Category Archives: theory

The Slippery Slope Of Telling Rich People What They Should Do With Their Own Money

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I generally do not believe that you need to have experience doing something in order to offer an thorough critique of someone who is. You do not need to have experience as president in order to be critical of Obama’s policies, you do not need to be a working actor or director in order to write a comprehensive film review, and you do not need to have played a sport on its highest level in order to coach it there. There’s no hypocrisy or inauthenticity there. Sometimes it takes a person on the “sidelines” to better assess a situation because their potentially panoramic knowledge about a topic and their lack of personal engagement with it allows them to be both more insightful and more objective.

This belief does not extend to people telling other people—and by “other people” I mean “rich people”—what they should be doing with their money. Regardless of whether a person’s intent is noble—and regardless of whether I actually agree with them that a rich person could have spent their money in a “better” way—this type of criticism always rubs me the wrong way, especially if the rich person is actually doing a good thing. I was annoyed when Oprah received criticism for starting a school in South Africa instead of Chicago (although I saw their point), and I’ve grown just as annoyed with people insisting that Dr. Dre and Jimmy Iovine—but mainly Dr. Dre—should have found a more “worthy” place to gift $70 million (although I also see their point).

This annoyance stems from a simple place: the idea that wealthy people should be held to a higher moral/financial standard than the rest of us just because they’re wealthy. Lemme me put it this way. In the last couple of days I’ve heard and read several criticisms of Dr. Dre for giving his money to a school that’s already wealthy instead of one that actually needs the cash. And by “one that actually needs the cash” they mean “an HBCU.” (USC’s endowment is in the billions. I think Central State’s is $16.17) 

Yet, a few of these critiques have been made by people with a few letters after their names. I even read one penned by a president of a university. I do not know any of these people’s salaries, but knowing what I know about secondary education, it would not be a stretch to assume that they’re near or surpassing six figures.

I do not have a problem with this at all. People are going to make whatever the market demands, and the market demand for a medium to high level university employee is a comfortable income.

But, if you’re going to criticize a person for basically just doing a money-based good deed that wasn’t quite good enough for you, how are you able to justify receiving an income that far surpasses what you need in order to live? Shit, why not work for free? I’m sure you’ve made enough money where you can survive for a couple years with no income. Why haven’t you decided to devote all of your non-essential funds to whichever cause you’ve criticized some wealthy person for not contributing to?

This sounds silly, but once you start criticizing someone for decisions they make with their money, when does it stop? Why are you driving a Lexus when the 10 year old Honda you traded in as a down payment still worked fine? Why buy bottled water when you can drink it out of the tap? Why buy your girlfriend a birthday present? You know she has money, a condo, and a car already. Why give more to someone who already has?

You know, I actually agree that Dr. Dre could have spent his money a little better. I say this while typing on a Chromebook I just purchased, thoughts still kind of scattered after watching a riveting NBA playoff game on my 50 inch plasma screen TV. I did not need to purchase either of these things. When my old laptop broke, instead of buying a new one, I could have just got a library card. And, the 100 pound TV with the 17 inch screen sitting in one of my closets would have allowed me to watch the game just fine.

I’m not saying any of this to make people feel bad about how they spend their money. I just want people to think about how they’re spending their own money before calling someone out for how they’re spending theirs.

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

On Kanye, New Slaves, Kim, College Dropout, and Kill Bill

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1. There are few movies I anticipated the way I anticipated Kill Bill Volume 2. None perhaps. As far as sequels to movies I’d loved goes, I also was anxious to see The Dark Knight and The Matrix Reloaded. But with each of those, I had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen and, most importantly, the way the story was going to be told. With Kill Bill Volume 2, though, I had absolutely no idea what I was going to see. Yes, I knew Beatrix would find a way to kill Bill at the end of the movie, but would Elle Driver and Budd be given the same type of anime-intro O-Ren received? Which genre would Tarantino lean on more? Spaghetti Western? Blaxploitation? Samurai? Would the scenes follow a chronological order? How much would be shown in black and white?

As I’ve mentioned before, this same type of imperviousness to prediction is (to me) the most notable aspect of Kanye West’s talent, the most literal manifestation of his (depending on who you ask) genius, madness, or wackness. I can’t think of any other hip-hop artist who consistently defies expectations this way. I mean, when you hear that Jay-Z or Ghostface or Drake or whomever is releasing a new album, before you even hear it, anyone familiar with their work is going to have an idea of what it’s going to sound like. The only question is whether or not it’s going to be any good. But, trying to predict how a Kanye West album is going to sound is like trying to imagine how the air tastes on Jupiter. I think that people who anticipate his albums the way I do are compelled by this volatility, while the people who can’t stand him and/or find him inauthentic are annoyed by it.

2. It would be unwise to craft your final judgments on New Slaves and Black Skinhead right now because one thing you can predict about Kanye is that a Kanye song the first time you hear it and the album version of a Kanye song are likely to be completely different. But, in the chance that these were the final versions of the songs, I have to say that I wasn’t expecting to like them as much as I do. My opinions aren’t based on whatever “messages” the songs were trying to convey. I just like the way each sounds.

3. I loved College Dropout, but I do not miss College Dropout Kanye or want College Dropout Kanye to “come back.” For those who do—and, apparently, there are many—I don’t know if you realize how selfish that is. It’s also impossible, both literally (obviously) and figuratively. You’re asking someone to recreate memories and music so you can feel how you felt when it was initially created. You don’t want College Dropout Kanye back. You want who you were when College Dropout dropped to come back. Neither will ever happen.

Thing is, even if this were to happen—if Kanye or whoever was able to transform back into a long dead version of themselves just to replicate their art—you would not be able to replicate how you felt when first hearing it. Just as they’re not the same person, you’re not either, which is why it’s imperative to create new memories and associations instead of trying (and failing) to relive old ones.

4. From a personal perspective, I am almost completely neutral about Kim and Kanye’s relationship. And, by “I am almost completely neutral about their relationship” I mean “I am neither rooting for nor against them, but if a gun was pointed to my head and I had to choose, I’d root for them. I’d then ask Panama why he pulled a gun on me.”

But, as Rembert Browne alluded to last week, it’s near impossible to listen to a Kanye song or album now and not wonder what influence Kim has had on his work. For this reason, I think being with her may end up being the worst musical decision he’s ever made. I wont pretend to know what’s going on inside of Kanye’s head, but he’s always struck me as an artist who’s more concerned with product, legacy, and praise than popularity. Not only does he want to be the best artist, he wants everyone to recognize him as such. (Ironically, this maniacal focus on product and legacy has made him extremely popular. There’s a positive message here somewhere that I’d note if I cared about positive messages.)

But now Kim Kardashian’s shadow looms over his work. Regardless of how good (or bad) this album is—and regardless of whether their relationship has any influence at all on the quality of his work and the frequency that work is produced—Kim’s name will be mentioned in every longform review and article about it, and her presence will be thought of when people assess this album. She, he, and them together are too transcendentally (and, perhaps, intentionally) bizarre for this not to happen.

For an artist so concerned with legacy, so concerned with how his work is regarded, you have to wonder why he’d willingly enter a relationship that would have such an effect on how people regard his work.

(Actually, I don’t really wonder why. Although Kanye has been the subject of numerous gay rumors, he’s always struck me as a person who’s exclusively attracted to and infatuated with women and completely dependent on their validation. Basically, he seems like the type of guy who needs women to cum while f*cking him for him to get any lasting pleasure out of sex. Sure, the woman “wins,” but it’s really all about him and proving to himself—and her—that he has that power. For a person who thinks like this, Kim Kardashian—a woman whose popularity largely stems from being the amalgamation of a million different porn-addicted men’s sexual chimeras—is not only an understandable choice, she’s the best one.)

5. I think certain decisions Kanye has made has caused many to think of him as a shameless attention whore. I’ve never agreed with this, mainly because I can’t think of a current celebrity who’s noticeably disquieted by attention more than he is. It feels like he wants to be known and thought of, but not actually engaged unless he has complete control of the interaction. Basically, he’s the music world’s unlikeliest introvert.

6. I think Kanye is the single most important person in music right now. I think he’s very aware of this. He also must be aware that his last album was regarded by many very serious hip-hop critics as one of the best rap albums ever made. I think this would put any artist under a shitload of pressure. I’m (obviously) not sure how Kanye is handling this, but I think we’ll have a better idea June 18th.

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”) 

Either She Homeless, Or She Got Problems

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A couple weeks ago, the Gay Reindeer and I were sitting in my car, people watching and eating applesauce (don’t ask), when a conversation about Pittsburgh neighborhoods segued into gentrification, which then segued into the surreal experience of seeing White joggers trying to navigate past the hordes of people standing outside of liquor stores and check cashing marts, which then finally landed on a point she brought up: Those anonymous people hanging outside of those stores all day long—people who usually are middle-aged, Black, and poor—often serve as the neighborhood’s Shakespearean fools.

Perhaps they don’t seem particularly lucid or observant, and maybe their English isn’t the best, but they’re watching, recording, and assessing everything that’s going on in the surrounding area. And, if you ever have the opportunity to talk to one of them—like, seriously sitdown and talk—they have the tendency to provide plain-spoken insights and witticisms about the community and the people who inhabit it that would make you wonder if they were secretly undercover PhDs doing a years-long anthropological study.

Anyway, I’m bringing this up because this was the first thing I thought of when listening to Charles Ramsey’s entire interview. (Actually, that was the second thing. The first? That’s a really nice white tee he’s wearing. It must have been brand new.) Like a true Shakespearean fool, Ramsey’s appearance and “commoner” sensibilities belied the wit and bravery he so obviously possessed. And, also true to Shakespearean fool form, an off-hand, matter-of-fact statement made towards the end of the interview ended up being the most memorable (and insightful) thing he said.

(Paraphrasing) “If you see a pretty White woman running towards a Black man, either she homeless or she got problems.”

You know, out of all the interracial dating/relationship-related conversations I remember having, I can recall in-depth, nuanced, emotionally charged, and surprisingly sober discussions about…

1. The type of Black man who dates White women

2. The type of Black woman who dates White men

3. The type of White man who dates Black women

…conversations where everything from the way they typically look to the base reasoning behind their choices is examined and assessed with care.

But, there doesn’t seem to be that same level of discourse among us about attractive White women who choose to date Black men, mainly because we have a tendency to dismiss whatever attraction they may have for brothas as some sort of sexual fetish, a way of “getting back” at her family in some way, or a blatant cash grab.

Basically, if she runs to a Black man, either she homeless, or she got problems.

While this line of thinking is usually thought to be an indictment on White women—or, rather, the type of White woman who primarily dates Black men—it actually is a bigger insult to brothas. By believing that White women who choose Black men are effed up in some way, you’re also implying that there’s no reason for a normal, well-adjusted White woman to want to be in a serious relationship with a Black man.

Admittedly, I’ve fallen victim to this line of thinking as well. I’ve joked before about the type of White woman you might find at a predominately Black nightclub (I even have a name for them: “snizzles”—a term that derives from “snowbunnies”), but those jokes were rooted in a very real belief that something had to be wrong with a White chick who was into Black dudes. While I do believe that there has to be something wrong with someone who only dates outside of their race, I make concessions and justifications for Black men, Black women, and White men who do this that I never have with White women, and this lack of interracial dating-based empathy boxes me into a very awkward corner.

“If I believe that there’s something seriously wrong with her if she’s into me, that a decision to date a Black man is a seriously bad one, doesn’t that also suggest that I believe there’s something seriously wrong with me?”

I haven’t answered that question yet. Maybe I just don’t want to hear the answer. And, maybe I’m just not smart enough to be a fool.

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

On Black People And “Our” Homophobia

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1. As I listened to Jason Collins and Oprah discuss the extra “stigma” of being gay and Black, I couldn’t help but wonder how true the “Blacks are more homophobic than everyone else” sentiment truly is. I think many of us—myself included—have said it so much that we’ve accepted it to be true, and since we’ve accepted it to be true, we don’t bother challenging or even testing that theory. And, over time, this widely-held theory is repeated as fact.

I’m not here to argue whether it’s true or false (at least not yet), but how do we really know? Sure, we can cite a few rap lyrics or some loosely connected vagaries about Black people and Christianity, but all that might prove is that a certain type of Black person might be more likely to be homophobic. But, once you control for education, class, location, and any other environmental factors, how would we (Black people) fare?

This phenomenon sort of reminds of me of the theory that Black people are the worst tippers. Whether or not the theory might be true is inconsequential (And yes, I believe it to be true). It’s so ingrained into so many people’s minds that they don’t even bother challenging it, they use confirmation bias to strengthen their beliefs, and after enough circular thinking it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

2. I think that when people say that Black people are more homophobic than everyone else, what they’re really saying is that Black men are more homophobic than everyone else. Black women generally get a pass, and I think that pass is undeserved.

Generally speaking, I think straight Black women are more superficially accepting of homosexuals—more likely to have gay male or lesbian friends, more “comfortable” around gays, more likely to participate in the fight for gay rights, etc. But, when it comes to actual beliefs about what constitutes male homosexuality, they’re no different than the typical Black male, as both the typical Black male and the “gay-friendly” Black woman tend to believe that there’s no such thing as a bisexual male. Basically, if a man has ever participated in any type of non-straight activity—a one-time act, a thought, a recurring dream, anything—he’s gay now, and gay forever. This is homophobic.

3. I think quite a few women are going to read those last couple sentences and tell me that I’m wrong, that they and most of the Black women they know don’t have any homophobic bones in their bodies. I think that before they leave any comments today, they should ask themselves two questions: Would you date a man who had one gay experience fifteen years ago? If no, would your answer change if you were 100% certain he wouldn’t do that again? If the answer is still no, I’d like to know why. What is it about that one-time act that would completely eliminate a man from your consideration?

4. I think I’m anxiously waiting for the day some prominent person just stops the denials, double-talk, and mealymouthedness and just comes out and says “Yes, I’m homophobic.” I think I’ll be waiting a while for that to happen. I don’t mind that, though. I’ve been waiting a couple decades now for a public figure to just say “Yes, I’m racist. Can you stop asking me whether or not I’m racist now?” so if anything it proves I’m patient.

5. I think I don’t like it when certain people (and by “certain people” I mean “certain Black Christians”) are asked about their views concerning homosexuality, and are criticized for responding honestly. But, I also think that socially abhorrent views are meant to be criticized. I think my problem isn’t necessarily with the criticism but with the ambush tactics—ask someone a question even though you already know how they’re going to answer just so you can make an example out of them—especially from other “progressive” Black Christians.

6. I think you can ask a million Christians about the Bible and what they take from it and get a million different variations. I mean, we (Christians) all believe that, to paraphrase Bill Maher, there’s a “magic genie in the sky that’ll grant our wishes if we ask really hard,” so is it really that bad when one of us also believes homosexuality is a sin or that you can legitimately pray your gay away?

7. Speaking of progressive people and homosexuality, I think there’s a bit of a disconnect when it comes to what people are willing to admit. To wit, many people (myself included) believe that human sexuality exists on a continuum. Basically, there’s a sexuality scale that we all fit somewhere on. Most of us are gathered either at the gay end or the straight end, but the rest of us are somewhere in the middle.

But, if a scale exists, I think it also stands to reason that a person in the middle can consciously choose to be gay or straight. Yet, I think you’re unlikely to find a liberal/progressive person publicly admit that people who can actually make that type of choice exist because it opens a Pandora’s Box for “less enlightened” people to say “See, I told you that all gay people are only gay because they chose to be.”

8. I know I’m far from the first person to say this, but I think someone needs to invent another word to use to describe someone being uneasy around, unaccepting of, or hateful towards homosexuals. “Homophobic” just doesn’t seem comprehensive enough to capture all of that. Feel free to list any suggestions.

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

Where’s The Love Jones?

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***After watching Love Jones again last weekend, I was urged to revisit and revise something I wrote about the film for the Loop21 a few years ago***

Approximately halfway through Love Jones, the iconic 1997 romantic drama centered around a Chicago-area couple, protagonists Darius Lovehall (Larenz Tate) and Nina Mosley (Nia Long) attend a dance together—their first real “date” since a few somewhat contrived situations caused them to momentarily break away from each other. Predictably, the date goes extremely well. The otherworldly connection and chemistry Darius and Nina share is palpable, and, despite any romantic roadblocks (contrived or otherwise or just named “Bill Bellamy”), you know that things are going to work for them.

But, while this date night dance scene’s main purpose was to give the audience a visual segue from Darius and Nina’s short-term separation to their impending romance, writer/director Ted Witcher does something else, something a bit subtler and a bit more poignant. With the vibrant music, colorfully coordinated dance steps, and equally colorful (and equally coordinated) attire, Witcher introduces the audience to the world of Chicago steppin’—a derivative of swing dancing popular in the South and Midwest. Although the scene is only a couple minutes long, Witcher presents this dance phenomenon and the anonymous steppers to us with the same regard, enchantment, and love exhibited when the lens is focused on any of the main characters.

Says the late Roger Ebert:

“There’s electricity when they go on a date to the weekly steppers’ ball hosted by Herb Kent the Cool Gent, who plays himself. Steppin’ is a Chicago dance style that comes out of jitterbug, cooled down, and as we watch this scene we get that interesting feeling when a fiction film edges toward documentary and shows us something we haven’t seen before.”

In the 16 years since its release (damn, just typing that made me feel old as f*ck) Love Jones has gone from underappreciated romantic drama with a banging soundtrack to the cinematic standard for realistic black romance. (Well, “realistic” other than the fact that it featured a bunch of underemployed negros living in lofts…with exposed brick…in Chicago. But, who’s nitpicking?)

And, while the story and the chemistry between Tate and Long are the most memorable aspects of the film, Love Jones is held in such high regard because Ted Witcher was so obviously in love with everything he put into this movie. More than just a drama, it was an ode to Black culture, to Chicago, to music, to movies, to love, to words, to sex; a paean to the possibilities of people not constrained to 140 characters or less. It’s loved and appreciated because it loved and appreciated both its characters and its audience, a trait also found in Soul Food—a movie that, although not necessarily a romantic drama and not as universally praised as Love Jones, shared Love Jones’ love for its characters and their customs.

These movies, and the level of love and exuberance they were shot with, stand in stark contrast to much of today’s Black romantic fare—both at the theater and on the small screen—which seems to be content with browbeating the audience with messages so heavy-handed it feels like you’re being kicked. (Before this devolves into another angst-ridden conversation about all things wrong with Tyler Perry, I do think that Perry loves his characters. But, Ike loved Tina too, didn’t he?) Instead of a peek into a world we may not have been completely familiar with, we’re left with 60 to 120 minute long psychotherapy sessions and self-help pamphlets featuring people who have never existed on Earth, After Earth, or any other planet humans have ever lived on—movies where writers and directors use the screen as a palate to work out their own issues instead of allowing the audience a chance to be vicarious.

Maybe this cinematic shift is our doing. Maybe our expectations have devolved to the point that we wouldn’t be able to handle a Black movie with more love and nuance than ill will and temple knocking. Still, after watching Love Jones again last weekend, I think we’re ready for another one. We just need to find the love needed to pull it off.

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)