Educated Black Woman Quotes

I am an educated black woman in a time when educated black people will be called upon to risk everything for the rights of black people everywhere. ~ Allan Dare Pearce

Black, intelligent, and educated... Now that's POWER. ~ Stephanie Lahart

This Queen right here is educated and beautiful with a degree. ~ Stephanie Lahart

Unfortunately, the term "identity politics" has been weaponized. It is most often used by speakers to describe politics as practiced by members of historically marginalized groups. If you're black and you're worried about police brutality, that's identity politics. If you're a woman and you're worried about the male-female pay gap, that's identity politics. But if you're a rural gun owner decrying universal background checks as tyranny, or a billionaire CEO complaining that high tax rates demonize success, or a Christian insisting on Nativity scenes in public squares - well, that just good, old fashioned politics. With a quick sleight of hand, identity becomes something that only marginalized groups have.

The term "identity politics," in this usage, obscures rather than illuminates; it's used to diminish and discredit the concerns of the weaker groups by making them look self-interested, special pleading in order to clear the agenda for the concerns of stronger groups, which are framed as more rational, proper topics for political debate. But in wielding identity as a blade, we have lost it as a lens, blinding ourselves in a bid for political advantage. WE are left searching in vaid for what we refuse to allow ourselves to see. ~ Ezra Klein

Did you see it?" asked Yarvi.
"I had that questionable privilege."
"What do you think?"
"She is wretched. She is all pride and anger. She has too much confidence and too little. She does not know herself." The figure pushed back her hood. A black-skinned old woman with a face lean as famine and hair shaved to gray fuzz. She picked her nose with one long forefinger, carefully examined the results, then flicked them away "The girl is stupid as a stump. Worse. Most stumps have the dignity to rot quietly without causing offense."
"I'm right here," Thorn managed to hiss from her hands and knees.
"Just where the drunk boy put you." The woman flashed a smile at Brand that seemed to have too many teeth. "I like him, though: he is pretty and desperate. My favorite combination. ~ Joe Abercrombie

goes stiff, and I pause where I'm standing a few feet away from the bed and the naked woman lying in it. A moment passes before I give her a curt nod. Yanking my black tee shirt over my head, I sit down on the edge of the hotel mattress and shove my feet into the motorcycle boots she'd taken off me earlier on my order. "Got a shoot in the morning," I tell her, my voice bored. But even if my band wasn't doing a music video this week, I wouldn't ~ Emily Snow

Westcliff's assessing gaze slid from her tumbled hair to the uncorseted lines of her figure, not missing the unbound shapes of her breasts. Wondering if he was going to give her a public dressing-down for daring to play rounders with a group of stable boys, Lillian returned his evaluating gaze with one of her own. She tried to look scornful, but that wasn't easy when the sight of Westcliff's lean, athletic body had brought another unnerving quiver to the pit of her stomach. Daisy had been right - it would be difficult, if not impossible, to find a younger man who could rival Westcliff's virile strength.
Still holding Lillian's gaze, Westcliff pushed slowly away from the paddock fence and approached.
Tensing, Lillian held her ground. She was tall for a woman, which made them nearly of a height, but Westcliff still had a good three inches on her, and he outweighed her by at least five stone. Her nerves tingled with awareness as she stared into his eyes, which were a shade of brown so intense that they appeared to be black.
His voice was deep, textured like gravel wrapped in velvet. "You should tuck your elbows in."
Having expected criticism, Lillian was caught off-guard. "What?"
The earl's thick lashes lowered slightly as he glanced down at the bat that was gripped in her right hand. "Tuck your elbows in. You'll have more control over the bat if you decrease the arc of the swing."
Lillian scowled. "Is there any subject that you're not an expe ~ Lisa Kleypas

I must admit to a personal lack of sympathy with women who have themselves photographed in black stockings, garter belts and boots, with bare breasts, bananas, and coy, come-hither glances ... A woman using her own face and body has a right to do what she will with them, but it is a subtle abyss that separates men's use of women for sexual titillation from women's use of women to expose that insult. ~ Lucy R. Lippard

I wish I could be the black woman Soderbergh, and put the camera on my shoulder and shoot beautifully while I directed. ~ Ava DuVernay

And that damned man in the White House doesn't help things any. He represents the type of political hatred I'm talking about. Guys like him play to the worst fears of white men. Are you having a bad time of it right now? Lost your job? Having difficulty making ends meet? It's not my fault or your fault. It's the black man's fault. It's the Muslims' fault. Blame a Mexican immigrant. Man's got everyone lining up, taking sides, white people versus people of color,
different religions arguing their way is the right way. This is a bad time in America. It's an especially terrible time for a black woman to be taking on a white cop or the white establishment. ~ Mark M. Bello

As Rohan pulled the man upward, he glanced toward the threshold of a door that led into the club, where a club employee waited. "Dawson, escort Lord Latimer to his carriage out front. I'll take Lord Selway."
"No need," said the aristocrat who had just struggled to his feet, sounding winded. "I can walk to my own bloody carriage." Tugging his clothes back into place over his bulky form, he threw the dark-haired man an anxious glance. "Rohan, I will have your word on something."
"Yes, my lord?"
"If word of this gets out - if Lady Selway should discover that I was fighting over the favors of a fallen woman - my life won't be worth a farthing."
Rohan replied with reassuring calm. "She'll never know, my lord."
"She knows everything," Selway said. "She's in league with the devil. If you are ever questioned about this minor altercation…"
"It was caused by a particularly vicious game of whist," came the bland reply.
"Yes. Yes. Good man." Selway patted the younger man on the shoulder. "And to put a seal on your silence - " He reached a beefy hand inside his waistcoat and extracted a small bag.
"No, my lord." Rohan stepped back with a firm shake of his head, his shiny black hair flying with the movement and settling back into place. "There's no price for my silence."
"Take it," the aristocrat insisted.
"I can't, my lord."
"It's yours." The bag of coins was tossed to the ground, landing at Rohan's feet with a metallic thu ~ Lisa Kleypas

The View from Europe And that was Africa: the long line to the south little higher than the Atlantic that defined it. The sea rolled its drums on the shore, broke in white foam, flowers for the hair of the girls. I sipped the wind with my nostrils, and the smell was the smell of fear. Two million- year-old skulls surfaced from soil fathoms, grinning their disdain at the accuracy of the new weapons. And that was Eden indeed: Adam was black and the woman, Eve, was black; and the serpent, master of the click languages, spoke to them sibilantly of how the machine would sound as it waited under the tree of death, offering them nothing but a pretence of life. 1988 ~ R.S. Thomas

The bishop was aghast. "You would threaten me?"
Christian didn't hesitate with his answer."For her life, aye."
"You would jeopardize your soul for her? She is a heretic and a witch."
"She is a woman. My woman."
His words only succeeded in angering the bishop more. "I will have you excommunicated for this."
Christian pulled the black monk's robe from over his head and balled it up. "Then excommunicate me. If I am in the wrong for protecting an innocent woman, then God can judge me as He will. ~ Kinley MacGregor

Never mind what you've heard. Halle Berry was not the first black woman to win an Academy Award for Best Actress. She was actually the 74th white one. And never mind all this talk about America electing its first black President; Barack Obama is actually the 44th white man to hold the job. ~ Jeffrey Kluger

Punching a woman is like punching a one-year old black baby in the face ~ Sebastian Fors

Raphael pulled out a paperback and handed it to me. The cover, done back in the time when computer-aided imagine manipulation had risen to the level of art, featured an impossibly handsome man, leaning forward, one foot in a huge black boot resting on the carcass of some monstrous sea creature. His hair flowed down to his shoulders in a mane of white gold, in stark contrast to his tanned skin and the rakish black patch hiding his left eye. His white, translucent shirt hung open, revealing abs of steel and a massive, perfectly carved chest graced by erect nipples. His muscled thighs strained the fabric of his pants, which were unbuttoned and sat loosely on his narrow hips, a touch of a strategically positioned shadow hinting at the world's biggest boner.
The cover proclaimed in loud golden letters: The Privateer's Virgin Mistress, by Lorna Sterling.
"Novel number four for Andrea's collection?" I guessed.
Raphael nodded and took the book from my hands. "I've got the other one Andrea wanted, too. Can you explain something to me?"
Oh boy. "I can try."
He tapped the book on his leather-covered knee. "The pirate actually holds this chick's brother for ransom, so she'll sleep with him. These men, they aren't real men. They're pseudo-bad guys just waiting for the love of a 'good' woman."
"You actually read the books?"
He gave me a chiding glance. "Of course I read the books. It's all pirates and the women they steal, apparently so they can enjoy lo ~ Ilona Andrews

But no one could say he hadn't gotten even. He could not count the field women whom he had sexually degraded and demoralized and in whom he had left his seed so their bastard children would be a daily visual reminder of what a plantation white man could do to a plantation black woman whenever he wanted, nor could he count the black men whom he had made fear his blackjack as they would fear Satan himself, making each of them a lifetime enemy of all white people. ~ James Lee Burke

Fitz's human clothes are a huge snoozefest. Check out what Dex and I found in Alvar's closet!" They both unzipped their hoodies, revealing T-shirts with logos underneath. "I have no idea what this means, but it's crazy awesome, right?" Keefe asked, pointing to the black and yellow oval on his shirt. "It's from Batman," Sophie said - then regretted the words. Of course Keefe demanded she explain the awesomeness of the Dark Knight. "I'm wearing this shirt forever, guys," he decided. "Also, I want a Batmobile! Dex, can you make that happen?" Sophie wouldn't have been surprised if Dex actually could build one. As a Technopath, he worked miracles with technology. He'd made all kinds of cool gadgets for Sophie, including the lopsided ring she wore - a special panic switch that had saved her life during her fight with one of her kidnappers. "What's my shirt from?" Dex asked, pointing to the logo with interlocking yellow W's. Sophie didn't have the heart to tell him it was the symbol for Wonder Woman. ~ Shannon Messenger

A poor white woman from the South is different than a poor black woman from the South, and has a completely different experience. ~ Bryan Fuller

When you're writing, you think: How does intimacy happen in the work? You don't know who your reader is, woman, man, child, black person, Asian, who knows? ~ Claudia Rankine

Don't let the advertisements on TV be your guide. The woman who sustains a man's interest is not the one who feels confident because of a particular miniskirt, a belly ring, or a black dress with plunging neckline. A bitch doesn't rely on these things to feel good about herself. She relies on who she is as a woman. ~ Sherry Argov

If the Black woman is a queen, and I believe that she is, why would I settle for something less than royal? ~ Runoko Rashidi

Mr. Kadam bowed and said, "Miss Kelsey, I will leave you to your dining companion. Enjoy your dinner." Then he walked out of the restaurant.
"Mr. Kadam, wait. I don't understand."
Dining companion? What is he talking about? Maybe he's confused.
Just then, a deep, all-too-familiar voice behind me said, "Hello, Kells."
I froze, and my heart dropped into my stomach, stirring up about a billion butterflies. A few seconds passed. Or was it a few minutes? I couldn't tell.
I heard a sigh of frustration. "Are you still not talking to me? Turn around, please."
A warm hand slid under my elbow and gently turned me around. I raised my eyes and gasped softly. He was breathtaking! So handsome, I wanted to cry.
"Ren."
He smiled. "Who else?"
He was dressed in an elegant black suit and he'd had his hair cut. Glossy black hair was swept back away from his face in tousled layers that tapered to a slight curl at the nape of his neck. The white shirt he wore was unbuttoned at the collar. It set off his golden-bronze skin and his brilliant white smile, making him positively lethal to any woman who might cross his path. I groaned inwardly.
He's like…like James Bond, Antonio Banderas, and Brad Pitt all rolled into one.
I decided the safest thing to do would be to look at his shoes. Shoes were boring, right? Not attractive at all. Ah. Much better. His shoes were nice, of course-polished and black, just like I would expect. I smiled wryly when I ~ Colleen Houck

It was like watching magic take wing, Brian thought.The muscular black horse soared over the ground with the woman on his back.They streaked over another rise,moving west,into the dying sun. The sky was a riot of color, a painting slashed with reds and golds. It seemed to him she would ride straight into it, through it.
And he'd have no choice but to follow her.
When she pulled up,turned to wait for him, her face flushed with pleasure, her eyes gleaming with it,he knew he'd never seen the like.
And wanting her was apt to kill him. ~ Nora Roberts

Currently, his clients include the victims of a series of "Houdini-handcuff suicide killings," in which brown boys were handcuffed in the back of the police car and police claim they committed suicide: Victor White in Louisiana, Chavis Carter in Arkansas. Also Alesia Thomas of Los Angeles, a black woman who died after a police officer kicked her seven times in the crotch - there's a video the court will not release for fear of another Rodney King riot. ~ Anonymous

To Juan at the Winter Solstice

There is one story and one story only
That will prove worth your telling,
Whether as learned bard or gifted child;
To it all lines or lesser gauds belong
That startle with their shining
Such common stories as they stray into.

Is it of trees you tell, their months and virtues,
Or strange beasts that beset you,
Of birds that croak at you the Triple will?
Or of the Zodiac and how slow it turns
Below the Boreal Crown,
Prison to all true kings that ever reigned?

Water to water, ark again to ark,
From woman back to woman:
So each new victim treads unfalteringly
The never altered circuit of his fate,
Bringing twelve peers as witness
Both to his starry rise and starry fall.

Or is it of the Virgin's silver beauty,
All fish below the thighs?
She in her left hand bears a leafy quince;
When, with her right hand she crooks a finger, smiling,
How many the King hold back?
Royally then he barters life for love.

Or of the undying snake from chaos hatched,
Whose coils contain the ocean,
Into whose chops with naked sword he springs,
Then in black water, tangled by the reeds,
Battles three days and nights,
To be spewed up beside her scalloped shore?

Much snow if falling, winds roar hollowly,
The owl hoots from the elder,
Fear in your heart cries to the loving-cup:Robert Graves