I published something at Ebony yesterday about the peculiar infatuation many white-collar young black guys seem to have with Rick Ross. Titled “Strange Love:Â Black Men and Rick Ross,”Â I tried to come up with a few reasons to explain thisÂ phenomenon, but I didn’t really buy any of them. There were no “Voila!” moments, just a couple theories that didn’t hold as much water as I would have liked them to.
Anyway, after I saw that the article was live, I posted a link to it on Twitter. It got a few replies/retweets, but none more interesting than the responses I got from Demetria Lucas.Â
@VerySmartBrosÂ LOL. I might be one of his biggest fans.
As I said in a reply to her, I remember how floored I was a few years ago the first time I heard a female friend of mine express that she was infatuated with Rick Ross. As variable andÂ unpredictableÂ and arbitrary and contradictory and occasionally dependent on time, weather, location, vocation, and how many of her girlfriends want to sleep (or have already slept) with himÂ as “what the hell women are attracted to” tends to be, I thought I had a pretty good idea of the type of guy that would get multiple women all Brazilian Rainforesty down there. Basically, it’s easy to see how and why women would be very attracted to guys like Idris Elba and Dwyane Wade and Common, and you assume that most women would go gaga over those guys.
But, that same instant recognition didn’t immediately apply to Ross, and I had trouble “getting” how a life-threateningly obese guy who looks like he smells like a Black & Mild factory managed to, to quote my homegirl, get her “allÂ tinglyÂ inside” when he speaks.
Yet, as more and more and more and more women I knew would sing his praises, it began to dawn on me. His appeal isn’t necessarilyÂ about his music or his voice or his larger-than-life stature or even his (presumed) riches as much as it’s about the fact that he is anÂ unfalteringly,Â unflinchingly,Â unflappably, and, to be quite honest, irrationally confident motherf*cker. His steadfast belief in his own “I’m the sh*t”-ness — even when the shaky merits of his status areÂ publiclyÂ questioned and exposed — isÂ infectious, causing others to believe “Well, if he’s so certain, he must be the sh*t” by osmosis.
Obviously, this doesn’t affect everyone. There are many women who are, for lack of a better term, disgusted by him, and even more disgusted that everyone isn’t disgusted.
Ross is just one example, though, of the fact that there is no other quality a man can possess that will “raise his sexual stock” better than a belief in himself so strong it almost borders on insanity. Irrational self-confidence — not height, not status, not intelligence, not handsomeness, not a Bentley coupe —Â is the ultimate panty-dropper.Â
This doesn’t mean that this level of confidence won’t immediately repel many women too. It most certainly will. In fact, it will immediately repel far more women than it immediately attracts. But, the fact that it does repel actually adds to the aura, as knowing that this irrationally confident motherf*cker doesn’t give a damn if his irrational confidence offends anyone, hurts any feelings, or even makes any logical sense has a way of turning women all the way on.
Also, it’s important to note that I keep repeating terms like “panty-dropping” and “turned on” and “tingly” and “Brazilian Rainforesty.” That’s intentional. By and large, women usually do not want to seriously date and/or marry irrationally confident men. No one aside from the WorldStarHipHop “model” of the week actually wants to marry Rick Ross.
But, white-collar brothers, be warned. Why? Well, let’s just say that if your girl is sitting beside you smirking to herself while you’re blastingÂ “MC Hammer” in the whip on the way to brunch, she’s probably not thinking about bottomlessÂ mimosas.
—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)