TV GUIDE: AN OPEN LETTER TO BARACK

Dear Senator,

Here's what I'ma need you to do.

Make a quick stop in Nashville. There BobbyBrown will great you with a cowboy hat and boots. Photo op at random local bbq joint.

From there you will meet up with six strangers. You will dip into the hot tub and triple kiss with two blonds. Gender breakdown optional. Mediate a fist fight, then run naked to your jet. FlavorFlav will be awaiting your arrival. You will receive a clock and a few dozen suitcases. HowieMandell couldnt make it, but he sent his donation to your campaign.

Next you will give a speech to 75,000 people. You'll be opening for ClayAiken. MarioLopez will introduce you.

Lastly, AccessHollywood will be at your crib, following your taping of Cribs. NeicyNash will be doing a special CleanHouse segment, right before your Young Voters Matter townhall meeting in your back yard, hosted by JustinBobby and Audrina.

I need you to move fast, Senator, because they havent announced it yet, but clearly these damn Republicans are FILMING A MUHFCUKING REALITY SHOW, starring Juno's mom. And if you don't hurry they will soon produce hit spinoffs into the emerging Double Standard genre.

~Management

PS...Guard your girl...

LOSERS' LOGIC

I’m bout sick of this shit.

This country was built on accepting an ‘L,’ shunning sore losership. These crackers made the “Indians” quit their pissing and moaning. Whupped field negro ass up and down the dirt road and dared them to sniffle. Put midgets in the circus and sicced the monkeys on them little muhfcukas if they had something to say.

So why, in the name of all that is americangangster,
are these ride or die ass Clinton supporters still mad?

Sore loser crying asses. SHUT THE FCUK UP!

You lost. You picked the wrong pony. If this was March Madness, you woulda put your money on all 12 seeds to win in the first round. You are Myanmar…you won like zero Olympic medals. You are the ’07-’08 Dolphins. The first muhfcukas kicked off Dancing with the Stars. You are the Confederate army. You are the Croissaandwich getting slumped by the Egg McMuffin circa ‘85. You are Kool Moe Dee/Canibus. Your shit is looking real WindowsVista right now. Real CBSEveningNews. You’re like fcuking MarciaClark and ChrisDarden. You are Columbus on his way to New Dehli with no compass. Your ass is the first single off of The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill. Nell Carter’s thong is what you are. The whole lot of you.

Ya lost. LOSERS.

Quit your gotdam blubbering. Shut your ass up, neatly tuck away your Hillary08 placards and scrape the shit out of that tired ass bumper sticker. Careful not to scratch your paint.

Excuse yourselves briefly, don’t be rude and stay gone all day now. Wipe the snot from your upturned nose and write YES WE CAN 100 times in an email. Fire up the blackberry and start sending it. The same way you was fwd’ing that Rev. Wright viral shit.

Your crying ass LOST and no one has told you that there’s no crying in America.

So you carry on in public like a Dallas Mavericks fan. You sorry sacks of shit didn’t make it to the next round. GO fishing. You proclaim all proud and stalwart that you REFUSE to vote for the WINNER. Something like 37% of you?

You don’t know the WINNER well enough, you explain. He’s too new. He’s all talk. Too idealistic. He passes out way before 3 am, he doesnt have the hips for a pants suit and he’s not ready to start on day one. You’re just not sure about his platform.

And yet, you CAN read, yes? Oh ok just checking because the people who voted for the WINNER, we found a way to make out the exotic language posted on his website. It’s the New English and it’s terribly complicated.


[pause for a moment pls…
Dear Ma'am:

Is your quick weave ass on CNN CRYING????? And furthermore are you literally INCONSOLABLE as you’re being intvw’d by Suzanne.Malveaux saying, “You KNOW she’s presidential! Barack has 2 months to prove to me that he deserves my vote. I came here to cast my vote for Hillary.” Madam, if you don’t mind could you please read this post from the beginning. It is written especially for you. My gift to you, a consolation gift if you will. That’s what LOSERS get.
Disrepectfully,
Wise, a WINNER]

Now, let’s assume for a moment that aaaaaaall of the literature on Barack is written in Mandarin. And all of his speeches have been delivered in Wolof. And you only get hearing impaired Dutch TV news. Tough break. Ok but…100% of McCain’s verbiage is in the King’s Plain English. You KNOW for sure, like oprah, that his shit aint for you if you are any semblance of a intelligent human being Democrat. As Jonzee says, because of your shenanigans we bout to all be in the bread line shaking our heads.

I’m Jamaican (shout out to Lightening Bolt *slapping the wall*) so I’m a bit unfamiliar with this loserspeak. Someone please break it down for me…

Why are they acting like he won by a (HarveyDent) coin toss.

Why do they keep boasting she got 18 million votes?? That’s like saying, Kobe averaged 94 points in the playoffs. Ummm...did he also get traded to Boston in April?? Cuz them nggas was the ones in the parade.

Yall walking up in the convention like the rival high school and shit. You aint Danny Zucko, bitches. Sit down in the back and respect the home team. The WINNERS.

It’s been months and you got dumped. She’s Just Not Feeling You! Get over it.

Why don’t you slow learners ask for accommodations since your reading comprehension is on a 4th grade level. You no child left behind asses got the chance to get to know Barack just like everybody else did. What the hell you talking about you don’t know him or his policies?? Here’s a hint Special Ed, the joke of the primaries was kinda that they’re policies were really similar. So that’s like the cliff’s note for you, since you’ve already memorized Hillary’s shit, and I do mean feces cuz you are so far up her ass it’s embarrassing.

Lemme ask you this…Did u have to be convinced when Kerry won the nomination? When Bill beat Gore and ‘nem in ‘92? Cuz you KNOW you hadn’t heard of him before. His ’08 Convention speech tanked and you didn’t know how to locate Arkansas on a state map back then.

WHY??

Is it for the same reason that MichelleObama, a brilliant Ivy League professional and mother and wife needs an image “makeover?” Why that family needs to be framed and introduced to America?? And yet pill poppin, swindling Cindy McShort Arms [if the link doesnt work for some reason, go to nytimes.com and serach "For McCains, a Public Path but Private Wealth"] gets by unscathed??

Wipe your crocodile tears, pick up your dignity and kick rocks.

I’m so over you losers.

ACCENT

I remember being on the phone with dude and I distinctly looking at the phone all defeated.

Or maybe it was in person, and I stood silent and momentarily frozen, before kicking aside a rock or something.

Either way, it wasn’t no email or text or voicemail cuz I was only in like 7^th grade.

“You got a white accent.”

He didn’t say I “talk white” or that I “sound like a white girl.” He said I had a white accent. And for some reason I instantly knew what he meant.

This obviously wasn’t my first trial. I had been accused of all of the above, what with being one of only five blackies in the “smart” class since 4^th grade. It was either I was acting white because of my achievement (guess they never got wind of that one warning letter I got threatening to kick me out because I got a couple Cs.). Or that I talked white because of my penchant for the King’s English. Silly grammar. Guess they didn’t hear me getting scolded at home for either speaking patois with my brothers, or using slang my parents couldn’t decipher.

But if you ever been around white people you know it’s hard to be around them for long without falling into their cadence, if for no other reason than so that they can understand what the fcuk you’re talking about. It’s similar to how you can tell when white folks grew up in the hood. You can hear it.

But that wasn’t it. It was just, how I sounded. For years I hated my voice. Still do. I have no control over the high pitches or the sometimes low lilts. I do however, have full handle of my articulation and I can sometimes rein in the occasional Caribbean riddim or borough-inspired rough edges. If you speak to me on the phone, and particularly if you know my government, it may be difficult to discern me as a negress. Unless you get me cussing.

So you know how on BlackinAmerica there was a segment on “talking white.” Cause it’s apparently a HUGE problem facing our community. If you’re uninitiated, the argument is that young people who do well in school or speak proper English are often accused of “acting or talking white.” Of course this is rubbish, because the idea is that to be a high achieving is equated with whiteness…and you know where that leaves blackness. In the dark, per usual.

But here’s my question…Is this the whole truth?

Or do some coloreds actually talk or act white?

Hear me out, cuz I’m just typing out loud…

Let’s first consider that there’s a good chance that the good, book-learned black folk, like myself, who articulated this Act White oppression are probably the ones who were accused of doing so. They were the Act Whiters. Might still be. So then there’s a good chance, that like me, they carry some baggage about it. It’s like the newly-brolic dude who used to get his ass kicked when he was little. He still feels some kinda way about bullying, and can hypothesize and analyze the shit out of the topic. Yes?

Ok, so then there’s a good chance that in the self preservation of said White Talker’s superior ego, there’s still a side left unturned. Three sides to every story, no?

Real talk, as someone who’s been accused, I don’t really think that what was being said was that I was trying to be a good student and therefore a white student, and therefore acting white. I don’t think that I was being dragged down by the crabs, then unceremoniously kicked in the belly of the bucket by self loathing niggers. I think that they saw me running with my best friend, a white chick, heard me talking about how we used to go cross country skiing back in the day (but missed the part where it was during gym class, and not on the weekends at my family's cottage in Vail or no bullshit). Peeked into my Latin class and saw me, the only black speck. Heard my accent.

But real talk, some nggas actually talk white.

And some try to act white too.

Yeah, I said it.

And I’m not talking about black folks who like rock music either. Cuz that shit’s ours. And your ipod does not a White Acter make.

I’m not talking about dating outside your race... Though if I wanted I probably could.

Not talking about Hillary or Carlton.Banks... They knew they were black.

Nor am I referring to no suburban negroes... Sometimes you just want a gate and a lawn and to be pulled over by the cops in your own driveway.

I went to a white school, so you know I’ve seen my fair share of brothers and sisters trying to get away with the same shit that white kids do. The hazing. The outdoor partying. The walking barefoot. The shorts in the winter. Their asses ALWAYS ended up locked up or in the hospital. Nggas.

If you closed your eyes you would think that Tiger*Woods was pretty pale. Plus he plays golf. Anyone know who Shane*Battier is? It’s not that they both speak proper English. So does Michael Jordan, but he doesn’t sound like an overseer.

Don't mind me... I'm just typing out loud after all, but maybe, just maybe, black folks aren't as deft as we'd be led to believe. Sometimes nggas be just acting stupid.

WHITE FLIGHT

I didn’t even want to be there.

But I had no choice really. Between the gorgeous midsummer evening breeze; the looming guilt that would ensue had I driven past the lake on my way home; and the threat of having to buy a whole new wardrobe…I found myself stretching my hammies against my back bumper, and adjusting my ipod*shuffle.

Even so, I wanted to be home relaxing with a Bud*Lime. Reading thesis stuff. But I took my place amongst my fellow joggers, bikers, bladers, strollers, and dog walkers… pumped up my volume and set out to circle the lake. As I’m walking, I’m looking down at my thighs. I like ‘em thick, rubbing together even, but my slacks don’t necessarily. My arms could use some toning, but they aight. Dare I say I wish I had a rearview mirror so I could check out my ass. I can use all the help I can get back there. It’s the midsection that’s a problem. A combination of emotional eating, binge drinking, a penchant (compulsion) for Sub*way cookies, and a lover with the southern sensibility and distinct intention of “fattening me up,” have done me in. So I jog. The effects of those damn clove cigarettes constrict the shit out of my breathing. But I trudge on as best as I can.

One time around is all I’m in for. That’ll satisfy my nagging laziness. Tomorrow I’ll complete my requisite three lap minimum. And I’ll remember to update my music. No offense to Kelly*Clarkson and Sean Paul, but I’ve pretty much memorized the order of every possible shuffle.

I’m about a half mile in, scooting between a group of walker-grandmas. I emerge in front of them and catch out of the corner of my eye an impending white arm. I ignore it, until I see it again, this time pulling slightly ahead of me. I skip a step ahead then pause to pretend like I’m scratching the fresh mosquito bite on my shin. Sure enough there’s this frumpy white woman hopping alongside me at a slightly amped up pace.

See, this what I be talking about when I be talking about shit.

I’m simply not having it. Not physically, not psychologically, not historically. I don’t know if it’s the 400 years of it all, or some washed up athlete thing I'm feeling, but something ignites my engine. I’m sailing now, weak lungs be damned. And dammit if Frumpkin isn’t keeping up. Has the nerve to almost pass me. I’m coming up on where my truck is parked, and what was just a moment ago a consolation work out, suddenly turns gladiator on my ass.

My juices are flowing, I’m in a rhythm. The bitch won't die. Is she even sweating? Is that grey hair? Holy shit, I'm losing to Jonie from Happy*Days. I'm shaming Flo-Jo and Wilma who came before me. What the hell ever happened to white girls being scared of us?! If we can't win a foot race what's left? (a dance-off, obviously).

It’s not easy. I'm struggling. I’m…challenged. It’s very Jesse*Owens 1936 Berlin Olympics, except the only aryan here is in my mind. I’m determined not to let this white woman pass me under not no circumstances. I focus. I coast.

“This is a good pace,” she says. All I hear is Portis*head blaring from my earphones. I notice her gesture to me, and I hit mute to hear her repeat herself. I agree, hit pause again and keep moving. We go on like this for another mile and a half, until I see my car again. I spurn it like a bad fcuk, and move on. A few minutes later, Frumpelstein gestures to me again.

“That was really good,” she pants, and veers off the path toward her car. I wave good bye and trudge on. I’m spent, but I won’t let her know that. ‘Give her about a minute or two to drive off then double back and quit,’ says my inner-scoundrel. Easy enough.

But I fought off easy a couple miles back.

If only there were frumpy white people running beside me all the time.

Maybe I’d get a lot more done.

RIGHT TO BE WRONG

I could be wrong about this one...so y'all please let me know if I am. Lemme just talk my way through it...

Today, I used the word 'cracker' at least twice via text message. It's offensive. It's inappropriate. And most of all, I know better. Yet, if someone were to fwd said texts to the Deans of my school, let's say, should I be fired? (and never mind that I go to a black school, and that they might just chuckle and have a 'cracker' story of their own)

I regularly employ questionable language, judgment and content on this here blog. Imagine if a hater were to rat me out to a client, or an editor or some other check writer...are my offenses egregious enough to warrant a pay cut??

This is where I get tripped up. Because maybe my offenses really are as harmless as I think. But what if they're not??

What if for once I am NOT the one "with all the answers" (that are sometimes wrong)...and it's far above my head to understand just how bad my words might be?

Which really freaks me out because I fancy myself fairly balanced and decently educated and politically aware.

I am of the belief that people have the right to be racist. There's plenty wrong with it, but I don't see anything wrong with using a racial term when provoked. PRIVATELY. Where the problem lies is when you are racist and intimidate, discriminate or otherwise taunt or subjugate a person based on race. Where it's also a no no is if your racism is on display for public consumption, like via the (!mus) media.

The first time I heard about Bitch the B.Hunter's tape recorded rants about the son's black girl, my first thought was...well, IS she a trife nig? I might be wrong for that. Probably am.

But am I also wrong for thinking that a private nigtastic convo shouldnt end this guy's career? Particularly when you listen to the content and hear the context for him saying it. (He was basically telling the son that he couldnt work with him if the chick was gonna be around because they use the word ngga and he didnt want the chick to record it and sell it to the media).

I do know that I'm not wrong about the media having some nerve to keep trying folks in the court of public opinion. That shit is wrong. Wrong because the media have an unresolved history of failing to explore and understand race and racism with any type of critical analysis, nor responsibility. So to see Bitch on CNN tonight, to hear the tapes online, to see his face on every news program I watch, feels so hypocritical and wrong.

I might be wrong, but I know I wouldnt find it fair to be out of a paycheck for calling a cracker a cracker.

I'M TRYING TO FIGURE OUT IF THIS SOUNDS AS FUCKING ABSURD AS I THINK IT DOES...

I had the most interesting experience yesterday.

I went to an Italian restaurant in the, you know, Italian part of town. I had the lasagna and a glass of wine and that really great bread they like to serve.

But what truly struck me was that there were no strippers there. Sure, there were quite a few overweight, scary looking Italian guys, but none of them carried any visible weapons. And not one single person got wacked.

I may have seen a suicidal son or two dining with sociopathic dads and delusional moms.

But all in all, "that’s really what this society’s all about now here in the U.S.A. There’s no difference. There’s no difference. There may be a cultural entertainment — people may gravitate toward different cultural entertainment, but you go down to Little Italy, and you’re gonna have that. It has nothing to do with the color of anybody’s skin."

Our JENAration

I swear, I woulda been a Black.Panther back in the day.

Big, audacious ‘fro bouncing, swaying, trying to keep up as I march.

Not sure if I’da been gangsta enough to garnish a shotty, but I woulda for sure been the one with the camera, documenting the resistance.

I woulda had the pen out, blazing, writing out the Ten Point Plan. I woulda broke into whatever campus office and “xerox’d” some copies.

More recently, had I not been forbidden on the grounds of my gender, I woulda been among a million brothers (yeah, trying to get numbers and losing sight of the real cause from time to time, but, whatev). But that’s what it reminded me of this morning when I tuned in to CNN and saw a sea of black-clad Black folks descended on rural Louisiana. Whites, too. It reminded me of the Milli0n Man March and how badly I wanted to be there.

But this morning I got my BP on, and grabbed the mic in front of a dilapidated library still in use by my campus until the new one opens. Just a few blocks from where a 24 year old brother got gunned down at around noon on Monday. In front of a similar sea of black. My peers. The youngens I curse daily on my travels thru campus.

“I’m proud as hell to be a Morgan State grad student this morning, just like I’m proud as hell to be Black every day,” I announced.

If I was a Black Panther, I wouldn’t have been the fire breather. My words were measured, carefully chosen, deliberately spaced out and articulated. I tend to get more hype speaking to Sprint customer service.

I’m the Black Panther with the camera, more interested in turning the mic around to those with no voice. Those who need to shout.

This whole Jena thing reeks of 1957. And back then it was students who marched and organized and got things done. Students, who captured the world's attention. And in 2007 we’re in a position to organize and get things done. And yup, capture the world's attention.

“Now that the cameras are here, let’s have something to say. Look into these TV and still cameras that rarely come here, and instead of dancing and shuffling, open your mouth and say something that means something. And if God forbid, this city reaches 300 murders this year, if there are no financial aid reforms at this school, I better see you all right back here, rallying and shouting. And I better see the cameras back here then, too.”

Take a sec to look at some photos and video from Jena, Louisiana today.

Take a look at the movement, and get in where you fit in. You don’t have to be a Black Panther, just contribute like one.

*drops the mic and walks off*

i HEART white women

Just like the rest of civilization, I HEART white women. Ok that was very general, and a bit misleading. You know how black folks got white women that the community embraces? Ya know like Tina Marie, Ricki Lake, Judge Judy, Erica Cane from offa the stories, Martha Munizzi, the Chief from offa (do white folks say 'from offa'??) NY Undercover (not to be confused with the white lady from In Liv!ng Col0ur, who we also love).

Wendy.




The list goes on.

Well I have my own favs for my own personal reasons…and since white women are having a pretty rough year, what with so much attention being paid to illegals and hypersexual black women with unruly natural hair and Ar@b extremists; and then that psycho scorned astronaut chick who drove cross country in pullups casting ridicule on white women everywhere...

I'd like to pay homage and present...

My Top 5 White Women of All Time…

1. Amy Grant

Ok, for real, for real, AG is the inspiration for this post. I been rocking her HARD in the car for the past week.

Little Known Wise History Fact: Growing up the whole neighborhood went to the non-denominational church on the corner, meaning mostly white folks. And all my friends and I used to go to white church camp (I’m not talking about Vaca Bible School down at the Pentecostal, either).

This is where I was introduced and immediately began hearting AG. Like no lie, if I were to ever run into her down at the Walm@rt I would go nuts. And if ever a bride I am destined to be, there’s this AG song I’m pretty sure will accompany my sashay down the aisle.

No, I’m really not kidding. I HEART her so!

2. Julie Andrews

Ummm, I got three words for you…”Raindrops on roses…”
Enough said.

No it’s really not enough. Just like it wasn’t enough for her to be a pain in the Captain’s edelweiss…chick was also Mary effing P0ppins. Now, I don’t even mess with MP like that, but SOM is my fav movie of all time. Hands down. And she was brilliant.

She.Made.Clothes.For.Six.Bad.Ass.Kids.Out.Of.A.Curtain.

And they’re dad had dough! She’s no gold digger and that’s why I heart her.


3. The Golden Girls, but esp Betty White and Bea Arthur

And yes, they collectively count as one single selection. These chicks were divorcees and widows and they have martini night out on South Beach, and they said (i'm pretty sure it was Dorothy's idea)... you know what, this Miami real estate game is getting CRAZY. Yall wanna split up this rent? And they did the damn thing. (I can’t believe I just said ‘did the damn thing.’ But see, that’s what white women will do to you. Have you talking all out of sorts and such.)

And the GGs weren’t no catty broads either. I only remember one time they ever fought over a dude (ok, and FEW times Dorothy and Blanche bought the same dress to wear to the ball). These ladies used to bring it on home every night, fire up some warm milk and gather round the kitchen table and talk shit.

Dorothy was the brains but also the master of the straightfaced one-liner...while Rose was perhaps the greatest television idiot of all time.

And stucking with TV for a moment longer...

4. Charlotte Rae

You may know her as the quick witted foil to young G@ry Coleman.

That's right...
Mrs. Garrett.

Whatever, I’m partial to the nurturing white matriarch, or the “Whammy,” as I like to call her. She’s basically Nell Car.ter, only pale. I’m not sure if she’s dead or alive, but damn if she didn’t star in TWO hit sitcoms. That right there is the height of stardom to me. Sherman Helmsley did it. Andy Griffith did it. Robert Guillaume did it. But they didn’t do it like Mrs. Garrett!

I mean, much like Bens0n, she went from being the help, to being the boss. And in both capacities, Mrs. G. never made the knucklehead ass kids feel small for their transgressions. That meant a lot to a youngster like me with little to no supervision and no restrictions on hours of tv viewing. So Mrs. G, this one’s for you! (But if someone can take a second and goog her and find out if she had Park!nsons…cause she sure used to shake a lot.)

5. Susan B. Anthony [If the name’s not familiar, you probably failed 8th grade history (or you’re not from America), so just skip this one.]

SBA is close to my heart bec she lived most of her life in my hometown and her house still stands and fittingly, is kind of in the hood. Not only was she the first woman on American currency, but she also voted in an election before women had the right to vote. She just walked down there and dared them not to let her do it. Well, they let her, but the jakes came knocking at her door and locked her ass up that day. Her and Frederick Dougl@ss were mad cool. While most historical evidence points to her being a big lezbo, I think she was secretly into black guys.

Oh man, I could go on and on. Honorable mention shouts to:

Ellen Degen (she sure has fast feet, and she’s loves her BET)

Wonder Woman (tho, aint she part Puerto Rican?)

Kathy Griff/Jules Roberts (been HEARTING redheads ever since I saw Annie)

Chris Everett Ll0yd (Gotta HEART a tough white woman athlete with a red face and sweaty bangs)

Queen El!z (did you know she served in WWI as a mechanic?? And punk ass Prince Har.ry won't go to Ir@q?? She’s just so gangsta to me) And she’s a really good actress cuz I saw her movie Queen last year. lol

Fion.Apple/Sara.Maclachlan/Tori.Amos (who under Lil Kim's leadership, helped put me thru college)

Tip Gore (anyone who calls out studio thugs is alrite with me)

That white lady teacher who got killed in the Challenger (you KNOW your class watched that shit during Social Studies and your teacher got really flustered when it blew up, and then you had a shool-wide assembly to "make sense of what we just witnessed")

Heidi Klum or any other white woman with a black guy for a husband (bec I know it cant be easy being called a ngger lover)

So which white women do you heart, and why?

Our Evolution...(un)Televised

[I've finally granted all requests for intvws in the comments of the last post. I havent been foloing up to see if yall all answered yet, but if you havent, get ta steppin! Anyone else wanna quiz me, speak now or... ~Management]
========================

"Black women are the mules of the world."
~ZNH

I’ve been inspired.

Nikki’s recent post about images of sistas on TV, resonates because of its truth. But there is, I believe, also a hidden truth behind the truth…

Fact is, yup, we’re still largely relegated to 3 familiar roles on TV…angry asexual, marriage-obsessed neurotic, and whore. A shame really, because our truth is that we all know Black women to be a diverse and varied soul. We know this because we know each other. We know our mothers and sisters and girlfriends and neighbors. Hell, we “know” our fellow blog sistas.

Problem is folks, that white people don’t know us, and it’s all our fault.

When’s the last time you took a co-worker up on an invitation for a few drinks after work? Or said yes, when the white couple across the street extends apple pie or hot dogs or whatever the hell else they be cooking over there and offering? Or that you actually indulged in a frivolous convo on the elevator, in line at Wa’Mart, or on the A train?

Hell naw. Why? Because “white people so damn nosy!” Always in your business. Always tryna see what you about. Which kind of Black girl you is.

But we steady don’t let em.

So that leaves white people to their own devices. They basically “know” 3 Black chicks besides you…Opr.ah, Bey.once and C0ndi. All us others are a mystery.

Interestingly enough, though I’m very cool with white folks, having grown up with some good ones, I noticed something recently. The only time I go to a predominantly white social spot is when I’m with one of my (Black) homeboys. Otherwise, if it’s me and the girls, we’re heading to somewhere where there’s some nggas.

While brothers are undoubtedly more nondiscriminatory than we are when it comes to sexual conquests, they are also much more open to white folks in general. They stand around and talk baseball with the white guy in Accounting. They don’t mind grabbing a bite with the white chicks from down the block. They accept an invite to the Blessed.Sacrement fellowship picnic.

They are just not as guarded as us. In fact, I believe brothers are more open because they want to be accepted. And I don’t mean in a pathetic-smelly-5th grader kind of way. I mean, it is important that they are seen as a whole person, not as an image. Not as angry or thuggish or violent or stupid (like my pet peeve dude who apologizes for his girl's "attitude" when some white authority treats to play her, instead of having her back when she's justified). They want white men to see that they can look them in the eye without averting, because they are men too, and ought to be treated as such.

Sistas on the other hand, as Zora said, are the mules of the world. We know this. We resent this. And we don’t give a fcuk about proving you wrong. That’s on you for thinking it. We expect that when we work hard we ought to be seen as whole and competent and intelligent and nuanced and complex and human. Just like any other woman. Problem is, we don’t care for the follow up. We don’t want you in our business bec we refuse to be exploited. We refuse to give you the satisfaction of thinking you know us.

So we get the Big 3 when it comes to TV, and film for that matter. Because of course, white folks are the ones behind the lenses and the scripts. They are the ones reflecting to us what we have or have not projected to them.

So while you got brothas like Omar.Epps and Gary.Dourdan. and Isaiah Wash (RIP Burke) and Dennis.Haysbert and Shamar.Moore and Harold.Perrineau and DL.Hughley getting the opportunity to play such complex, meaty roles on TV…sistas, not so much.

We get to play Joan and Miranda and Whoreen. Cuz that's what they know.

But to be sure, Asians fare far worse on TV, and I’m betting for very similar anti-social reasons. Even Latinos who are pleasantly becoming more visible, are often, as in the case of the Solises on DHouse.wives, little more than white characters with tans and accented surnames.

I actually love Miranda’s character on Grey’s. She’s vilified for being a typical Mammy, but dammit, have YOU EVER spent any extended periods of time with emotional, neurotic, hard headed, know it all, young, overly ambitious white kids? Well, it’s her job to baby sit them muhfcukas. A job I couldn’t see none of them other Mcdreamy/creamy/schmeemy bastards pulling off. You’d be pissed off too.

As for Joan, well, she’s written by a sista, and her obsession with finding a soul mate and her life’s work is woefully authentic. Very familiar to me, not unlike many sistas I know, or many of you bloggers I read, for that matter.

Was Carrie.Bradshaw of Sex.And.The.City similarly criticized? Naw. And that chick was all about snagging Big, Manolos and living beyond her means. Basically a paler Joan. The difference of course is that for every televised Carrie or McBeal or Mary.Tyler.Moore, there’s a televised Blanche, Roseanne or Alexis.Carrington. A variety. A balance.

I’m very proud of the Wanda.Sykes, the Khandi.Alexanders, Tonya.Pinkinses, Tia/Tamaras, Epathas, Dianne.Carrols, Tischina.Arnolds, Latonya.Jacksons, and Ryan.Bathes that do exist and that do add a splash of diversity to TV.

And Im very proud of the real life sistas who every now and again accept an invitation from nosy white folk.

The List Lives On...

Not even 3 months into my 30th year on earth, and I’ve managed to accomplish a few of the things on my NOW THAT I’M 30 list.

The latest was the one I thought would be most elusive…I had to whup a chick’s azz.

Backstory…
(Dateline – Bawtuhmore, Murrland. The Corner)


This my corner right here. I done seen and heard it all happen right at this crossroad. [Do I sound like Charles.S.Dutt0n yet?]



Well, one night last week, at around, oh, 3 am, I heard trouble coming down the block. Within minutes it had reached the door of my building, and climbed the stairs.

“I told you not to have that last drink, yo. I TOLD you. But you didn’t listen.”

That’s Barnyard, my downstairs neighbor. He’s a dead ringer for Shawn Mar.ion with (pre-last-album-release haircut promo stunt) Busta dreads. Cool, cheerful guy, with no discernable career. (that’s not to say he’s not gainfully and legally employed. I just don’t know what it is. When we first met he told me he travels a lot for work, so I’m guessing something in either music or unemployment). He’s always smiling and always laughing and always surrounded by friends.

Dude also has a penchant for little white women. And weed, but that’s a whole other story. And he ends at least every other sentence with, “YO”. So on this night he and his girl come stumbling in and wake up the block. It’s not usually a big deal, but it’s 3 am on a weeknight, yo.

“Barnyard, why you lying on me?! Why!!” She’s crying hysterically, and by hysterically, I mean slobbering drunk.

“I told you, yo, but you don’t never listen to me! I told you you’re a different person when you drink. Get the fcuk out!” He’s mad calm, and by calm, I mean probably high as fcuk.

They’re nothing if not entertaining. The best part is that he’s usually so impatiently patient. He always calmly takes the time to explain to his girls their ills. Show her a better way. This night it sounded like he was intent on teaching her a lesson.

“You pushing me? Who the fcuk you think you are, little girl? You crazy? Don’t you EVER put your hands on me!”

Then a pause. Almost like the argument was taking a deep breath. Actually, he was choking the chick out.

“Why you choke me?!” (she’s throwing shit around now). “I didn’t do nothing, Barnyard!”

“You didn’t do nothing? You put your effing hands on me and you drunk as shit, yo!”

I always wondered how deep fights in interracial relationships go down. Like, does the chick call him a trifling Nuh, right off the top?

“I’m calling the cops if you don’t get the eff out my house!”

“Barnyard, I’m a white girl and you’re a black man. Who you think they gonna believe?”

I bet she would have had him at, nig.

Anywoo…if you’re just joining us, it’s now 3:30am on a weeknight and they are Ike and Tina’ing it from indoors to out, slamming doors and shouting. Next thing I know, I hear the chick sitting at the bus stop out front, boo hooing.

She’s not outside long. She comes back into the building and starts pounding on Barnyard’s apt. door (which is one flight down from mine).

So I creep over to my door to get a better listen…



He’s not answering and she’s not done pounding. She’s also not keeping in mind that there are two other people who live in the building. And as I looked at the clock, staring down the barrel of 4am, I had had enough.

I open my door and look down the stairs at this pathetic heap of a stringy haired drunken mess. She’s out of her mind… I realize this. And I realize that my presence will only exacerbate the situation. But if I don’t say shit now, this will happen again, at 3am, on a weeknight.

WISE: “Excuse me, Princess. You gotta take all that outside.”

WHITE: “What?! WHAT?! I’m a white girl and you’re black. Who you think they gonna believe?”

WISE: “Believe about what? About you acting like Barnyard lives here alone?” I ask.

WHITE: “Barnyard pays rent up in here. He can do anything he wants!”

WISE: “And how you think I get to stay here? Barnyard isn’t paying MY rent! And it is very late and you are very loud, and I am asking you politely to please bring down the volume.”

WHITE: “Bitch, you don’t tell me ---.”

I was on the steps before she could finish. Clearly, she had me at 'bitch'. And before she could commit a full gasp I calmly lifted this chick off her feet, my fingers rapped securely around her throat. Bitch couldn’t even swallow, yo.

WISE: “The trash is out back.”

And with that, I casually tossed her drunk azz toward the outside door then made my way back up the steps to my crib.

I’m gully and all, but the portion in grey never happened. I’m 30, and well, I know how to choose my battles WISEly. That one woulda been too easy. And too unavoidable. Had I opened my door the girl woulda fcuking flipped and came out of her mouth all wrong, and I woulda HAD to slap her up. And my neighbor woulda HAD to laugh, or help, or be mad, yo. I don’t need no turf war where I live. That’s what work is for.

For now, the list lives on…

"An American Story"

Know what my professor said today?

It tripped me out soooo badly.

We were talking about the 24-hour news cycle and how obnoxious and overwhelming it tends to be (who's old enough to remember when news only came on at 6am, 6pm and 11pm?)

Anywho, we're talking about Ann@ Nic0le...who, oddly enough, my mother is obsessed with. She doesnt trust "that H0ward K. St.ern for one second."

No wait, we were talking about Sam.Shepard's Pulitzer Prize winning play Buried.Child, and about how it tells such an "American story."

Sometimes our conversations intersect as they did today, and he mentions the circus that is Ann@ Nic and mentions as a sidenote that he does not believe this business of the photo guy being the baby daddy (I only wish they woulda let Ma.ury reveal that shit).

"I believe the son was the baby's father...and that's why he's dead. That's why they're both dead. Quintessential American story," he says.

That shit creeped me out, and as I get into bed I am already anticipating the nightmares I will have.

Not a fan of the incest.

But I'm hoping that sharing it with yall will help me sleep.

*nighty night*