If one searches the web, you may come across a book titled Fugitive Monderities: Kisama and the Politics of Freedom. This book was published by Duke University Press Books and is 265 pages of work written by a self-professed absolute liar.
The book focuses on a story out of West Central Africa, Angola to be exact, and I won’t go into the story because of the self professed liar who wrote it.
Author and professor of African History at George Washington University and associate professor at Washington D.C. University has defined herself as a “culture leech, a coward” while claiming throughout her white life that she is Black – “first North African Blackness, then US rooted Blackness, then Caribbean rooted Bronx Blackness.”
She has also admitted that she has “gaslighted” people whom she loves by her “continued appropriation of a Black Caribbean identity”. Yes, to be more specific, she claimed Afro-Latina, too.
Now she feels it necessary to come out with her whole bed of snake-woven treachery which she then calls – get this – mental illness. These are her exact words, and as I type this, I am trying not to vomit inside my throat. She writes, “Mental health issues likely explain why I assumed a false identity initially, as a youth, and why I continued and developed it for so long.”
Is it now that same mental illness that has led her to confess she has been lying? Or since I’m an author, a real black one at that, and my imagination tends to run with information to create stories, could it be that she’d been outed and had to out herself first? That would be a really good book, huh? But right now, that’s just fantasy, or is it? I digress.
Instead of going into that lame mental illness excuse for every white lie told, I am annoyingly agitated at the fact that she studied us, black people, like specimen under a microscope, and then, like a chameleon, opted to change herself after her lab study to become part of the fold. Here is the quote – “my false identity was crafted entirely from the fabric of Black lives. “
The fabric of Black lives is where she crafted her false identity. Just this one sentence alone makes my black skin crawl. If one understands the characteristics and qualities of fabric, one can see the depths she admits to going through to mimic as closely as she could, Black lives, and it didn’t matter to her that she did it either.
Fabric is by definition cloth produced by weaving and knitting textile fibers. It is also the walls, floors and roof of a building. Her studies of Black lives went so deep until she put on her own little experiment. She experimented with the whole of Black lives for her white life at the expense of Black lives.
Like a science project, it seems like she checked off boxes in her head, decided that Black emotions would be fine with the false life she led, when honestly, she could have ducked out of it any particular time she needed to be set free. That time is now.
She wants to be free, but her freedom will cost her absolutely nothing, but maybe gain her countless interviews, sympathy and maybe even a movie deal because, let’s face it. The reward for white lies is sweet when it comes off of the back of Black lives.
Hasn’t this been what history has taught? History has taught that patents and trademarks don’t belong to black people, so credit them to white people. It’s only in this modern day that black people were allowed to own anything. There was even a time that a black person could testify against a white person in the court of American law.
Therefore, with all her lies claiming it as love at the same time, she basically reached back, tore pages from how white slave owners claimed property and bodies from black people, and compensated herself for it by claiming the black woman’s identity. She claimed a whole entire ancestry while staring her victims in the face, each and every day, as she studied them, country after country, state after state.
Yes, it’s that deep.
She went full circle, and she hasn’t and won’t be levied with a crime. History taught that as well. No matter what is taken, even a Black life, it is somehow acceptable until only she decides it is wrong. Then it officially becomes wrong.
She goes on to say “I don’t write in passive voice, ever, because I believe we must name power.”
This author and professor may claim to not write in passive voice ever and she claims to name power, but she really has written and lived in weakness. Pure weakness. There is no power in lies. This may actually be her first power play…until we get to the poetic ending. Just wait.
In her own words, “You were not naive. I was audaciously deceptive. I have a very clear, loud conscience, but I have acted as if I had none. I gaslit you. I begged for your compassion and love for my isolation and loneliness — real and raw feelings, but borne of the avalanche of deceit.“
She ends her confessional by saying it “isn’t a confession“. Really? Confession defined is a formal statement admitting that one is guilty of a crime.
She wrote a formal statement admitting to her crime. She lied once again, or just simply doesn’t know the definition of a confession. Here is the whole statement – “This isn’t a confession, it isn’t a public relations move, and it damn sure isn’t a shield. [s]It is the truth, though.“
That’s the poetic ending. Not a confession (yes it is) but the truth. Sigh. It ends like a whole performance.
This whole time you have been reading about a she, a professor, a white woman living a Black life, an author without knowing her name. She’s Jessica Krug, the self professed liar.
Opinion written by author and entrepreneur Mirika Mayo Cornelius