I was in the shower lathering my #Black #Body when I had a eureka moment. You see, dear reader, I had had a conversation with a younger female cousin about eccentric nepotism kid, Sam Levinson, and the travesty that was "Malcolm & Marie" (two hours of nonsense, AND the haunting visual of a bowl of Kraft mac & cheese, which...REALLY?! BLACK PEOPLE?! EATING KRAFT?!!) when I realized tokenization and White People Attempting to Write Social Commentary For An Experience In Which They Are Not Part Of With The Assistance of All of Zero Members of The Aforementioned Experience™ just might be the downfall of Hollywood.

See, my friends, the simple reality of the early 2020s (and what a...start this new decade has been having) is:

IT IS NO LONGER ENOUGH TO JUST BE RICH.

And white.

And male

Wait.

Well, actually...

certain exceptions apply.

Follow as I explain, and then predictably veer into my usual rant about media.

I love television. I love film. I love to be entertained! What I don't love is feeling like I'm being played. Yes, darling reader,  I have begun to take note of just how the system is being gamed against My People™, and - like Beyoncé shouting "LIGHTS! SOMEBODY'S GETTIN' FIRED - HEY! HEY!" during the I Am...World Tour - I'm calling the bitches out!

At one point in American history, the gauche and gaudy were at the peak of entertainment. Wealth, proximity to luxury and lavish lifestyles were at the cornerstone of most all media. And who held that title? Well, by default, a whole lot of white people. Mostly white people. Probably, like, 96% white.

Now, was this done without critique? No, of course not. But, honestly? We got some really great shows and movies - fiction, reality, documentary - out of this time period! 

Listen. AHT! Don't wanna hear it - tell the truth, shame the devil! 

I mean, remember when teens were teens? Motivated by raging hormones and the suffocating desire to fit in? Do you honestly think a "Clueless" could work today? Besides Cher and Josh's inappropriate relationship, imagine the social commentary? Yes, the film makes its intentions clear, but never forget - bylines must be submitted. The overzealous and the righteous and the ravenous tweens and probably the Ev@ng3licals or F*x News will find SOMETHING.  

I mean, "Heathers" tried - and failed - to reboot with your 2020s Token Minority Rep™ as the Heathers, and that plane didn't even make it out the gate. Terrible concept from the beginning, and I can tell you that as someone who never even bothered to watch the pilot. You can't make a film about stuck up, bitchy, thin, popular, rich white girls, and honestly think that making the new gang consist of a gay kid, one kinda not-thin brunette with a pixie cut, a blonde white girl and a biracial girl with a terrible Anna Wintour-esque wig, and sincerely believe that translates the same message. It doesn't. It really REALLY doesn't.

Remember when Black people existed without some long, drawn-out, traumatizing engagement with The State™ or racism?

Remember when women got to exist and be happy and fall in love and sit around the table with their girlfriends and just...be! Remember balanced media?

Not to say you can't make A Point™ and still remain lighthearted (shows didn't make after school special episodes for nothing) or that you shouldn't make a commentary with your art, but that's just not all there was. Sometimes things were just...things! 

Around the time that a young Trayvon Martin was gunned down, I began to notice, personally, that things changed. There was a shift in the zeitgeist. People had to reckon with their internal biases and sociopolitical awareness, and justice activism was at an all-time high (RIGHTFULLY SO, I might add). However, in the course of navigating through that very real shockwave, in the midst of a changing entertainment landscape, the balance between lighthearted fun, identity politics and Making A Point™ tipped all the way over. Best Perfect Person Syndrome overtook the world. Almost eight years and one Pantene Pro V later, dear reader I fear things have gotten worse. You see, it's no longer about scrutinizing history (although now I question if it ever was).

The rampant tokenization of minorities that has existed in cinema for ages has made way for a new grift. The new game is for some non-Black people to hide behind Black people's stories and craft content...for...well...an almost...actually a...let's be honest, here...voyeuristic non-Black/partially Black gaze. And it's being done for some melted and reshaped gold, which I believe to be even worse.

I can only speak to the Black American experience because it's all I know, but it's growing uncomfortably obvious that this is an easy lick. It's 2021. When you're Black (or, if you're a young girl - Black-ish *looks into camera), no one wants to tell you a new story. In fact, a lot of the time, it'll feel like all Hollywood wants to do is retraumatize you. So you end up binge-watching old shows, holding your breath at reboots and questioning why your initial excitement at the announcement of a Black Princess Ariel waned after you realized none of her family would be Black and, in fact, she was possibly going to be yet another example of colorist, biracial-appearing casting.

It's not fun, actually. It's humiliating.

The near-constant begging for better treatment from an institution that shape-shifts to tease progress while very much shirking actual progress.

So how privileged, largely (but not only) nepotistic Hollywood creators got Here™?

Simple terms? Far too many people picked a sucker mined a movement and they licked it.

And some people let them continue to hit that lick because people love storytelling - it is the oldest, most sacred human tradition. And stories deserve to get told. Fairly. ACCURATELY. From the point of view of those with the experience. By people who care. Not by people who want pats on the back for being mediocre and shoving a token, oft-neglected face in front of a camera and saying, "HEY! I AM TELLING YOU A GREAT AND VERY IMPORTANT STORY! LAUD ME AND BRING ME THE GOLD!"

No!

And catering to white sensibilities or white guilt.

And giving opportunity to other white people.

And rewarding white people for kinda...sorta not-white art? But with white saviors or white presences or white gazes prioritized.

At least they do for now.

But I'm not coming out of my pocket $13 to watch a movie about it, and I'm certainly not watching a show about it. I'm not a sucker. 

Game recognize game, baby.

Intro Music by Wataboi from Pixabay Outro Music by Wataboi from Pixabay

When I was a little girl, there was nothing I craved more than being seen as good in the eyes of 'the big people'. Even as a small youth, I could not be bothered by or with the opinions of my classmates - popularity and acquaintance exclusivity had no bearings on someone who possessed the ability to be friendly with anyone. No, I wanted the adults in my life to see me as an angel-in-training, the pinnacle of goodness, purity and quintessential girlhood. I thought by performing goodness I would be worthy of goodness, and for a long while it was an easy enough lie to believe.

The reminder to constantly be on my very best behavior has been drilled and instilled into my psyche by the single Cameroonian parent who had spent 20 years clothing, feeding, housing and raising me. She was doing what she knew - what her mother had taught her, what her mother's mother had taught and so on. So I carried that with me, and any diversion from the path she and my father had originally drawn out for myself and my sisters was met by something worse that a slap on the hand - disappointment. An instant shame, a reflection of their inability to parent me successfully.

Honestly speaking, once my parents separated, the guilt and resulting fear of embarrassing my mother in front of anyone who was not an immediate family member did a pretty good job of keeping me in line.

I mean, not FULLY in line but, in public I was well enough behaved that I never became classified as being 'at-risk' or 'wayward'.

But as I begrudgingly sit here and reflect, I must admit guilt tripping played a huge part in my need to perform and be seen as nothing short of supreme goodness.

How dare I leave my home and embarrass my family? As much as they already do for me?!

This and various other ways of ensuring my 'i's' remained dotted and my 't's' stayed crossed became a second language to me - a way in which others could ensure control over my behavior. You see, the teenager who performed and understood that this form of passive aggression was a fairly mild way of dealing with a child as hyperactive and inquisitive as grew up and realized the stone cold truth.

As a quick aside, I would like to say, fortunately, my life was and is not on the level of emotional manipulation as seen in the film Precious. Guilt trips were mainly weaponized whenever it was my turn to was dishes or sweep the bathroom. I the wild middle child who sat in front of the television in a comfortably air-conditioned living room instead of defrosting the chicken - as instructed - before my mother came home from a long day at work. My parents were separated and we were all adjusting to new dynamics - go figure.

Now back to what I was getting to.

I am now 23, and turning 24 in nearly two months. After years spent observing and being part of all forms of intimate relationships, I have come to realize there is no weapon of control more casually utilized than the guilt trip.

For those who don't know or are unfamiliar with a guilt trip - it is the way in which individuals weaponize guilt as a way to emotionally manipulate others into doing something you would, typically, not do. It is weak, it is passive aggressive and it is played.
I'm unsure if it is a communications or control issue, but it is an issue. And before you roll your eyes up to Jesus and his band of 12 about something you consider to not be 'that deep', according to the world's greatest unreliable source, Wikipedia, bestselling author and clinical psychologist George K. Simon interprets it as a special type of intimidation tactic. A way to keep the victim in a self-doubting, anxious and submissive position.

That is deep.

The older I get, the more I am constantly reminded of how frustratingly intertwined our lives are. Sure, we are individual, but our actions have the potential to create this insane butterfly effect and that is so frustrating.

With age came the realization that if I want, or am, to f*ck up, the potential for consequence is no longer limited to me.

As has been historically shown and I have come to realize - the more I communicate my feelings, the more transparent I become and, thus, am able to impart good. Harboring negativity, participating in any kind of negative behavior is counter productive for just who I am becoming, and I find it important to share because we really never stop growing. We never stop learning.

I have been awakened to some of the harsher realities of my lived experience, and in this case, shaken up by the one which had me believing my goodness was a genuine affect and not a performance which had been manipulated out of me.

I am problematic, I am human and I am trying for me. Not because I have been strong armed into anything - but because I legitimately want to.

I will not be made to feel guilt for growing up and seeing the plot. If I am good, it is because I decided I wanted to be.

On a chilly September 2013 afternoon, Robyn Rihanna Fenty changed the way the game of engagement was played. Having incited a petty Twitter argument after cracking a rather mean joke, the Bajan Badgal tweeted an infamous, now deleted, scripture from the Twitter Book of Coconuts:

I REFUSE to help your career… you will NOT get an @ from me! Not til you pay me! #Nomorefreepromo #iRefuse

You see, while her - then - opponent continued throwing petty digs and retorts her way, Robyn Rihanna Fenty simply reminded the world she hated broke b*tches, changed her header image to an unflattering photo highlighting the net worth difference between the two women, logged off the internet and...I don't know, it was 2013 so, went to smoke a blunt probably.

To this day it is not the incident itself which resonates in my mind, though it does remain one of the Top Five reasons why I am both in love and scared of Rihanna, but the statement, "I REFUSE to help your career" and the hashtag, No More Free Promo.

You see, the trouble with engagement is that it holds the potential of being monetized. The biggest problem I have with it with regards to social media, today? Your clicks, retweets and shares of purely awful individuals can be monetized and boosted across most all platforms. In today's society, now just about anyone and anything can come up off a well tailored, polarizing mythos and a few clicks.

And this, my friends, is where we will do what is known as, quick maths:

What happens when people and corporations see the potential to accumulate mass wealth in a short amount of time? They attempt to recreate that phenomena or insert it everywhere so as to encourage engagement. As a result, people and corporations have found a way to capitalize off fleeting moments of infamy (usually as boosted by polarizing opinions towards said phenomena) knowing that surges in activity will continue to line the pockets of all except the person and people boosting their product or content.

Do you know how many people have literally flipped and fumbled a bag off the knowledge that inciting or riding upon the coattails of some form of phenomena would provide them with immense capital?

How quickly we forget what killed Vine, what is slowly killing YouTube.

#Ad #Sponsored

Why do you think corporations like Burger King, Wendy's, the FB-freaking-I and even the CI-f*cking-A always attempt humor and engagement with popular culture topics on social media?

Because they like you? Because the Social Media Manager is just that funny?

Look, I try not to fault people for the manner in which they get their coins. The cost of living continually increases, meanwhile the livable wage remains stagnant and pathetic.

We've all gotta do what we need to survive - no extreme (see: some mild) judgement here.

However I'm going to need people to be a lot smarter about the content they engage with, about the phenomena they help support, about the people whose socioeconomic capital they increase.

You cannot willingly dispense free promo and then get upset when you do not see a penny of compensation for all the 'efforts' you have put in. Nor can you get upset when the formula works against your favor by boosting the phenomena you either hate or love.

We have to use our better judgement and be more discerning about just what we give our time to -because I am not a believer in doling out free promo and then demanding acknowledgement or credit for doing so.

How does that make any sense? You freely gave your attention, energy and clicks to something, and once finished doing that, you believed you were entitled to raise an invoice???? Or got mad at the corresponding consequence of your engagement???

That...is not how that works.

I am not a believer in allotting any of my precious time to the people, places or things I hate.

I will NOT help your career, nor will I drink your sweet alcohol, argue with you about the 2nd Amendment, the rights of Man, the Black American Female Experience, or intersectional inequality.

Matter of fact, I don't even know who you are or to whom I am speaking.

Sorry, wrong number.

I don't know, maybe its because I'm living in a world where people have transitioned blaming the steady declination of the United States as a global bully dictator imperialist power superpower from 'economic anxiety' to good old fashioned racism, sexism and xenophobia, but transparency appears to be the hot new trend.

And we've always kept it three stacks over here.

As a constant work in progress (I'm basically a breathing Baltimore street, a York Road of sorts) I make active effort to eschew passive aggression, projection and the transference of anything I have internally registered as being 'negative'.

The older I get, the more aware I become of the reality in which I live, and making the choice to embrace positivity on a somewhat daily basis is an active fight; one which I am willing to undertake.

When you take into consideration how easy it is to be mean and down yourself and those around you, you can't help but to want, more than anything, any feeling which may only bring acute joy.

Now, as a heads up I would like to make it clear that I am very blunt and I do not apologize for it. I see no use in masking true feelings in the effort to appease anyone, not even myself. Because there is no, nor will I ever allow there to be a, harsher critic to myself than I.

Who knows you better than you? How to handle you better than you?


And also maybe a therapist or a counselor, but that is an entirely different can of worms.

So when the time comes for introspection and analysis of my strengths and my weaknesses, I do so begrudgingly but without deflection. I believe in facing my problems head on with blunt and sometimes brutal honesty.

Now I am not perfect, and I don't believe I have framed myself as such, but I do make supreme effort to avoid the projection of any negative feeling, mentality, ideal or fear onto anyone else because what will that do for me?

What will that do for the other person?

Sure, the latent OG Mean Girl in me - I call her Abigail Proctor - may find comfort with the fleeting joy that comes with feelings of superiority, but what happens when the lights go out and the time to rest head upon silk pillow comes?

When I attempt to enter the REM stage and find myself unable because lying in wait, in the farthest corner of the room, rests my fears and insecurities?

What happens then?

I already hate experiencing those bouts of self-doubt, transferring those same fears just feels wrong and mean with each passing year.


Stepping on someone so you may present the allusion of standing on your own is not the mantle I would ever proudly claim.

If I feel a way about me, the only person who should be feeling that way is me.

You already come into this world alone and leave it alone, the best thing you can do is attempt to impact yourself and all who surround you in a positive way.

Especially since we've all got our demons and issues we're working through.

I've always considered myself to be an empathetic person, and that has only increased tenfold since November 8, 2016, which is, frankly, quite annoying.

I've become Mary freaking Sunshine because choosing happiness most everyday for most all people is actually really hard. Being a Deborah Downer or a Patty Projects-Her-Fears-And-Insecurities may just cause me to spiral, and I would never wish that feeling upon...I would say worst enemy, but if you're my worst enemy, duh, I want you to suffer.

I'll say I would never wish that on even the most peripheral of beings.

So stop projecting. Just work on you and fix yourself before you start breaking everyone else in your pursuit of happiness or whichever goal.

This is the aim for 2018 and forward.

As signed, sealed and delivered from the desk of The Unified League of Black Girls, Global, Inc.

“i am mine.
before i am ever anyone else's.”

― Nayyirah Waheed, Nejma

I'd like to think the current amount of external influence upon my personality rests somewhere between 25-35 percent. I allow myself to exist within this range because the concept of,  and physical 'me' had been in development before 'me' was even alive. Also, due to the nature in which I was brought up, and the ensuing way in which I have thus far moved throughout society, I have come to accept the reality that there are certain behaviors which can either be taught and/or learned.

I believe I purposely kept the percentage value moderately (yet realistically) low because the thought of being a person who lacks any depth and is swung any direction the wind blows makes my skin itch. I've worked really hard to forge a uniquely individual identity that is not aggressively moved by just any ol' outside influence. I'm entering my 24th year on Earth and, no offense, but the thought of continually allowing the voices of many sway my behaviors, perceptions or feelings in an extreme way feels regressive as hell. I'm not closed off to outside influence, I just don't want that to be the primary force that encompasses my personality.

Which brings me to the ultimate point of what I'm sure will read as a juvenile post: I hate imitation as a form of d*ck riding flattery. Truly, with every fiber of my being, I hate it.

Especially at this age (almost six years after the distaste began forming) - brown nosers, suck ups, Tracy Try Hards - please keep that devastatingly sad, pathetically desperate energy away from me.

I don't know, maybe It's because I'm overly perceptive and tend to pick up on quirks and nervous ticks, but 8 times out of 10, my third eye is sharp to catch any imitation or faker-ation in the dance soiree dancery.



And, yeah, sometimes we have to kiss a little ass and put on the Speak and Spell to get ahead or even stay in the game, but my goodness, at least do that for a bag!

But do not appropriate for the bag.

Imagine brown nosing for anything outside of a socioeconomic, scratch that, purely economic gain.

IMAGINE brown nosing for popularity - one of the most fickle and fleeting concepts.

HA! Not in this big year of Blue Ivy, Rumi and Sir Carter.

To quote legendary visual artist, TS Madison:

 

Have you ever taken a moment and noticed that subpar content released by black artists come very far and few in between? Truly, it is damn near rare to consume any art molded, created or shaped by black people that does not hit. Whether it be on the macro or micro scale, I've realized from observing my consumption habits and the way I critique and micromanage my own content through a black woman's lens that black people, and I mean at least 7 out of 10 black people - despite stereotype - are not at all lazy when it comes to quality output.

"...the reason black people are so good is not always that we’re necessarily more artistically inclined, it’s more because we don’t have the space to suck.” —Kelela

I'm not sure if it is a cultural thing, or a response to white supremacy that has thus embedded itself within the genetic makeup of black people, but when we fully commit to doing something, we do it to the 9s and 10s. Slacking is never an option.

Of course, I mean this for the black people who are fully dedicated and motivated to growing their craft. The ones who are not leaning on some fleeting characteristic rather than actual talent. I have yet to see any who align themselves with lasting, tangible success not be consumed by the possibility of achieving their goals, or being afraid to withstand sacrifice for them.

I guess this is a spring-board thought off of one of my more recent musings about the rise in what I've coined: the Subpar and Superficial.

Obviously, tastes are subjective and consumption habits are individual to each being, but as I've grown, I've begun to realize that my margin of error for all artists rests around roughly 5 percent. There are some who will allow for a lot more, and even I on a really good day will do so too, but typically I am just not one of those people.

Even with this blog - whether people read it or not - each and every single thing I write goes through multiple revisions prior to and post publishing because it is a reflection of my efforts. There will never come a day where I am not thoroughly detailed and critiquing myself and my output because getting comfortable and slacking off is the quickest way to show that I do not care about my content.

You should care about your content.

Regardless of who or what is being lauded, rewarded, celebrated or propped up at any moment in time, whether or not you get all the attention or none at all - if the art is just not good, if the effort isn't there, please don't be surprised or offended if I say so.

Far too many cling to the allegation propagating, "well, ya'll will let white people get away with being mediocre, so why won't you let (insert minority here) get away with it, too?!"

Listen, I cannot change the fact that white supremacy exists and will more than likely exist well past me. Just like I cannot change the fact that I, being a black woman living in America today, am part of the meager 13.3 percent of the population and therefore am taught to work twice as hard to maybe get half as much. Truth is, there are some who get to cruise by on doing and being far less - it's not right nor fair, but it is what it is. What I can say is I do not adhere to that mentality, so despite there being a sudden need for equal footing on the playing field of mediocrity, you will not catch me giving credence to that game.

Sharing characteristics is not a pass for my ultimate endorsement, and as I have said before, if you are relying on that, it means you never believed in your capability to do great work to begin with.

Why squander an opportunity to releasing worthwhile content by being mediocre? Do you know what kind of precedent that sets? What that does to the expectations of others within that same field?

I love bringing her up so I shan't apologize, but Beyoncé was right when she said people don't want to put in the work anymore. They really don't!

Now sometimes, people do great work, they put in the hours, they sacrifice and they still lose. It happens, life is a game of luck.

But I'm sorry, as I've said before, whether it be on the macro or micro level, I will not excuse your shoddy work, watch your film, subscribe to your YouTube channel, dedicate time to listening to your podcast or buy your music if I do not feel as though you have given 110 percent effort into making good content.

Far too many cruise on doing the bare minimum and calling it worthy when it's just not the case. In 2018 I don't want to see it anymore.

Step your cookies up.

She's back! Like Lazarus, I rise, having been assaulted by the creativity bug once more! Dumped in the pool of inspiration! Soaked in the salts of imagina-

okay, okay, I'm done.

Remember when I said I would try to do 10 posts a month?!


That big lie.
(I'm working on being better, forgive me)

Fresh from a short-lived hiatus spent going through lulls in creativity because nothing is exciting to me anymore lounging poolside in Croatia with my manservant/slave/sugar daddy (gotta speak these things into existance, ya know - manifest your destiny now, ladies, gents and others), I came to a debilitating realization:

One day, Beyoncé and Rihanna, my decades-long faves, will retreat into the shadows, and...*chokes back tears* leave me. And then I thought - cresting upon a sadness bearing the emotional weight equivalent only to the opening scene in The Prince of Egypt when Yocheved released Moses into the Nile - who will be the girl/guy/otherkin to take their place?

Not legitimately take their place because icons are immortal, but you know what I mean - who would be the next One I would watch?

Then I really got to thinking about all my black femme faves, and awash with the same shock Wendy Williams had before infamously passing out on the stage of her eponymous talk show, I had to step back and realize that the young black femme's of today...were doing absolutely nothing for me.

And neither were the biracials black adjacents!

I had a serious 'come to Jesus' moment as I realized there was nothing connecting me to or moving me towards becoming a long-term, dedicated fan of..well any of these new under-25s. Save for a superficial appreciation of "looks", admiring finely curated public personas and images that tricked the unknowing public into thinking they shared an ostensibly close bond (because all social media is a rife with over-familiar, boundary crossing behavior and attitudes) and cosigning of well-timed, agreeable soundbites spouting The Various Things People Want You To Say/You Should Say In Order To Appear Like A Well-Adjusted, Progressive Member Of Society™, I found myself blanking on what tied me to...any of the new 'it' girls. Besides shared blackness, I came to realize I had nothing to give the kids outside of an, "I'm rooting for you, sis!"

Now the appreciation of all of that is fine and dandy, I see nothing wrong with enjoyment of the superficial - it is how most every member of a now notoriously noxious family has maintained and, by proxy, extended its star power to those with which they affiliate. However, in the age of the social media starlet, it has become harder and harder to discern just what I deem makes someone worthy of more than just passive appreciation.

Which I emphasize especially in this irritating age where soundbites about social justice are commodified and used shallowly as 'get in with public favor and watch your star shine and rise!' (well...depending on your skin color...) points. Pair that alongside constant boast of follower counts and social media engagement as though such requires extreme talent and you've got your modern star!




Me, I have been waiting with bated breath for the day I can look on the television or listen to an album and think, "this is someone whose career I believe is worth watching."

Full stop.

Not, "well, I should support them because they Black, and I'm Black, and we both think Black Lives Matter, and girrrrrl, did you read their interview with Vogue?!?!! They smart and down for the cause as hell!! And OMG, SOOOOO good looking!!!1!!

Just, "I like them, they have IT, the thing worth watching, and I want to see where this is going."

A lot of people are not like me. And I mean like me in the sense that it takes less for some to go gung ho, balls to the walls all in with their 'faves'. Sometimes all some need is a look here, a good photo there, a hashtag here, a sprinkle of fake relativity there, and a - to loosely pull from Tumblr - pastel tinted image with some sort of ~ soft ghetto ~  (aka Black American-culture based iconography as worn and performed by nonblack or half-black people; may also include images/tokens from the Black diaspora and other colorblind racism driven nonsense) aesthetic over here.

Voilà, you have the makings of someone worth fawning over - your modern young starlet.

I used to be very befuddled as to why such was the case, why so many people literally creamed their pants and willfully bowed down at the alter of fairly boring, average people who hopped onto a social media platform and only utilized it to pout and flick hair out of their faces when I realized: people are more attune to support things that are:

1. Popular - we all succumb to the intrigue of the leader's appeal, and
2. They can objectify

It is easy to assign the "It" factor to those who have amassed a following and do not speak - or at least...those who speak but are either mimicking popular opinion or just flat out not being listened to. Once the star(let) has broken these two rules, people quickly realize just how little IT they have.

No one stands out if everyone is doing the same thing.

It's hard to separate from the rest, but that does not stop me from wanting to see someone who does.

When we applaud a certain prototype, the bigwigs pulling the strings and opening the doors see that as a cosign of what they think we want, and then the mass production begins and things very quickly devolve from risque and fresh, to sterile and boring.

I'm so sorry, but a lot of these under 25s are sterile and boring to me - I just cannot force a long-lasting relationship with multiple carbon copies of the same girl, though I've tried.

Oh, how I have tried.

But being subpar is more distracting to me than outstanding marketability.

Also fictive kinship is one hell of a motherf*cker, I'll tell you that.

And other people will guilt you with it, too! They'll make you feel like you're not down for "The Culture" (which...shut the hell up with that, everything is "for the culture" this, "for the culture" that, empty ass phrase - ya'll ruin everything) if you so dare as to not geek out over someone/something because, "YoU're boTH BUH-laCK! WhY WoulDn'T yoU!?!?" you're essentially seen as anti this faux progress we've been told is happening across industries.

Sorry, I'm no longer in the business of pretending to be satisfied with mediocrity just because it comes from the imagination of somebody black and/or black adjacent.

Also, well damn, can't a b*tch just be tired of the trite bull being thrown at me?

Maybe I'm tired of seeing the fast to come, fast to go, endless Aaliyah/Beyoncé/Rihanna/Erykah Badu cosplayers with half the drive and half the talent?

Maybe I'm tired of seeing the same lightskinned black/biracial girls flit across my media devices, playing some sort of character meant to turn them into The Next Serious "Black" Actor™ à la Halle Berry. All the while dark skinned/monoracial Black actresses fight an uphill battle against becoming slowly pigeonholed into the Meagan Good 'Sexpot' or Gabrielle Union "Mean Girl" archetypes before they hit 30?

Maybe I'm tired of being lectured about and spoon fed one-dimensional, fanservice social justice from an industry teeming with sexual predators and various others complicit in the vile abuse of power, colorism, racism and sexism?

Maybe I'm just tired of watching Black people be relegated to biopics, slave narratives and other props that enclose them in a box?

Maybe I'm just tired of it?

Just because I don't see it for the doll doesn't mean you don't have to.


I say all of this to say that I am waiting, impatiently at this point because I'm not getting any younger, and in two years I will no longer be part of the most important core target audience demographic (18-25), and I am already confused by all these little bad ass, colored hair, emo/trap/druggie rappers that keep popping up out the woodwork like cockroaches behaving like they ain't got any kinds of sense, just running around out here like they weren't born in the year 2000 so that means I'M GROWN, you not grown, don't know who the hell you are lil' boy but I'm tired of seeing your grilled mug pop up on my TL looking like you ain't never had a praying granny, auntie, momma, sistercousin not never in your life, got my younger sister out here talking about some 'listen to Lil' Pump and XXXtradarkeyes' heelllll no! Meanwhile they keep trying to force feed me the same lighskinned girl singing like them indie songbirds on Vine, but because she got straightbacks, says 'ya'll' and dress like Aaliyah aka hip-hop Barbie meets Kill Bill, I'm supposed to stan, meanwhile they only got room for biracial usually lightskinned black girls on the big screen, while the dark black ones either get limited to biopics and other spectaculars if they're not completely pushed to the background and maybe only like three dark black girls are actually on television and only two got the starring roles, and one show I don't watch the other ain't even come out yet, and I ain't gonna watch it because DCTV ain't been good in a hot minute, and I don't trust the CW to do anybody black right ever since they had the NERVE to cancel The Game and Everybody Hates Chris like those weren't two good ass shows and now we're either stereotypical attitude girls or meek one dimensional support systems, where is my Girlfriends, my All of Us, my One on One? No, now everyone only know Love and Hip-

Woah.

Excuse my rant...

*Puts down Metamucil, and takes off Cosby Coogie sweater*

I...I say all of this to say, there comes a point in time where the colored girl has reached the end of the road and says: enough is enough. I am tired of the Hollywood machine not taking its time to invest in the lasting star power or inherent talent of any under 25 Black/Black adjacent artist. I'm tired of being force fed an oversaturated, hastily produced, poorly constructed carbon copy of the same girls and ideas that are, frankly, not worth my attention or time. To add insult to injury, I'm also tired of being told that these "lil quick things" - to loosely paraphrase Beyoncé - are worthy of my accolades and enagagement. Sorry, they're just not sticking like glue.

I only remain optimistic because of the coup that is...seemingly...taking place, but I'd like to see things change.

Soon.

If you did not know, I am an inordinately stubborn person. This means I typically enjoy doing things in my own way and am - more often than not - quite reluctant to ask for, or be the recipient of, help. It is not a reflection of the ones reaching out to me in my moments of distress that I write this post for, but to the others like me.

The ones who love to give advice but hate taking it.

The ones so headstrong, their tunnel vision refuses to allow them to see the multitudes of people waiting in the sidelines ready to offer assistance if need be.

It's okay to *gags* ask for *gags again* help.

Okay, I'm being dramatic, but this is a bitter pill I am slowly attempting to swallow.

I don't know what specific character deficit I've acquired that used to see asking for help as a sign of weakness, but the growing pains that have accompanied my attempts to evolve this behavior are fascinating to *adjusts glasses* unpack.

The relative monotony of my daily life is starting to prove problematic. To be honest, as of late, the mundanities of my standard day has proved itself totally uninspiring. The seemingly never ending routine of waking up, going to work, coming home and going to sleep have become acts I dread doing. Save for the occasional weekend spent out with my gworls, there is currently no excitement in my life.

As someone who finds release in creating, I'm not entirely sure what this lapse is symptomatic of - could be outright boredom, dissatisfaction or the ennui that has haunted me for the past couple months. Alas, unlike DJ Khaled, I do not have the keys to solve my problems.

*flips hair out of eyes* *takes imaginary sip of white wine like I'm Carrie mother-fin' Bradshaw*

To be frank, I think I'm starting to hate the non-creative working world.

My continual existence in the "9 to 5 just to stay alive world" Beyoncé sang about is damn near boring me to tears, and actively draining my happiness daily.

My fear of failure and instability will never allow me to leave the safety net of working an every day job. Unlike the few Twitter entrepreneurs who ceaselessly encourage people to drop everything and take up their passions full time, my being is just not wired to behave in that way.

The advice, I realize, though it comes from a well-meaning (slightly condescending) place, is highly flawed. Not everyone can just drop everything and go - capitalism doesn't adhere to those rules.
Also, I'm the child of African parents - if you cannot produce evidence of work or excuse behind why you are not working, your failure will constantly be held up to you like a mirror.

And in comes Monica Charles Brooks-Dent.

From what little I can remember (I'll start eating those almonds soon enough) of Girlfriends, Monica was your typical High Strung SuperBitch with a cliche redemption arc. I hated her because her presence in the series meant a new character whose bougie countenance wasn't as easy to swallow as Toni Childs'. Also, the ensuing demise of William's friendship with the core four (and later, *sniffles*, three) ladies was a symptom of her annoyingly misplaced jealousy. Regardless of my own personal feelings towards this very fictional character, the speech pictured in the image is a gem. Sure, within the context of this scene, it is spring boarded off Monica's desire to maintain a lifestyle she believes is owed to her and, by proximity, her partner, but still, the message applies.

(Again, her adoration of the superficial was...a lot to take in at the time.)

(Speaking of which, whyyyyy was 12-year-old me watching Girlfriends?)

Monica was attempting to persuade William to ditch dressing up as Santa for a young


and instead host a party for the partners at his law firm, thereby guaranteeing his promotion to senior partner.

Of course, life in the Girlfriends universe was never simple, and William thought he could do both.

But see, here's the thing - he couldn't, and I don't want to do both.

I want to be totally happy choosing the decision that will not cause me to want to gouge out my eyeballs or drown me in regret x years from that moment.

Listen, I'd sooner chew through bricks than not live an extraordinary life.

I mean, of course, now I don't really have that much of a choice *stares at my empty ass bank account*, but I refuse to allow myself to live a nondescript life of mid-level ordinariness. If I'm unhappy with it now, imagine what it could be like in 10+ years?

Yeah, no. I refuse to allow it.

My dissatisfaction is temporary - I will and can live the life I so desire. I command and speak/write that into existence, Monica style.

She may have been a *Lauren Conrad voice* sucky person, but every once in a while, her presence was appreciated and her gems were timeless.

So, here's to Monica...and following your heart, I guess.

(Also, watch the episode, because Girlfriends was amazing, and so underappreciated.)