That is Wack!

So as Amaretto mentioned earlier this week, we ladies saw He’s Just Not That Into You. And whilst we were all adding our own commentary to punch up the movie and entertain the masses, I noticed something: there were nooo black folk. Now allegedly, the movie was based in Baltimore. Yes, that Baltimore. You telling me they couldn’t get one black couple to round out this romantic flick? We couldn’t get a Raven Symone or a Tia/Tamera Mowry to portray a young, cute single black woman who is also looking for love?

Oh I’m sorry, thinking back on the flick, I realize I am mistaken. There were black people. There was Frangela, a comedy (and I’m using that term very loosely) duo who served as some “comedic relief” in between the movie's storyline. They threw out some tired, tired lines and served as the obligatory funny, fat, black women. And there was some random, “hip” black guy who talked jive and schooled whitey. Yeah it was pretty wack.

Now normally I’m not a fan of the token black character. I mean we’ve all seen them in television and film. There’s the black person who just happens to live next door and comes over to provide some sass, slang and chuckles- there's no need to provide a link as too many shows fall under this category. There’s the black postal worker who just happens to become bffs with the white woman she delivers mail to and just happens to be able to sing and play the piano thus making her the perfect addition to the white woman’s garage band. And then there’s this type of black character:



Ahhh we've all seen that type of character. That's a classic! And so when I think back on tv and film black/white relationships, the only one I find remotely believable is, Doug & Deacon’s friendship on King of Queens. Check a clip when Doug & Deacon were on strike and bored out of their minds!

Deacon is not merely comedic relief to Doug. He is not the know it all black person. Often times, he is the more level headed one, while Doug is acting a fool. I love how on the show, the two of them challenge each other, call each other out on their bullshit, discuss their marriage, job, regular life shit, in a normal way. And they acknowledge their obvious differences (read racial) through honest, healthy and funny dialogue. I love how they actually gave Deacon a storyline – him dealing with the separation from and the eventual reunion with his wife. And they make Deacon, Kelly and the kids, just a normal, everyday, family. That is also black. And knows they’re black. And I’d like to see more of that.

In a real and believable way of course. Because when the NAACP was protesting Friends and Seinfeld for not having any black people- like Neffe the great, I was like "are you serious?" I mean did they look like the type of white people who would have black friends? Like really. And so I wonder, if the idea of puting a black couple in He's Just Not That Into You even crossed the writers minds. I mean do they have black friends? Do they know how we get down? That we too have relationship problems? I mean if anybody knows, it's a black woman who knows what it's like to be single and "looking for a man!" Did they not know any of this? Or did they and just not give a fcuk? Did they not care about everyone’s favorite buzz word ‘diversity’ and its cousin multiculturalism? Did they not think black people needed to be represented? Or were they simply mirroring what they know?

Mayhap it’s because in real life, even in this ‘we are all one Nation, all united, post-racial, above race, Obama world', in reality, we still live our lives separate and apart from one another. Sundays at church are still very much segregated in America. Schools. Towns. Neighborhoods. Offices -Black folk partying on the 5th floor in the mail room. Everyone else in their cubicles, with a sprinkle of us in majority population. I mean you had people in Montana, debating with themselves about voting for Obama because they didn’t know any black people. Shit. I went to a bar's trivia night in a recently gentrified neighborhood in D.C. and it was just me and my homegirl. Two black chicks who helped our team by answering all the ‘black people’ questions. Oh shit. We were tokens! That is wack!

That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

Oh yeah for those who get down like that, to quote the great prophet Andre 3000 aka Cupid Valentino, "HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY! Everyday is the 14th..."

we just don't care...

with valentine's day right around the corner, all things love have been springing up on every corner, in every drug store aisle. big ass balloons blocking out the light, crushing down on you and getting in your way as you try to make your way to the feminine products aisle. and then you run into a couple of teenagers hiding behind the magazines making out. yuck! (or not).

pda's. public displays of affection. the great cultural divide.

once upon a time (during my golden years of middle school) i thought pda's were never appropriate, at any time, in any place, with any body involved. yeah it was a bit extreme but i felt it was the best rule. a total ban, like prohibition, was the only workable solution because if you let a few situations and circumstances slip through the cracks, all hell would break loose and folks would be gettin' busy on the streets.

but as with most things, i've mellowed out a bit from my all or nothing stance on pda's (plus drugs, guns and a whole host of other things). i think pda's are ok. more than ok...they are pretty f'ing awesome. in fact i was involved in my very first pda a few days ago. it was the first time that i kissed (like tongue-me-down-kissed) someone in a crowded room (and on a public street) with other people watching (and wondering) and i just didn't care. it was wonderful, liberating and delicious. le sigh...

and it made me wonder, why had i been so diametrically opposed to pda's before? was it the hater in me, that because i wasn't gettin any pdaction, no one else could either? or were my judgments based on the couple: how they looked, how old they were, their respective sexes, the setting, the amount of saliva exchanged, the time of the month, etc.? me no know.

what i do know is that there still exists for me a line between acceptable (and enjoyable) pda's and exhibitionism. the line begins to form when paws become involved, groping breasts, legs, in between legs, etc. then i need ya'll to get a room. for realz.

but where is that boundary for you? query that as we approach valentine's day cause folks will be gettin' their pda on with increased frequency over the next few days.

happy pre-vday everyone. i leave you with j. legend and his interpretation of the sitchy-ation (c) mrsmeany.

be the right statistic

A stone’s throw from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, you have black school children running amok. And no ladies and gentlemen, there was not a track meet, football or basketball game being played. We have black high school students who don’t understand their ass is supposed to be gettin’ an education. Allegedly these petty mofos don’t like each other so a brawl ensued. “"People don't like each other, so they start fighting," said ninth-grader Tianna Taylor. ”It's wild. Crazy. Indescribable. . . . People fighting everywhere you look."” Ladies we have got to do better. "All indications are it might have occurred over something as minor as somebody pulling somebody's hair” on Monday. Next thing you know, "a large group of females engaging in just a big fight" in the lunchroom.

So of course police came and locked the school down. I wish I was a fly on the wall in the homes of these mofos because part of me wonders what they’re parents told them last night? I wonder if today their homeroom teachers might share this article by Courtland Milloy, Education is Still the Pathway to Freedom. Dammit, fools get an education. “And so it is today. With more than 40 percent of blacks failing to graduate from some of the nation's largest urban school systems…” Somebody tell these kids don’t be that statistic. Be this one: “Yet, if you really want to cut black unemployment, who better to look at than those of us who have jobs? What you'll see is a strong correlation between work and education…Of the 6.8 million black men who are employed, the vast majority have at least a high school diploma. Many have college degrees or diplomas from technical schools. The same is true for the 8.4 million working black women… Now, give them each a professional degree -- and the unemployment rate all but disappears.”

If you make it out of high school and you can’t read, write, or count – no one gives a fcuk. You’ll be another statistic and folks will just pity the fool. Damn, how many times do I have to reiterate the point!

cheers,

Bellini

The Stuff Movies are Made Of

Okay, so on Saturday three of my gal pals and I saw He’s Just Not That Into You. Um wow, can I just say if it weren’t for the fact that we were four black women who enjoy talking during a movie…you know adding our on commentary and whatnot…that movie would have totally sucked! Well not totally, it was long, and it was about four white women and their adventures in dating and loving-including a chick who put herself out there waaaaaaaaaaay too much for dudes. Another chick who was living her love life online. And yet another chick who’s been living with her boyfriend for 7 years because he doesn’t believe in marriage. Saaaaaaaay what? Doesn’t believe in marriage? So despite those crazy scenarios that I’m sure women of all races and creeds can find themselves in… the scene that brought it home for me was the opening scene. Picture this, a little girl playing in the sand, spies the boy she likes walking towards her, he pushes her down (a la Chris Brown style), calls her outside her name (a la any hip hop song de jour), and walks off. Little girl left in tears runs and tells her momma all that occurs and then her momma attempts to comfort by explaining this boy’s behavior. Her momma says: Do you know why he did that? It’s because he likes you. And that ladies and few gentlemen who read the 5 spot is the problem with women folks! Chicks giving other chicks advice on how men think. Um, would you ask a thousandaire how to be a billionaire? Uh no, because it’s stupid! But that’s what women do.

Come go with me back to the tenth grade. I had the biggest, nastiest, most unholy crush on a Mister S. Smith. S-dot was in 11th grade and because I am a genius we were in the same chemistry class. Man, just thinking about S-dot today takes me back to a place when I was so young and so foolish and soooooooo in high school. Anytime I would see S-dot I would smile…not that coy crap-we are talking full out Kool-aid grin! This was also when I learned of my vast stalker potential (a potential most chicks are born with). Like hanging out in the lobby of the building that he lived in…just in case I would see him. Learning his class schedule so I could adjust my walk to classes accordingly. Just making sure that he saw me, without it being obvious that I had made it so we would run into each other. Coming to his basketball games wearing a “I love S-dot” tee shirt. I mean I course I didn’t wear the T-shirt but I was at his games, watching him run up and down that court. Oh Yes! S-dot had some nice arms and calves. Dizzaum!

Okay, I’m sorry I’m back. But the moral of the story is that I started liking S-dot because he would make fun of me. That’s right…he made jokes about me and in my chick mind that meant he wanted to be my boo. He came up with this song implying that I gave blow jobs for 50 cents during my lunch break. I mean this dude totally objectified me. And I spent countless hours with my best friend trying to figure out why? Did he call me a ho because he liked me? Did he call my house and play on my phone because he wanted to take me to homecoming? Did he torment me because he thought I was all that and a bag of chips…even though some other chick was his girlfriend? Ugh! The craziness that women folk entertain in their minds!

Best friend and I concluded that he did in fact like me, I mean why else would he torment me so? But the problem with the S-dot situation and even the with little girl playing in the sandbox was that our collective women folk minds refused to accept the fact that maybe they are just jerks for asshole sake. Because it’s clear that if a man is into you he’s going to make it happen, and he’s going to do it in a way that doesn’t leave you to ponder your self worth. It’s not going to take a team of Mensa members to figure it out. If a man wants a woman, even if he’s the most shy of them all, he’s going to make it clear. I have realized with older age and being pursued by decent men; that they have no problem expressing themselves. It’s just that women folks have a problem waiting and truly listening to what they are saying. We are quick to make excuses for our fellas whilst we wait for that date or that ring. I mean even the Bible states that a man who finds a wife, finds a good thing, not the other way around. I mean chicks shouldn’t be doing this. Why? Because we have an uncanny way of a turning no good, rotten, asshole mofo man into our freaking Prince Charming.

Oh how many heart aches could have been avoided, and strategizing conversations not have been exhausted if only we women folk had realized sooner that the little boy in the sandbox or our S-dot was no good for us?

See You In Seven

I Am Not Scared of Lions, Tigers And Bears

Hear ye! Hear ye!
I am about to get up on my own personal soap box y'all!

Recently, I offered my heart and soul up on a platter in return for true friendship comprised of honesty, trust and emotional support. The scariest thing that I have done in a while. What I received for this gesture was the following:

1. The Classic Lie
Are you seeing anyone right now? No, I am not.
It is like you need a follow-up question like "Does this person you are not seeing know that you guys are not seeing each other?" Just curious!?!

2. The Ultimate Sign of Mistrust
Why are you in pictures with other men on facebook?
I think the questions go, who, what, where and why? If you ask the first one or two there would be no need for the third and fourth.

3. Lack of Emotional Support
Why are you angry?
I can't tell you how often my sadness or disappointment is mistaken for anger. Did I say was angry? I believe I said disappointed and/or sad. You ask why are you angry when you should be asking, why are you upset.

So there you go...you see what I asked for, you promised to deliver but fell short. So explain to me why I shouldn't be scared of loving you? When I think I should keep my heart to myself.






Stepping down with much luv until next week...peace:)