Black History Month: Home to the weirdest and worst collages ever made

Whether it’s feeling a certain way about the fact that it’s the shortest month of the year, becoming annoyed with the underlying message that Black American history isn’t necessarily American and needs to be segregated, or being forced to remember the time in middle school when, since you were the only black kid in your class, your teacher — a well-intentioned 37 year old Irish-Catholic woman who thought it was appropriate to rock dashikis to school each Feburary — asked you to read a few pages from Jet Magazine aloud in front of the class each day for a month, there are few subjects that inspire the type of collective angst among a population that Black History Month does for Black Americans.

It’s the proverbial perpetually drunk uncle at Thanksgiving: You know he’s coming and you can’t not invite him, so you just hope and pray that he doesn’t get wasted and face-plant into the greens during grace like he did last year.

But, like the drunk uncle, we do actually love and appreciate Black History Month, and we’d miss it if it didn’t show up. Our angst comes from us just wanting it to do…better.

Here’s three possible ways we can make that happen.

1. Move it to May

Boom. In one fell swoop, one of the most common complaints about Black History Month — it’s the shortest month of the year — is rectified.

Why May? Well, two reasons:

A) Aside from the NBA playoffs and Memorial Day (which, for all intents and purposes, is a June holiday anyway), nothing that actually matters happens in May. I’d even go as far as to say that no one born in May has ever mattered¹. (There’s a reason you’re never going to see a coffee table book titled “A Look At The World’s Most Famous Tauruses Taureans“) Since this is true, why not just hijack the entire month? No one is going to feel bad about it. And, even if they do, they were born in May so their opinion doesn’t f*cking matter anyway.

B) Pushing it to the end of the school year will act as a drop-out deterrent for the tens of thousands of black kids who drop out of school every year. Many of these drop outs occur during the end of the school year (Why? The warm weather and the fact that, by that point, knowing they’re going to have to repeat the year makes it easier to chuck the deuces to school²), and putting Black History Month in May will allow black teachers to give em the ultimate guilt trips. You just can’t learn about Marcus Garvey and Sojourner Truth on Tuesday and decide to drop out of school Wednesday.

“So, Harriet Tubman ran barefoot and hungry through five states to escape slavery and your black ass can’t even walk three blocks to school???”

2. Add “Honorary Negros” to the Black History books

Look, I don’t want to minimize the contributions of any African-American who made their mark on history, but there are some things and people celebrated during Black History Month that have a way of making you think “Umm. I know he’s black and all, but does the guy who invented red Kool-Aid really need his own postage stamp?”

So, instead of grasping for historical straws, why not just add a few people who technically aren’t black but have a strong connection to the black community? How cool would it be to have days devoted to white men who date nothing but black women (i.e.: Roger Ebert, Robert De Niro, “Hesh” from The Sopranos, etc), people who invented things that black people love…even though they weren’t actually invented with that purpose in mind (i.e.: James Naismith, whoever invented the button that allows you to lean the driver’s seat back, the angel who convinced God to invent the ass, etc), and Shelia E.?

3. Pressure Congress To Enact “National Piece of The Pie Day”

While it’s great to recognize and honor those who’ve set the foundation for us, part of the Black History month angst has to do with the fact that, while things aren’t all peachy for us now, they’re much,much better then they were in the past. And, hearing about all the great things some of our ancestors did in legitimately sh*tty situations can make us feel like we aint sh*t right now (Which may be true — there’s a likelihood that we collectively aint sh*t — but that’s a different topic for a different day). 

So, to combat this feeling, why not have a day during Black History Month where the national script is flipped and it’s legally mandated that we have to be allowed to do certain things (i.e.: get bank loans, hail cabs, get great service at restaurants, point fingers in police officer’s and president’s faces, etc) that seem to be reserved for non-blacks?

And, as a way to appease the millions of non-blacks who definitely will have an issue with “Piece of The Pie” day, your special privileges will get revoked if you get caught doing certain “black” things the week before. Not going into detail on what exactly I mean by “black” things, but let’s just say that you may want to pick another time of the year to take a 75 minute lunch break or give a waitress a $2 tip on a $37 bill.

Anyway, that’s it for me today, but I’m sure I’m forgetting a few. People of VSB, can you think of any other additions/changes to Black History Month that would make it better?

¹I know Malcolm X was born in May, but why let facts get in the way of a perfectly good point?

²This could actually be true, but I’m totally making this up right now.

—Damon Young aka “The Champ”

Zerlina Maxwell is a friend of mine, and I understand where “Stop Telling Women How to Not Get Raped” — her latest piece at Ebony.com — is coming from.

I definitely agree that “Telling women that they can behave in a certain way to avoid rape creates a false sense of security and it isn’t the most effective way to lower the horrible statistics which show that 1 in 5 women will become victims of a completed or attempted rape in their lifetime.”

I also agree that “We need anti-rape campaigns that target young men and boys.  Campaigns that teach them from a young age how to respect women, and ultimately themselves, and to never ever be rapists. In addition, we should implore our men and boys to call out their friends, relatives, and classmates for inappropriate behavior and create systems of accountability amongst them.”

I even agree that “Our community, much like society-at-large, needs a paradigm shift as it relates to our sexual assault prevention efforts.  For so long all of our energy has been directed at women, teaching them to be more “ladylike” and to not be “promiscuous” to not drink too much or to not wear a skirt. Newsflash: men don’t decide to become rapists because they spot a woman dressed like a video vixen or because a girl has been sexually assertive.”

But — and I’m trying to say this as delicately as possible — as the article continues, and lines such as “Consent can be withdrawn by the words “no “or “stop” and in many states, a woman doesn’t have to say no at all. Consumption of alcohol can prevent a woman from being able to legally offer consent” begin to seep in, the tone seems to shift from “men need to take full responsibility for their actions” to “men need to take full responsibility for their actions…and women have carte blance to act as recklessly and stupidly around men as possible without any trace of accountability.” and I just can’t agree anymore.

I know that rapists are going to rape regardless of how women decide to dress, what (and how much) women decide to drink, where women decide to frequent, and what women decide to do. For rapists, all a woman needs to do to “ask for it” is be born.

But, why can’t both genders be educated on how to act responsibility around each other? What’s stopping us from steadfastly instilling “No always means no!” in the minds of all men and boys and educating women how not to put themselves in certain situations? Of course men shouldn’t attempt to have sex with a woman who’s too drunk to say no, but what’s wrong with reminding women that if you’re 5’1 and 110 pounds, it’s probably not the best idea to take eight shots of Patron while on the first, second, or thirteenth date? Yes, sober women definitely get raped too, but being sober and aware does decrease the likelihood that harm may come your way, and that’s true for each gender.

It seems as if the considerable push back again victim-blaming has pushed all the way past prudence and levelheadedness, making anyone who suggests that “women can actually be taught how to behave too” insensitive or a “rape enabler.” And, while the sentiment in Maxwell’s article suggests that victim-blaming is dangerous, I think it’s even more dangerous to neglect to remind young women that, while it’s never their fault if they happen to get sexually assaulted, they shouldn’t thumb their noses to common sense either.

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

***11:07 edit***

(I left this as a comment below, but I wanted to attach it to the end of the entry as well.)

So, although I realized while writing this that it may be a touchy subject, I admittedly underestimated exactly how potentially explosive it was going to be. I read some of these responses late last night and early this morning, and I’m genuinely shocked at the level of anger and hurt this entry has caused. I really did not expect this to happen. And while I don’t apologize for expressing my viewpoint, but I do apologize about being so flippant and not being more careful to articulate exactly what I meant to convey. Considering the subject matter, leaving lighthearted footnotes and links to my appearance in Essence at the end of the entry was a very bad idea.

Anyway, as far as the actual article and responses, my intent wasn’t to imply that any victim of rape should be held “accountable” for what happened to them. I also realize that the majority of rapes are done by people who know their victims — boyfriends, co-workers, friends, dates, etc — making it almost impossible to defend against, and in no way did I want to spread the message that staying sober and out of shady situations is all a woman has to do to avoid being raped.

All I was trying to do was respond to a theme — men always have to be hyper-vigilant, hyper-careful, and possess the ability to read women’s minds. women, on the other hand, can do whatever the hell they want — I got from Zerlina’s article, the comments attached to it, and the Twitter convo it sparked. And, I still believe that this is a dangerous way to approach things.

I’m aware that all the education and conversation in the world about learning how to protect yourself and stay out of harms way and properly vetting men isn’t going to prevent men from raping women. A woman can do all of that and still get sexually assaulted. I’m also aware that the onus of responsibility falls directly on the shoulders of the rapist, and no where else.

But, my whole point is that young men AND young women need to be taught how to behave around the opposite sex, and I don’t see how saying that suggests that I think women should be held responsible for their own rapes. Perhaps I’m being too obtuse, tone deaf, or insensitive, but I just don’t see the connection between “everyone should be educated and learn how to take responsibility for their actions” and “rape is the woman’s fault”

You know, before logging on and leaving this comment, I called up a friend to ask her to read the post and let me know if people were being way too sensitive or if I was crazy in thinking “what the hell is everyone so upset about?”

Her (paraphrased) reply:

“Yeah, I think you should have left this topic alone. Any time a man writes about rape and even puts women and accountability in the same sentence, you’re going to anger people and come off as either completely tone deaf or dangerously insensitive, even if you don’t actually say or feel that women need to be held accountable for what happens to them. Maybe you could have worded your feelings better, but there’s really nothing you could have said besides “rape is wrong. the end” that would have made much of a difference.”

I think she’s right.

(Today’s post is a response to each of the dozen or so people who’ve already asked me if I’ve seen Red Tails yet, and the dozens who’ll probably continue to ask me after today.)

1. The guilt-based marketing has completely turned me off. 

I’m going to expand on this a bit more later this week at Ebony.com, but nothing makes me not want to do something I was already kind of “eh, maybe.” about than being told I need to do it. And, being beaten over the head for a month with the completely disingenuous and manipulative idea that I must support Red Tails if I ever want to see a black face on a movie screen again has made me go from “eh, maybe” to “f*ck you.”

2. I don’t need to see black faces on screen. 

Do I like to? Yes. Do I think it’s important for young people to see “positive” (more on this in a minute) stories concerning black people to help counterbalance the negative imagery they’re constantly inundated with? Sure.

But, while I do recognize the importance of representation, it’s not something I personally need as a moviegoer. I’m not interested in our stories or my story as much as good and compelling and entertaining stories. If these good and compelling and entertaining stories happen to revolve around black people, great!

This isn’t to say that Red Tails wasn’t good and compelling and entertaining to many of the people who’ve seen it already, and I’m not so much of an asshole that I’d trash a movie I haven’t even seen yet. But, PG-13 CGI laden war movies just aren’t very interesting and entertaining to me, regardless of what color the pilots happen to be.

Also, I realize that certain duties — voting, voting for democrats, voting for black democrats, etc — are required to keep your black american card and the perks that come with it. But, maybe the handbook has changed since the last time I read it, but I don’t remember seeing anything about any obligation to make your leisurely activities dutiful too.

3. I don’t need to see positive stories on screen either. 

While positive movies are great and important and meaningful and sh*t, I don’t particularly need to see them to be “uplifted” or “fulfilled.” That’s what bacon and strippers are for.

4. Ok, I’ll say it. Nothing I’ve heard, read, or seen about it makes me think it’s going to be very interesting. 

Yeah, I know what many of you are probably thinking right now. It’s completely unfair to make a judgement on a movie (or any art for that matter) you haven’t actually seen yourself. And, while I definitely see we’re you’re coming from, that sentiment is a big, fat, steaming pile of bullsh*t.

We make judgments and predictions on sh*t we haven’t actually seen or done yet all the f*cking time, and reading a couple story descriptions and watching a couple trailers and thinking “Eh. This sounds kind of boring.” is no different than riding past a club you’ve never been to before, getting turned off by how the club looks/the people in line/’the fact that you used to bone the bouncer, and deciding to hit another spot.

Sure, maybe you would have had the time of your life at that place, but past experience has told you that you’re not very, um, “compatible” with clubs with those conditions.

For instance, although I (obviously) hadn’t seen the movie yet, I knew I was going to enjoy The Social Network the first time I saw the trailer.

On the other hand, I first saw the trailer to Red Tails while at Blogalicious.

And, while nothing about that footage screamed “bad movie” to me, nothing didn’t scream “I’ll guess I’ll catch it on TNT during Black History Month in 2015″ either.

With all that being said, I’m actually glad Red Tails seems to be exceeding expectations at the box office. I hope they’re able to continue to ride their strong opening weekend, and I hope that its success helps black filmmakers get their projects green lighted.

Still, I just can’t get behind supporting something I’m pretty sure I won’t enjoy, just because that something has something to do with black people. If I want a history lesson about the Tuskegee Airmen, I’ll go visit his office instead.

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

I majored in sociology and I'm still gonna make more money than you pretty soon, white man.

I came across this article at Clutch Mag yesterday entitled, “Black Students at Duke Upset Over New Study Claiming They Take The Easy Way Out” that linked to a Durham, NC, Herald-Sun article about a study that pissed of Black folks from near and far. In a nutshell, two Duke professors and a grad student wrote a paper stating that Black students at Duke changed majors from more traditionally difficult majors like economics, engineering, and natural sciences to less rigorous majors (like humanities) at a higher rate than did white students. The paper was an attempt to explain why the GPAs of Black students tended to trend towards the GPAs of white students as ninjas made their way through college and is being used as a bone for opponents of affirmative action policies.

Oy vey.

The unpublished report, “What Happens After Enrollment? An Analysis of the Time Path of Racial Differences in GPA and Major Choice,” looked at the Duke freshman classes that matriculated in 2001 and 2002, in their first, second and fourth years of college.

It found that among students who initially expressed an interest in majoring in economics, engineering and the natural sciences, 54 percent of black men and 51 percent of black women ended up switching to the humanities or another social science.

By comparison, 33 percent of white women and just 8 percent of white men made the switch to majors that are considered less rigorous, require less study and have easier grading standards.

According to the paper, 68 percent of Duke’s black students but less than 55 percent of white students ended up majoring in the humanities or social sciences other than economics.

The authors of the paper suggested that the switch to easier majors was predominantly responsible for why the grade point averages of black undergraduates ultimately became similar to the GPAs of white students as they progressed through school.

The paper is included in a brief submitted to the U.S. Supreme Court by opponents of affirmative action. The court is considering whether to hear a lawsuit challenging race-conscious undergraduate admission at the University of Texas.

 

[Nina] Asante (president of Duke’s Black Student Alliance) wrote that the authors failed “to account for the societal, complex and institutional factors that must be considered in any attempt to delineate trends in racial differences in grade point averages and major choices, in a scholarly manner.”

The paper’s authors — professors Peter Arcidiacono and Kenneth Spenner, and graduate student Esteban Aucejo — write that their work calls into question other studies that play down the academic difficulties initially experienced by those who benefit from race-conscious admissions by saying that such students eventually catch up with their nonminority peers in GPA.

The bougie black girl's patron saint

Unless you’ve been hiding under a rock or one of Rick Ross’ breasts for the past month, you’ve undoubtedly seen, read, or heard about “Shit Girls Say” and the dozens of increasingly contrived spin-offs it’s spawned. (Seriously, at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if went on YouTube and saw “Shit Gay German-Ethiopian Boys Say To Baltimore Strip-Club Bouncers”)

As a friend and I were discussing these videos earlier in the week, she half-jokingly complained that no one made a video about things her demographic — the biracial woman — says. I corrected her, saying that “Shit Bougie Black Girls Say” would definitely be more appropriate for her “Hampton undergrad, Harvard grad”-ass ass.

Her response was predictable. First, she did what every single black person who’s ever been accused of being bougie by anyone at any time always does first: deny the fact that she’s bougie. Then, she denied the fact that bougie black girls even say or do anything “special enough” to warrant an entire video for them.

As you’ll begin to see in the next paragraph, I disagreed.

“Does he own a passport?”

If you’re ever in doubt as to whether a black girl is truly bougie, ask her if she’d date a guy who didn’t own a passport. If she says something normal like “I guess. I mean, I don’t see why not.” she’s probably not. But, if she recoils in fear, breaks out in hives, and starts running in circles while crying and screaming “NONONONONONONONO!!!!!!” you’ve probably found yourself a bougie black girl.

Bougie black girls reading this, can you explain something to me? What is the big deal with the passport? I mean, I understand loving to travel and wanting your potential beau to be able to travel with you, but what’s preventing you from just asking him to get one. Seriously, the conversation would go exactly like this:

“Hey, I want to go to Spain this summer, and I’d like you to come with me. Do you have a passport?”

“No, nubian princess, God of my Earth, but I’d love to make that trip with you, and I can get one.”

“Cool.” 

(See how easy that was?)

“That’s my favorite Thai restaurant”

For whatever reason, Thai food has catapulted past all other international cuizines as the bougie black girl’s default food of choice, leaving Ethiopian food, Indian food, and p*ssy juice in it’s curry-scented dust.

Perhaps the collective decision to be Thai food philes occurred in one of those mysterious early Saturday morning meetings Delta chapters love to have. If that’s true, it helps to explain why they each have to devote like 30% of their yearly income to Delta dues. They’re not giving back to the main office. They’re putting their money together to fund all these gotdamn Thai restaurants popping up all over the damn place.

Also, note how the bougie black girl says “that’s my favorite” — a linguistic trick letting the listener know that her bougie ass has been to enough Thai restaurants to be able to deem one her favorite.

“I’m not bougie”

I referenced this before — bougie motherf*ckers never seem to want to acknowledge their bougieness — but, the more I think about it, the more I think this denial is inauthentic. I think they enjoy being thought of as bougie because it assigns a certain social status to them. But, since they know it’s not socially acceptable to relish that status, they verbally deny it while doing mental jumping jacks of joy. (“He called me bougie! This means that he thinks I’m worth some effort! Lemme pretend not to be bougie so he doesn’t think I’m too siddity“)

“Where’s brunch?”

Panama’s already touched on this, but bougie black girls love brunch more than fat crackheads love Home Depot.

“I’m so ratchet.”

Sign #318 that you’re definitely, unequivocally, absolutely, unmistakably, positively, and emphatically NOT ratchet: You refer to yourself as ratchet.

“Wait, who’s going to be there?” 

It doesn’t matter if they’re going to a party or just going out to the front lawn to pick up the newspaper, bougie black girls don’t even consider going anywhere unless they know exactly who else is going. Now, finding out that some of the “wrong” people are going doesn’t necessarily stop them from going, but it does influence their attire, mode of transportation, intoxication level, tph (tweets per hour) count, and whether the guy she invites back to her house later “adds to her number.”

“Is he Greek?”

“Greek” can also be replaced with “from here,” done with school,” “driving that,” or “gay”

“Where’d you get that?” “Target, girl.” “OH MY GOD!!!”

You haven’t lived until you listened to two bougie black girls practically orgasm with surprise over a recent purchase one of them made at Target. What makes it even better is the fact that they have the exact same convo with the exact same orgasm of surprise each time at least once a week.

Anyway, people of VSB.com, that’s it for me. Can you think of any more shit that bougie black girls (or guys) say?

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

***Due to simultaneous emergencies in VSB land last night — Champ was home making soup, P was judging a thong contest at a 24-hour bowling alley, and Liz was actually in the thong contest (she came in 2nd) — we reached out to the homie Luvvie to provide today’s post. She was reluctant at first, but a quart of rice and a half gallon of baby oil eventually swayed her. Enjoy.***

Kwanzaa is the Milli Vanilli of Holidays. It tries too hard to be authentic, but at the end of the day, it’s just a lip-synching, bad locs-wearing version of Hanukkah in Cross Colors Kente.

I’ve never been a fan of Kwanzaa and I doubt I’ll ever be one. This might be because I’m an elitist African. Or maybe I’m just a professional hater. Or both. Either way, I’ve often had to stop myself from saying “Harambe DEEZ” when people tell me “Happy Kwanzaa” thinking I celebrate it, especially because I’m from the motherland. White folks tend to think I’m the person to direct that greeting to and I usually just respond with a blank stare or a half nod. I’m African but I don’t fux with Kwanzaa celebratorily.

I have a confession to make: Although it rang in at a little under 1000 words, yesterday’s “No Pre-Nupt? No Problem” was a “fall-back” post that I scrambled to write in 90 minutes after I scrapped my original, “genius” plan. That plan? A satirical response to Gene Marks’ “If I Were A Poor Black Kid.”

I had the title picked out (“If I Were A Middle Aged White Guy“), a plan (full satire with no winks at the audience), and even went back and forth with the number of penis envy jokes I was going to include (Two. Any more would be tacky). I basically had everything written out in my head before I even typed a word.

But, just as I was about to log on and start writing, something told me to google “If I Were A Middle Aged White Guy.” I did and, well, that “something” saved me the shame of doing the exact same thing that 7578327843 people already did last week. Drats!

Admittedly, it had been a week — a light year in internet time — since that article first hit the internet, so news that my “fresh, witty, and unique” idea was as stale as a day old dog fart wasn’t necessarily shocking. Actually, at this point, any “fresh, witty, and unique” take on this topic would be equally stale.

That venture to Google showed me something else, though, something a bit more disturbing. Our collective rush take Marks’ article down as quickly, wittily, insightfully, condescendingly, factually, and snarkily as possible made for one underlying truth: We really do believe that poor black kids are doomed. 

Perhaps I’m reading to much into this. Maybe, out of the dozens of takes I’ve read on this subject, I overlooked the one that didn’t share this sentiment. But, it seems like the general response can be summed up by just saying “Sh*t is royally f*cked, there’s nothing they can do about it, and it’s insulting to even suggest that anything can be done about it.”

Now, this may actually be true. Maybe luck, serendipity, and divine intervention are the only realistic ways for Dukie to get to Duke. But, lets say I’m that poor black kid. Do you tell me that my destiny is completely out of my control? That regardless of how hard I work, a lucky break or a generous benefactor is the only chance I have to succeed? Do you tell me not to bother walking to the library because I’ll probably trip and fall on an AIDS infected needle on the way there? Do you tell me to forget about downloading Skype on the old laptop my aunt let me borrow because the electricity is gonna be off all next month anyway? That I need to start playing basketball 12 hours a day because my best bet at getting out of the hood is being really, really good at it?

What the hell would you say to me?

—The Champ

Remember me? Ha! That was a rhetorical question. I already know that you don't.

…is that none of us really want to admit that — despite our (occasionally) expert and (always) intimate knowledge about AIDS rates, unwanted pregnancies, what unwanted and unprepared for pregnancies can do to our bank accounts, what 9 pound 8 ounce babies do to perfectly nice and pretty vaginas, how single parents (mothers especially) are ostracized, Ron Mexico, bacterial vaginosis, chlamydia, gonorrhea, hepatitis, papillomavirus, pelvic inflammatory disease, syphilis, trichomoniasis, chlamydia, gonorrhea, genital herpes, the ubiquity and silliness of Valtrex commercials, Jim Jones, the fact that Magnum condoms really aren’t any bigger than regular ones, The Red Pump Project, killer p*ssy, limbo p*ssy, stripper p*ssy, Delta p*ssy, killer Delta stripper limbo p*ssy, whiskey d*ck, wack d*ck, crack d*ck, deprived d*ck, parking lot d*ck, “too nondescript to really count against my number” d*ck, keeping the numbers down, drunk sex, ex sex, sad sex, “I don’t really want to have sex with you, but I’m going to have sex with you anyway” sex, “your o face is too goofy for us to have sex again” sex, the Tuskegee experiment, Antonio Cromartie, Nas’ “You Got a House In Virginia” diss directed at Cam’ron in “Zone Out”, Eazy-E, Ol Dirty Bastard’s incoherent verse on the live MTV version of “America Is Dying Slowly”, dental dams, the utter ridiculousness of the female condom, the medieval-ness of Rape-Ex, Magic Johnson, the spaceship Magic Johnson takes to Jupiter once a month to pick up his HIV drugs, the joke that Flavor Flav looks exactly how we all thought Magic Johnson was going to look by now, The Corner, the occasionally absurd and always misleading stats that seem to come out annually about Baltimore’s infection rate, the prominence and prevalence of strippers, stripper culture, and young kids with names that have basically doomed them to be strippers, female ejaculation, the inane argument that female ejaculation doesn’t exist, the faux reliability of the pull-out method, and, most importantly, the fact that we know that we’re smart enough, educated enough, and thoughtful enough to know better — many of us (and my “many” I mean “most”) still have had unprotected sex, are currently having unprotected sex, and don’t plan on discontinuing the unprotected sex any time soon.

—The Champ

Did you know that former NBA player/Kardashian concubine Rashad McCants produced and starred in “The Booster Club” — which, according to its YouTube summary, is a “comedy series that will take viewers into the lives of a ring of professional booster “thieves” dedicated to the advancement of those addicted to the high of stealing”? Did you also know that McCants wears a black mop top wig throughout the entire trailer devoted to this series?

Well, if you’re reading this, I’m assuming you’re at least somewhat sane. And, since you’re at least somewhat sane, you probably answered “No” to both of these questions. I consider myself to be at least somewhat sane too, but I’m aware of “The Booster Club” because we (VSB) get approximately 15 to 20 trailers like this sent to us every month by either publicists and A&R’s promoting their material or fans, cousins, and babymommas of the people involved, and I’ve watched every single one of them.

As you’ve probably imagined, my viewing experiences have lowered my expectations considerably, so when people were texting, emailing, and tweeting me last spring to see if I’d watched this new web series about some awkward black girl, I responded to each with the same tone of transparent disingeniousness I’d use when I was 12 and my mom asked if I’d cleaned my bedroom yet. “Yeah, mom. I promise. I’m going to get it done today. You’re my favorite mom, ever. I love you.”

But, when I did finally get around to it, not only was I (very) entertained and (completely) impressed, I felt a feeling that’s perhaps the most sincere compliment I can possibly give: envy. Seriously, I thought it was so good that I was kind of pissed that I didn’t create it myself.

Since then, I’ve followed the progress of the Awkward Black Girl team. I’ve seen each episode, read/watched pretty much every interview, and even planned to get Issa Rae and (co-producer) Tracy Oliver on a podcast. (Didn’t happen because, well, we just got busy with book stuff and forgot. If you don’t buy that excuse, just pretend it was Jim Jones’ fault.)

Yet, despite the fact that I’m (obviously) a fan already, something happened this week that turned my fandom into sincere admiration.

From “Awkward Black Girl’ Called Out For Offending the Transgender Community, Is It Fair?”

“…but recently a few members of the Crunk Feminist Collective, a group we also love, has called out the show for using the word “tranny” and the phrase “no lesbo.”

Although very few people get spared the comedic jabs of Awkward Black Girl, the men and women over at the Crunk Feminist Collective (CFC), found the usage of such terms to be offensive and divisive.”

Now, we’ve all seen this play out a million and one times. Entertainer known for “colorful” content offends someone, offended party lets their hurt feelings known, and entertainer responds by going on a 28 day long apology tour. I even alluded to this panoramic and pandemic hypersensitivity in an entry last month.

I was expecting the Awkward Black Girl team to do the same thing. They surprised me, again.

Their response

Some of our viewers may have been offended by some of the language in our recent episode. We take this matter especially to heart, considering the CFC and members of the LGBT community were among the first to embrace ‘The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl.’

Since our first episode debuted in February this year, ‘Awkward Black Girl’ has received an incredible outpouring of support from hundreds of thousands of fans. We love and appreciate each and every one of our fans! In return, we strive to provide a show that uses irreverent comedy and humor to address the oftentimes uncomfortable situations that many people have experienced at some point or another in their lives.

In creating a series of this nature, we are willing to accept the praise when the jokes work and the feedback when they may not.

Sincerely, Issa & Tracy

Carefully worded? Definitely. Sincere? Seems like it. Thoughtful? Sure. Considerate? Yeah.

One thing is missing though. There is no apology there. None. Zero. Zip. Nil. They didn’t apologize for shit, and I can only assume it’s for one reason: They’re not actually sorry.

I’m sure they probably wish that the Crunk Feminist Collective didn’t get offended. But, wishing someone didn’t get offended isn’t the same thing as apologizing that someone’s been upset, and I appreciate them not taking the easy bait.

I really, really liked them for creating a series that’s witty, offbeat, irreverent, and intentionally toes the line of political correctness (and has proven to be an equal opportunity shot taker), and I think I love them for not apologizing for it.

—The Champ

Although he was completely unqualified, completely unprepared, completely (but hilariously) uncouth, and unapologetic about this unqualifiedness, unpreparedness, and uncouthness, I have to say that I’m going miss Herman Cain — the realest motherf*cker alive. Seriously, we’re going to see Jerry Sandusky working at Chuck E Cheese before we see another elderly black pizza man with a bag of hard “candy” in his pocket become — even for 25 milliseconds — the presumptive leader to be the republican nominee in the race for president.

Never mind the fact that he had absolutely no chance to win and you can (rightly) argue that his appeal was mainly due to the fact that his presence allowed many their “See? I hate Obama — his policies, his name, his weed lips, his big bootied wife, and his black gums — but this proves I’m not racist.” moments, he was entertaining, his hats kicked ass, he looks like he smells like Old Spice, Champale, and Viagra powder, and he wasn’t above singing random negro spirituals at press conferences. Do I want him as my president? F*ck no. Would I hook him up with one of my aunts? Probably not. Would I hook him up with a down on her luck middle-aged white co-worker who’s just looking for a casino buddy and someone to hand job? Definitely.

But, while Herman Cain definitely piques my interest, today I’m a bit more interested in his wife. It’s no secret that Herman Cain’s hermancane is the reason why he dropped out of the race. Although none of these allegations have been confirmed, by the looks of things it seems like he’s f*cked more white women than Rick James. Yet, the best way to describe Gloria Cain’s demeanor through all of this is annoyed — not annoyed that her husband thinks he’s Lexington Steele, mind you, but by the women making these claims. It’s almost as if her default public face is “Here we go with these silly bitches again.”

I’m aware that this may very well be her public face. Perhaps he’s been sleeping on the couch for the last 6 months. Perhaps she’s pulling a Hilary — standing by her man in public to eventually reap the benefits of his ascension. But, at the moment she’s making a very conscious and conspicuous choice to let everyone know that she’s standing by her husband’s side, and you can’t help but be curious why.

Now, this situation is far from unique. In just the last week, we’ve seen the bizarre back and forth between Bishop Spermin’ and Permin’ and his wife and we were also made aware that that Laurie Fine — the wife of Bernie Fine (the longtime assistant basketball coach at Syracuse accused of molesting ball boys) — knew that her husband had “issues” at least nine years ago and is still married to him. These are men who allegedly did despicable things, things that you’d think would be dealbreakers for anyone, but their wives obviously didn’t consider ending the relationship to be the immediate choice.

While I used to think otherwise, I have to say that I don’t consider a person in this situation to be automatically wrong anymore. Again though, none of us have any idea of what’s really going on in these women’s heads and driving them to at least consider staying. But unless a woman’s life is in danger, I just can’t call her stupid or weak or hopelessly adickted or any other negative adjective for choosing to stay with a shitty man.

It’s a very cliched way to look at things, but life is, well …life is f*cking long and hard, and if a person staunchly believes that they still have a better chance of tackling this life monster with their faulty mate at their side, who am I to begrudge them? Perhaps Gloria Cain’s “silly bitch” smirk is really just her saying “Look. I put all my chips in on this number 7-ass n*gga 40 years ago. Can’t stop the roulette wheel now, and don’t know if I’d want to even if I could.”

Anyway, people of VSB, I’m curious: Do you think that women like Gloria Cain are stupid for standing by their men? Also, while we all have our automatic dealbreakers (cheating, domestic violence, etc) can you ever envision yourself in a situation where you might be tempted to overlook those things for the greater good?

—The Champ