Y’all still out there? I hope so. I know it’s been a year. Over a damn year since I last posted here. And y’all could have moved on. Found a new BW to love and make you giggle over foolywang like bicycle riding and such. Speaking of which, a few nights ago I became obsessed with music videos featuring BW on bicycles. I found two, Corrine Bailey Rae’s “Girl Put Your Records On” and India Arie’s “Video.”

I mean, it’s a bicycle club of young English ladies trying to find what I can only imagine is Downton Abbey. I didn’t understand.

Remember where you were when you first heard this song? I remember where I was when I saw the video and saw those pants with the flower embroideries. Again, I didn’t understand. Also, that girl was totally by herself on the road riding that bicycle trying to do the “no  handlebars” thing.

I watched Jill Scott’s “Long Walk” video just to make sure that that’s what she actually did with her invisible partner/camera person–walk.

She did thank God. I don’t know what I have against bicycles but clearly I’ve got a heart issue. Cause it BOTHERS me.

Anyway, where have I been? Here. I’ve been here. It’s just like the clothes sitting in trash bags next to my bed mocking me for not taking them to Goodwill yet. I see it. I know it needs to be done. I know the aesthetic benefits of getting these frakkin (I’m trying to stop cursing so much so I just borrow fake curse words from tv shows I didn’t watch) bags out of my space. I just can’t get my ass in gear to make it happen.

And that, dear readers, is why I have been quiet for the last year.

Nevertheless, on this lovely Chinese New Year, I bring you Dear Black Woman 3.0. Lots of exciting things coming up: new posts! liveblogging the Awards (with all the wine one can stand and stand up from)! And foolywang! Lots and lots of foolywang.

So…uh…where shall we start? ::twiddles fingers::

How about a Lightning Round?

Top 4 Things That DBW Came Across that Made her give the Side eye:

1. Robin Thicke’s Essence interview. 

Y’all! Y’all. That interview made me feel like doing this (for some reason Homer doesn’t want to gif like he’s been created so click on the pic and it will show you some movements):

Read the whole thing here but let me just break out a few excerpts:

What I realize about the difference between me and my peers — you know, Chris Brown and Drizzy Drake and all my musical peers — is that they haven’t been with the same woman for 18 years and I’ve been with a Black woman for 18 years. I’ve never dated a White woman. Don’t want to. I’ve never been on a date with a White woman.

On one hand, they're really sweet and cute together. High school sweethearts!!! Then again: craaaay and creepy.

Well, besides the obvious points that Drake and Chris haven’t lived long enough to be with someone ‘cept for their mamas for 18 years, or the fact that his “peers” are dudes in their 20s, I’m sort of confused. I don’t um…I don’t understand the point he’s making. They got black mama’s, they date BW. Why he bringing out WW in Essence? Who was arguing with him?

Not for nothing, but uh..seems like this video for "Love after War" certainly gives Robin the best of both worlds. He may never have dated a WW but his wife (yeah that's Paula in the video acting like Brigitte Bardot) can put the blonde wig on and pass a little bit. Bygones, I guess.

See, listen: I have this theory about Robin Thicke. I love his music. I think he’s a pretty and sexy WM who we certainly picked as our One White Guy who sings R&B right now (Jon B, baby where y’at???? Come back please?). But: I think he CRAYYYY.

This man is having conversations about WW and his unwavering loyalty to BW that no one asked him about. Does he think that the BW who read Essence are gonna be like, “That white boy is loyal! He doggin out them white gals!  We should keep him!”

No. No. That’s not how that works, honey bunch.

But that’s not the best of it. Here he goes again…saying some F-O-O-L-Y-W-A-N-G.

I didn’t have a great relationship with my mom and she didn’t have a great relationship with her dad and we became that for each other. She’s my mama and I’m her daddy. I even call her mama and she calls me daddy. We are that to each other.

Can you see the tears running down DBW’s face? The laughter and snorting won’t stop. I mean, really?

What? WHAT? He calls her mama and she calls him daddy? Now, DBW knows older folks who call each other mama and daddy (and that  ish is strange too don’t get me wrong!) but folks in their 30s getting off on treating each other like parents? No ma’am. Nooo. NOO.

And again, why, WHY IS HE SHARING THIS IN ESSENCE MAGAZINE?!

I really want him to consider BW opinions other than his wife  who might think this is cute. Cause it ain’t. It ain’t cute. But this leads me to my other theory:

Paula Patton for all her beauty and you know, passable skills as an actress is CRAAAAAY too.

Oh but this interview is far from over. I’m gon’ skip over the parts about giving his wife double digit orgasms (cause you know what? I can’t. I just…I just…I can’t.) and move on to the next bit of juiciness:

I have a song on my new album called, “I Don’t Know How It Feels to Be You,” and she and I were in the middle of an argument and she said, “Robin, no matter how hard you try, or how compassionate you are, you’ll never know what it’s like to be a Black woman.” So I got up and I wrote this song in five minutes. The lyrics are: “I don’t know how it feels to be you, though I try my best to understand what you’re going through, I don’t know how it feels to be you. I can’t walk in your shoes. But, I’m trying baby. You know how much I love you.”

Yes, you read it right. Robin transformed a song  inspired by his wife telling him he didn’t understand her life as a BW into a love song about trying on her heels. I wasn’t looking for a “What’s Going On” or a “Rhythm Nation 1814″ (I recently watched that Janet Jackson doc and learned that the lyrics are sposed to be meaningful. Who the hell knew?!) but certainly, if you’re gonna write a song about the difficulties of compassion and such, I’d hope it sounded less like “Roses are Red/Violets Are Blue/I know you’re black girl but I still love you.” I mean, after all: he don’t date WW. So, you know, that’s a bingo!

Last bit. Essence asked Thicke what his thoughts were about BW dating white dudes.

I think that’s ridiculous. There are so many good Black men out there that are hardworking, decent, and handsome, you know? To start that rumor is as bad as starting any other negative rumor. There are great Black men out there. There are only a few good White men — trust me. (Laughs) Good luck finding a good White man who understands your journey. I only have three White friends. I’ve got 20 Black male friends, who are all good men who take good care of their wives, and good care of their children. I know amazing Black men.

Okay, a) this ain’t a rumor, Robin. People been hatin’ on black men for a long, long, long, long time. It’s not the same as is Kristin Cavallari pregnant or if Chris Brown (your peer) and Riri done got back together? Those are rumors. This ain’t no rumor. b) Again, is he included in the 3 white men that can “understand the journey”? Cause he just said he didn’t understand. Or at least he made it seem like if he had thought he did understand, Paula (despite all her crazy) was like, “Hell no white boy. Hell no.” So, is it 3 other dudes and him? Also, is he trying to make BM love him or BW? Cause his great love for BM is fine and all but uh…again, who’s disagreeing with him? It ain’t the BW who read Essence.

And I just can’t help it. He’s doing that counting thing.

You know that counting thing that white people do where they do arithmetic to prove they are diverse. If I could find the scene in my go-to source for all wisdom and knowledge of The Original Kings of Comedy (they took all the excerpts off Youtube, dammit!), I’d direct you to the joke DL Hughley makes about white folks counting how many black friends they allow in their homes (“1, 2, 3, 4…THAT’S ENOUGH!”). Robin knows that he has exactly 20 black friends and 3 white ones. That’s not friendship; that’s a dinner party.

Enough about Robin Thicke.  Onto the next.

2. Can we just talk about that Red Tails movie for a moment please? Here, have a trailer:

So George Lucas, aka, the man who brought BF Jar Jar Binks wrote and directed and produced a new movie about Tuskeege Airmen that according to him, somebody has been trying to make since 1942.

George Lucas and his lady Mellody Hobson. Maybe she helped encourage him to finish the project? Maybe. Also, it must be nice to be with someone that doesn't notice that you decided to compliment your lovely boobalicious gown with a yellow plastic pencil holder as a purse.

Now don’t get me wrong, this is great. Wonderful even. Let’s make more historical films about BF. Let’s make more films about BF full stop! Here’s where it gets dicey:

“I realize that by accident I’ve now put the black film community at risk (with Red Tails, whose $58 million budget far exceeds typical all-black productions). I’m saying, if this doesn’t work, there’s a good chance you’ll stay where you are for quite a while. It’ll be harder for you guys to break out of that (lower-budget) mold. But if I can break through with this movie, then hopefully there will be someone else out there saying let’s make a prequel and sequel, and soon you have more Tyler Perrys out there.”

So, let me give you a scenario to illuminate what’s being articulated here. Suppose for years and years and years, I have trouble getting my correct damn mail. I send letters to the post office with my correct address, I get responses that say “we’re working on it” and yet, my damn mail is never right. Every now and again, some halfway attentive person drops in and notices that the name on my mailbox and the mail going in it are different and maybe for a month, will make sure it’s right. Oh sigh! It has been fixed! I’s got MY MAIL NAH (to borrow from Shug).

But then, that person goes on a new route or just gets tired of fixing it and I’m back to square one.

This back and forth goes on for YEAAAARRRRSS. So many years I stop paying attention. Thank God for the internetz, I can pay my damn light bill online. Hallelujer! Thank you Jesursss!

One time, one of the postmasters tells me he’s aware of my issue with the mail (his desk is cluttered with all MY DAMN LETTERS) and he’s gonna fix it personally to which I’m supposed to  be grateful, y’all.

But he advises me that if I don’t want this to happen again, I’ll make sure to inform the post office of my correct address.

Yes, as if it NEVER OCCURRED TO ME BEFORE. AS IF THAT’S THE FIRST HEARING OF THAT OPTION. AND AS IF IT’S MY FAULT THUS MY CORRECTION TO FIX.

You know DBW wouldn’t use caps if it wasn’t a heartfelt expression of pissosity–which it is. My little fake story is essentially what’s happening with Lucas and this damn movie. After years of exclusion, and irrepressible stereotypes, and starts at trying to create a new business model for BF; after years of being told as an audience that if we didn’t go support this film or that film we’d be responsible for the “black out” we get a white guy telling us now. A high powered white guy. At that. This ain’t no small thing. And he can be modest if he wants to, just like Spielberg was “modest” at the Golden Globes last week when he went on about how he was so proud of the people at Paramount for greenlighting his film Tintin.

GTFOH. Steven, they didn’t have a choice. If you wanted to make a movie about the people who make the  little boxes that take out Chinese food comes in, Brad Grey would nod his damn head and say “yessir.”

Let’s not kid ourselves here.

But anyway, Lucas is one of many who has tried to encourage/guilt trip BF into seeing a movie. As an example: I remember watching Malcolm Lee on Tavis Smiley doing The Best Man press where he practically begged BF to go to opening weekend so that we could be sure to see more movies like this. The film grossed $35 million in 1999. The sequel to the movie is JUST starting to be discussed.

You know, there’s a better word for what all this is: EXTORTION. If you don’t come to this movie, they won’t make any more movies.

Well, you know what: We’ve come over and over again. And THEY STILL AIN’T MAKING BF MOVIES FOR BF AUDIENCES. Why? Because Hollywood logic is alot like the honey badger: it just don’t give a shit. You can try to force folks into the theaters but if the existing logic is “those movies don’t make money; that’s not what people want to see; we’re post race now so we don’t need to visit the past”?  You ain’t getting movies made.

Yes this where Hollywood is the honeybadger.

And when they say “people” you know they’re talking about normative whiteness aka white people (the ones Robin Thicke only knows 3 of). Here’s my question: instead of Lucas going to BF and extorting them out their $14 to see this movie (which they would anyway because of the limited choice) why doesn’t he go to the white people and tell them about themselves. Tell them that The Help was for them and not BF. Tell them that The Blind Side? Yeah, that was for them too. And then, tell THEM to go support movies by and about BF.

Yeah, he won’t do that. I know that. No one will do that. But if you wanna know how to make more black movies you gotta go to the white people. It’s just sorta how that works.

In short: I ain’t going to see Red Tails. It’s not my kinda movie and it ain’t gonna make a bit more difference than the last time I was encouraged/extorted to go support a BF movie. So there. (And I’m not even gonna acknowledge the Tyler Perrys thing. This is lightning round and I have caps locked enough today.)

Was that too filled with venom? Too harsh on Hollywood? I’m about to double down then:

3: Zooey “Doowop myself to hell” Deschanel

I picked this one because God does it ever express why I despise her. The innocence, the doe eyes, the PONYTAILS. ARGGH..

I hate this girl. I don’t think I always did. But if I see her then I immediately feel both anger and violence just rise up. Seriously I sometimes think I’ll turn into Wolverine with the claws and stuff.

As has been discussed prior, I have a personality clash with quirky white ladies and Zooey is the epitome of that. Thus she is hated by me. Alot.

Look at this cotton commercial: 

The first time I saw and heard this commercial I thought I was gonna have an aneurysm. I just…the pearls and the skirt and the panty hose as she’s pushing her cuh yute bicycle and the antique shopping and the piano and the fact that she doesn’t have to do anything but practice playing the wrong notes on her old little piano. It just…and she’s SINGING in a way that makes me think, this isn’t singing. It’s talking with a lilt.

I HATE HER. Or look at this:

Here she is singing the National Anthem in a dress that looks like a WEDDING CAKE. EXCEPT IT'S A WEDDING CAKE FOR AMERICUHHH.

LOOK. LOOK at that dress. It’s worse than the Portlandia’s whole “Put a bird on it” jokes. MY GOD it’s got fake papier mache flowers coming out of the skirt! What in the name of all that is good and holy makes her think it’s okay? It’s not. Jesus it’s not.

Look at this :

Look at the arm movements here. Is this not a girl who has no problems and is just living life loose and fancy free? Who's Life is this?! She's doing the frakkin running man during the damn World Series. Doo wop.

I just…it may seem irrational to you readers. And I’d be willing to concede that it’s a tad bit insane. But this girl just drives me. She drives me. To anger and righteous violence.

So, you’ll have to imagine how everyone who knows DBW IRL, was so elated to send me this:

Yes, yes. This is what you think it is..

President Obama sent Zooey D a birthday letter. Why? Because she supposedly helps girls feel footloose and fancy free. I just…there are no words to describe the level of fury. What in the hell makes Barack Obama send this fool a birthday letter! It’s his prerogative, he can do what he wants to do but I don’t get it.

Sighs. He just needs to send Nene Leakes  a birthday letter and then I’ll feel better.

Last one.

4: Jennifer “I look like a Bratz doll” Hudson and this G-D move to make all BW go to Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, and Nutri System.

What in the hell is going on? First of all, this commercial freaks my stuff out:

Like, does it not first of all boggle one’s mind why “old” J.Hud is in a Pepto Bismol pink dress? Like, there was NOTHING FLATTERING ABOUT THAT OUTFIT. Didn’t matter if she was pretty plus or small. That outfit did NOT help. But more, the Doublemint twins singing over each other gimmick is just creepy as hell. It’s creepy.

It’s also creepy that in damn near every commercial she does for Weight Watchers she is singing. Hey girl: STOP SINGING. Just sell the product if you must. And I just need to say this: y’all Jennifer (pronounced Gin-e-fuh) got personal trainers and chefs and all the bizness and that dude from I Love New York’s payroll. Weight Watchers ain’t gonna turn you into that. Just you know…so you know.

But that’s not all. She ain’t the only one. Apparently, BW weren’t feeling like they had a place in the weight loss hall of fame what with Kirstie Alley and Marie Osmond and Valerie Bertinelli taking up all the endorsement deals. Oh no.

So the moment that I see this fool in this outfit singing “You can make it ” over and over again, as my mama would say: I know’d we was in trouble. SMH:

In the longer video, she comes out of this fabric that I assume is sposed to be like a “fat” womb or a cocoon or something (not even joking). Mariah singing repetitively to me about making it happen is not what I want to hear. I want to see her do more QVC but I don’t want her to try to inspire me to lose weight. That’s like a blind person trying to get me to drive a car because she tried it once and didn’t get in an accident. No thanks.

But wait, it’s not just Jennifer and Mariah. Janet is in on this too. And with the worst one of all: Nutrisystem. Have y’all tried Nutrisystem food? It will make you want to hurt somebody–like the person who convinced you to buy it.

Janet seems sincere. Just like Jennifer (Mariah is totally Baudrillard’s desert of the real. There is only a sign post for what used to be a referent.) But again I ask you: dress it up, make it look all green friendly, have Jake Nava direct the commercial, do whatever. It doesn’t diminish how nasty that food is.

Bonus joys:

These last two vids make DBW give side eye less out of irritation and more because it’s so good. VH1′s Love and Hip Hop. God is that show good. It’s made totally to a BW aesthetic. Not the fighting per se but the reasons for fighting? Yeah, that all makes sense. Kimbella needs a brain. And Chrissy is just a brawler–but her hair was SOO pretty this season.

Look at that roller wrap! It's got so much volume! So much body! Soo pretty makes me long for my relaxer days. I got nothing on the fact that she loves to wear things that show off too much booby but I mean...you can't win em all.

Not gonna lie though: Them gals fight like it’s their job. And I just love it so much. Did you see this fight? OH my goodness so good. Just: it made my night.

Almost as good as this fight from Basketball Wives:

I’ll just end with that. Oh, wait, wait: I have a favor to ask? Would you send me some questions you’d like DBW to answer? The more questions in the pipeline, the more blog posts.

Yes, I know everyone is doing it. Yes, I know DBW should take a ticket and stand in the friggin blogger line. Yes, I know that live blogging is very close to being as cliche as Chatroulette. But, but, BUT: no one live blogs quite like me (Bragadocious moment over). So, come on, join me tomorrow at 8/7 CST here and in the words of my role model Ms. Niecey Nash, let’s get to gettin.

LOVE Her. And, as a little side note: As much as I love Vanessa Huxtable, I don't like Vanessa trying to mimic my Niecey on "Clean House." I feel like I need to keep the blindfolds on and keep my eyes closed. (Only if you're devoted to Clean House will you get that joke)

It’s the Golden Globes–Hollywood foolishness at its best.

And, DBW’s got company. Dr. Gates, one of my BFFs will be co-hosting this lovely affair with me.

Lisa Raye (Dr. Gates) and Vivica (DBW): our alter egos. We love them. For real.

We promise that whatever wine/Hennessey/muscato combination we enjoy we will share with y’all.

So, come and watch the foolishness!

Click here to join the fun.

And, so it begins. Another blog post about my most favorite show: The Vampire Diaries. Don't hate.

Anywho, onto my long ass comment/response:

Dear Unemployed Theatre Major, this is Dear Black Woman. I am so upset I just found this now! I totally would have responded sooner. But let me just respond to a few of the underpinnings of your argument here.

1.) I’m sorry, but how exactly do you want Bonnie to show that she knows she’s black? Like, what does “culturally specific” even mean?

So, cultural specificity is actually a word used in media studies and particularly in critical race theory that essentially describes that practices of particular racialized groups that resonate with others within the same group. I use resonate because it’s more of a feeling than a fact. Careful to note that I’m not using the word “authenticity” because there is no such thing when it comes to identity. We are all bricolages. But, there are traditions and practices and ways of seeing that resonate with groups. Now, this cultural specificity is different from stereotype in that stereoytpes simply seek to reduce, naturalize, and fix differences. In other words, they reduce all racialized groups to a set number of traits (usually phenotypic traits), naturalize those traits so as to seem that they emerged biologically (and of course we know that race is not biological thus there is nothing inherent in Asians, for example, that makes them more proficient at music, there is nothing inherent in BF that make them able to run faster or be more suitable for outdoor work–the logic that supported slavery, etc.),and it fixes difference in that it makes all those traits forever linked to the racialized group (and we know that these things change over time, right?)

So, no, I’m not asking for Bonnie to be a stereotype. But, in a town like Mystic Falls, where there clearly aren’t alot of minorities, it would be nice if Bonnie could acknowledge or could have what we call an “insider” moment (there’s a future DBW blog post around a transgressive reading of the conversations among the black witches in Mystic Falls so stay tuned). But she can’t. And she can’t precisely because of what I was mentioning earlier: she was blindcasted and that allows the writers of the show to sidestep trying to provide cultural differences while giving the “look” (the literal, she’s brown not white look) of difference.

2.)I’m Asian, I know I’m Asian, it’s who I am, but I hardly if ever bring it up in everyday conversation with my friends, and I especially think I’d have better things to do with my time than remind everyone how my outlook on things is so much more different from theirs because of it.

First of all, you’re not just Asian–that description doesn’t exactly tell what you are. Are all Asians the same? No, of course not. You’ve a specific nationality and ethnicity. My point with this is that blindcasting supposes that all people of color are the same– not white and thus can stand in for whatever difference is allowed. But, if you’re Chinese, then you wouldn’t necessarily have the same cultural experiences as if you were Japanese or Southeast Asian. To lump all Asians together and say, “you can play an Asian” but never specify the kind of Asian you’re supposed to play because it’s assumed all Asians like the same things is just WRONG.

Second point: You don’t bring up race everyday with your friends. Fair enough. But there are many of us who do because for many of us it points to how we are being perceived by others and how we react to those perceptions. I’m also not sure if you’re speaking about talking about race with friends who are also Asian or with white friends. I can assure you I understand how uncomfortable it is to have that conversation with the latter. It can make me feel like the person with the problem. Which brings me to Bonnie: how could she even imagine having that conversation? How could she even imagine having a talk with Elena about how her ancestor Katherine OWNED for all intents and purposes her ancestor Emily (this was back in slavery days so we have to assume such)? But rather than try to have that conversation, the show just skips right on over that. They don’t even really use the word “slave” when talking about 1864.

Katherine and a woman I can only presume is Emily #1 before Emily #2 replaced her. That's an awkward assed conversation I am sure.

But that’s the problem with race: it’s painful. It’s hard. But, that doesn’t diminish the realities that it EXISTS in real ways.  Now, you may not have time to get to it , but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth discussing. I highly recommend you to try.

3. There were crazy vampires on the loose, and [if] I had magical powers, with which I could be doing way more productive things. Making a big deal about how different she is doesn’t seem like it’d be any better.

Honestly, I don’t see how any of these things adversely affect her being culturally specific. I don’t know how being culturally specific would affect her productivity as a witch. I don’t see how her being culturally specific would change the crazy vampires on the loose.

But this statement is the crux of the problem of race in television and in society as general: Making a big deal about how different she is doesn’t seem like it’d be any better. No offense, but that statement is so full of insensitivity. First of all, race is a big deal. People have been lynched, beaten, sold, traded, killed, raped, castrated and maimed over it. That’s just the facts ma’am. The fact is that racialized difference is one of the major functions in our little society and so I don’t care what kind of show it is it could be about hoarders, drug addicts, forensic policemen, or, yes, vampires, it needs to be handled with care and respectfully. Now, am I expecting Bonnie to say, “I’m black, I’m black, I’m black?” No, but that’s not very culturally specific either. That’s way too superficial. But I am expecting Bonnie to be able to resonate as a person of color. And she doesn’t do that. Let me rephrase: she’s not allowed to do that. Moreover, her lineage is all kindsa problematic because instead of making her fit the lineage of a woman of color in the Americas, they linked her with a white group of witches. They weren’t even trying. And that’s why it’s a big damn deal.

4. Other issues with Bonnie that are brought up: she doesn’t have a boyfriend. Well, you know what, if you’re a high school student in a small town plagued by evil vampires and your best friend is dating pretty much the only non-evil one and you’ve just discovered you have magical powers and (spoiler alert!) your super-cool witch mentor grandmother just died on you and you apparently don’t have parents who care about you, and your biggest problem is that you can’t get a boy to notice you? I’d say you’re doing pretty all right for yourself.

This statement evades the point I was making. Let me remind you of my point: I was saying that while Bonnie was a blindcasted role that according to Hollywood logic, should have made it a more equal-opportunity, equitable role, it in fact, allowed the writers to step unintentionally step into old tropes. Tropes, referring to the systems of understanding people according to types, have long followed BF. Tropes that have long followed BW are the tragic mulatto and the Mammy. Bonnie is probably a mixture of both of these types. How? Well, Caroline and Elena both get mad play. They are expected to have love lives. But Bonnie? Somehow Bonnie is just the good friend—completely asexual although she is as you say, gorgeous.

Bonnie and her best friends.

And when she does get male attention? Which up until the last few episodes have all been from white guys (well, there was the black carnival worker who flirted with her and got killed for his trouble)? Well, she’s kidnapped, and damn near killed because neither sincerely liked her.  Yes, Bonnie has a lot going for her. But if we are to believe as the show suggests that all the girls are treated equally, then we have to acknowledge that with regard to Bonnie, that maxim is simply not true.

Now, we can just act like that’s what happened within the text and leave race out of it but I would recommend against that. Why? Because like it or not, this storyline is in dialogue with centuries of stories about black life. To leave it out because it’s a television show on the CW about vampires doesn’t actually make sense. The popular is where the contestations of representation occur. Vampire Diaries is the fighting ground.

5. Seriously? I’m sorry, but are you new to the internet? The thing about message boards is that literally every single character has at least a small group of people who hate them and want them dead, and a lot of people online just tend to be bitchier than necessary just because they can.

Okay, so taking the internet snark on the chin, suppose that I was new to the internet. And, I went looking on these things called message boards and blogs to learn more about my “favorite” character on TVD, Bonnie Bennett. And, suppose I found some nice charming things said about her but then I also found a large trend on a number of sites that suggested something else entirely. That the words “hate” and “bitch” and “death” were all circulating around this one character. What kinds of conclusions do you think I’d draw? The fact is that I realize that message boards are these really, nice anonymous spaces we can go and rant on about tv characters we hate. But that still doesn’t mean that those messages a) can’t be examined and b) can’t be examined through a lens of race.

Let’s continue. You say:

It’s not like she’s being singled out for fandom-wide hatred and character death petitions. And since when does disliking a character who is black automatically make you a racist? Her bitchiness has nothing to do with her race. And if you’re one of those people who want her to die because you think she’s boring and/or served her narrative purpose to her full potential, chances are that doesn’t have anything to do with her being black, either.

In fact, I saw a number of places on many blogs I visited where fans were petitioning her death. “When does disliking a character who is black automatically make you a racist?” I think you’ve created a straw man argument here Unemployed Theatre Major. You’ve constructed an argument that responds to the point that I was making just so my point a) sounds utterly ridiculous and preposterous and b) makes it easier for you to poke holes through. I assure you, there are many ways of critiquing my point without making a straw man, lolol. Simply put, yes, people can hate who they like. But, we do have to take into account the fact that at last count, Bonnie was the only MAJOR black female character on the show and so when we attribute her with characteristics that make her characterization “thin” or a “bitch”, we perhaps should examine it more closely. I hated Caroline (and still do sometimes), but I never read a call for Caroline to die—not even when she was at her most mean and insensitive. Is there a double standard here?

6. “Furthermore, if [Bonnie’s] boyfriend were black, they’d call it segregation and ask why black characters are only allowed to date each other, and if the boyfriend were white, they’d take it as a sign that the show believes white males are superior because even the black girls would rather date them.”

Again, another straw argument. However, there is something that can be brought out here especially with what the show is doing currently. So, we’ve discovered that all the witches and warlocks in Vampire Diaries world are black. I wouldn’t say that the show was suggesting (and I use suggest very loosely) segregation, but rather some type of naturalized stereotype about black folks being magical and ALL related to each other. Isn’t that crazy? It’s frakking BONKERS. But, somehow, through casting all these witches as black, that is the implication.

She's a witch. And she's black.

He's a witch. And he's black.

He's a witch. And he's black. And from Louisiana too. So he's a voodoo witch.

She's a witch too. Getting the picture?

Here’s the killer: if they claim blindcasting, then all the witches and warlocks just HAPPEN to be black—which only magnifies those stereotypes. As to this point: “and if the boyfriend were white, they’d take it as a sign that the show believes white males are superior because even the black girls would rather date them.” Well, right now Bonnie (thank goodness, she’s finally getting some play!) is in a bit of a triangle between Luka and Jeremy. An interesting situation, right? She has to choose between the person who is most like her (both black and has magical ability) but morally ambiguous (complex?) and the person who loves her just as she is (sweet and fine ass Jeremy).  You tell me what you see.

Who shall Bonnie choose to spend her life playing billiards with? Luka (who could turn out to be her relative because all witches are one happy family).

Or, Jeremy, the little brother she never had and is now not little or brotherly at all.

7. Last point:

“Maybe this is another hidden reason there are no minorities on television: everything becomes an issue and you just can’t win.”

I think you’ve hit the nail on the head here. This is precisely the logic that Hollywood industry uses as their justification for why minorities in television and film aren’t present. “It’s just too hard!” “We’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t”! “It’s too much work”! “Race is too heavy”! And you know what: all of that is true. Race is a quagmire. But abandoning the effort altogether (or by circumventing the effort through superficial means, aka blindcasting) isn’t the answer. Perhaps hire writers of color? Perhaps hire directors of color (this is something Vampire Diaries is good about and I salute them for)? Perhaps assume that all lived experience is not the same? Perhaps acknowledge that race (and, yes, whiteness too) is more complex than we take credit for. But repressing race, dodging race, only makes race (and racism) emerge in different and unconscious ways.

Are people consciously racist when they say things about Bonnie Bennett? Absolutely not. Or, ot always, no. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t assumptions implicit in the ways that they understand how race works. And not investigating that because race is sticky and touchy? That will only make it worse.

DBW has a confession to make: I am addicted to the CW’s The Vampire Diaries (TVD).

Don't judge me. It's a really good show. And, as I've said to everyone whose come in contact with this show, if you start watching it, you will become addicted as well.

My addiction is so severe that I lurk TVD message boards and read all the commentary. It is so severe that I’ve rewatched all of season one probably 5 times (5 x 22 episodes? That’s alot of time not spent doing meaningful things like research or shopping or going for long walks on the beach) and the 5 episodes that aired this season at least 5 times–I lost count to be honest and it also becomes hard to discern if simply just rewatching a scene over and over again should be in that math. I haven’t been this hooked on a show since like, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (you may think that I have a thing about “vampire” shows and films because I’ve happened to somehow watch all the vampire movies and films, well, except for that Moonlight show, but I promise you–I don’t have a “vampire” thing. The drama is just fascinating to me. Honestly.)  and that was a pretty big hook. Hell, DBW even attended an “academic” conference in the name of Buffy. Never again. Never again will I allow myself to sit in a room with scholars who choose that venue to fight over Bangel versus Spuffy. Never again will I allow myself to sit next to a scholar who tells me that if she doesn’t watch the series finale of her show that it never ended. Never. again.

Anyway, I love the smartness and the genre revisions that lie in TVD. I watch a lot of teevee and am pretty good at figuring things out and yet this show constantly surprises me. But that’s not the primary reason I watch the show. I watch the show cause of these two:

Stefan and Elena. Otherwise known as "Stelena." LOVE them. So cute they are.

I mean, shoot, they’re great. Look at them again:

They're so pretty! And, this was a great scene. Except it's actually like a behind the scenes photo which makes DBW anxious cause it's like breaking the 4th wall and I'll stop now because y'all don't need to know about my phobias.

Even separately they’re a good looking white peoples.

Paul Wesley, aka Stefan Salvatore. Unf.

Nina Dobrev aka Elena Gilbert. She's super pretty too. Albeit I'm never sure if that's her hair or some poor Indian woman's who lost her hair in a dark movie theater courtesy of some black market hair stealers. BW aren't the only ones who like weave Chris Rock. I don't care what you say.

Yes, yes, I know that when people talk about TVD they typically talk about this man:

Ian Somerhalder aka Damon Salvatore is for reals hotness on a stick. He is. No disagreement from me. At all. He's hot. HAWT.But, he's no match for Stelena. Word to your mother.

And while I think that Damon is a beautiful man with a biting wit, I still prefer my Stelena. Seriously,  folks this scene made my heart warm.

 Oh my God. That was just lovely. How can drinking blood from someone’s palm make my face hot?

Okay, now you may be at this point wondering why you should continue reading because clearly DBW sounds like one of those squee! joy fandom girls who knit sweaters for the actors who play their favorite characters. Well, I am a squee fangirl but I don’t knit. So there.  But there is a method to my madness. And, no, it’s not just to suggest that there needs to be more Stelena (although that would be nice).

See, I love TVD but I can fully acknowledge that as many strengths as it has, that there are just as many significant weaknesses. For example, sometimes the dialogue is just a little bit strange. And, sometimes I feel like the actors forget the other characters’ names. And, there are too many sentences that are just loaded up with prepositional phrases. “I heard them. [beat] Down there. [beat] Behind the door.” And that’s just mild annoyances.

A more serious annoyance? They KILL all the minorities. While visiting one of my favorite gossip blogs, a commenter so kindly let me borrow this chart she made. I think it’s fairly self-explanatory.

Yeah, as I said, they kill all the minorities.

Not only that but every witch on the show is a BW. And, they’re not just your run of the mill witch on a broomstick witches either. They’re SALEM witches. Which seems improbable when the only BW witch people seem to talk about was Tituba, the slave (who in actual historical records was in fact NOT black but probably Native American). And, if to make this happen the Bennetts are actually related to damn Tituba?!? That’s just sad. But, see, that leads me up from my wonderful rabbit hole and toward the answer to this week’s question.

Bonnie and her granny Whitley Gilbert are witches? Salem witches? Reallly?

Why would the creators of a show pick BW to be witches? Larger question: why would they pick the main (and only) BW on the show to be a witch? Answer: because they colorblind cast the role. Let me back up a few beats.

So, this is Bonnie Bennett on the tv show:

I was trying to find a picture that hides Katerina Graham's widow's peak but alas, here it is. You can tell they didn't really think about her biracial hair in the first couple of episodes cause they could never figure out how to put some hair over that damn hairline.

Bonnie Bennett is Elena Gilbert’s “best” friend and is also a witch whose family has long existed in the town of Mystic Falls. Her ancestor, Emily Bennett was called a “handmaid” but uh that was back in 1864 Virginia. No pun intended but let’s just call a spade a spade and say that she was a “slave.” Fast forward to present day and Bonnie’s like the only BW and mostly the only woman of color to have a speaking part. But the story gets better.

TVD is based on a series by LJ Smith. Here’s book Bonnie Bennett aka Bonnie Mccullough:

Err...

So, what happened to transform Bonnie Mccullough into Bonnie Bennett. A little process called “blindcasting.” Blindcasting occurs when character roles do not specify a particular race. In theory, this process allows for a variety of talent, regardless of skin color, to audition for a part. Now, TVD absolutely needed to have a little color on its show because the showrunner, Kevin Williamson has certainly taken a beating for his previous shows being so white they looked like they’d been dipped in Clorox bleach. Remember this parody from MadTV?

Clearly poking fun at now just Williamson’s Dawson’s Creek but also the stable of WB shows in the 1990s that totally liked to assume that black people and other people of color genuinely liked to not be on television, Williamson seemed to want to revamp his image and become a person who likes diversity. So, the first few episodes are chock full of BF walking and running in the background as the main characters (still primarily pretty white kids with problems) stand in the foreground being angsty. And, of course, they transformed Bonnie Mccullough into Bonnie Bennett. An admirable step to be sure but you know what they forgot: To actually make Bonnie Bennett culturally specific.But this is the problem of colorblind casting because when actors of color are cast, the roles that they are taking are typically written normatively and by normatively I mean white. So, the actors are taking on these characters who, if the writers don’t accommodate the cultural difference of the actors, are still very much white characters.

Uh, so the dipped in chocolate thing. It's something like this...only uh..figuratively and not literally.

Thus, Bonnie Bennett is for all intents and purposes, a white character dipped in chocolate. They changed nothing about her lineage, her family life, her personality–Katerina Graham filled the space that could have gone to anyone–and by anyone, I mean a white someone.

Now, I can hear you saying, “wait, wait, DBW, but are you suggesting that Bonnie Bennett be a stereotype?” No. I’m not. I just want the girl to know she’s black. I just want that to be more foregrounded than it is. I hate, HATE the idea that a character “just happens to be black.” Remember this little post I wrote on the Blind Side? (Click here for a refresher).

In that piece, I said:

Most importantly, because it’s “true” they’ve already diffused any real critique. It’s not about race; it’s about love. It’s about a wealthy Southern family who happens to be white and a poor, struggling but perfectly built for left tackling manchild who happens to be black. Well, I happen to have a bridge in Miami to sell you if you accept that as true. Come ON! Noone HAPPENS to be anything. You didn’t wake up and happen to lose your hair; you don’t sit down and happen to give birth (unless you’re those dumbass ladies on that dumbass Discovery channel show in which case I need you to see a mental health professional). You don’t HAPPEN to  be black, white, Latino, Asian, or an alien. It is who YOU ARE. ::Calms down and drinks a little more apple juice::

Well, that is all still true. No one happens to be anything. Bonnie does not just HAPPEN to be black; she IS black and thus has a wealth of experiences and outlooks that make her different (and different is NOT a bad thing–especially on a show about friggin vampires. HELLO “Other”?) from the other characters.

And, you know what? It doesn’t matter anyway, because like it or not, we are all participants in racial formations and we all consciously or unconsciously can play into tropes. The difference is that if we were conscious and intentional about casting and race and all that, we might not step into those traps AS OFTEN. Case in point: Bonnie Bennett.

Girlfriend, for some reason, cannot find a man. Every other girl on the damn show gets some boy attention except for Bonnie. And when she does get attention? It’s a bad vampire trying to bite her and use her for some ill intentioned purpose.

Or, a bad vampire who is pissed off that she destroyed his one opportunity to rescue his really bad vampire girlfriend from a tomb like situation.

Either way, Bonnie doesn’t get it right with the men folk. But that ain’t all. Even her ability to use witchcraft and magic places her in a trope of BW and voodoo.

Also, Bonnie, according to many TVD fans has an attitude problem. She’s been called a “bitch” on more message boards than I care to count. Worse: there are more calls for her to “please die” than I care to count. Here’s the thing: Bonnie’s not my favorite character. I don’t feel about her one way or the other. But, it seems dangerously close to some unconscious racism that the “bitch” is the BW–regardless of whether they intended that to happen or not. Moreover, the calls for them to kill the black bitch is also dangerously close to some unconscious racism–regardless of whether they intended that to happen or not.

And this is the danger of colorblind casting: for me to allege racism in a place where “the character just happens to be black” puts the burden of proof on me and not the show. They did the “right” thing by casting her race blind and if there is injustice done to her, it’s “not because she’s black.” But uh, that’s not true because what happens when Bonnie dies? She’s the last link of blackness or color for that matter on TVD. Would they feel obligated to replace her with another person of color? Or, would the logic of “she just happened to be black” allow them to continue on in their world of pretty white kids with problems?  And the fans who vigilantly call for her death because “she’s just written so poorly” (I wonder why)?  Kat Graham’s Bonnie fell into a trope without even trying. And, she fell into being a casualty of the assault against black femininity without even acknowledging that their was a fight!  Will they realize that they’re not just ending the life of Bonnie Bennett, but also killing the last kind of diversity on their show? Will it matter to them? Nope. Because they don’t “see” color.

Yeah, me and Bonnie's bitchface don't believe that foolywang either.

If you’ve read this blog long enough, you know that DBW calls that some bull uh..puckey. (Hi Mom!). Of course we see color. Of course we always have racial moments. And, of course, it is just as important to understand it in relation to these very close to our heart places as a television show! Because, like it or not, people are catching hell all over the world because of their racialization. And that shouldn’t be overlooked.

But how does this play out industry-wide? Well, that’s for another blog post. Suffice to say, when actress Kerry Washington voices this utter FOOLISHNESS that actually still allows her to be viable, you know colorblindness is still king:

I don’t want to ignore my Blackness, I just want to get to the pt where my racial identity is simply what makes me unique.

Look at her wearing her red, white, and blue. Girl, I could whoop your butt for saying that silliness. What the hell does that even mean? Stop smoking weed black girl. Stop smoking weed.

Excuse me? I didn’t know race was like a lovely Hermes bag we could just carry around and take off our shoulders when it got too heavy. I mean, since when is blackness thought of as “unique”? Unique honey is being able to juggle or ingest fire or being Bjork. That’s unique.

You don’t give an interview in friggin Essence magazine’s “Race in America” issue and talk that unless there’s something in it for you. And, there is: she’s supposedly one of Elle’s “Women in Hollywood.” It behooves her to act like everything is a-okay. Which sucks. Because as long as you’ve got stories like Bonnie Bennetts and Regina King’s, you cannot deny that blackness is not an optional uniqueness nor should it be. When Regina King slams the Emmy Awards saying:

Since the Emmy ceremony, I have been going back and forth about whether or not I should compose this letter. I try hard in my daily life not to engage in uncomfortable situations regarding race. But sometimes it’s very difficult to find other reasons that better explain why certain events play out the way they do. It is impossible for me to ignore the published statistics regarding the number of people of color mentioned, celebrated or honored in the history of the televised Emmys. Up to and including this year, there have been only 53 non-white actors nominated for Emmys out of nearly 1,000 possible nominations in the top four acting categories for drama and comedy.

Yep, it’s hard to bring up race. But sometimes you gotta. She continues:

And to add injury to my already sensitive nerve endings a picture of Rutina Wesley from True Blood, who attended this year’s Emmys, had a caption that read: “Regina King enters the 62nd Emmys.” No, I wasn’t there. Mistakes happen, right? Well after a few “mistakes” of how people of color are portrayed in the Hollywood media, I decided it was important to say something about how things go down in Hollywood.

Clearly uniqueness is not for people who can’t tell the difference between one BW and another.

Tell it girl. I loved you in 227!

So, there it is all plain and simple. Now I’m off to watch more Vampire Diaries.

But I don’t want to get ahead of myself. First, a story:

So I’m on the phone with my mama today and she tells me she a) has a bucket list (yes, that damn list based on that damn movie with Jack Nicholson and Morgan “hot breath” Freeman) and b) on said bucket list she wants to go whitewater rafting like they do in the movies.

Ma mere wants to do this. But I don't think she looked at the boat to see if there were any of us on it participating. I think she really means she wants to go on the little tobogan thing at Six Flags.

Now, my mother has occasional delusions of grandeur and is wonderfully influenced by the power of movies and television so I understood exactly where she was coming from.

DBW's mother also made mention of The River Wild movie with Meryl Streep when she was describing her desire to white water raft. But Meryl didn't even do the rafting in real life. See, this is why media literacy is important.

But all it took to turn her mind back to reality was to ask, “mama, what will you do with your hair? How will  you care for it when you get off that wet ass raft?” Mama: “Oh.” Yeah, mama, Morgan Freeman didn’t have to  worry about his hair when he did all that stuff with Nicholson. Notice, the black woman in the movie? Well, she rarely left the house or the hospital. Beverly Todd, bless her heart, had to play Hot Breath’s wife in both that movie and Lean on Me (I know, I know, she technically wasn’t his wife in the last one but she acted the same way she did in Bucket List, so bygones).

And, before I return to the main point of this week’s entry, I just want to take a tour down Hot Breath and Beverly Todd lane. Damn you Lean on Me. Skip to 50 seconds if you tire easily of Guns’n'Roses’s “Welcome to the Jungle.”

Tell it! Sing it with me: “Soooome/times in our lives/we all have pain…” You know you know the song and how to sing the song like the woman who looks like Weezie Jefferson.

So, anyway, my point is twofold: 1) Morgan Freeman certainly does not constitute a move for BF to entertain sporting events that we don’t normally partake in.

Oh interracial friendships. Tricky things those can be. It's a love affair that began with jumping out of an airplane.

Or, you could be the black man who takes a photo of the white guy with the automatic weapon. Oh, what a bucket list.

2) The only damn reason he did that stuff in the first place was because he thought he was about to die.

I suppose if I thought I were right about to drop, I too might consider the possibility of white water rafting. Consider being the key word. Or, I might watch Price is Right and die.

This terminal event is not the immediate circumstance of the majority of us BF, thus it is highly unlikely that we’ll be standing on top of the Pyramids (we’d need Jack Nicholson to personally escort all of our asses up there for that great feat).

It may seem like I know way too much about this damn movie, but I really don't. What I do know is that a picture is worth a 1000 words and these pictures, even out of context, make me mad.

Believe it or not, this little meander through The Bucket List has a larger point. My task is to answer the question why don’t black people ride bicycles. And I think the answer is wrapped up in a bunch of things illustrated in The Bucket List. For starters, the only reason Hot Breath could do any of that stuff was because Nicholson was rich. Thereby access is a key component. Um, I don’t know the difference (or care to count the cost) for a fixed gear and whatever the other gear bicycle is. Bikes are expensive. Add to that all the amenities of biking? The outfits. The helmets. Too much ridiculousness for when you could just get in the car and fasten your damn seatbelt.

Shaking my head. Why?

Second point that I have to mention dare I be accused of being more essenetialist than I already am. There are black people who ride bicycles. I don’t know any personally but I did find online some black bicycling clubs. But, you know what they talk about on their forums? Can you guess? Let me tell you: how they’re the ONLY ones in their individual clubs.

Oh, yes, I searched google images deep for this photo. But uh, he's a model.

Yay BW on a bike...wait, this is a modeling photo too. Where the hell are the real black bicyclists? Oh, yeah, that's right.

You already know what I'm about to say: they are models. Look, as soon as the camera stops flashing mama and daughter are getting off the damn bikes

But, they gotta exist in the movies right? Well, I don’t know about that either. In film, I can think of two examples.

The first:

So, I remember as  a young girl, watching this movie and seeing Kevin Bacon on his bike and thinking, “neat!” and then here comes Lawrence (he was Larry then dammit) Fishburne emerge screen right and thinking, “whaaa?” I could not understand why he was there in his “ethnic” hat on a bicycle.

Look at the hat. And the enjoyment on Fishburne's face during his bicycle race. Then, appreciate Fishburne's skills at making this character who was probably a white guy in original script more culturally specific.

(Sidenote: He was perfecting his Morpheus even then because he surely took a hit so that Kevin Bacon and Keanu Reeves could save the damn day.)

The next moment:

Friday. Hadn’t seen it in 10 years but I still remember Deebo and his bike. I’m sure if Deebo thought he could steal someone’s car, he would have preferred that over the bicycle. But, you know, when one is terrorizing a neighborhood, there are priorities to consider.

What can we take from these two small illustrations? Well, there was one bruh in San Francisco in 1985 who rode a bicycle because he truly enjoyed it and had no desire for an automobile and Deebo only rode a bike through the neighborhood because it never occurred to him to steal someone’s car.  Thus, these two examples do not fully explain the answer either.

Point 3: The whole idea of back to nature? Yeah, that’s not BF.

As I sat and pondered the question, I realized that in many examples of things that require “nature” and being in “nature”, that BF tend to not partake in any of those things. Think about it: do we camp? Hells no. Here’s an article I found with a headline titled, “Wanted: African-American Campers.” You can want all day long but when people (this BW included) have notions of camping as  sleeping on the ground in the rain and being chased by bears,” you damn well ain’t gonna see BF trying to camp. I’m not the only one who thinks these things. Clearly the article found some more of us. And, then, there’s DL Hughley. He describes it best (start at 4:34):

And, to see that not much has changed between DL’s days with a high top fade and the days with his locs (I personally love this set but feel free to skip to 3:05):

Ultimately it’s an issue of who wants to return back to nature? The answer is typically very white. Black folks just got to be inside with air conditioning. Why in all hell would you CHOOSE to go outside? For stars? Child, please.

Or another example: exercise. Now, DBW is an advocate of exercise…even if I haven’t quite managed to make myself participate. But, one of the main reasons I don’t: I don’t want to sweat my hair out. I have relaxed hair and pay hairdressers to keep my shit together on a biweekly basis. I do not want to as we call it, “sweat in my head” and mess my hairstyle up.  Thus, I don’t work out. But you know what? While this was understood cultural knowledge, it took a researcher to make it legitimate. Indiana University fitness expert Antonio Williams said:

One of the top reasons given by black women of all income levels involves style and hair care. He said black women, particularly college-age women and women with corporate jobs, often sacrifice their health for stylish and often expensive hairdos. Fears of “sweating out” the hairstyle make lunchtime workouts unlikely and keep the women from the gym or other physical activities. Williams, a fitness consultant and lecturer in IU’s School of Health, Physical Education and Recreation, specializes in fitness marketing and perception. “For years I’ve heard, ‘I can’t schedule a personal training session now, I just got my hair done,’” he said. “These women are risking their health for style.”

Make fun of us all you want—hairstyling is EXPENSIVE (see this column). We cannot just wash our hair with some Tres Semme, towel dry it and put it in a wet ponytail. It takes more time and trying to do all that we must do 4 days a week? It just doesn’t seem worth it.

Yes, this BW is sweaty. But she's also a model.

But that still doesn’t quite get to the bicycle question. Well, take the sweating one’s hair out and add that to the fact that riding with a breeze going through your hair and feeling connected to Mother Nature just doesn’t seem to be on the BF priority list. With limited access to technology and stuffs (including automobiles) for longer periods of time than our white counterparts, it stands to reason that we would probably like to enjoy the new toys first before returning “back to nature.” This also includes community gardening, farmer’s markets, cloth diapers, and homemade baby food (Diane Keaton in Baby Boom is not our role model, peoples. You can go on and make your own applesauce. I’ll trust Gerber’s.). Let’s also be honest: black folks and other people of color are always thought of as  “close to the land.” We’re practically anthropomorphized nature to some white people. whereas they have to return back to Walden and live life out in the middle of nowhere lying by a pond, we are imbued with nature. While this is simply untrue, I do think it shapes the end result, which for BF may be a backlash to nature. Why ride a bicycle when you can sit down comfortably without risk to one’s hair or nether parts, turn on the a/c and drive down the street? No, no, return to nature to this BW sounds alot like a return to simpler times. Well, simpler times for black folk usually entails slavery or Jim Crow so I don’t long for those days of yore.

BP Gulf Oil Spill: A terrible happening. For all folks involved. But you know what pissed me off? Pictures of celebrities getting to tour the spill. Pictures like this:

Scarjo and Ry-Ry (my nickname for him) go on a tour of the spill. Scarjo, who is impersonating someone with an actual education and not just one she pretends to have on teevee, brings a notebook so she can take notes, doodle, and/or, draw impressionistic art of the spill. Dumb.

I mean, seriously? What the hell made them important enough (in a newsworthy way, not an “I’m a celebrity; treat me like I’m educated” kinda way) to get a tour of the gulf? What would they do with this knowledge? And, did they end up photographing the shrimpers who are now down on their luck? Oh, cause celebs make my ass hurt sometimes.

Glee: So, I initially intended to do a whole song and dance on how much this BW hates Glee (and, not in a, I love to hate Glee. No, it’s real hate. I watch it fairly regularly just to continue to verify and confirm just how MUCH I hate Glee.) but the season ended and so I figure the furor had ended.

Oh yes, I get it. You're all different kinds of losers. Funny. Well, except for Sue Sylvester.

But I’ll just say this: I strongly dislike shows that are overly smug and internally protect themselves from criticism by supposedly incorporating critique within the show’s narrative. And, Glee does that very thing–in excess. What do  I mean? Let me explain. So, the show is supposed to be about difference, right? All kinds of difference–racial, ethnic, sexual, disabled  (well, kinda if you go ahead and suspend disbelief that the kid in the wheelchair is actually disabled), gendered, classed–show up on the show. Which is great. But, the larger question becomes, to what end does this difference serve? In other words, what does Glee want to do with difference? The answer: Make it no big deal by linking all difference and underpinning it with a universalist argument about everybody being different thus no one’s really THAT different. So, the gay guy is really no different than the straight guy who likes to sing but questions the masculinity of that decision is no different from the rich Jewish girl outsider who is no different from the middle class white cheerleader who gets knocked up is no different from the overweight, black, “sassy” singer. An admirable goal to be sure. You want to educate people to get along with people not like them? The Glee approach seems like a smart pedagogical choice. But, dude. It’s a lie. Or, to put it nicely: a half-truth based on an ideal that we’ve yet to completely aspire to. That ideal being, we’re all, y’know, post-race, post-gender, post-sexuality, post-every specific kind of identity. Which,  you know, um, we’re not.

We’re all different, yes. I love to add sugar to every damn cereal I enjoy–which is why it would be a waste of money to purchase that Kashi stuff. Sugar is the shear opposite of everything Kashi. I mean, I just can’t. I just…I can’t. Thus, I’ll just stick to my Honey Bunches of Oats: Honey Roasted and add as much sugar as I (and my teeth can stand).  We’re different.

Loves this cereal. Loves it. With sugar.

I mean it doesn't even look kinda appetizing.

But (you knew there was a but coming): difference contextualized within historic/social/cultural/political structures is an altogether different (pardon the repetition) thing. So, for example, when BW Mercedes realizes that white, pregnant Quinn “knows” what it feels like to be a fat minority, she tells her, “us sisters need to stick together.”

So, according to Glee logic, this girl's identity as a plus sized black woman...

has been flattened to bridge the gap with this girl's identity as a white pregnant cheerleader. Oh, wait, she's not pregnant here..

Here she is with her pregnant crew of background singers, performing James Brown's "It's a Man's World" (which has its own issues of race/class/gender all intertwined but who cares! Right now, she's JUST a female with a baby on the way).

A close up so you can see how serious she is about her feeling of Otherness. Do you feel it?

And, then racial reconciliation in 3 easy steps:

White girl recognizes the difficulties of the black girl. Black girl accepts and makes a move to fistbump. (The sign of black acceptance, of course).

White girl laughs in relieved surprise.

And voila! Friendship bridge.If you click on this photo you can see reconciliation in action!

But, wait a minute. Just one damn minute! Excuse my French, but WTF? Did the television equivalent of, “I totally know what it feels like to be a fat black woman” show up on my television? Hells yes it did. And, it’s completely FALSE. Quinn will NEVER really know what it is like to be both fat and black. Let’s just be for reals here: Pregnancy does cause one to gain weight but you know what? After you deliver the baby, you tend to lose the weight. Diana Argone will not be trying to be plump next season I can guarantee so all this fat girl solidarity is BS. Second, Quinn’s whiteness while mildly tarnished with teen pregnancy is still QUITE intact. So, there is no real, true linkage between these two–except the feeling necessary to build an imaginary bridge across these two women’s  differences. But that’s the show in a nutshell. And, that’s why I kinda hate it.

BET Awards: Um, friggin’ fantastic this year. So much crazy BP-ness. Listen, there’s a whole blog post just waiting to be written about why so much pleasure can be derived from this award show. But for now, I’ll just say that it feels like a family reunion. Let me rephrase: a black family reunion. All we need is a cookout on some green grass. Think about it: it’s a yearly anniversary chock full of your crazy aunts and uncles (I’m talking about you Dirty Diddy Money who tried to get everybody at the after party drunk on the pineapple schnapps you call Ciroc with Pineapple juice! The entire afterparty can be viewed here. It’s great background music if you’ve got other things to do. But I’m telling you, it’s hilarious.) who fight, cuss, fuss, make you laugh, make you embarrassed to be around them and related to them. It’s full of your little cousins who are hams, hoes, or a combination of both. It’s full of music that at it’s best will make you weep with nostalgia and at it’s worst make you wish for times long ago. And, the fashion: BP, we sometimes can take it too damn far. But, all I can say is:

Christ Jesus! When the music for "All this Love" started to play and the lights began to shine on El Debarge I swear 'fore God, I nearly fell out of my damn chair. BW all over swooned. Of this I am sure.

El Debarge, baby. He looked just like himself (that’s what older BF say when viewing the body at a funeral but it kinda fits here as well because I think a number of us thought El was dead.) and could still sang. This is what I’m talking about with regards to the black family reunion. At no other kind of awards show would El be given the opportunity to return and have fans yell and scream for him. It was like Homecoming. Watch the full video here. I’m telling you, when he could still hit those high notes, I had tears. TEARS! And goosebumps. Similar to this moment from one of my favorite movies, The Five Heartbeats.  Just wait till 2:27. That’s when everything changes and DBW becomes something that needs to be mopped up on the floor:

But that wasn’t all that happened this year. There was the reunion of Nia Long and Larenz Tate, aka Nina and Darius from Love Jones.

They both looked good. I always covet Nia Long's hair.

For white readers, this reconnection is the equivalent of Ryan Gosselin and Rachel McAdams recreating “the kiss” from The Notebook at the MTV Movie Awards. Oh, my! What wonderfulness. Watch it here.

Also, one of the more humorous moments of the night happened with Diddy-Dirty Money. Apparently, he made a joke that BET couldn’t afford fake smoke. And, they got the last laugh. Can you even see Diddy? Watch here.

And, this fool happened too:

Dumb ass Chris Brown. That boy needs to finish high school and live a quiet life.

Listen, I’m all for giving folks a second chance. But, when they pull publicity stunts like “crying” while lip-synching  a performance in tribute of Michael Jackson? Child, please.  But, you know what was amazing? When I checked the facebook to see BW reactions, we were eating that stuff up! Amazing. (Another blog post worth of analysis).

But this just leads me down a rabbit hole of my favorite performances. And, you’ll see here again, that what I love is the “family” feeling and nostagia. Like this:

I mean, Keith (pronounced, “Keef”) Sweat, plus Guy (LOVES ME SOME GUY), plus BBD? Craziness. As you can see and hear.

And, then, this:

Skip past all the Alicia Keys hip shaking to get to the real show. En Vogue, SWV and TLC. Wow. Wow. Wow.

And, then, there was BET Awards 2005 where Rick James (may he rest in peace) re-teamed with Teena Marie for “Fire and Desire.” Watch when Rick starts in on that first note. Watch the audience reaction. It damn near turned into church.

Speaking of church, BET Awards must have the devotional period (something very different from most every award show. I mean, these folks still give honor to God when they win awards for songs with lyrics like, “you gon’ think I invented sex.” Well, hmm…I’m sure Jesus was so grateful for the shout-out Trey Songz.) . Similar to the reverence the Showtime at the Apollo audience gave the amateur night contestants who sang gospel songs (I dare you to boo someone who sings “His Eye is on the Sparrow”. You would get struck down–not by God but by all the BF around you who worry that they might get struck down being next to you while you boo.), BET would be amiss if they didn’t give God a shout-out with the usual suspects, Yolanda Adams, Donnie Mcclurkin, Kirk Franklin, and/or (depending on if it’s a medley), Mary Mary. But nobody said, singing for the Lord had to sound different from a song that goes in the club, right? Well, you parse it out.

Yes, Mary Mary are singing about God (yet, another blog post). And, now for the benediction.

My favorite, favorite, favorite moment in BET Awards history. Mo’Nique doing Beyonce’s “Crazy in Love” dance at BET 2004. I mean, this is what it’s all about.

Feel free to comment with your favorite moments. I’d be curious to see what comes up on other folks’s radar.

I loved Def Comedy Jam. I watched the first incarnation of the series EVERY SINGLE FRIDAY night at 11 pm (central time). I didn’t care if I was scratching my granny’s scalp, if she wanted my assistance she just had to deal with the vulgarity when it came time for DCJ. You may think it crude but this was before the dvr, peoples. It was live or not at all. And I was not missing DCJ. Especially during moments like this:

Seriously, I both still say “watch out right ther nah” and sing that Koolaid commerical. Life changing.

Also, I love to watch this commercial:

Ask me if I still know all the damn words. Hells to the yes. “Hair so soft, silky and free..I want something just for me.” The problem was Just for Me perms never really left one’s hair soft, silky and free. More like hard, straw-like and weighted. Fortunately, I never had to get one of those “kiddie perms.” I started with the big dog:

Bantu was a serious relaxer. It left hair bone straight. And, bone limp.

TCB. Lord, deliver me from that perm.

Old school perms. Nostalgic moment.

And then there’s this new obsession I have: BW haircare videos. Have you watched them? Insanity. I’m fascinated with the genre and the conventions. Every BW must look in camera, must pick at hair, must describe their process, must show product, must demonstrate use of product, must show themselves sitting under dryer (rarely do you see a blowout) and must show final style. Must refer to what’s on their head as “THE hair” as in: “So, you’re just gonna spray a little setting lotion on “the hair” (bring bottle to camera so we see it).” Just AMAZING. I don’t do my own hair so I’m not as concerned about educating myself on how to do the styles; rather, I’m transfixed by the lunacy (I’ve talked about pathologizing BW about their hair elsewhere but seriously, some of these techniques are nutters) we employ in figuring out the best way to make our hair, soft, silky and free–like the use of saran wrap. No kidding–friggin’ saran wrap to create a so-called “silk wrap.” WP, you’re about to learn something good so take notes!*  Here’ s a great set of videos (one relaxed, two natural):

 It’s transfixing isn’t it? I could seriously watch these vids all day. And, I do.

To close, this is my favorite video of the day:

She’s right you know.

*For questions about what’s a wrap, look here. And here. Note: the key to the wrap–it’s all about the center.

The shirt says it all. This is one of the biggest paranoias that BW face...followed by the close second of getting our hair wet.

BW all over have long slathered lotion and vaseline (or great value petroleum jelly, let’s just keep it real) on their children and themselves so as to prevent the dry, cracked skin that daily and nightly plagues us. My mama refers to the post-Vaseline rub on as making us “shiny as copper pennies.”

This WG clearly has more vaseline on than any human ever should in one sitting. He's totally flammable right now. But, this gives you an idea of what we BF endure.

And she is right. That ultra shininess is mucho preferable than the dry, look like we’ve been kickin’ in flour at Popeyes alternative.

Of course this is an exaggeration, no one is quite that ashy..well, all over. My knuckles have occasionally been that color after I've showered in some hard ass water.

This mild case of ashiness is something I think many of us have decided upon at least once. Of course, being talked about can surely deter one from trying it out again.

But the question asked was why is it always one extreme or the other, shiny or real ashy dry. The answer is simple: because no one has figured out how to make products for BF that strikes a perfect balance. I mean for years it was either Palmer’s cocoa butter, Vaseline, or Jergens. We thought we came up a little bit with Nivea but there are still some problems with that (I’ll talk about that in a moment).

Do they know their market or what? Seriously, they are not mincing words here. You BW with the ashy skin. COME. HERE. If only it didn't have such a strong smell..

"Ultra Healing" my ass. Try this experiment to see if your lotion works (we BF already try this): If after you lotion, you still can run your fingernail down your leg and write your name? No bueno.

But very few products that are sold for “very dry skin” can actually do the job while still not making us look like either oil slicks or like nothing changed from before we slathered it on (I’m looking at YOU, Lubriderm). To bring power dynamics into play for a moment, lotion is an integral aspect of daily life for BF and you’d better believe these manufacturers know that. Take this video for example, produced by Vaseline and starring Sanaa Lathan:

You know what Lathan and her kin folk have in common besides blood? The need for lotion to help them love their skin. B-A-N-A-N-A-S. (I’m also including this little video produced by Vaseline to show more about the marketing to BF. Click here.)

Anyway, this lack of a perfect balance between moisturizing and wet is quite similar to the cosmetics industry where if we BW aren’t careful we’ll look like Precious’s momma Mary at the end of the movie.

Um, I have bought makeup that I thought matched my tone but ended up making me look a little too fair. Just. like. this.

In short, ashiness sucks. BF, we’ve all been there when there’s not enough time in the morning to moisturize, moisturize and we opt for jeans and long sleeve shirts so we can cover up the ash. We’ve just enough time to lotion our faces and hands (making sure we get in between those knuckles where the white ash likes to HIDE from us–oohh doncha just friggin’ hate that!!) when we’re running out the door.

To borrow a line from my friend Alyx Vesey, I’m saying all that to say this: Summertime is coming and you know what? I RESENT not being able to be comfortable with my ashiness because I HATE having to wear lotion during this hot ass time of year. Why, you curious readers ask? Because of what I said earlier: there hasn’t been a product made for BF that strikes the balance. Those water based lotions like Lubriderm, Jergens, Keri (do BF still use Keri and Jergens? I have to shake my head at that. You might as well use spit.) and Nivea are awful during the summer. Let me give you a BF word problem: Suppose you live in, ohh I don’t know–humid south Louisiana and you need to brave the 105 degree heat with a heat index of 450 degrees or so (I exaggerate but not by much). You do your duty as a BW and put on one of those lotions all over your 2000 parts and when you walk outside what happens?  Ohh, y’all know what happens! The lotion separates OFF your skin! Equal parts lotion and water divide and conquer on your skin. Mix that with the fact that you’re perspiring like a whore in church and you’re off to a great damn day. I HATE that lotion can’t figure out how to stay ON my skin.

::DBW sighs and takes deep cleansing breaths::

But, that’s the only alternative because none of us want to look like this:

Or have to suffer the embarrassment of this:

So, there’s your answer. Why do BP always look real shiny or real ashy? Cause we’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t.

*Clearly, BP aren’t the only ones who suffer from dry skin. We’re just the only ones who discuss it frequently. A word of wisdom to WP: please, please, PLEASE get yourself some good lotion and try to moisturize the elbows. If I see one more WP with crusty ass elbows, I will holler.

It’s probably not in your best interest, WG to tell a BW (at least not at first) that you’re interested in some “chocolate love”.  If this were real life, Nia Long might’ve clocked him. Even still, though Ribisi makes an error with that painfully awkward line, there’s something that makes him appealing. Boiler Room, is a case study in how to make nerdy white guys (with the exception of Vin Diesel who couldn’t be nerdy if he tried) cool through hip hop culture and appropriation. Rent it, you’ll see what I’m talking about. Especially the scene where Nicky Katt defines “nigga rich.”

No, wait: let’s watch that now. It’s that good.

And, yet (I’ve been writing “and, yet”  toward a much more serious project, ahem, dissertation, for the last two weeks so you’ll probably see that here..just bear with me) the ways that the smoothness of the JT Marlin boys emerges does kinda answer the question posed to DBW.

But first let me just say this: I’m not an advice columnist. What I actually want to do in this post is to break down the aesthetics of non-black “crossover” artists and their acceptability in black community, particularly through marketing to BW. Or, in other words, how do THEY (yes, THEY as in those white male individuals who make hegemonic decisions sitting around a boardroom puffing on cigars) know what we BW like?

First, clearly, it’s not the nerdy WG who wins the heart of the BW (at least according to television, film, and radio). Take Ribisi’s character Seth from Boiler Room:

Pre-successful broker:

 And, then here he is after he’s become a successful broker and is taking Nia Long (talk about a damn fetish object–she’s the ONLY person of the color in the movie–Vin plays an Italian within the text) out for a date.

Clearly more relaxed, hair slicked back, better dressed. He's got swagger. Now, he's appealing.

And here’s him closing someone in that real smooth way to prove the point.

As I said earlier, part of the reason this movie is so much about appropriation is because of the hip hop soundtrack and score. It attempts to create an “aura of blackness”  around the characters to help them become more masculine and sexualized.

To the point of this post: We’ve seen this before. Dress and groom a WG in a particular way, give him an r&b track and make him sing in a particular style and you’ve got the aura of blackness that has been deemed marketable to BW and BF in general. Some folks call it ‘Blue Eyed Soul”–I call it creepy. Let me show you what I’m talking about.

In the beginning (well, for the purposes of brevity I’m skipping past The King and moving along to 1979): There was the Doobie Brothers. Love the Doobie Brothers. But, uh, you know what? I don’t remember the majority of the members of the damn Doobie Brothers. You know who I do remember though? Michael “Blue eyes” McDonald. Remember the criteria I listed above: Dress and groom; R&B track; sing in particular style (let’s call it, falsetto).

Oh, yes, “what a fool believes” Michael. That’s the song. And while he is sporting that not very attractive mullet, he’s started a particular kind of grooming (namely, the very meticulous beard) that will become a trend of these WGs. Also, there’s the R&B sound attached as well as the falsetto. Here’s another:

I mean the melody has been sampled all over the R&B audioscape. But all the other criteria are still functional. But now there’s something else to look for: black presence within the video to hail a particular demographic. Unfortunately, “I Keep Forgetting” doesn’t have that..but this next one does.

Okay, so this is Patti Labelle’s video but in terms of nostalgia: this is as much Michael McDonald’s song as it is hers. All criteria in place plus black presence. But what’s also of interest is the fact that neither of these people are in the same room or space. The whole video is done by split screen. Clearly the video suggests they miss and long for each other but there’s no great reunion at the end. Now, it’s the 1980s and interracial relationships are clearly not the issue du jour. But the way this is framed almost makes me suspect there was some nervousness with how to deal with these two folks.

Fast forward to 1995. The next person seemingly marketed to BW is Jon B. In writing this post, I must confess, I spent about an hour going down memory lane and squeeing with joy at how “fyne” he was. Sighs. Initially Jon B did meet the musical criteria but hadn’t quite mastered the aesthetic look. Look at his first album hair (the beard and voice were in place):

Couple things to note: The racially ambiguous leading lady becomes an interesting figure of identification. She’s not quite this and not quite that. Also, Jon B’s wardrobe clearly marks him as a participant in R&B fashion. (Good Lord, do you remember those Karl Kani boots and white baggy jeans? Thank you Jesus for delivering me from the 90s!) Here’s a second video from same album.

More grooming done to that beard.  More racially ambiguous women. More black people in general–including the king of soft, make you rip off your panties and sing “Whip Appeal” style of R&B, Babyface. This is called “acceptability” by way of insider making the outsider trustworthy. Because honey, by album two, he hits the apex of black acceptability.

“Cool/Relax” in this BW’s mind is the best album of 1997. Seriously, it’s fantastic. And this song led the way. Codes of blackness are far more visible–as well as Jon B’s participation in this culture. His barber, his boys, her girls, their meet-up location is clearly hailing a particular spectator. BW! Less ambiguous than the models before her, this video’s leading lady is clearly being marked as a BW. But Jon B (and his A&R people) go a step further to cement his status:

 The whole damn video is about an interracial relationship, lol. And, he picked a dark-skinned model for the lead (I see you Diddy baby mama Kim Porter). Are you picking up what I’m putting down right now? It’s not the light vs. dark issue that I’m trying to illustrate but the way that blackness is specifically coded in this video. He loves us BW, doncha see?

 But then, Jon B lost steam and someone else took his place. This is another theory that I have. There can only be one of these folks up at a time.

Who’s next? This guy.

He looks familiar, eh? None other than Justin Timberlake. At the time of this photo he was still a) grossly smelling his fingers from trysts with then-girlfriend, Britney Spears and b) in the boy band ‘NSYNC. Certainly not on the radar of most BW–especially in terms of the R&B connection. But then Timberlake slowly began to shift his look.

Whoaaaa..whaaa? The buzz cut and the very clear, very clean grooming in addition to the song, “Gone” actually got some heads turning. He and ‘NSYNC even ended up on the BF’s (and Viacom sponsored, eye roll) version of Total Request Live called 106 & Park for press. But there’s still moves to be made.

Like Justified. Like working with Pharell and Chad Hugo of the Neptunes. Like being marketed as a pop star/R&B artist. Like almost getting your “ghetto pass.” And then this:

Nipplegate Timberlake. He lost whatever "Ghetto pass" he attained by letting Janet take the fall for the mess.

JT survived it. Notice how the grooming and aesthetic markers only got sharpened over time. Here’s two more pics to illustrate this:

Not only are the criteria in place but also the introduction of a new aesthetic: the suit/tuxedo. JT mixes all those characteristics up in his homage to Prince “Until the End of Time.”

What I love to point out about this tour (I’m still quite bitter about not going to this show), or at least, this leg of the tour (Madison Square Garden concert) is how white the audience is. He’s singing this “quiet storm”-like R&B track to an audience full of WF with an ALL back band. My head explodes EVERY time.

 Finally, finally, how can I not mention Robin Thicke. Similar to Ribisi’s character from Boiler Room, his start wasn’t quite right.

Looking like Jesus doesn't really score points with the BW...well, except for his BW.

So, the first time I heard Robin Thicke’s “Lost Without You,” I thought it was Maxwell singing. Finding out that it was in fact the man mentioned above: clear and true shock. But, he looked drastically different. As another blogger put it:

When Thicke re-surfaced 3 years later, he had undergone a makeover. Gone were the flowing locks and messenger bag. The new Robin Thicke was clean shaven with a neat haircut, dressed in blazers, sweater vests, and crisp button down shirts. He was signed to The Neptunes vanity label, Star Trak.

Everything except for the...

beard and the tuxedo. Here we go.

But, that’s not the only thing that helps Robin Thicke. He clearly includes women of color (even a few BW) in the videos. And, AND, AND: he married a BW.

Robin Thicke and his wife Paula Patton.

Want to see the tuxedo in action?

Epilogue: There have been parodies of these aesthetic markers and criteria. The most popular of course being:

While this song is clearly hilarious (even all these years post-airing), it shows that Timberlake (who produced the song)  knows what the aesthetic and musical ( in particular, moment 2:06 where the music breaks? That’s a classic motif!) markers are that make this kind of blue-eyed soul singing seemingly so marketable to BW. Again, though, the audience laughing is largely white which makes me wonder what exactly the joke is to them. I mean, is it just the hearkening to Color Me Badd*?

  *I suspect Color Me Badd was being cross-promoted. I mean, they were on the New Jack City soundtrack for chrissakes. But I also suspect that more white ladies remember them than remember Jon B. So there you go. I clearly remember them on 90210:

First, let’s just start with some full disclosure here. I’m bald.

Or, rather, I shave my head because there isn’t enough hair growing there to warrant an attempt to re-grow what was once plentiful.

What happened? Cruel Nature. Also, Kevin wanted me to stress that he is NOT the man in this photo.

Kevin: I actually looks more like this. :: DBW eye roll::

I’m fortunate, I suppose, because my head does not have an odd shape, and I’m repeatedly told, “It looks good on you.” I’m sure this last comment is meant in good faith (and, hey, who doesn’t like to hear they look good), but many times it comes across as an awkward apology from someone who recognizes the violation baldness enacts on our normative assumptions about beauty but doesn’t quite know what to do with that insight except feel pity:  “I’m so sorry your bald. But, hey, at least it looks good.”

Perhaps more apropos to this website (though certainly with a much more problematic and violent history) we might translate it as, “I’m so sorry you’re XXX. But, hey, at least you’re not super dark. ” Oh, people. Sometimes you’re a group of ignorant fools.

If baldness is a disability in the beauty game, I am going to argue it’s made me more attuned to hair-ography. Just as a blind person hears better than the rest of us, I feel my insights into hair are heightened too.

I’ve been invited to this site to offer a guide to black hair for white people. This list emerged from a series of conversations between DBW and myself. Some of those conversations were about black hair. Some of them were about racial difference in general. Nevertheless, the key here is to recognize the information below emerged from dialogue. In our opinion, the mutual engagement in discussion is a key strategy in overcoming our discomfort with difference. It will set you free, but dialogue is something special. It takes effort. In some cases, the right to discuss must be earned, not assumed. I’ll returned to this point at the end, but without further ado, here’s the list:

1. Don’t touch it.
2. Don’t ask for weave advice.
3. Don’t ask “is it real”?
4. Don’t ask “how’d they do that?”
5. Spring Break does not grant you white person, the right to braid, twist or row your hair.
6. Don’t think unwashed=dirty.
7. Don’t touch it.
8. Black people are embarrassed about the Jheri curl too. Best to not ask about it.
9. The fro is political. Not style*. (DBW in: Not necessarily. Sometimes it is totally style. But you can’t ask.)
10. The exclusion of the phrase “why do y’all…?

DBW back in: But, before a conversation about this list is had, let me try to explain why these rules exist.

1)      Don’t touch it: Much like a pregnant woman’s belly, BW’s hair for some reason strikes white women as this object of fascination.

White ladies love to go up to large baby bumps and just rub—rather they know the victim or not.  I do not understand this. But in similar fashion, white ladies like to touch BW’s hair. I have to tell this story (and if I get mad in the middle of telling it, just forgive me…one day I’ll get over it without wanting to stand up and shout): So , I attended this outdoor holiday party. One of two BFs in attendance (the other BF was a BW), I sat with BW#2 and chatted about life or whatever tomfoolery was coming out of my mouth. Now we’re sitting outside in these chairs minding our business when this white lady who neither of us know that well comes up to BW #2 (who has natural curly hair) , puts her hand on her head and pats it. Then she committed the federal offense of saying the following: “it’s soo fluffy.” At that point ladies and gentlemen I was in total fight mode. I’m not really a violent person but with my mouth agape and eyes wide, I got up and moved my chair out of the way because I just knew that fisticuffs were about to be had. You just DO NOT touch a black woman’s head. It’s not a matter of us literally being sensitive to touch—we just don’t like it. Admire it from afar. Compliment it. But unless it is offered, consider it like the friggin Mona Lisa: Don’t photograph it, don’t touch it or we will kick your ass.

2)      Don’t ask for weave advice: Listen, I doubt that many white ladies will ask me about weave. But if such were to happen, I’ve got nothing to say to you except that I saw Jessica Simpson’s line of weave by Ken Paves on sale at the TJ Marshall’s for $9.99. Go get it girl. If that’s not good enough, go on to the Sally’s Beauty Supply  and find Paris Hilton’s magical extensions. In short, I cannot help you.

Sally's Beauty Supply: Go get it. It's right next to the Kankanalon hair for BW who want cheap braids.

3)      Is it real? Well, a black woman who has paid exorbitant amounts of money may be pleased to hear you ask that question and inform you that while a) it’s real to them that in fact, b) it’s Remy (special grade Indian hair that according to Chris Rocks’ “documentary” Good Hair, BW are to blame for because we want it in such great excess that Indians are sacrificing their hair to their gods as a way of backdooring it to us. Does that make sense to you? Nah, me either).

4)      I know we can do some real fancy things with our hair. We can turn it into a helicopter. We can transform it into a fruit basket or a cockatoo.

But uh, we weren’t paying attention when our stylist performed our hairstyle. So don’t ask us. And, please, DON’T TOUCH IT.

5)      OMG. This one is so important. Listen, we don’t own the copyright on the cornrow or the braid, but let’s just say for the sake of argument that it looks best on a particular type of hair. And that hair is NOT yours. There is nothing that makes us giggle or shake our heads more than a white girl who just left vacation in Jamaica and decided to get that ONE braid. Folks, Bo Derek was hot to white men in 10 because her hairstyle allowed a distraction to them for fantasizing about black women with cornrows.

I mean, do y’all realize how strange your scalp looks with cornrows? No bueno ladies. If you must get the do because the “natives” whose livings are made off of tourists insist that you get it, make sure you take that stuff out by the time you return to the homeland. I’m serious…quit it.

6)      Listen, the rules that white ladies observe about hair washing do not apply here. I repeat: The rules that white ladies observe about hair washing do not apply here. We BW need a little oil. Our hair can withstand a week without washing (some of y’alls can as well as I’ve been told). So if one of us says that we haven’t washed our hair in a week, don’t make a face. We don’t need to as often.  And also, if we allow you to touch our hair, don’t do the thing where you rub your hand on your jean to wipe off the “excessive oil.” RUDE, obnoxious and offensive.

7)      See #1.

8)      It is a tragic part of our hair history, the Jheri curl is. The 1980s were not kind to us.

But we don’t need a reminder. We have photos. We have Coming to America. Just don’t bring it up.

9)      The note explains it. Just because you wear a fro doesn’t make you Angela Davis; just as wearing a chemical relaxer makes you Laura Bush.

10)   Why do y’all is the worst, worst, worst start of a question that ends up going to bad places. I’m speaking of us in a collective sense right now (and this is geared toward humor)–we don’t all do the same things. Can you believe that some of us don’t tie our hair up at night (I don’t even understand that)? Or that some of us are so strange as to wash our hair every day (I don’t even understand that)? These things happen. Don’t make it a “you all” thing. We don’t ask you all why you fetishize pig tails. Or Justin Bieber. So return the favor.

Back to Kev (who I lurve because he keeps it classy while I clown–as he puts it, we’re like balsamic vinaigrette, but ask him to explain it):

Now, a final thought about dialogue. It’s a difficult process. It’s not an immediate process. It’s a process people (yes, dialogue involves more than one person) must earn from each other. How the right to dialogue happens is cumbersome, but my desire to emphasize it here emerged from what I detected as a difference in my take and DBW’s take on the issue of black hair. I emphasized conversation. She wanted white women not to touch it. Period. Of course, our differences here are very much entwined with the histories of our own positions (me–a gay white male, among other things, and her–a black straight female, among other things), but we kept coming back to the same question: how can we alleviate the fetishism of black hair through dialogue without engaging in the very same issues on our list? Dialogue doesn’t just happen. It was clear to both of us upon further reflection that the right to speak and the right to listen emerged from the history of our own friendship, one that is predicated upon respect, thoughtfulness, trust, and long-term loyalty. In brief, DBW knows that I’m not interested in taking a tour of black culture through her hair.

In the end, we agreed dialogue was necessary to alleviate some of the cultural fascination with difference through understanding it (demystifying it?) but not through assimilating it. A lofty goal, perhaps, but one no less important: to be at peace with difference without eradicating it. That this can’t happen (nor shouldn’t happen?) in a random meeting at a dinner party or as you pass someone on the street (DBW in: or at a holiday party!) only further reinforces the responsibilities it involves.

Thank you.

Questions?  Debate? Disagreement? Comment, dammit!