Imagine, if you will, the level of raw and uncut caucasity necessary to be most famous for ...
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losing to your fiercest rival so many consecutive times that said rival got so bored that she went out and had a freakin’ baby just so that the baby could eventually beat your ass, too, and
injecting orca-whale sperm or whatever the fuck in your calves and getting suspended for it ...
... and then titling your memoir Unstoppable. Like your ass ain’t been stopped more times than a nigga with tinted windows and expired tags.
And then, while in the imagining spirit, imagine having the gall to fix your lips to talk racist shit about the source of your perpetual ass whippings, calling her “intimidating” and citing her “thick arms” and “thick legs” for her wins instead of the making-Maria Sharapova-my-personal-bidet-for-a-decade level of skill that she’s very obviously used to make Maria Sharapova her personal bidet for a decade. (For a deeper dive into Sharapova’s racially tinged and chicken-hawking shamelessness, read Ira Madison’s critique of her book.)
And then, if still not done with your cup of imagining iced tea, imagine possessing the caucastic audacity to believe that Serena still gives a fuck about that one time you beat her in 1752, and actually printing that in a book you intend for people to read.
Naturally, all things considered, it sounds like Maria Sharapova should be the single-whitest woman on earth. Admittedly, she makes a compelling case. She checks every box on the Darth Becky sign-in sheet. Faux victimhood? Check! Shameless attempts to elicit sympathy at the expense of people of color? Check! Uninvestigated and unacknowledged privilege? Check! Probable midnight DMs from Jason Whitlock? Check! She makes a quite valid case for Peak Becky.
Unfortunately, the Whitest Woman on Earth title is already held by Taylor Swift. Poor Maria can’t even win a battle of whiteness.
Straight From 
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