21 Apr 2014

May 5th can’t come soon enough. No, I’m not super excited for Cinco de Mayo, because Lord knows I’m all set with appropriated holidays and am up for drinking margaritas any day of the year.


What I can’t wait for is the return of Love and Hip Hop Atlanta!!!!!! Season 3!!!!!!!!!!

That supertrailer was everything! Kirk Frost ole trifling behind swabbing that little baby’s cheek, when he knows good and hell well that he was the one stepping out on Rasheeda. Lil’ Scrappy is back to his two-timing ways and, quite frankly, I’m just wondering who are these women who continue to date him.  Wacka Flacka and his boo seem to have replaced that couple that favor BJ and Baby Bop.

You can't unsee it.

You can’t unsee it.

Speaking of faces from the milk carton, Karlie Red has dusted off Yung Joc and brought him to the telly—although you couldn’t tell me nothing about “It’s Going Down” back in the day. Joseline and Stevie have rented a place down the street from Nene and Porsha—cause you know none of these negroes have the credit to buy these McMansions. And Stevie Jr. Nikko and Mimi have a fully produced porn video sex tape (Trust that this trailer is NSFW!)

Of course some of the funniest stuff to come out of this revelation are all the memes devoted to Mimi’s rather acrobatic sexual stylings, especially involving a certain shower rod. Case in point:

kanye beyoncesurfboard homedepot

Long live the shower rod! But don’t let that move take away your security deposit or put your behind in the ER.

big lots

Nevertheless, I’m most interested in how we are talking about sex in the wake of this “scandal.” Despite Mimi’s slut shaming of Joseline in the past two seasons for the latter’s history of sex work, I wasn’t surprised at this sex tape business. For one, Funky Dineva reported on this last fall and, two, hypocrisy and patriarchy often go hand in hand. What I’m finding so interesting about this moment is the public reaction to the sex tape.  I appreciated the nuanced and at times hilarious commentary on from HuffPost Live (Treva and Jamilah in particular), Anti Intellect, Awesomely Luvvie, and The Grio.  But I’ve also seen a lot of shit talking, shaming, and respectability politics across Twitter, on Facebook threads, and on Instagram. And of course our favorite relationship expert Steve Harvey had to weigh in with his janky ass advice. Ain’t nobody got time for that! Meanwhile, all of the folks blasting Mimi have nary a word to say about Nikko.

No, that's that suspicious at all.

No, that’s that suspicious at all.

I’m not sure that Mimi’s age or the fact that she has a daughter says as much about her as it does about us. Pornography and other types of sex work are often the places where even the most feminist of feminists draw the damn line, and I’m not sure that this hardline approach is helpful for feminism as an ideology or as a lived practice for us navigating and negotiating life in a whole range of circumstances.


Rather than a moment of us shaking our heads at “another Black woman making poor choices,” I think this is an opportunity for us to think more energetically about sex, shame, and desire. To me, this is really about Mimi trying to leverage her platform as a reality star and get some coins–which seems to have worked out thus far. Ultimately, it may not work out the way she likes (she might want to holla at Montana Fishburne) but I’m not sure that this decision makes her a horrible person or mother, quite frankly. This move is probably not going to land her on the cover of Vogue, but that does not seem to be her motivation. And, to be honest, she seemed to be having a hell of time in that bathroom. #showerrod

What are your thoughts on Mimi and her foray into the porn industry?

14 Apr 2014

but we don’t see her enough.

to know she’s not stronger than steel

that super-human shit is made for TV

but made for real life



we matter

but we don’t hear ourselves enough.

screams are muted by stereotypes and assumptions

that swallow and misunderstand our words

when they are not softly-spoken

or standardized

making us feel foreign

in our own damn land

we belong here

because we belong everywhere

we matter

but we are not present enough.

forced, always, to think ahead

and defend ourselves

to think back

and protect ourselves

blackgirls lives

are fleeting

taken away

at the hands of people we love

sometimes at our own hands

because being black when the world sees you as all wrong

is like a degenerative disease

with an expensive ass cure

we matter

our sadness is not a pathology

we are not pathological

please pay attention to our/my/their pain

please let me/us/them know they matter

I never thought I would live to be the age that I am.  It wasn’t just sadness and lack that convinced me, it was the utter disregard for who I was in the world.  I never thought that anyone would give a damn that I was gone or miss me.  I imagined relief at the news.  I imagined indifference.  Finally, that little black girl is not taking up any more space in the world.

Suicide happens because death feels preferable to living.  It doesn’t mean I’m crazy, it means I’m human, it means that I hurt, it means that I matter.  Blackgirls need reassurance, love, affirmation, understanding, quiet, noise, Jesus, Allah, themselves, to be, our mamas, our sister-girls, lovers, time, enough money to get by, for our biologicals to bother, to be chosen, to be recognized, to  be celebrated, to be held up on a pedestal barefoot and proud, to be told relentlessly and unapologetically that we are beautiful, to be listened to, to be heard, a space to fall apart, a space to be put back together again, help, justice, truth, to know they matter.

When you see a blackgirl, smile.  She is a gift to the world.

When you hear a blackgirl speak, listen.  She is a gift to the world.

When you are in the presence of a blackgirl, look.  She is a gift to the world.

Blackgirls matter.  Those of us who breathe and those of us no longer breathing.

In Loving Memory of Karyn Washington, and other blackgirls we have lost.  Please use the comments section to call the names of other blackgirls we have lost too soon.

28 Mar 2014

Some spoilers ahead. You’ve been warned.


Watching Scandal is a weekly ritual for me. I love to sit back on my couch, phone in hand (cause I gotta get my tweet on), and revel in the ridiculousness of this frothy primetime soap. Shoot, sometimes I bust out red wine and popcorn too.

scandal meme

After my tweets and retweets, I go onto the Facebook and laugh and kiki with the Facebook folks about their thoughts. I even click “like” on the statuses of the Scandal haters who clown the rest of us. It’s all good fun. Then I love reading recaps by Awesomely Luuvie and seeing what the doll, Miss Funky Dineva, has to say on YouTube. It’s a whole community experience that I thoroughly enjoy, especially since my Thursdays usually involve three hours of commuting, responding to tons of emails, teaching, unproductive meetings, and the like. Scandal is not just a show, it’s an event and I thoroughly enjoy it.

hoc & scandal

Since Netflix has released House of Cards, there’s been a lot of comparison to Scandal. On the one hand that makes sense, since both series are wildly popular political dramas that feature sex, intrigue, and duplicitous backroom dealing. Now, while House of Cards is another political drama that I enjoy (I’m halfway through season one, so no spoilers, people!), there is, to be honest, not that much of a comparison. In my mind, House of Cards is filet mignon, while Scandal is a greasy burger. And sometimes a sista just wants a greasy burger.


And sometimes a sista needs to pop some Tums cause it’s too much. It just depends.

So, I watched last night’s episode and, for the most part, got my entire life. Like many others, I had waited with baited breath for the show’s return after it’s winter hiatus. But I thought the season started off a bit slow. Well, series creator Shonda Rimes is known for giving viewers the okey doke and the last few episodes have been wild rides that have kept me on the edge of my seat.

The moment in last night’s episode that really had me hollering was when Mama Pope told Olivia that she was simply “the help.”



You is is smart...You is important? Maybe.

You is kind…you is smart…you is important? Maybe.

h/t Awesomely Luvvie. Made by

h/t Awesomely Luvvie. Made by

the help2

Y’all ain’t shit for this!

And then when Cyrus was basically like, “Yeah, girl, you the maid and I’m the butler.” Dead again.

To be honest, when Mama Pope read Olivia for filth those lines from that horrible, horrible, horrible movie The Help did come in mind. And the moment underscored one thing I am definitely not here for in Scandal—Olivia being everything to everybody and nobody to herself. I love how this character stomps through the White House, slaying everyone in a five mile radius with her flawless coats and Indian Remy, but the character’s isolation (where are her homegirls?) and undeserved allegiance to a corrupt government is both tired and played.

Now the series has toyed a bit with the issue of Olivia being akin to a modern Sally Hemmings. And I don’t think those comparisons are completely inappropriate, though what I’m not here for is any even remote inkling of slut shaming or respectability politics. Let’s just leave that mess at the door and feel free to take it with you on the way out. What I am interested in, however, is the ways in which the series has moved to overemphasizing an uninteresting romance instead of developing a character that has the potential to be so very fierce. C’mon, Shonda! Give Olivia some more depth and at least one homegirl. I know there has to be at least one Black or Brown sista in the DMV that doesn’t want to kill her or sleep with her dude(s)!

I mean, I love a guilty pleasure as much as the next person (revisit my first paragraph if you don’t believe me) but I’m a tired unto death of seeing the lip quivering, deer in headlights non-romance between Fitz and Olivia, their undeniable sexual chemistry notwithstanding. And then all this mess around “saving the republic.” Now I get that Scandal is just a delightfully trashy melodrama, but lots of people actually believe that mess and I think seeing this played out week after week reminds me of that foolishness. Can’t the show just go back to “fixing” juicy political scandals every week?

What are your thoughts on Scandal, fam?

24 Mar 2014


I was a little late to the game when Beyoncé’s self-titled album first dropped.  I am not an Apple user so I had to wait a week before I had access to the visual album “seen” around the world.   Except for Flawless, which has since become somewhat of a personal feminist “girl, get your life, you got this” anthem and the two songs released on YouTube in the interim (Drunk in Love and XO, and the controversies surrounding them), I was limited to the album summation of friends which varied from, “Girllllllllll….” to “I prefer the ‘Get Me Bodied’ Beyoncé and this album is more grown woman.  You will probably like it, though.”

It wasn’t until after Christmas that I finally copped the album to serve as a soundtrack on my drive back to Alabama from North Carolina, but even then it took me another few weeks before I sat down to watch the “visual” version.  It was a stunning visual experience—artful, decadent, thoughtful.  My fascination with it all, though, was definitely linked to the grown-woman aspect of the album.  This is a far cry from her “Bootylicious” days.  While Beyoncé talking about sex is nothing new, this album stands out because of how she talked about it.  This was not a sing-along (or love song).  This was serious business.

When I was in my twenties some of my older homegirls would say that sex is better post-30, because you are more confident, you know what you want/like/need, you are less self-conscious, less concerned about being called a freak, and comfortable in your body/skin.  Beyonce’s album spoke to me like those homegirls, offering a commentary on grown woman sex(uality).  She went there!  From the provocative adlibs on Blow and Rocket to the unrepentant Yoncé interlude, this album, not unlike others in her repertoire, is an exercise in cockiness.   However, this album ain’t about love or romance.   It’s about pleasure and how/why you should get yours.

It’s no wonder that she got some flak for that, right?  Black women who are undeniably and unapologetically sexual beings get punished, right?  I mean she’s what, a grown-ass 32 y.o. self-made millionaire (who happens to have a husband and a baby).  She couldn’t possibly have a commentary on pleasure politics… FOH. 

Speaking of pleasure principles, this album, for me, is reminiscent of Janet Jackson’s Damita Jo album that dropped 10 years ago.  Damita Jo (Jackson’s middle name and seeming alter ego that represented her sexually uninhibited self, not unlike Beyoncé’s Sasha Fierce who is intentionally absent and no longer necessary for grownwoman Beyoncé to talk sex and mean it) is an album full of raunchy sexcapades and orgasmic declarations.  It was an album in which Jackson owned her sexuality and named it.  It was empowering and shocking.  In the song ”Moist” she says, “I’m insatiable and its all your fault, so much lust involved to get me off, my water falls, your sexuality breeds a storm inside me, a touch is all I need to make me scream obscenities”… sound familiar?  And in “Warmth,” an ode to oral sex, she brags that “nothing compares to the warmth of her mouth,” reminding her lover in the end that it is, “her turn” and he I expected to return the favor.  I see parallels between Yoncé’s self-titled album and Jackson’s earlier efforts (particularly BK-C’s ”Partition” & JJ’s “Warmth,” and between ”Rocket” and “Moist”), though I can appreciate Beyoncé’s album in a way I didn’t appreciate Jackson’s.  I wasn’t ready to 10 years ago.  I wasn’t old enough yet.  Cheers to grownwomanhood. (And copping that Damita Jo).

And what of the respectability politic/s?  Does a (black) woman have to be married to talk openly about her sexual needs and desires?  In our backward and patriarchal culture it would seem so.  Ms. Jackson wasn’t married when she dropped Damita Jo (though she was involved in an intense and long-term relationship with Jermaine Dupri at the time), and her album, while decent, didn’t do well and got lukewarm reviews.  Beyoncé’s grownwoman sex album broke records.  As one friend pointed out, she prefaces some of the sex talk with a call and response of her married name instructing the audience at a concert to say, “Hay Mrs. Carter” as if in an effort to remind folk that “she married now” and can have (and talk about) all the good sex she pleases.  But a UK newspaper didn’t give a damn about her marital status when they called her a whore after she performed Drunk in Love at the Grammy awards–with her husband.  I guess only men are allowed to talk about sex in their lyrics and in public without being called out their name.  I wonder what would happen if Ms. Jackson (now married) did an update of Damita Jo.  Is she old enough to say those things?  Has she been married long enough?  Or is she discounted for not having birthed a child?

Anyway, one way of pushing back against the attempt to silence (black) women’s sexuality is to embrace it out loud!  I pulled five pleasure principles from the Beyoncé album that I think are useful for feminist sex practices.  And while I’m not making an argument one way or another about Beyonce’s potential feminism, because a fellow CF has done that already, I am advocating for the sex positive theme throughout her album.

5 Things I Learned About Sex From Beyoncé

1)      Sex doesn’t have to be romantic to be mind-BLOWing.  In Blow, Yoncé  prefaces an anthem with, “This is for all my grown women out there” and goes on to talk about getting that cherry turned out.   I ain’t mad.

2)      Be spontaneous. In Partition she talks about getting dressed up to go out but having a quickie on the way to the spot, “Took 45 minutes to get all dressed up, but we ain’t even gon’ make it to this club.”  Why not?

3)      Be confident.  Being sexy = being confident.  In ***Flawless she talks about letting folk know, “I woke up like this…” (flaws and all).  Confidence is embracing all that we are and serving it.  That’s right.

4)      Talk ish.  While she has discussed verbal/sexual wordplay in previous songs (i.e., Ego) it comes through strong on this album.  From the back and forth banter on Drunk in Love to the cocky confidence of ***Flawless, she urges women to speak their mind and make it known that we recognize our beauty, brilliance and sexual talents.  Flawless.  Damn right.

5)      Give instructions.  Rocket is my favorite.  A follow up to mid-90s D’Angelo How Does It Feel she offers a credo that blends desire and possibility.  The specificity of her words and the details of the encounter help paint a picture without the corresponding video. Rocket (rock it) to waterfalls, indeed. 

18 Mar 2014


Anyone who knows me knows that I stan for Janet Mock. So, I couldn’t wait to get my hot little hands on her book, Redefining Realness: My Path to Womanhood, Identity, Love and So Much More. What took a minute was finding the time to read it—and I’m so glad I finally did!


Talk about keeping it real. Redefining Realness is a memoir where Mock lays bare the intimate details about her childhood and journey to being true to herself. She talks about it all—sharing stories of growing up in Hawaii and on the mainland, her parents’ battles with drug addiction and violence, her experience of childhood abuse, her time as a sex worker, her friendships and relationships, and her decision to transition. Considering how invasive cis folks can be into the lives of trans folks (remember that cringeworthy interview between Katie Couric, Laverne Cox, and Carmen Carrera a few months back?), I think Mock’s decision to share as much as she does is pretty astounding. Her choice to share so much of her life is brave and bold and I respect her deeply for inviting readers into her life.

Mock signifies on Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God a few times throughout the text and with good reason. Redefining Realness is a rare autobiography in that it reads less like a memoir and more like a conversation with a homegirl.  As I was reading I kept on thinking about the relationship between Pheobe and Janie in Their Eyes. I think Janet’s conversational tone and accessibility that made me feel like I was on my couch with a friend sharing secrets rather than reading a carefully constructed narrative. That, I think, is a gift and one that makes this book imminently readable.

 Janet Mock / Via

Janet Mock / Via

As the title suggests, one of the book’s aims is to trouble the notion of what is “real.” Janet Mock certainly challenges the notion that hegemonic cissexist standards of beauty, particularly the notion that trans women should be able to “pass,” is a goal to aspire to. Over time, for Janet being “real” means living in her truth, participating in loving relationships, being accountable to others, and following her passions.

Although Redefining Realness definitely has some feel good takeaways within its pages, it does not sugarcoat a damn thing. As we all know, life is often dangerous for queer women of color. Look at Britney Cosby and Crystal Jackson, a lesbian couple that was recently murdered, allegedly by Cosby’s own father. Or Islan Nettles, who was beaten to death by a man in a transphobic rage. Or Cece McDonald, who spent months in prison after defending herself against transphobic attackers. This list could go on and on.

So, another thing I appreciated about Redefining Realness was the way in which Janet made it clear that her experience as trans woman was both singular and representative. That is, she is in no way a representation of all trans women’s experiences, but at the same time, some of her life experiences mirror the experiences of so many women, trans and cis, living, loving, and trying to make a way in a world where we were never meant to survive. To that end, Mock writes:

“We need stores of hope and possibility, stories that reflect the reality of our lived experiences. When such stories exist, as writer and publisher Barbara Smith writes, ‘then each of us will not only know better how to live, but how to dream.’ We must also deconstruct these stories and contextualize them and shed a light on the many barriers that face trans women, specifically those of color and those from low-income communities, who aim to reach the not-so-extraordinary things I have grasped: living freely and without threat or notice as I am, making a safe, healthy living, and finding love. These things should not be out of reach.”

I see Redefining Realness illuminating one of many stories of trans experiences, stories that are far too often ignored or relegated to the sidelines or sensationalized, even in supposedly inclusive queer spaces. I hope that the book, and the recent public interest in trans folk such as Laverne Cox and Carmen Carrera, will not only shine a light on these famous individuals, but also spark interest in the lives of everyday trans people and support the grassroots organizations advocating in trans communities.

Have you read the book? What are your thoughts on Redefining Realness?

2013 OUT100 Gala