Thug Whisperer: The Little Goon Inside That Whispers to my Bougie Heart

I’m not sure if I told you guys about me. I was born bougie, into a bougie family.

They do hella bougie things, like, say they are too good to ride the bus, or rent a certain kind of rental car. My parents believe they are above certain hotels and living situations. My parents are elitists. Their best friends are the most bougie international/european/african table of doctors, lawyers and every other kid of professional you can think of.

My parents have me (and my siblings). Imagine our life style. Its like picturing Gucci Mane’s “Lemonade” lyrics but replacing “lemon” with “bougie”. Private school, spoiled little upper middle class brats. I realized early on that my parents were intentionally isolating me from other black people. (Oh, shit… Amina is black?…. duh).

I remember being 14 and legitimately afraid of other black people. Obviously, there was nothing to be afraid of but I didn’t know that. I hadn’t spent a day living as a “black person”. I pretty much didn’t notice that I wasn’t white for 14 years. I made a conscious decision to be with other black kids and go to a public school. And then the little thug baby inspired by Dipset and Tupac was born inside me. She was a little hard ass bitch that didn’t let people mess with her. I thought I was so tough!

Fast forward: College. Well Like i said, I thought I was a thug. Then I went to a white, elite school ( you know to go along with my parents elitist decor?) and people actually thought I was a thug. I was one of the rare specimen called an intelligent black woman that I guess mid-westerners weren’t quite familiar with…. Anyways, my baby thug, lets call her mina-min, graduated to being a goon. The transformation was more based on interactions with whitness, and Gucci Mane (burr) and other ignorant ass, bass heavy music.

Now, she pretty much only lives deep inside of my being, wrapped within my various layers. Only found to surface when my blackness is in question, or Round of Applause comes on. She’s actually like my life of inner-confections. Shes everything that I’m not out loud. She recently fell in love with 2 Chainz, like Kool-Aid, and likes to play music as loud as possible driving down the street. She’s the angry voice that flicks you off when you cut me off, and the one who’s likely to threaten to beat your ass if you push those buttons. Mina-min is the yin to my bougie yang. She’s my little thug.


Do you have a little thug that lives inside you?



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