(WARNING: Owing to its sexually-explicit nature reader discretion is strongly advised.)

To what extent does Hollywood maintain a system of sexual apartheid designed to keep the Black man out of the romantic on-screen embrace of the White woman?

Since the 1915 premiere of D.W. Griffiths’ white supremacist epic, ‘The Birth Of A Nation’ - in which the films’ White heroine leaps off a cliff to escape the lustful clutches of her Black pursuer - Hollywood has sought to send a stark message that Black men and White women are to be kept apart at all costs and any prospect of an on-screen romance between them prevented from consummation. That ghastly burlesque of bigotry set the tone for the way in which the film industry came to portray the sexual possibility between those two beings and the time has finally arrived for its grotesque and enduring legacy to, at long last, be confronted.

There is nothing about which White American males have for quite so long experienced such psycho-sexual angst as the merest prospect of one of their women being “breached” by an ÜberBlack, on-screen, before the eyes of the world’s movie-going millions. This has been the ultimate dread with which their infantile imaginations have been so cruelly tortured and now provides all the more reason for us to launch the final belt-unbuckling blitzkrieg on so supposedly inviolable a sanctuary. The hour has arrived for the ÜberBlack to stage a savage phallic assault through this clitoral crevice of carnal bigotry and one which will finally overthrow Hollywood’s insidious system of ethno-sexual apartheid in a Black Sexual Revolution.

Movie-goers the world over have waited long enough and now stand ready to quite literally stampede the turnstiles for the chance to see an ÜberBlack like Blair Underwood b*ng the squealing pink out of a Kim Basinger or watch Jennifer Aniston get that a** beat by Dennis Haysbert. The notion that White audiences would be alienated by such scenes when that very demographic has long nursed the most feverish, depraved and voyeuristic fantasies of those very kinds of interracial plantation-esque liaisons is a pathetic and hollow fraud. It has now become clear that, in the minds of those who control Hollywood, the White woman represents the final fig-leaf shielding the tattered remains of their masculinity. Once that bulwark is effectively breached the edifice of their personhood is in danger of suffering a catastrophic collapse.

The sole raison d'être that has powered Hollywood’s perpetuation of the taboo against interracial sex has been the pressing need to fortify the White male’s disintegrating sexual identity and ever-failing grip on his own manhood. That industry remains bent on retaining its power to determine not only “who can be imagined doing what with whom” but how the world’s movie-goers should be theatre-trained to decipher the “proper” relationship between the races.

In the 1997 nuclear terrorism thriller ‘The Peacemaker’ special forces macho George Clooney semi-flirts with Condi-like national security thingamajig Nicole Kidman all the way to a nuke-induced romantic clinch at the movie’s end. Had her co-star been Laurence Fishburne or Jamie Foxx even the faintest hint of a liaison would have been altogether written out of the script or pared down to a few stolen glances and bodily brushes. The blunt message Hollywood seeks to telegraph through this sort of silliness has nothing to do with the box-office viability of interracial amour. Her demand is altogether more simple in its effrontery: “Ni**ers - stay away from our White women!” And our clarion response should be every bit as resounding: “The heck we will!” Gentlemen, we have a sacred duty to shred our way through this stubborn barricade of naked carnal bigotry and ravish that White woman to the bare bone and before as many of the world’s cinema-goers as can fill its aisles. For there can be little doubt that a full-blown, knock-down, b*ng-out between Will Smith and Nicole Kidman would be a hundred-fold the box-office draw than would pay to see a puny little over-rated needle-prick like Brad Pitt attempt the same with that Antipodean Amazon.

The oft-asserted notion that, if interracial romance made “bank” at the box-office, Hollywood would be only too glad to produce more such fare has been the single biggest canard in that industry. Whenever a challenge is mounted to the dearth of affirmative depictions of Black people in the American motion picture, the industry rejoinder has always been that “Hollywood doesn’t see black or white; it only sees green”. Meaning that the American film business would readily set aside its prejudices and finance more heroic portrayals of Black people if this proved commercially rewarding so to do. This, like so much else White American, is a noxious lie. So deep-seatedly psychotic are the bigotries of that country’s White populace and so tenaciously committed are they to the preservation of their skin privilege at any cost that they will sacrifice the treasure of their entire nation if that is the price they have to pay to maintain the (Hollywood-backed) phantasm of their “superiority” over the Black American.

Hollywood’s farcical stratagems for keeping the Black male implement out of the White female receptacle were first road-tested in the 1967 romance ‘Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner’ in which the Katherine Houghton character explains to her mother (played by Katherine Hepburn) that she hasn’t had sex with Sidney Poitier because “he won’t let me” - an obvious blame-shifting contrivance and clumsily convenient “out” if ever there was one. Much has since changed in our world and done so to the point where this industry had few qualms about showing Billy Bob Thornton knocking the chocolate out of Halle Berry in the 2001 drama, ‘Monster’s Ball’, or romancing Whitney Houston and Kevin Costner in the 1992 thriller, ‘The Bodyguard’. In both movies, however, Hollywood sullied itself by engaging in the most demeaning role-reversal (and upending the traditional male-female/hunter-prey behavioural equation) in making Berry and Houston the pursuers of their prospective White “trophies” - such being the narcissism of White Americans. Nothing less was to be expected from an industry whose White males have long seen it as their exclusive privilege to have their wicked way with Black women.

By contrast a reported love scene between Wesley Snipes and Diane Lane which had been filmed for the 1997 political thriller ‘Murder At 1600’ was kicked to the cutting room kerb because the mere sight of so gorgeous a White female being ravished by so manly an ÜberBlack male proved much too castrating for the White male wimps who make these decisions. In like fashion these same cretins utilised the memory-erasing plot device in the 1997 sci-fi comedy actioner ‘Men In Black’ as a convenient means of ensuring that the playful flirtation between Linda Fiorentino and Will Smith never blossomed into a full-blown romance. And in the 1993 legal crime thriller ‘The Pelican Brief’ the partnering of Julia Roberts and Denzel Washington was jury-rigged to preclude a liaison even though the original John Grisham novel features a subplot of romantic tension between the law student and the Washington Post reporter and their high-octane battle against a malign conspiracy is just about the best excuse a plot could ever need to disrobe the two leads and hurl them into bed at some climactic point in the proceedings.

Hollywood plainly had in mind a Denzel/Julia vehicle and sought out a plot-line that could be disfigured (in its screenplay adaptation) to preclude a liaison after having doubtless asked itself, “How can we get them both into the same movie - bringing along their A-list bankability for the ride - but keep them out of each others arms? Aha! What about that book, ‘The Pelican Brief’…..?” In this film the camera’s voyeuristic gaze and the torrid interracial sex their shared scenes portend is as far as its makers were prepared to go in rendering the romantic possibility between Washington and Roberts. It’s now perfectly plain that Hollywood’s prohibitive production code which forbade the filmic depiction of sex across racial lines in the early part of the previous century endures to this very day, albeit in a watered-down variant of the insipid 1927 directorial guidelines once coyly known as the “Don’ts and Be Carefuls”.

While interracial couplings are a dime a dozen - and ever blooming the world over - Hollywood, for the most perverse of reasons, has persisted in behaving as if their every occurrence was something rare, forbidden, unusual or liaisons the cinematic depiction of which could only be justified as a device through which to make some social “point”. This obnoxious industry which has long prided its works on their timely reflection of ongoing developments in the real world or (even more impertinently) somehow “leading” them remains, in reality, at least two generations behind that world.

We again witnessed its twisted psycho-sexual pathology at work in the 1999 thriller ‘The Bone Collector’ wherein Denzel Washington was cast as a wheelchair-bound quadriplegic in a pathetically transparent plot device solely aimed at eliminating any prospect of an on-screen fling between him and his White female co-star, Angelina Jolie. Hollywood relentlessly seeks out innovative ways in which to deflect, derail or otherwise preclude any possibility of these interracial trysts unless they are absolutely unavoidable and “integral” to the film’s plot. The Black male protagonist is always either too old, too young, too “spiritual”, too handicapped (mentally or physically) or too otherwise “indisposed” to engage in any fulsome assertion of his unabashed Athenian virility at what sexually-cowardly White American males imagine to be their “expense” (read: their women). This has been the abiding preoccupation of Hollywood’s White script-writers when scribbling up what pass for their “screenplays”.

European actresses are often the only White females Hollywood ever dares to pair up with a Black male actor because women from that continent have long been tacitly viewed as more “adventurous”, easier of virtue and lesser of inhibition and, consequently, non-averse to “going with a Negro” - a legacy of the furtive liaisons between White European fillies and the US Army’s Black GI’s during the Second World War. The casting of Natassja Kinski alongside Wesley Snipes in ‘One Night Stand’ (1997), Mila Jovovich with Denzel Washington in ‘He Got Game’ (1998) and Irene Jacob opposite Snipes in ‘US Marshals’ (1998) are all examples of Hollywood’s use of European actresses as more palatable substitutes for the partnering of a Black man with a fully-fledged White American woman. The use of actresses of Eastern European origin like Jovovich, in particular, carries with it a (poorly-veiled) connotation of prostitution, human traffic or sexual slavery of the kind that has scarred their part of the world and is Hollywood’s serpentine way of coupling the ÜberBlack with what audiences may interpret as a “lesser pedigree” of White female.

Since there is no sex more erotic or explosive than that between a White woman and a Black man we ÜberBlack Olympians need to devour that blonde Jezebel in the wildest jamborees of wi**y-warping war-f*cking this world has ever witnessed and do so with as many of them as phallicly possible until the edifice of Hollywood’s carnal bigotry is brought crashing down. The time has come for the Black man and the White woman to get raw with each other on an epic and existential scale, setting cinema screens ablaze with the most torrid orgies of interracial war sex ever seen and forever shattering the system of ethno-sexual apartheid that has sought to keep us out of each others romantic clutches. Ours is the ultimate liaison and fate demands that it be put to its ultimate use: war.

Who, after all, can forget that torrid sex scene in the 1969 western ‘100 Rifles’ in which the muscle-bound ÜberBlack Jim Brown wrestles down and b*ngs the bejabbers out of the truly breathtaking Raquel Welch? And though the sequence was maliciously choreographed and recorded to make it appear rape-like, the sizzling synthesis of the Black masculine and the White feminine had an erotic charge that could never be replicated had Welch been paired up with the “hunkiest” White male suitor. Its almost as if God himself designed the White Eve for the Black Adam.

War sex between the White woman and the Black man will “9/11” the proverbial ‘Twin Towers’ of this truly silly “taboo”, creating a new global psyche and unleashing a sexually-liberating Karmic tsunami across the globe. Black men and White women need to f*ck each others brains out in order to free this world from its existential stockade and, at long last, make possible mankind’s actualisation of his full potential as a species.

We need to fashion a whole new genre of cinema - the “War Sexer” - that will drown the world’s movie-goers in an orgasmic Niagara of interracial war sex and forever end the insidious system of carnal apartheid that has for too long veiled away that most erotic of liaisons: the Black man and the White woman. These will be films in which the ÜberBlack Olympian b*ngs the dickens out of the blonde Jezebel in a cathartic orgy aimed at triggering societal and civilisational renewal and thus realising the full potential of the 21st century motion picture.

Since George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and their fellow “Founding Fathers” were all poorly-endowed mulatto-spawning rapists who routinely b*nged the chitlins out of their fetishized female slaves (as President Bush has doubtless been engaged with a certain Dr. Rice) and did so behind the backs of their white spouses - who, in turn, were likely being serviced by their monster-c*cked Mandingos (such is the sexual hypocrisy of White America) - their present-day counterparts can hardly complain if the post-modern ÜberBlack returns the favour by saddling up and riding every bucking blonde that bounds his way. Indeed, the only means of remedying that particular historical “disequilibrium” may be through the disbursement of this mode of ethno-sexual “reparations”.

The ‘War Sex’-era has well and truly arrived - as has a brand new icon of human sexual identity, namely, the Ethno-Sexual: one sexually attracted to persons of the “opposite” race. It is time for the world’s peoples to be deluged under an orgasmic tsunami of mass interracial orgies in which the most militant ethno-sexuality is aggressively pursued as the key to Middle East Peace and realised through the wildest of war sex between Israeli men and Iranian women. Among other things, few acts could more thoroughly disorientate that imbecile the American people re-elected as their “president” (and help derail his world-poisoning “War on Terror”) than the prospect of his fine Texan daughters being savagely spit-roast by a couple of well-endowed Black Übermenschen. Jenna n’ Barbara’s reported love of rap music (Ludacris, 50 Cent, Young Dro, et al) is a clear enough indicator of what would doubtless be viewed as a “troubling inclination” by their moron of a father.

Although the ethno-sexual dynamics of our world have altered radically over the years Hollywood remains bent on maintaining its disgraceful pattern of withholding the cinematic consummation of interracial romance for those couplings which antagonise White male sexual identity. Black male leads have been, effectively, constrained from the expression of their full sexuality in what traditionally are “sex-symbol” roles. This amounts to a mode of cinematic racial castration which warrants the most dramatic response, namely, the wildest of war sex with as many White women (and in as cinematically conspicuous a fashion) as possible. Hip Hop and Urban music video directors should lead the charge by fashioning a new production code that makes it near-mandatory to include at least one sequence of interracial intimacy in each broadcast music video as a basic exigency of the “War Sex” Revolution.

By filling our MTV screens with the most incendiary images of strapping ÜberBlack males bumping and grinding with the sexiest White females we will raise the bar of how these ethno-sexual partnerings are to be filmically depicted and leave that spineless and bigoted Hollywood with little choice but to follow suit. Beyond that, it is long past time that Black people showed the sense and unity enough to create their own network of Motown-like Hollywood studios armed with the financial resources to generate the hundreds of blockbusters that portray us as we demand. The continued absence of such a network has been no-one else’s fault but our own.

One need look no further than the career of Billy Dee Williams to witness what is perhaps the single most scandalous instance of a truly mesmerizing 70’s-era ÜberBlack sex symbol who, in spite of his universal appeal with women of all races, was sickeningly starved of any meaningful roles as a romantic lead and instead trapped in loveless, sexless film gigs owing to Hollywood’s loathsome trepidation over Black male sexuality and the Black world’s disgraceful failure to create an independent film industry that could have sustained so promising a career. In a fair and just world, Billy Dee would have easily eclipsed Burt Reynolds as the heartthrob of that period. And even in his 80’s-era incarnation as Lando Calrissian (in ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ and ‘Return Of The Jedi’) the best which the supposedly-progressive George Lucas found it in himself to do with this gifted actor was to cast Williams as a lascivious, pimp-like mercenary lusting after the utterly-undeserving (and saggy-b**bed) Carrie Fisher.

The superlative way to assert one’s militancy as a Black man is not to eschew the White woman but to pursue her with a vengeance. For us to “sleep with the enemy” - in the context of the psycho-sexual fury our torrid sexual relationships with his women has long triggered in the White bigot - is not “racial treason”. It is the ultimate banner of defiance one could flail in his face and the most “war-like” act of sex. No single gesture could have been more contemptuous of White supremacist America (or more forceful of his ÜberBlack manhood) than for the dashing Malcolm X - who, in his pre-NOI youth, had been lusted after and wildly ravished by many a Black-starved White woman - to have b*nged the milquetoast out of a sixties siren like ‘Hanoi’ Jane Fonda or for Louis Farrakhan to…well, I think you get the picture. Malcolm/Fonda, in particular, would have easily eclipsed Caesar/Cleopatra as the politically-inspired “Sh*g of the Millennia” and the maximum act of War Sex. It’s worth our remembering that the excessive length of the 1946 prison sentence that Malcolm received for burglary had been dictated more by the White judiciary’s incandescence at his having perpetrated those acts with the aid of his White female accomplices (and presumed sexual partners) than by the nature of the offences themselves.

The vile ethno-sexual legacy of Griffiths’ ‘Birth Of A Nation’ must be ruthlessly swept away through the most wrathful of cinematic war sex between the White woman and the Black man. We need to craft a kind of anti-‘Birth’ (‘War Sex: the Movie’) in which the whitest of women are ravished with the most Negroid of abandon by the most manly of Black Übermenschen. Black men and White women have a sacred societal duty to f*ck the living hell out of each other as frequently (and as publicly) as possible as the only means of triggering the psychic turmoil and existential angst that will finally overthrow our disintegrating global civilisation and usher in a New World Order. For, in the context of an essentially race-based global metaphysic, there is no act which quite so crushingly strikes at the twisted psycho-sexual core of the cowardly demons who rule our world, no display more subversive or ruinous of the reality they have sought to fabricate, than the wildest of war sex between Black men and “their” White women.

And since the ultimate psycho-sexual neurosis of the White racial troglodyte has always fixated on the image of a Black male entering the body of a White woman the campaign of war sex between the ÜberBlack Olympian and the blonde Jezebel will serve an important psychotherapeutic function in healing his cancerous psyche. By getting him used to the idea of Black men ravenously sha**ing White women the last psychological pillar of his bigoted unconscious will have finally been felled.

More broadly, Black men and White women need to join forces in a worldwide revolt against an ethno-sexual apartheid system that increasingly seeks to undermine them both. This treacherous regime has cynically used Black women as unwitting tools with which to sabotage both the White woman and the Black man. The Condoleezza Rice phenomenon is but the most glaring instance of the White male’s “vengeance weaponry” against his own women - alongside Black male-bashing cinematic sewage like ‘Waiting To Exhale’, ‘The Colour Purple’, ‘How Stella Got Her Groove Back’ and other perfunctory narratives premised on the excoriation of villainous Black men and the veneration of virtuous Black women.

As White men see more of their females gravitating towards our Athenian verve they have sought to avenge themselves against this trend through the elevation and aggrandizement of the Black Superwoman. And though White women are still upheld as the global ideal of feminine beauty Black women are increasingly deified as the self-sufficient Amazonian exemplars of womanly strength (Oprah Winfrey, Venus/Serena Williams, Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Condoleezza Rice, etc.) while powerful White women are vilified and persecuted (Martha Stewart, Hillary Clinton, Jane Fonda, Teresa Heinz Kerry, Nancy Pelosi, Arianna Huffington et al) in the White male’s vindictive, back-handed rebuke of his own women’s growing lust for the ÜberBlack’s Olympian masculinity.

Nevertheless, the platonic and sexual relationship between the Black man and the White woman holds the key to a complete reinvention of the Human Race. It pains me to say it but the White woman, quite simply, brings out the best in a Black man. White women have found a way of coaxing the protoplasm out of us and bringing our masculinity into its sharpest possible focus. They have become the perfect template onto which to project the fullness of ourselves as men and the most satisfying creatures with whom to share sex. And, conversely, the appeal which that wrathful and venomous eight-legged Black Widow, Condoleezza Rice, holds for the White males in the Bush Administration (and beyond) lies in her being a woman in their own image and after their own hearts. That overworked and (woefully) underf*cked sable - and other Medusa-like negrettes like her - is imbued with a peculiar mode of quasi-matriarchal grit that nourishes a particular set of oedipal and masochistic needs in certain kinds of White men - needs their own hyper-feminine women appear incapable of satiating.

The centrifugal attraction which many White women increasingly hold for the ÜberBlack male (and vice versa) lies in their possessing certain emotional, intellectual and aesthetic qualities which we happen to seek in women at this particular historical moment and, conversely, our females plainly possess attributes that many White males appear to find wanting in their own. These pallid and soulless Men-Children have long possessed a guilt-ridden and self-flagellating masochistic streak which the psycho-muscular Black dominatrix is perfectly suited to knead. They unconsciously yearn for the punitive lash of a pitiless Black Amazon’s bullwhip while we ÜberBlack Olympians luxuriate in the White woman’s delicate caress.

And while I will continue to extol the virtues of ‘tradition’, ‘heritage’, ‘conservation’ and identify with every instinct that aims at the preservation of the good in what “has always been” the time has now come for the Black man and the White woman to upset the societal and civilisational applecart by setting their coupling at the centre and summit of a New Human Order. The two of us, more than any other procreative partnering, are uniquely positioned to bring about nothing less than the complete reinvention and regeneration of the Human Species itself. We are the New “Y-chromosomal” Adam and the New “Mitochondrial” Eve.

History’s ruthless logic draws ever closer together this world’s most intrepid male and its most effete female in a climactic convergence of the ÜberBlack Athenian and his blonde Jezebel and one that will volcanically consummate both the human adventure and the very historical process itself. Ultimately, war sex between the Black man and the White woman will spawn a planetary progeniture of Malcolm-like mulatto super mutants who will spread themselves across the globe and forever sweep away the detritus of ethnic conflict that has scarred our planet. Black C*ck, White Pu**y - herein rests the ontological epicentre of the entire Human Project and the final solution to the race problem. All that remains to be answered is that age-old and most Heideggerian of existential questions:

“Where all da white women at?”

- XYBØRG
يبØرق
18 September 2006