A Message for Cosby Supporters

I’m going to tell you a story. One that few have heard up until this point. Not even my family knows this (sorry, Mom). There are holes in this story, because I don’t remember much of that night. I don’t remember much of that night because I was drugged.

I wasn’t raped. But only because there were 2 people with me that night that I trusted, whom I could count on to get me home safely. Who knew me well enough to know that something was wrong.

It was a normal night out. Summer in Miami. As with most weekend nights during undergrad, I could be found on Washington Avenue on South Beach or CocoWalk in the Grove. This night we chose The Grove. Cheap drinks, a good DJ, open air, and free admission to Fat Tuesday usually won out anyway. I don’t remember the drink. Maybe it was vodka and cranberry. Maybe Jack and Coke. I do remember ordering one. Just one. I don’t remember the stranger’s face. I do remember his being in my personal space uninvited. I don’t remember leaving my drink unattended. I didn’t. I wasn’t as vigilant about keeping an eye on it, though. I think I remember my friend saying she saw him possibly put something in it. She couldn’t be sure.

I remember thinking I was too drunk after just one drink. I remember my friends thinking the same. I remember them trying to get me to leave. I think I remember the guy who drugged me trying to stop them. I don’t remember leaving Fat Tuesday. I don’t remember how I got to the car. My car that I couldn’t drive home. I remember bits and pieces of the drive home. I remember my guy friend sitting in the back seat with me, making sure I was okay. I don’t remember anything I said to him, but apparently I was hilarious. It’s good they found humor. Maybe it meant I was somewhat okay to them. I won’t let them tell me anything, though.

I don’t remember how I made it home and into my bed. I slept in my clothes. I do remember being sick that night and for days after.  Not being able to keep anything down. The anxiety of trying to remember what happened. The fear of what could have happened. I remember not wanting to drink for a long time. Not wanting to go back to CocoWalk at all. These are moments of my life I will never get back.

And I was lucky. Still, I didn’t say anything. That was over 10 years ago.

So, when I see memes and jokes on Facebook questioning the validity of a rape accusation simply because these women remember Bill Cosby drugging and raping them, I get pissed the fuck off. Because you can and do remember. Even if it’s just in flashes. You. Know.

So, fuck your defense of Bill Cosby.
Fuck his wanting to buy NBC, as if that’s more important than the safety of these women.
Fuck your ignorance of how date rape drugs work.
Fuck your victim blaming and slut shaming.
And just in general, fuck you!

And you wonder why victims don’t tell…


Hot Air: Will Meg Rosoff Please Shut Up!

I was not going for eloquence…

Around the World in 80 Books

By Tqwana B.

This will be quick and dirty. Many others have already taken to social media to give this woman the business. I’m only going to focus on one aspect of her tone-deaf comments here.

Please do read Debbie Reese’s post here – Not recommended: A FINE DESSERT by Emily Jenkins and Sophie Blackall

Another weekend has passed and another privileged white author is butt hurt over being called out on their shit. Not another. The same one as before. Will someone please tell Meg Rosoff to have several damn seats?!

Anyway, if you haven’t seen her latest post, here’s the part I want to address:

Actually, it sounds like their just pulling back on publishing your book... Actually, it sounds like their just pulling back on publishing your book…

So, publishers are pulling back from publishing diverse books?

Good! Great!

Not that I actually believe this to be true. But, we don’t need or want ignorant people like that publishing books about…

View original post 235 more words

Hot Air: Bad Boys or Just Bad People?

ICYMI: I’m at odds with myself over this issue. On one hand, we have freedom of expression. On the other, books like those mentioned set dangerous trends and unhealthy fetishes, IMO.

What do you think?

Around the World in 80 Books

By Tqwana B.

Source Modern Portrait of Sarah “Sally” Hemings. Source

Remember that time two romance authors joked about writing a BDSM novel starring Thomas Jefferson and his slave, Sally Hemings? LOLing at the idea of him giving her shackles? Yeah, I didn’t think it was funny either. That book didn’t happen, though they did write one with Jefferson’s daughter — legitimate, obviously, making reference to her father’s “liaisons” with Hemings.

Liaisons. Really?

They also seem to have forgotten the fact that said daughter also owned slaves.


If you thought it couldn’t get worse, along comes a book about a “blonde-haired, blue-eyed Jewess” held hostage in a WWII concentration camp, embarking on a romance with a Nazi SS commander. Did I mention it was nominated for two, yes two, RWAs? Fyi, Jewess is/was considered by many to be a racial slur…

This week, I came across this diamond in the rough on Twitter:

View original post 414 more words