Life is not easy for Rachel Dolezal. After loosing a teaching gig at E. Washington U, she’s had to start relying on food stamps. Rachel’s also unable to find employment because she is black. Currently living in a ghetto ass shack, few would recognize the once affluent NAACP spokesperson.
I visited Rachel at her home. On the block they refer to her as “that redbone” who does hair. The home salon allows a meager living to be scrapped together. Ripping her naturally golden Caucasian locs from her scalp, Rachel then sells it to sisters in the neighborhood. There is a high demand for the tresses, but judging by them edges, supplies are limited.
Rachel coyly agrees with my business assessment. It’s then that she pulls out a check from her local police precinct. And then one from New York. And Chicago. “You have my attention Ms Dolezal,” I said, turning on my tape recorder. As she leaned forward in excitement I couldn’t help but appreciate her supple breasts and fat ass. Damn, in the right light, she really was just a juicy light-skinned thot.
“The first vision came to when I was doing laundry.” Going on to describe a hot July summer day. Her baby daddy had left again that morning. Taking her pride and $20, Jerome Shuaqan touched road, naught a kiss to their two year old child. Rachel was late on rent for the month and Indian hair was in.
Suddenly in her mind’s eye Rachel sees a family cookout. A gun is drawn, shots fired and the peace is ruined. Back in reality she found herself collapsed in her front yard, being shaken awake by her son. Quick as lightning Rachel called 911 and reported seeing a shooting in progress. Based on details from the vision, the police we’re able arrive on the scene and apprehend the gunman before he fired.
Was this bitch for real? “You do realize you’re appropriating That’s So Raven? And you cant live The Color Purple when you’re the color of soy milk!” She shrugs and indicates the checks once again. Those I couldn’t deny. They seemed legit enough. “Let me get this straight. You see crimes before they happen?” Rachel paused, probably trying to look fierce. “Not exactly.”
Her powers work similarly to the #BlackGirlMagic phenomenon. The visions show crimes that have yet to happen but there’s a catch. The only criminals she sees are people of color. Rachel has tears in here eyes as she tells me this. “Blacks, Hispanics, blacks. They’re the only ones I see, so that’s who I report.” To date, Rachel believes she has put over 678 minorities in jail. For the tips, various PD’s across the US have paid a combined total of $59.22 minus tax. Last week, she prevented her baby daddy from stealing her TV.
Didn’t expect to leave those projects with more questions than answers. But in many ways, Rachel is a hero; pushing identity politics to their logical extreme. But here she was profiting off the very community she desperately wanted to be a part of. And here I was exploiting her for a story. After’d she’d given me head I remember offering Rachel a crumpled twenty. She handed it right back. “Keep that sugar, I makes my own money.”