Xchromebyx

Finally, a site for the word “woman” to evolve and be redefined by Black Womanism. Finally, a space to take off your bra and light a joint. Finally, a safe place for men to enjoy the scenery and listen. Finally, a place to be radical in your own gender. Finally, a space for those born into the culture, to say Nigga in the duality of an insult and a compliment. Finally, a place to be misunderstood and heard at the same time. Finally, a place where there is more context to XchromebyX. FINALLY, a project created by hands that supported so many.

FINALLY, AN EXPLANATION…

Hello, my name is Betti X. Creator of the XchromebyX Organization. This is a love letter to you, the curious and intrigued. I appreciate you taking the time to read this… it means a lot. Buckle up buttercup, its going to be a bumpy ride. – xxx

I tried Corporate America, I tried to work for one of the biggest corporations of all corporations, a local government branch in my hometown. And guess what happened… some bullshit. More details on that soon. The point is, I tried (for the last time) to fit into society. I tried to make my parents proud the old fashion way: get a stable job, settle down with a nice guy, have some kids, buy a house, yadda yadda. But it didn’t work out that way. I don’t fit into society as a radical semi-feral Black woman, believe me I tried. I didn’t fit in at the Black table in high school, I didn’t fit in with the high school girl clique I was apart of. I almost got kicked out of college, I don’t fit into my family, even my mama don’t like me (she hates when I say that), but it’s true! I didn’t have a best friend or someone I felt that was in my corner until my late 20s, she’s the only reason I cant say no one loves me.

The only time I felt love was when I was in a relationship (barf). Boys were my favorite obsession. With my sexy complex of mommy and daddy issues, I particularly loved the ones that were off kilter, like me. Broken home, artist, tattoos, emotionally unavailable…Im getting hot and bothered just thinking about them. I would busy myself loving them, supporting them, giving my all to them. And guess what they did, yup, they emotionally abused me to no return. I mean, they took so much and gave so little, and had the audacity to get mad at me for leaving. And then blamed me for it not working out. Of course, they tried to gas light me, but I was already delusional and no where near living in this reality, so it didn’t work, it just made the relationship that much more traumatic for the both of us.

After one too many toxic relationships, I found myself single for the first time in over 10 years. And guess what I felt? Pure rage. I felt the anger I held back since I was sexually assaulted by a family member, I felt the flames of being ignored in my own gotdamn relationships, I felt the rage of my life never being the life I wanted. I felt pure spite and a hunger for blood.

I already tried healing like everyone else, the herbs, the chakras, the “good vibes only.” and to that I say, fuck all that. Healing looked different for me, and it started with toxic feminism, it started with talking my shit unapologetically, it started with accepting that I will not be accepted by most and I will be considered a freak show for many. Healing started with being loud, rolling my neck, fighting back, cussing niggas out, dressing like a hoochie, spitting in public, laughing too loud. My healing got ugly and I love every minute of it.

Now…if you take that and add that to the bullshit that happened to me at my big girl job, you begin to see the bigger picture. I been traumatized and then re-traumatized again. I didn’t have the mannerisms to be successful in this society as a woman to begin with, and definitely not as a Black woman. So my healing journey had to reset, I had to find my own way. I had to find my own path. For the last six years I freelanced as a journalist for a Black owned newspaper, which I owe so much to, that family raised me. and thats where I used my intense voice and used it to serve South L.A. But it doesn’t pay worth a damn. I love it, but I needs my money.

So here I am, semi-jobless and mad. I applied to over 400 jobs, been on multiple interviews. Only to feel the rejection I felt all my life. And then suddenly, it dawned on me. If no one is going to hire me, I’m going to hire myself. I also realized that my story is just a different shade of Black, meaning millions of Black women aren’t accepted and judged with extreme bias because they roll their necks, cuss niggas out, and dress like a hoochie. No one considers her rage. No one considers the abuse, she faced alone. No one considers the PTSD she has thats been undiagnosed for years. No one sees the social injustices that plagues Black women specifically.

So I created XchromebyX, a place where I don’t have to explain shit, but its here if you want to know more. A place where the word woman is continually evolving and finding new meaning under Black Womanism. A place where Betti can be Betti. A place for other women to take off their bra and smoke a joint. A place where men can enjoy those bosoms and also listen to women talk their shit. A place where “Nigga” is used abundantly as both an insult and a compliment, a place to make money, a place to be radically chill in your gender. A place where I can take a hard stand on something and say it with my chest. A place for me to pop off. A place where women can be feral. XchromebyX is my safe place that I share with others.

Thank you for reading, there will be more on my life, my store, and how I look to change the world for womanfolk everywhere.