That's what V-coding is. That is why they are so adamant about sending trans women to men's prisons, because sex trafficking trans women within the men's prison system is an essential part of that system. Being misgendered by this isn't even an issue that's on our radar!

“Spent Juneteenth rereading ads taken out by formerly enslaved ppl looking for their family. Freedom was accompanied by so much grief.” Attached to the tweet are five photos of newspaper ads:

1. “Information wanted of my husband and son. We parted at Richmond, Va., in 1860. My son’s name was Jas. Monroe Holmes; my husband’s name was Frank Holmes. My son was sold in Richmond, Va. I don’t know where they carried him to. My husband was not sold; I left him in Richmond, Va. and I and five children, Henry, Gabriel, Charles, Dortha, and Jacob were sold to a trader who lived in Texas. I am now old, and don’t think that I shall be here long and would like to see them before I die. Any information concerning them will be thankfully received by Eliza Holmes, Flatonia, Fayette Co., Texas.”

2. “Information wanted. I would like to know the where abouts of my mother, who went by the name of Mary Jackson. She was owned by a man whose name was Allen Tyler, who lived three miles east of Brunestown[,] and was sold down south in 1846. The last time I heard of her, she was in New Orleans. Any information will be thankfully received by Matilda Harrison, Jeffersntown [sic], Jefferson Co., Kentucky.”

3. “Information wanted of my people—Jenny Moses, Mela Fields, Selia Fields, James Fields and Felix Fields. The first three are my sisters, the fourth is my brother and the last. ismy step-father. They all belonged to Charles Baren. My sister Jenny and myself were sold to Jack Felder. My sister Jenny was sold again to Buchanan. Any information concerning them or their children will be prayerfully received by me. Minder Latson, Postoffice, Brenham Washington Co., Tex. Rev. J. S. W. McLay.”

4. “Information wanted— Of my mother Rachel Embry. My name was Henrietta Embry when I was taken from home. I left my mother in Baltimore, Md., and came to Texas with Rutineth Baerafe, My name is Henrietta Anderson. Any one who can tell me where my mother is, I will reward them. Address me, care Rev. W. H. Anderson, San Angelo, Green Co., Tex.”

5. “Information wanted—Of my mother Mrs. Louisa Hacket. She was the wife of Lloyd Hacket. They lived in Prince George County, Maryland near Laurel Mills. There were two brothers, George and Greenberry, and sisters Annie, Carol, and Emily Hacket; have not seen them for nearly 44 years. Any information from these people will be gladly received by me. Address Mrs. Fanny Robinson, No. 1227 Bainbridge street, Philidelphia, Pa.”

Clint Smith’s thread continues: “As we commemorate Juneteenth, we should be sure to remember the enormous toll that 250 yrs of enslavement took on millions of families.” (7 comments, 650 retweets, 1,432 likes)

“Even after the Emancipation Proclamation & the end of the Civil War, most enslaved ppl who had been separated never saw their families again.” (42 comments, 913 retweets, 1,870 likes)

Saying "Not all rap music is about violence, here are alternatives" is not helpful, because the violent music ALSO has meaning.

When Biggie Smalls postures about his gang connections and packing heat, he isn't doing it because wow violence is so edgy, it's a powerful statement. Youth in urban areas where gang activity is heavy are often treated as lesser than by default, especially compared to black people the same age from a wealthy background. There's a reason that the "wholesome and respectable" black-lead entertainment of that era was stuff like the Cosby Show, with doctor-lawyer parents, or Family Matters, with a cop dad. There's a reason why the big joke of Fresh Prince is someone with a more unstable upbringing moving in with one of these model black sitcom families.

Standing up and saying yeah, I came from the mean streets, I was molded by this violence and yes, I did what I had to do to survive in a world that refuses to acknowledge my existence as meaningful or worthy of protection. I protected myself, I made my own way, and fuck anybody who tries to stand in the way of that.

Refusing to demonize that environment and wearing it like armor in a way that protects from the authority that wants you to see them as sub humans incapable of only violence and hatred, and saying HEY. I'm here, I lived this, and there is love and there is pain and there is ART in this.

That is powerful. That is the essence of gangster rap.

It isn't about hurting people for fun, it's about holding a mirror up to a society that does the hurting and then calls you a monster for what it's made you. Its about validating the experiences of the disenfranchised and biting back at authority. It's about turning a pain that the world say you deserve being one of those people from those places into POETRY. Into ART.

And thats why it matters.