In “America must be in sweeps season” news, Doug Jones won the Alabama Senate seat in a special election over a homophobic alleged pedophile. Woop-woop, decency for the win! It was readily apparent that, similar to what happened in the election that brought the circus peanut in chief to the presidential seat, black women did the damn thang and voted with some damn sense.
Instead of being about how black women voted for their own best interests, since basically nobody else got us (aka what actually happened), the narrative surrounding the super 98 percent of black women who didn’t vote for Roy Moore became about how the ultimate solution was finally found: Black women will save U.S. (us)!
Listen to black women. Thank black women. Black women tried to tell y’all. And so on. Lots of folks rightly pointed out the “thoughts and prayers” vibe of those empty tweets that rarely—if ever—came with any tangible follow-through. But then Mark Ruffalo happened:
Jigga, what?! [Pause for uproarious giggle fits.]
This tweet brings up something that has irked me and many other black women. Yes, it’s about damn time you gave us our just due, but at this point, the applauding and lauding has Milly Rocked onto fetishizing territory. Sprinkling fairy dust onto us and deifying us has become so trendy (I swear there are “I Fake Luh Me Some Black Womenz the Mostest” Olympics on Twitter) that people are forgetting that we’re human.
Yes, we are magic. But can y’all magically chill on the “magical black girl unicorn da gawd” porn category and hit us up when you’re ready to do the real work? Kthx!
Which brings me back to Ruffalo. So, check it. I’m a screenwriter. I do this screenwriterly thang. Naturally, Ruffalo’s dream made me wonder. What if OverlorDisney decided to hit up their play cousin Marvel and made a blockbuster movie about it? It’s pitch time. Come along and ride on this filmtastic voyage ...
Bruce Banner (Ruffalo) kneels in prayer, having just performed a guided meditation so that he doesn’t become angry during REM. However, as he’s praying to God and wishing for world peace, a full stock of gluten-free air chips at Whole Foods and that new titanium toothpick from Sharper Image, he remembers that one time someone called him racist on Twitter.
[Hotep. Hulk. Out.]
Just in time, though, a soothing voice reverberates throughout the room. But, like, soothing in that neck-roll kind of way that white gays are in love with. It is the voice of God, who is most definitely a black woman. In fact, it’s Loretta Devine. Her name? Nubianista.
A holographic image of Nubianista appears before Hotep Hulk, glitter decorating her ample bosoms, which are more than ready to take on the burdens of Hotep Hulk and the rest of America.
“Hark the Hotep Hulk sings! I am your ebony goddess queen!” exclaims Nubianista as she fluffs her Oil-Sheened ’fro.
Hotep Hulk’s popped-out veins simmer down into his skin as a soft reverence for the magic before him glows within his liquid eyes. Blinded by the American chaos surrounding him, he simply lowers his head in defeat, hoping that Nubianista will pick up his alabaster slack.
In a twinkle of a third eye, Nubianista instructs Hotep Hulk to go forth on a significant journey to find seven Thank You Stones, which are scattered all over private social media accounts. Once the stones are reunited, they can be retweeted into viral sensations. Eureka!
Hotep Hulk is up for the job! But he needs help. Thus, he enlists the assistance of White Feministus, Iron (Not All) Men, Scarlett Justice Witch (or SJW, for short) and Progressive Vision.
Throughout their treacherous journey, they encounter their most formidable opponent yet: Captain Make America Great Again, equipped with a dog avatar on his chest. Captain Make America Great Again’s strongest fighting move is constantly deviating from the topic at hand to point out that you’re disrespecting our troops. He will die before he lets anyone give credit to a black woman, so he constantly spams the team with an army of Russian bots, which significantly slows down their progress.
However, through the power of teamwork and trendy buzzwords, they finally defeat him just in time to catch Game of Thrones.
Post-credits scene: A bunch of Marvel characters look at the screen in Spike Lee’s X fashion, firmly stating, “I am a black woman!”
I call it Avengers: Infinity Woke. Coming to a theater near you on Feb. 35.