Wednesday, October 14, 2015


Checkout my YouTube video above on this topic

Clicks of profiles, stats given and you are reduced to an ensemble of numerical values that lead to meaningless body movements. You are a gay millennial, devoid of Kevin Costner and a plane which takes off without you. A real date would be great, however, you often find yourself NAKED instead of nude. Your burning desire to be wanted is intertwined with the regret of wanting his body without reaching for his personality. So here you are on the floor, next to the enema, wondering if you should have just gone out for pizza with your straight friend instead....

Has protocol already been established, that this is as good as it gets? The best date is receiving a blowjob from the Grindr boy with the great abs who stays to watch American Horror Story after licking cum off your left nipple. Ah yes, cuddled up against the dried semen of his abdomen while watching Lady Gaga claw some sluts guts out. How romantic. The macabre scene reminds you of this moment, he in your bed, clawing away at your soul with reductive sex. You are brutally addicted to the flesh while desiring love because one is readily available. You know that the best blowjob pales in comparison to the deep conversations you have with your straight bromance companion. You spare him the gory details, but you can call him whenever you want. You discuss your day while discreetly rubbing your crotch in the midst of his alpha male baritone voice. He is your best friend, your confidant, your pillow talk after a worthless hookup that you secretly wish was him instead...
or maybe you don't...
Who are we kidding, when he took his shirt off at the pool... you haven't been the same since!
And my straight friends have been hotter than this...Pray for me

The moment of truth. 

You receive intimacy from your hot straight friend, but get your rocks off with gay men. If only your straight friend were gay....but then again if he were gay, he'd be reduced to another Grindr conquest. After all, he fucks at least three different women every couple of weeks, the number of conquests would no doubt increase if he were gay. He is everything you want, but you've grown accustomed to his disease of heterosexuality. A horrible affliction that prevents him from showing you the thick cock that women seem to line up for. 

The red enticing apple that the straight God dangles in your face

(Even your slutty female friend who spilled the beans on the good you secretly hate her)
But you can relate to him, because he speaks of wanting to settle down but not being able to put down the Tinder app. He on Tinder, you on Grindr, and both of you loving each other intimately without sex. You'll never admit it to yourselves or each other, but he talks to you more than any woman. The twenty second long embrace after confiding in each other, the tasting of his beer at the bar, you make him laugh unlike Susan or Rebecca and "I love you man", came out of his lips after you talked him out of losing his shit when his crazy ex arrived at the barbecue.

Do you love him? Yes, as a friend, but you can't love him more than that, he's something like a brother to you. He's been there for you more than any gay man you've dated. People often whisper about you two because your chemistry is other worldly, but why question the chemistry?

Society attempts to delude you with the notion that you have nothing in common merely because of opposite sexualities, but yet here you are, rotating around the same nucleus. 
Me and a straight buddy back in the day lol

Why can't many of us gay men achieve intimacy with each other? Why do many of us find solace in relationships with straight men? Many may call us names, judging us and assuming we just want to conquer straight man drawls, however the heterosexual male, brings us REAL intimacy, real friendships. For many of us, we simply cannot find the same camaraderie with other gay men. You and your straight buddy are a beautiful miscegenation of two worlds, that aren't so different after all. He gets lonely, and so do you, the void is filled but not completely, because the world has told us that SEX is all encompassing. 

See, what I have with my straight friend, is a real relationship. I'll never speak of it as such to him, but spiritually, that is what it is. I am not delusional, however I know that sex is not necessary when it comes to souls merging. I of course still want love with a gay man, but I will always have my straight buddy, who gives me late nights without worrying if sex will ruin things. He TAKES ME AS I AM, while profile number seventeen, wishes I were more masculine. He pats me on my back, encourages me, while they scream, "no fats, no fems" and my "Date" looks disinterested when he realizes I make less than him. 

We break each other down as a community, meanwhile, there is an array of straight men who come into our lives prepared to build. A lot of straight men cannot be intimate with each other due to societies bullshit programming. Quiet as it's kept, many straight men seek gay men to be friends with because they are often unable to unravel to their straight buds and afraid to be vulnerable to their women who often want them to only listen to their shit. 

The gay/straight man relationship is an enigma to the world but one of the best kept secrets because it is one of the strongest bonds known to humanity. We make an excellent partnership, not only because women love gay men and straight men can benefit, but because we are MEN at the end of the day. MEN who wish to express themselves with other men. MEN who no matter who they sleep with, have similar desires. We are carnal beasts with a warm sensitive center. 

Yes straight men can find straight best buddies, but they can also find a gay buddy who won't freak out over a hug that lasts too long. Secretly, all men want to be hugged, no matter if he is in Hell's Angels or Chippendales. 

One day, I hope to find the level of intimacy that I have built with my straight buddies with a gay man. Because then, it will be coupled with sex...But that always feels like I am asking the universe for too much. Sex, intimacy and love? 

For now, I'll meet my bro at his place, where he will change my oil for me then take me out to the movies. This time, we are seeing what he wants to see, "The Martian", he's such a dork. 

If he were gay, I'd be jacking him off during the film, but he's not. (Kidding) That's right, instead I will be enjoying a witty conversation after the film instead of a shitty ass with a porn movie in the background. 

Ah, the beautiful intimacy I share with my straight buddies, and the uninspiring hookups I have with gay men from the internet.

Friday, July 17, 2015

Why Sandra Bland didn't hang herself

Why would a Black woman who stood for #BlackLivesMatter, 





It seems the American public is presumed stupid until proven otherwise. If in your naivete, you believe that Sandra Bland committed suicide in a Texas jail cell, you have to wonder what she was doing there in the first place. An improper lane change and she's still in jail three days later...
So here is the narrative that the trusty police officers are delivering....
"Bland had been pulled over in Prairie View, Texas, and previously state public safety officials had said she became argumentative and uncooperative so she was arrested on a charge of assaulting a public servant."

The twenty-eight year old woman did not properly use her signal and the police stopped her. Fine. Said police approached the vehicle and she gave them attitude. FINE. I believe that, because they probably started in on her. The woman was so irate that she kicked the officer.....
WAIT. How is a woman who is seated in her drivers seat able to kick a police officer? That would mean she would have to be outside of her car, but why was she outside of her car? Why would the cop ask her to leave her vehicle over an improper use if a signal or whatever it was?
According to witnesses, the trooper pulled her from her vehicle through the window. Bland was screaming "get your fucking hands off of me" As you would expect and a battle ensued between her and the officer on the ground. 

Here is what the witnesses say

"I couldn't tell if he slammed her down there or it was a maneuver she did trying to stop him from putting her in the car caused her to be put on the ground," McKnight said. "She was very, very upset. She wasn't trying to get in that police car," 
Said Renee McKnight who witnessed the altercation from a barber shop across the street. 

Answer me this, when you were pulled over for a minor traffic violation, did the officer drag you out of your vehicle, wrestle you and handcuff you? Is an inadequate lane change worthy of an arrest? 

What does someone have to do to scare an officer so bad that they are pulled from their car moments after being stopped? Bland didn't just leave the trap house, she was unarmed and had just landed a new job at Prairie View A&M University. I can't imagine she was a threat to that officer.
The injustice began when the officer ASSAULTED that woman, who thanked bystanders for recording it. Why would she thank them if she was the one at fault as the police are saying? It doesn't make sense. 

"She had become combative on the side of the road," Waller County Sheriff Glenn Smith said.
Smith was fired in 2008 from a previous job after accusations of racial bias

Oh but why was she on the side of the road? Most traffic stops occur like this,
You tell the offender why they are being stopped, request drivers license, registration and proof of insurance, give them a citation and you continue on your day. 

Wouldn't most people become combative after they have been physically forced out of their vehicle after a LONG day? 

And then we have this....

"In arresting Bland, the trooper "violated the department's procedures regarding traffic stops and the department's courtesy policy," state public safety officials said Friday without specifying what procedures the trooper, whose name has not been released, had violated."
I think I answered the question. That was not a ROUTINE traffic stop. 

So now the FBI is investigating and let me tell you, it seems they have a lot of lies on their hands.

When Bland was found in her jail cell three days later, she was "not breathing from what appears to be self-inflicted asphyxiation" and CPR was immediately performed, Smith said. She was pronounced dead shortly after.
Video shows Bland was alone in her cell before she died, he said.
But Elton Mathis, Waller County district attorney, said Friday that no cameras were in the jail cell where she was found dead. Cameras monitoring the hall outside her cell show no one entered or left it between the time she last spoke with deputies through an intercom system and when her body was discovered
"It appears she had used a trash bag to hang herself from a partition in the ceiling, which was used to give inmates privacy," said Mathis, who also said Bland seems to have been the only female incarcerated in the jail at the time.
The Texas Commission on Jail Standards cited Waller County jail Thursday for not properly monitoring inmates but wouldn’t say whether its citation is related to Bland's death. All inmates must be observed once every 60 minutes, and any inmate deemed suicidal must be observed in person every 30 minutes, Executive Director Brandon Wood said. 
Hanging yourself requires at lot of planning, especially in a new environment. This is a small framed woman who was more than likely physically exhausted. The act of hanging yourself is not an easy feat to accomplish successfully. You have to get a noose-like object around your neck at the right points to suffocate yourself, not to mention be at the correct amount of distance from the ground when you hang. But regardless of all of that, you have to have ample time to complete the act, and lots of it. For this woman to use a trash bag, get up to the ceiling, requiring something to aid her to reach that height, took a shit load of planning and time. Keep in mind, this is someone who was ABOUT TO BE RELEASED, or at least scheduled to be. 

Her family recently spoke to her, they aren't buying it was suicide

Why did no one physically check on her during all of the time it took her to plan and execute the suicide? I know a thing or two about a jail cell, and they tend to make sure you have nothing around you that could be used as a weapon against yourself or against others. 

Then lets look at her state of mind. 

"I talked to her Friday (a week ago) and she was in good spirits," LaVaughn Mosely said. "Although she was incarcerated, she was in good spirits. She was looking forward to posting bond Saturday and getting out. So you don't go from that to hanging yourself."
That pretty much knocks the ball out of the park for me. This was a woman who was a fighter, from the video footage we have been able to see of the altercation, she was a WARRIOR.
This was her life's work, she was in the trenches. This was something she prepared for as evidenced in her social media postings. She would not have committed suicide over something she was prepared for. An activist of Black Lives Matter, she knew that at any moment, the cops can kill you. 

Why then, would a woman who lived and breathed the knowledge of the brutality of police, attack a police officer in a southern town?

We have seen her videos, she is not stupid nor ratchet nor naive. 

A woman who screamed out, "THANK YOU FOR RECORDING THIS!" is a woman with a plan, a woman who was preparing to turn this into a civil case. A woman with a history of activism would not in a situation that she had raised awareness about, end her own life before the battle could truly be fought in court. This was a woman who wanted to be at the forefront of change, of activism. This was a woman who reportedly just spoke to a family member only hours before her death, PLANNING to be released. 

A woman who had just landed a job at her Alma mater, Prairie View A&M and a department that can't figure out if it had cameras in the jail or not. Then they couldn't figure out if they were on. 

Whether it was suicide or homicide, you be the judge. If you ask me, this woman was lynched.
I just want to stress the point that the injustice began long before this. If a trooper forces a woman out of her car, slams her on the ground, then it's plausible that the violence could have continued against her in the jail cell. It may have gone further than they expected and covered it up, staged it with a "suicide" scene. 

Freddie Gray ring a bell?

Black people, they will kill you. Their narrative will defame you. They will color you bad, tell the story of your resisting them. Something so simple to do when they can arrest you for no cause at all. Why on earth would anyone accept an arrest that isn't justified? Especially after a civilian is pulled from their car and violently slammed to the ground, unable to hear the cop. 

Sandy did not hang herself. Her story tells itself through our intuition and knowledge of our history. 
Sandy speaks. 


Wednesday, July 8, 2015

Subtle Sexy Things Men Do

Taking your shirt off like this, makes you ten times hotter
Grab the bottom, lift it over your head
and if you're built, I am melting

Because all you did was get dressed to save lives
but it looks like you got dressed to strip 

There's something sexy about men in scrubs. This gif alone is enough to make me cum

Pheromones Playground

The bar is packed, but mostly with men. It isn't a gay bar, but it's game night. All around you are cocks stuffed in Wrangler jeans and loud baritone voices. Male camaraderie transforms into a competitive exchange of curse words; it becomes intense, but your fear of a bar fight electrifies your cookies.

Ladies, you cross your leg to adjust yourself on the bar stool. Yes, the pheromones have reached your shores. The men sweat at the crescendo of the cock battle, this happens at the bar, arcade, or any form of man cave. You have frequented them all, like a feline among a pack of wolves. 

There's something about being surrounded by full fledged MAN in competition, heated debate, the energy of DICK, an orchestra of wits, it's more about the vibrations, not physicality. 

Bottle Sized 

Gay men, you'd notice this next one before any woman, the one you've been eyeing all night.
He struts out of the bathroom grabbing his dick, getting a handful of it. 

All night you've watched to see who goes toward that bathroom, somehow you missed this one. Otherwise you'd be standing next to him at a urinal, no need to explain why. He explodes out of the bathrooms swinging door with brute force, grabbing his crotch like a stress ball. Your mind plays it again and again in slow motion. Sometimes they'll exit that bathroom zipping up their pants. There's something so hot about the fact that he didn't wash his hands, forgot to zip and now he greets you, shaking your hand. You are grabbing the hand that grabbed the cock. No need to feel like a pervert, you aren't the only one who noticed, Jenna has amazing peripheral vision as she pretends to fix her hair. The way his body rocked from side to side, when he stopped in his tracts and leaned to one side, beer in one hand. The way he wrapped his lips around the mouth of the bottle, she envisioned his mouth on a sinner. 

Full Court Press

Summertime is always chock full of triggers. Balmy July afternoons invite the men to come out to play. The big brown ball is forced violently against pavement. A gang of tall, hard sweaty men grunt, sweat and fight for that ball, they want to put the ball in that hole. One of them put his hands on his hips while leaning forward, exhausted. He then wipes his soaking wet forehead, then you know what is coming next. You brace yourself as you watch from your car, licking your lips. He reaches for the bottom of his shirt, lifts it up to wipe sweat from his face. 

All is revealed, those chiseled abs, everything below the nipples. A glimpse into the forbidden, a taunting, a preview of what the rest of him beholds. One hundred percent hard, glistening, rippling man skin, has been revealed from under a drenched shirt. That forty second series of events happens again and again...Warriors pass around that ball that is covered in each others palm sweat, the same palms that no doubt adjusted nuts. Wait, Tyson just reached down under his basketball shorts to adjust his nut sack, by doing so, the V-Cut was revealed. 

Voice from Close Behind

Doing this is a guaranteed way to get pussy (or ass)

His presence surprises you. He comes from behind slowly yet aggressively. His mouth a couple of inches from your right ear, his breath hitting your neck, the spot. His energy damn near fucking you from the back and all he said was, "Are you in line?" In the middle of this supermarket, you have lost all of your thoughts. You can barely respond because you haven't even seen him yet, but with that baritone, he can get away with a lot. Sometimes, the sexiest thing a man can do, is to not be seen at all. That is when it is pure energy, unexpected...It's just a voice, but your knees are weak, nipples hardening.

Posture of Perversion

Men shouldn't sit with their legs close together all prim and proper, especially when freeballing in shorts. Fuck yes! They should take up space and lots of it. Legs should be wide, body should be leaned back, the way he always does when you ride the train to work. The jolt of the train, your hand on that hard pole trying to keep balance, every morning you wet yourself. He glances up at you, in his work pants, doesn't matter what kind, because its the position of crotch. The fold of his pants, like Mount Everest, displayed like the Hope Diamond as he reads the morning paper. You know that it is just the fold of fabric, but somehow, that doesn't stop your imagination. Somehow, it may as well be pin-striped cock. The train car bounces and you hold harder on to that pole as he looks up at you. You can't see his eyes, because yours are on his crotch. As the train bounced, you saw a thick imprint that revealed itself as his redwood legs moved. 

Brooks Brother

He looked like a regular business man, another young professional at happy hour and you didn't notice. But now that he's rolling up his dress shirt over a mound of forearm muscle, you're hooked. 

Somehow with the sleeves rolled up, he's more rugged, more man. Where the cuffs hit skin, you notice veins, veins which tell a story of a pretty strict gym routine. Loose fabric around man arms is an abomination, everything should be tight, and it is. He's not wearing an undershirt. There's nothing like a dress shirt over a bare hard muscular body. It's like the juxtaposition of sex and sophistication. Tight dress shirt over hard pecs, hard biceps, sleeves rolled up signifying a hard working man. If he unbuttons his shirt, he will expose skin, muscle, flesh. His work day is over, he stands a few feet away, his shirt unbuttoned three times...a loose tie collapsing on his chest. You can see a long triangle of skin, hint of pecs, throbbing every time he lifts his glass.

Blunt Cunt

Gay men, you love smoking weed with the trade. He always has to be the one to roll the blunt, ladies, doesn't it hint on how he will eat the box? The way he manipulates that open blunt with his wet tongue, licking it, rolling can barely compose yourself. You know that once you are high, it will be even more difficult to do so. When his eyes become slits, when he leans back in the whip, you in the passengers side placing your lips on a blunt wet with his spit. 

The blunt you watched him lick. That long tongue all over that blunt, he did it so passionately. You love watching that nigga roll that blunt with his tongue...and now, it's time for the shotgun. Open up your mouth and let all of his smoke a new phase of semen...white smoke comes rolling in your mouth, he releases it all. 
Does he know how turned on you are? It's so intimate. Spit. Smoke. Fire. 

Let it out

Don't lie, when he's drinking beer and burps loudly, you don't want him to say excuse me. It will ruin the rude barbarian sexiness that just transpired. Broken silence from a loud man burp, long and deep from his soul. May not seem subtle, but its unconventional how turned on you always are. Gay men, maybe this is more so for you, drinking with the trade. Anytime a man lets out anything, it is a subliminal form of ejaculation. A release. But just don't pass gas nigga. 

The Handshake

"Nice to meet you Kyle..." You gaze into his bedroom intense hazel eyes as your hand nearly disintegrates in his Goliath palm. His handshake is firm, strong, aggressive, commanding and his eye contact confirms confidence. He doesn't have to be built like "The Rock" to pull this off, he just has to have MAN HANDS and the command of yours. Energy flows from our extremities as humans and this is the best way for a man to melt you with a first impression. The boardroom has become a bedroom in your mind. Lets discuss an acquisition of my ass. You can still feel his hand engulfing yours, his wide slightly rough fingers, especially the index, were phallic symbols. Phallic tingles...

Say My Name

I'm bad with names, but he calls my name correctly like he's known me his entire life. And when he chooses to use my name in the beginning of random sentences, to personalize the statement. Even when he is angry, "Isayaah!!!" "Isayaah, come here!" The one you want says your name like no one matter in what context he says it. For me, it's when he doesn't overuse it, nor under use it. When he wants to include me in a group conversation, my name is announced, "Isayaah is a writer too..." It's like I matter, it's like he wants other people to see that I matter. Even if you just met and he repeats back your name, it can be magic. 

"Hey I'm Rick"

"Nice meeting you Rick, I'm Isayaah..."

"Isayaah, that's a great name, Isayaah." 

As opposed to a simple impersonal "Nice meeting you." 

He upholds your majesty by choosing to repeat your name in a variety of situations.
The calling of a King. 
Oh how subtle his sexy is for me...

and you're HUNG...

Maybe this isn't so subtle...

Tuesday, May 19, 2015



There always comes a time in your friendship, when you start letting their call go to voice mail. This of course is after the stage where you actually answer, promising to call them back, but never do. You love your friend, you really do, and you want to hangout, however...

Upon seeing their name illuminate on your phone, your mind knows that this no longer JUST your friend calling. Months ago, when they told you they were pregnant, you pretended to be happy for them. You hugged them, jumped for joy and asked them about their plans for the nursery. However....

Your mind instantly thought about the fact that you'd have to attend YET ANOTHER baby shower for YET ANOTHER friend. You're secretly angry that so many people have the audacity to have babies when you are broke, because now yet again, you have to scramble up money for a baby shower gift. 

Now that this friend is calling, you think about the fact that conversations are no longer the same on the phone. They are excruciating. The baby has clawed its way out of her vagina and into the living world where it terrorizes every phone conversation with loud cries for help. Oh no, you are no longer talking to just your friend, you have to endure the agonizing annoyance of a baby's wail. Every two minutes, a juicy story is interrupted by crying, things falling and a grown woman sounding like an extra terrestrial, with unrecognizable noises to calm the baby down. It never works. So why answer that phone call? You think to yourself as you drive home from work, side-eyeing the phone. You just spent eight hours listening to self important adults, a babies bullshit tantrums are not what the doctor ordered. 

You secretly wonder why so many people have forced their babies onto you. Like your old coworker who you ran into at the supermarket...Why did she think I wanted to look at eighteen months worth of baby photos, scrolled through on her phone, when all I wanted was some Zatarain's on aisle 6? 

All babies look the same to you. They are all small with big heads that have a large loud hole in them. They are usually covered in saliva and smell like fresh bowel movement. You wonder why their parents bother taking them out of the crib to bother the world, much less YOU with their presence. 

And lets not even get into the restaurant, you know, Saturday night. You finally get that hot date with Dave. You feel so sexy, so sophisticated and you are simply getting your grown woman or man on...UNTIL....

A family of nine, complete with newborn twins and running rambunctious creatures interrupts your sexy. Isn't it passed their bedtime? Is there a babysitter shortage in Seattle? Why couldn't they go to Chuck E. Cheese? This is the Cheesecake Factory on date night!

One runs up to you and gives you a smile, waves their hand at you and an older lady at the next table laughs and says, "Isn't he adorable!" The mother of the thing is no where to be found and now you are left there to awkwardly pretend that this interruption is adorable. The child has the audacity to begin coughing, right there at your table, steadily staring into your eyes. WHERE THE FUCK IS IT'S MOMMY?! The mother eventually arrives, apologizing while smiling, once again, as if what just happened was cute. At this point, you forgot what you were telling Dave...

When you are on a plane or in a movie theater you simply wonder why these children were not victims of SIDS; But don't worry, you're thinking it, no one will know. I am the one writing about it, not you. 


You want to run them over and you want it to be gruesome. Like a big bowling ball hitting a strike, you want to teach them a lesson. You want all of those got time on their hands, slow lazy people to get the fuck across the street! One is on her cell phone with her hair blowing in the wind, another is in a wheelchair and wasting your time while five others are negotiating their salaries in a board meeting right in the middle of the crosswalk! What the Hell are they doing? Don't they see me trying to make a right turn?! This is downtown! You need to move your pedestrian ass in a swift fashion! The last one finally gets more than halfway across when an elderly woman with a cane decides to appear out of no where on the other side of the crosswalk as four school children dart from behind her. This must be a joke, where is Ashton Kutcher? He didn't appear yesterday or the previous five hundred days this happened. You are in your car, therefore you are important. You've been waiting to make that damn right turn and you are going to make it! It doesn't matter that while on your lunch break as a pedestrian, you complain about cars almost hitting you. This is about now, and right now, you want her old ass to find her own strength like Whitney and catwalk it on over to the other side! Move bitch, get out the way! 


Ahhh Yes! You are almost home after a long day of work and the gym. Just four more blocks and your car will pull right into that garage! What a beautiful late spring day. Windows down, breeze in your hair and for some reason your thirty year old ears are actually enjoying this Miley Cyrus song. Wait, is that what I think it is? Let me put my foot on this gas. 

You think to yourself as you see that yellow contraption in the distance taunting you. It's too late. Soon it slows down and you unfortunately have to as well. Because the damn school bus is on the other side of the street with that God forsaken red ass stop sign on the side of it! All of the slow ass kids are trying to get off of the bus. Any other time these kids would be running like Jackie Joyner Kersee, but right now they are apart of a wedding procession. Your bladder couldn't be more full and your patience couldn't be more thin. It's not like these kids are handicapped. Traffic is building behind you, your legs are shaking, a bug has landed on your earlobe and these kids are still not off of the bus. Then you notice a little boy tying his shoe in the middle of the street, you want to mistake him for a speed bump. 


No one is allowed to be happy on Facebook besides you. Why are all of these people rubbing their happy moments in your face? So what bitch, you had a birthday and get this...I WASN'T INVITED TO THE PARTY! 

You stare at your computer screen at work and mumble to yourself. Surely Sherita in the next cubicle can hear you mumbling but she has bigger things to worry about, like body odor for instance. After you spray more Febreeze you look at Toms timeline. Who are all these happy bitches?! Tom is your ex and you are way over him. So over him that you decide to click on every bitch who is tagged in the photo. Oh yes, you need to investigate, to see if they are really that attractive. It may just be the lighting in the club. 

Well it seems all of them are hot. Why does Tom get to have video vixens on his birthday when all I did was blow out a cupcake in the lounge? Oh and Carroll from accounting took you out for drinks, but then she got hit on by some gorgeous guy in Brooks Brothers while you angrily ate your burger that was suppose to be medium but burned instead. You keep scrolling through Facebook to see Kathy got a new job, she must be making six figures since this is her seventh post about it. People are congratulating her, even your friend Stacey who just talked shit about her to you last night on the phone. Why is her new job such an accomplishment? Didn't she get her last job by going down on Deborah the CEO? I should be happy for her, wait am I jealous? You think to yourself as you look at your cubicle and get another whiff of Sherita's stank. 

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

What Lee Daniels thinks of Dark Skin Blacks

Millions tuned in to watch the first season of Empire, a groundbreaking show on the FOX network. The show garnered original music, celebrity guest stars and a never before seen homosexual Black lead on a major network show, (marketed toward African Americans). There were a lot of great things about Empire, but also, typical of Daniels work, stereotypes and favoritism of a certain hue, prevailed.

Dark comes and goes on Empire. The rapper, GONE, Malik, GONE. Sidebe, hidden

A loud sassy Black woman with a criminal record was the main attraction of the show. The beautiful and extremely talented Taraji P. Henson, starred as "Cookie," a mother of three who landed herself in prison for drug dealing, while trying to support her husbands dream of creating a music empire.

Not to mention, the show was headlined by nothing Blacks of a lighter hue, their dark skin cast mates almost faded into obscurity. Historical perceptions and the indoctrination of what the dark skin and light skin Negro is and capable of, prevailed; but we will get to that in just a minute.

Instantly, many scholars and critics noted that yet another Black television show purported stereotypical images of Blacks. As I watched Cookie Lyons beat her son with a broom, I wondered, is this stereotypical, or merely a cultural documentary?

From my vantage point, it was rewarding to see a Black father in the lives of his sons, raising them almost independently and becoming an Armani suit executive. Yet we couldn't have a Black father of the year, drama was necessary. Terrance Howard plays Lucious Lyons, a scary, adulterous thug turned executive. He of course is a homophobic stereotype of a Black father who despises his gay son. I will admit, it was redeeming to see a masculine self affirmed Black gay male on a major network show, but progress is a slow bumpy dirt road.

One day, gay will exist on a network show without it even being mentioned. It will not be the headline, it will not be a plotline, it will just be apart of the fabric of the screenplay without announcing itself. But right now, America, especially Black America, is not ready for a Black gay character to be themselves without a civil rights burden. So that Black gay son was thrown into a trash can and forbidden to be himself. His evil father deems homosexuality as a sin while NEVER entering a church himself. 

I think it is important, for many of the homophobic Black men who do exist, to see a reflection of their bigotry. This show could help the issue of homosexuality reach normalcy in the Black community. These are the good attributes, but negatively, the issue was belabored and the gay character became just that, A GAY CHARACTER, devoid of any other motivations other than the need for his homophobic father to validate him. 

On to colorism....

Who is exalted as beautiful or handsome, when it comes to the Black community? Colorism is something that has been around for centuries. There is no need to remind you of what colorism is and how it continues to permeate our media, our depictions, our culture. 

Taraji cannot help that she is light skin, nor can Terrance Howard do anything about being born with light eyes. These actors and actresses are talented and very much deserving of high powered, high influence roles. I will not attempt to take Taraji's Academy Award nomination away from her, for she deserved it and for her great work, WE are proud. 

But it is the play of hand by directors, producers and casting that raises my eyebrow. Sadly, certain Black directors who have risen to prominence, have done so by exploiting deep seeded stereotypes and passed them off as art imitating life. 

Malik Yoba, a quite handsome celebrated dark brown skinned actor, was casted on Empire. Sadly, his role was reduced to being the light skin leads THUG, doing his dirty work and kissing his ass. His character was not developed, we didn't fully understand his role, yet we understood his extensive resume on television and film. I was disappointed when his role was cut short, as a White woman busted him upside of his head and he died. Now one of the light skin lead characters had to cover up the murder of yet another fallen dark skin actor. BUNKY, the cousin of Cookie, murdered by Lucious, was the previous victim to violence. There truly is a war on Empire, a war against the light and the dark. 

Malik's character will soon be forgotten because it wasn't memorable. It seems that certain hues of actors are disposable. Derek Luke, dark as midnight, a sex symbol, was casted just to give the light skin woman some big Black mandingo dick. As he exited stage right, I wondered why such an accomplished Black actor could demean himself to such a fruitless role. It reminded me of the field niggas, dark and gifted, yet disposable, while the light brights do them in for the profit of the White man. 

Naomi Campbell, not known for acting, more so known for her signature strut on international runways, appeared on the show to critical acclaim. Yet her huge debut was reduced to that of a child molester, yes Hakeem was legal, but the images spoke otherwise to our initial perception. 
Once again, a dark skin character is run by light skin characters, big bad, MORAL superior Lucious sent her on that midnight train to somewhere, never to be heard from again. 


Gabouray Sidebe allegedly complained about her minuscule role on the show. All we ever see her do is chase after light Lucious, screaming and begging to be heard. Her loud blonde hair is a testament to the stereotype of a self hating fat dark Black woman. Having starred in TWO major network television series, The Big C and American Horror Story, one would think someone with her credentials would get more than a backdrop to Terrance Howard's backside in a scene. 


Do you even know what Cookie's assistants name is? Porsha. The gum popping, deer in headlights, social etiquette lacking dark skin stereotype parades behind Cookie without a glimpse of substance. She serves her light skin boss with loyalty, so much so that she retrieves a shoe that is thrown. She reminds me of "Sweetie" from Kim Zolciak's nigger closet. Only, Cookie is Black, but the field nigga is still working, paid with humiliation and disrespect.

Sidebe went from eating Monique's privates to chasing after Lucious Lyons with less than two lines an episode. It seems to me, that these light hues are getting more valuable roles when it comes to Daniels. Sure Monique won an Oscar, but she won for being a stereotype while all the light brights in that film were angels, there to save the poor pathetic uneducated dark people of the field. 

Raven Symone's character had an abusive violent boyfriend who of course was dark and disposable. Another casualty in the war against the worthless dark Nubians. 
Even Patti Labelle couldn't perform on her own, Jussie had to deliver his struggling Michael Jackson impersonating voice while all we were interested in was Aunt PATTI-PATTI! 

Many will see this as reaching or an over simplification. I could be called a hypocrite because after all, I am buying into it, I am watching the show. I watch the show for the music and some of the story is interesting but most of the plots are not developed enough. I studied film in school and I see the writing as very amateur at best. I digress.

Does Lee Daniels celebrate light skin as something more worthy of the lime light? I cannot read his mind, all I can do is count his sheep, and they are putting me to sleep. One by one nothing but light damn near White sheep jump over his fence of propaganda. 

Most will sit back, drink their libation and become entertained. But as a journalist, I ask questions.

The opportunities for Black talent in Hollywood is at an all time high, Shonda Rhimes alone has created many of them, but there is still a ceiling. With an all Black cast, much SHOULD be expected. Skin color does not make someone more or less Black or worthy of a role, but if you are going to showcase Black, make sure the image of Black isn't monolithic in representation. We should be able to all see ourselves in a multitude of depictions. 

I applaud How to get Away with Murder for the realistic depiction of a Black woman in a White world, (Rhimes)

Anika is not what all Black men desire sexually....Cookie calls her a fake ass Halle Berry and Lena Horne because the mixed Black woman has always been exalted. Here again, this Carmen Jones struts around serving her pussy to the highest bidder because she is desired for her watered down features. And even though Cookie is relatively light, she's still darker than her, and jealous of this mixed floozy. Envious of her opportunities because she passed the paper bag test without hiding from the sun for a month. I do not wrestle with these concepts as much, because it does hit on some cultural truths, but flat characters do not tell a realistic story. An unrealistic story, illustrated with stereotypes hints of a production team Hell bent on perpetuating prejudice. 

Certain things are expected, we will never see Sidebe fighting Henson over a man, no matter how you slice it, that would just not be realistic. However, the very image of two Black women fighting on prime time television in front of Cookie's children makes a mockery of the Black family. One that Bill Cosby worked so hard to uplift. (Disregarding his recent scandal)

What does Daniels think of light skin Blacks? Circumstantial evidence points to a man who exalts the lighter Negro as beautiful, mainstream, marketable and more worthy of a front row seat. He seems to give them longer lines, more direction and an environment of relevance. Exceptions can be made with films like The Butler but even then he couldn't resist White worship, (Check earlier blog). Or can we blame it on the casting directors and the established protocol of Hollywood? Are producers like Daniels just as guilty for signing their names on such propaganda? With limited opportunities and often less backing, I guess Blacks in Hollywood have to, "Play the Game." Isn't that what he told Monique?