Which can be found here.
- “In the aftermath of her newfound infamy, Rachel resigned from her unpaid role at the NAACP; the Spokane City Council voted to remove her from a volunteer Police Ombudsman Commission, and Eastern Washington University declined to renew her quarterly adjunct professor contract. Broke and seemingly unemployable (with the exception of a six-figure Vivid Entertainment porn offer she turned down), Rachel wrote a memoir proposal. She hoped she would receive an advance big enough to support herself and her two sons for as long as it takes to weather the storm, but she says publishers refused to sign her. Today, she says she remains out of work besides doing black women’s hair part-time and estimates a third of her friends have stopped speaking to her.”
I am completely shocked that no publisher would buy this memoir. I can’t tell if that’s because I have such a low opinion of publishers (that’s speaking very generally) or such a hopeful stance on Dolezal’s memoir. I mean, where is Judith Regan when you need her?! - “Pumpkins line her front steps in autumn, and inside her walls are adorned with her own artwork: a portrait of Pariah, the character in the Spike Lee–produced movie, over the fireplace; a drawing of the KKK chasing a black girl above Rachel’s bed; and a painting of her adopted son Izaiah as a baby next to the dining room table. In the living room, a Langston Hughes poetry book lies on a chest.”
Guys, Rachel Dolezal can fucking draw. If she hadn’t gotten an MFA, I’d guess she’d become the next outsider artist a la Jack Kevorkian and prison inmates who sell their paint-by-numbers. (This guy is an acquaintance of mine. #kiddingnotkidding)
