? What is your fucking problem?
Never mind that Waters is your elder, and you owe her the respect and dignity that comes with 37 years of public service representing the interests of the blackest parts of the city of Los Angeles.
Never mind that she started her career in public service as a teacher and a volunteer coordinator for the Head Start program.
Never mind that she has done more in her alleged “15 minutes” than you will ever accomplish in your sad, sorry excuse for a has-been life.
How dare you call her a buffoon!
You have the nerve to use a word you epitomize to describe a black icon who is doing good with her service and acts while you sit around in your coop clucking and laying eggs of disruption, being a tool for a system that is already against the group of people of which you yourself, you idiot, are a member.
Don’t you know that you are the fool? Don’t you know that you are the buffoon?
There’s a word I want to call you, but my editors will not allow me to use it. Suffice it to say it starts with a “c,” ends with an “n” and is one of the worst things you can call a black person.
That is you, you bird.
Instead of trying to come for Auntie Maxine, you need to figure out where, down the road, you lost your blackness. Work out why you feel the need to be so anti-black. Come to understand what it truly means to be a black woman in this political climate, in the state our nation is in, and how your words do more harm than good.
Until you get all of that worked out, don’t you ever in your yard-bird-ass life come for Auntie Maxine again.
To quote my co-worker Corey: “After all these years, the damn girl is still clueless.”
Go cluck your ass back into the corners of your coop and shut the fuck up.
Please and thank you.
Another Black Woman Who Is Sick of Your Shit