I Don’t Support Black Businesses

I Don’t Support Black Businesses

Yeah… That title might put you coons off a bit, but stick with me for a minute or two while I break it down.

You know how you can walk into GAP, buy a red T-shirt, and proceeds go to babies dying of AIDS in Africa. Although you really didn’t want or need a red T-shirt, (not to mention Target got Hanes 3-packs for half the price of that solo T) you got it from GAP. Just knowing that some of the money from your purchase went to a good cause warmed your heart. Nothing like that ever happens to me when I buy black. Ok, maybe the bucks I spend are going to Ray-Ray Jr’s college fund, but let’s be realistic most likely my bucks are going to P Diddy’s drop top MayBach fund.

How my money is spent
When I go out and spend my hard-earned money, (by the way I’m on the clock sitting at my desk right now listening to Cee-Lo, watching Game of Thrones via HBO Go, texting Ms. New Pussy, and writing this blog) I look for a few factors: (1) quality, (2) service, (3) price, and (4) convenience. If your business covers 3 out of those 4, my money’s with you. Normally, when it comes to black products or business, none of my criteria are met. Only in Spike Lee movies are corner stores in the hood actually owned and/or operated by blacks. The Asian nigga from the Hangover cousins got the corner store game locked in real life. The last time I set foot in a black corner store, they had a bevy of hair care products, salt & vinegar potato chips, orange soda, sunflower seeds, cigarettes, 4Loko, and not shit else. Not that I have anything against those products, but when I’m looking for a roll of toilet paper and a carton of eggs, ain’t shit a Dark-n-Lovely perm can do for me. Not to mention people that work in black owned businesses always act like you’re bothering them… as if you forced that motherfucker to quit high school and get a felony so that the corner store is his only option for employment.
Customer - Excuse me; do have any copies left of today’s paper?
Store employee - Did you look by the sign that says “Newspapers”?
Customer - Yes, but I didn’t see any.
Store employee - Well, there’s your answer. **returns to rolling J on counter***
*For the white people who have tuned into this blog because they agree with the title: a “J” is a marijuana cigarette*

Blacks can only really sell food, drugs, and sneakers well
I don’t know who owns DTLR, but every time I set foot in the store, there’s a black person collecting the money. With that said, I buy almost entirely all my sneakers there because they always have the styles I’m interested in. Right across the street, there’s a Footlocker. Now, 90% of the time, there’s a black person behind the counter, but I know for a fact a black person isn’t running the show because they have a devastating shortage of Jordan’s and niggas love Jordan’s. I haven’t sold a drug in long long longgggg time, (well at least not on the hand to hand level) but without fail, every week a person (no matter what their race is) asks me for drugs. Today, I’m wearing a slim fitting V-neck white T-shirt, grey Rock & Republic jeans, Dolce & Gabbana eyeglasses because I’m blind as fuck, and Louis Vuitton shoes. When I looked in the mirror this morning, I didn’t look a damn thing like Gucci Mane, Young Jeezy, or any other drug dealing rapper, but that didn’t stop a teenaged Hispanic girl from asking me, “Where the loud at?” You want to know why? Because black people are known for selling drugs probably via stereotypes started by “New York Undercover,” “The Wire,” and of course your neighborhood corner boy. You ever notice that Popeye’s fried chicken has absolutely nothing to do with “Popeye” Doyle from “The French Connection” or “Popeye the sailor”? Those two dudes can’t sell fried chicken. Instead you see that random black woman holding a bucket of chicken and yelling coonish shit about her “special” mix of spices in every commercial. I’m sure she’s of no relation to Alvin Copeland (the white man that started this). All of this because black people can sell fried chicken and soul food; I don’t think a Sailor with a corn pipe and deformed forearms slanging chicken would have the same effect.
What’s in it for me?
If I go out and drop 100 bucks on a fresh RocaWear sweatsuit, I can’t write that shit off at the end of the year (not that I would wear RocaWear, Sean John, or any other über coon label, but I might be slightly more motivated to if I knew it was coming back to me). Is the government giving me a tax write-off for these Rock & Republics I have on? Fuck no… but, the $250 spent is worth the 5+ years I can wear them. That RocaWear sweatsuit is guaranteed to (1) go outta style by then or (2) fade and shrink in the washing machine. When I roll up in a Tyler Perry flick to see a good old-fashioned male bashing or even worse a grown man dressed as a gun toting Grandmother jumping around and acting a fool, there is no payoff other than the embarrassment I feel being seen walking out of the theatre. The money I spend on black products, entertainment, and businesses doesn’t trickle back down to me or my community, contrary to you coons’ beliefs. How many times has the soul food spot in your neighborhood sent a child from your neighborhood to college off the money they make? ... Yeah, I’ll wait. There is no incentive to buy black besides the fact that we all share a similar skin color… unfortunately, the only color I’m interested in is green… money green to be precise.

So much for Ray-Ray’s scholarship fund
Jean DeGrate has spoken