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Earlier this month, Page Six reported that Beyoncé and Jay Z’s long-rumored duets album will arrive in earbuds around the world “very soon.” The news was met with mixed emotions: It seems some fans were less than thrilled about the idea of an album-length session of post-Lemonade couples counseling.

But why are we assuming that’s what this album will be? For all we know, it’s a bunch of up-tempo party tracks. Given that it’s been 10 years since Beyoncé’s fantastic B’Day, I’d be all for that. Failing that, I’m happy to entertain an album on which Jay Z explains in detail why Becky with the good hair ain’t worth a court-mandated visitation schedule for him and Blue Ivy. I don’t know what’s on this album, and neither do you. But I’m open to finding out, considering the pair’s well-established musical chemistry. Besides, any member of the Beyhive should know by now that there is no such thing as too much Beyoncé in the world.

The real reason I love the idea of a Jay Z and Beyoncé joint project, though, is that it could help usher in a new era for the duets album — a format that has tragically fallen by the wayside in our culture. Yes, duets still exist. No one dares disrespect the magic Ja Rule and Ashanti once made, or what Ciara and Ludacris did further down the country. However, none of those duos created a stand-alone project. Two of the aforementioned are hosting awards shows instead of performing at them.

More recently, we’ve enjoyed duets from Nick Jonas and TinasheAriana Grande and The Weeknd, and Justin Bieber and Halsey. But none of them have given us anything close to the magic Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell produced in the 1960s. In 2013, Maxwell announced plans to go there with Alicia Keys, telling Billboard, “We’re definitely working on an EP that’s sort of Marvin Gaye/Tammi Terrell.” Three years later, we haven’t heard a peep from either about the project.

So, yes, I would love to hear a duets album from Beyoncé and her husband. While we’re at it, isn’t it about time that Drake and Rihanna quit playing and offered us their own duets album?

Apologies in advance to all those who bow before Aubrey Graham — I’d rather pretend Views never happened.

Read the rest at MTV News.

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This is another piece that ended up orphaned. Look, I got paid so we Gucci, but I still felt it should live somewhere. The song is garbage, by the way. Jennifer Lopez could’ve easily just re-released the original version of “Good Hit” instead.

When I read on various sites and across social media that Jennifer Lopez’s new single, “Ain’t Your Mama,” was a “women’s empowerment” or “feminist anthem,” I chuckled like a cartoon villain in the earlier moments of the movie. Like, I don’t know much about algebra, but I know a single produced by a man being sued for sexual assault and battery doesn’t add up to either of those things. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for the online clapback to come.

Since then, Meghan Trainor, one of the song’s co-writers, has spoken in defense of J.Lo, telling Digital Spy of the criticism:

“[It was] not fair on her, not at all. I texted her the song and she had no idea — she thought I did it alone by myself at my house, which a lot of people think because I do do that. I sent it to her and said, ‘Do you like the song?’ and she said, ‘I love the song, my kid loves the song — he’s made me play it five times already so I know it’s a hit — when can I cut it?’, so I said immediately, ‘Whenever you want!’”

I have a hard time believing this, but I’ll refrain from hitting Scooby Doo and The Mystery Machine on the hip to further investigate. Even if Lopez had no initial idea that Dr. Luke played a hand in the song’s formation, there’s quite the process that happens between the recording of a song and its distribution. Therefore, somewhere along the way, it should have dawned on the artist in question who all had a hand in its creation. So let’s be clear that Jennifer Lopez and her label made a choice to release the single anyway.

As a fan of Jennifer Lopez’s music, it’s a choice I wish she hadn’t made. For one, the song itself isn’t especially great. It’s definitely no “If You Had My Love,” or hell, “Good Hit.” Couple that with the controversy and one wonders if the song was worth it the noise it has created.

While individuals are certainly innocent until proven guilty, there’s a notable contrast in the many artists who have expressed support for Kesha – Lady Gaga, Ariana Grande, Adele, Kelly Clarkson – and the virtual crickets over on Dr. Luke’s side. “Ain’t Your Mama” feels like a slap in the face to Kesha. It’s easy to understand why many are angered by the track’s release.

Yet, there’s also something to be said about when people pick and choose to speak out.

Kesha’s lawsuit against Dr. Luke was filed in October 2014. Less than a month later, teenage singer-rapper Becky G released “Can’t Stop Dancin’,” produced by Dr. Luke – whose label she signed to after meeting him at age 14. In April 2015, Becky G released “Lovin’ So Hard,” also produced by Dr. Luke. Months later came two additional singles in “Break A Sweat” and “You Love It,” again each produced by Dr. Luke.

Where was the outcry? If we are concerned about proximity to Dr. Luke, should there not have been more noise made about a teenage girl recording with him virtually non-stop? This is not to negate the efforts of people airing their disappointments with Jennifer Lopez to release a Dr. Luke produce single in the wake of his ongoing legal fight with Kesha. My point is that there should be consistency.

Nonetheless, we do have to hold our artists accountable for their actions.

Last fall, while hosting the Soul Train Awards, Erykah Badu referred to R. Kelly as a “brother” and argued that he “has done more for Black people than anyone.” In terms of his contribution to R&B, R. Kelly has certainly changed the genre and moved it forward it ways very few can ever claim similar rights to. Still, though he might have not been convicted in his child pornography case, he has a long history of accusations of sexual assault against underaged girls — one that he continues to struggle to explain.   

Though Badu doesn’t call herself a feminist, she has described herself as a humanist, telling The Guardian, “I consider myself a spiritual being first, a human being second, a woman third, and fourth is pretty … or ugly!” Perhaps we have different ideas of humanity, but I’m not especially fond of championing a man who has married teenagers and “allegedly” urinated on minors.

The same way I expect someone like Jennifer Lopez, who was recently named the first-ever Global Advocate for Girls and Women at the UN Foundation, to not release songs produced by Dr. Luke while he’s being sued for sexual battery.

That’s why no matter whatever explanation Meghan Trainor offers, it does not excuse certain realities. Jennifer Lopez made a choice. Somewhere along the way, someone had to have known about Dr. Luke’s involvement in the song. By now, Jennifer Lopez has to have been informed of the feedback, and yet, it remains unaddressed.

Those who position themselves as pro women or pro humanity rightfully deserved to be questioned if someone feels they are not holding up to that standard. It’s not about being perfect, it’s just about holding people accountable. Fans have a right to do that, only when it comes to the likes of Dr. Luke, it’s best to do so with consistency.

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Bless her heart: It’s been mighty rough for Tamar Braxton within the last year.

Not only was she forced to leave Dancing With the Stars because of a life-threatening health crisis, but her very good album, Calling All Lovers, caught the fade from consumers. Now one of the biggest breaks in her post-Braxton Family Values career—a slot on the hit daytime talk show The Real—has come to an abrupt end. While the official announcement claims that it was a mutual decision, the first outlet to report the news notes that Braxton was fired—something Braxton’s own fiery Instagram post suggests, since it claims “backstabbing.” Braxton didn’t name names, but she did unfollow everyone on the show except for her now-former-co-host-closest-to-the-ideals-of-Jesus, Tamera Mowry-Housley.

Quoting what it describes as a “very reliable source” (Wendy Williams suggested that it was Loni Love on Monday’s edition of The Wendy Williams Show), Love B. Scott reported: “Tamar Braxton just got fired from The Real. She wasn’t reading too well with the audience and sales people didn’t find her to be a good fit with advertisers. Also, production found her too difficult to deal with.”

Of course, when one reads phrasing like “didn’t find her to be a good fit with advertisers,” certain sensitivities are triggered. One of those includes the notion that maybe, just maybe, Tamar was too loud, and her rolling neck too active, to shill, oh, I don’t know, diet products, kale chips, Cheetos or whatever else daytime TV typically advertises. My people, my people. I feel you, but not in this instance.

Let’s be clear about The Real: Everyone on this show is loud minus Tamera, so while Tamar may be the real-life version of BET’s old cartoon character Cita, Loni Love has a volume set just as high (Jesus’ alarm clock).

As a longtime fan of Tamar Braxton’s (I listen regularly to the first album she pretends never happened), I think this is a teachable moment because I can totally see why Tamar might have gotten the boot. For one, she wasn’t always the most pleasant person on the panel. Her eyes rolled as hard as my body does after my sixth tequila drink (save the judgment) and the DJ turns on Beyoncé’s “Sorry.” She tended to talk over her fellow panelists. She could be dismissive here and there of their feelings, too.

In sum, she treated her co-workers the way Towanda Braxton claims she treats her sisters. The problem, though, is that there is no Mama Braxton to come and save her from their criticism. Moreover, these are co-workers, not kinfolk. Production doesn’t have to put up with you, especially once they realize that they don’t need you to survive. So as special as Tamar Braxton is and as magnetic a personality many find her, we’re all dispensable.

Shoutout to Star Jones and Rosie Perez.

I’m not Iyanla Vanzant, but I have a few suggestions for the littlest Braxton.

Read the rest at The Root.

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This is a post that was commissioned, but ultimately did not run for reasons that appear to be above my pay grade. However, because I think Woody Allen is a smug sum’bitch, I wanted to give it some space to live on Al Gore’s Internet. Here goes.

No matter how important a creative most find Woody Allen to be, it does not cancel out the following reality: he is a cretin of the highest order. Allen’s relationship with children is concerning to say the very least, but what makes Allen’s personal life so grating is that when promoting his professional work, he has only grown more callous in the way in which he discusses it. What’s even more infuriating is how the media continues to handle him delicately – i.e. not calling him out on his s**t at all – collectively.

That begs the question: Why does Woody Allen not carry the taint his accused behavior warrants?

In the now infamous interview with The Hollywood Reporter, the famed director had this to say about the controversy surrounding him marrying the adopted daughter of his ex-wife: “I was immune, yes I was. You can see I worked right through that, undiminished. Made films all through those years and at the same rate I was making them. I’m good that way. I am very disciplined and very monomaniacal and compartmentalized.”

Then there was the question of how his wife, Soon-Yi Previn, has changed him. Allen’s answer was more about him as a white savior than anything related to her:

“Oh, well, one of the great experiences of my life has been my wife. She had a very, very difficult upbringing in Korea: She was an orphan on the streets, living out of trash cans and starving as a 6-year-old. And she was picked up and put in an orphanage. And so I’ve been able to really make her life better.”

Besides not answering the question, there’s also the tidbit that Allen’s former wife and Previn’s adopted mother, Mia Farrow, probably has more to do with that anyway. Of course, Allen has a 2o-year history of making repulsive statements about his relationship with Previn. Again, how does this man managed to continue to be nearly canonized in Hollywood?

Allen’s son, journalist Ronan Farrow, has now asked the question, too.

In a guest column for THR entitled “My Father, Woody Allen, and the Danger of Questions Unasked,” Farrow discusses how the media – self-included –  handle powerful men accused of sexual abuse. Ronan writes about the challenges his sister, Dylan Farrow, who accused Allen of sexually molesting her as a child, had in trying to share her story with the public by way of a post on New York Times columnist Nicholas Kristof’s blog. Ronan also notes the the same publication that limited her expression let Allen have not only more words, but actual space within the printed newspaper.

Even this week, this same paper is reporting that Allen is asked about everything at the Cannes Film Festival besides the accusations.

Accusations Ronan lends credence to as he writes:

“I believe my sister. This was always true as a brother who trusted her, and, even at 5 years old, was troubled by our father’s strange behavior around her: climbing into her bed in the middle of the night, forcing her to suck his thumb — behavior that had prompted him to enter into therapy focused on his inappropriate conduct with children prior to the allegations.”

But while Ronan credits newer media outlets like Buzzfeed and Gawker for challenging the likes of Woody Allen and Bill Cosby for their alleged sexual abuse of women and girls, he highlights that younger acts like Miley Cyrus choose to work with Woody Allen. Ronan notes that it hurts his sister, but it also hurts the generation Miley Cyrus claims to want to represent.

It is not okay for someone like Cyrus to bring awareness to the plight of homeless LGBT youth and advocate for gender and sexual fluidity and then in turn work with the man who married his ex-wife’s adopted kid and has been accused by his daughter of molestation. Similarly, as much as I adore Jennifer Lopez, we cannot allow her to call a song produced by Dr. Luke, who is still dealing with accusations of rape by his artist, Kesha, to be hailed as a “women’s empowerment” anthem.

If you want to compromise yourself for professional gain, so be it — just don’t try to act as though you give that great a damn about the suffering of others.

We have to be better than the people who came before us. We have to not allow the likes of Woody Allen and Bill Cosby or any powerful man in entertainment accused of abuse to continue enjoying free passes in the media. Although comedian Hannibal Buress continues to downplay his joke about Cosby that helped ignite a much needed revisiting of sexual assault allegations leveled against Cosby, it was necessary. It was important. It was more of what we all should be doing.

I try to do my own part. In the space I’ve been allotted here, I’ve repeatedly criticized the media for how it has tackled the relationship of Kylie Jenner and Tyga and how Jenner was sexualized in the press despite being a teenage girl. The same goes for criticizing R. Kelly.

There is no effort too big or small. We merely have to speak up. That is, if we are about lifting up those that have been abused and taking down those accused of violating them. Otherwise, to quote my beloved Evelyn Lozada, “You ain’t about this life.”

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I’ve made it clear that I understood booking Madonna for a Prince tribute at this year’s Billboard Music Awards was BS in theory. So, now after actually watching the tribute last night, believe me when I tell you that I am reveling in all my truth the day after. God bless Madonna because I am a fan, but that tribute was not it. It was not even a lil’ bit of it.

The first problem with the tribute was song selection. I understand that Madonna really, really likes to sing, and to her credit, has worked hard over the years to maintain the voice that she has. Unfortunately, that voice remains incapable of delivering the emotion attached to the Prince songs she opted to cover. I wish she had hit her girl, Ursula The Sea Witch from The Little Mermaid on the hip and asked for a solid in order to secure a better voice for the occasion. Or, you know, Madonna could have just danced through a bunch of Prince’s uptempo tracks while others – including, I don’t know, some of the folks Prince worked with extensively over the years – would be left to handle the heavy weight.

Let’s talk about the set list, shall we? Madonna should have been covering “Let’s Go Crazy,” “Kiss,” or hell, even “Raspberry Beret.” Not, by any stretch, the two she opted for: “Nothing Compares 2 U” and “Purple Rain.” Speaking of the former, why exactly was Madonna singing the Sinead O’Connor version of “Nothing Compares 2 U?” If you’re going to sing a Prince song, sing the Prince song the way Prince actually sang it.

Beloved, WYD?

And what was with that cheap added instrumentation behind the track? Prince, the legendary and extremely gifted musician, would not have been pleased with such dollar-store sounding trickery. I know the always touring Madge knows better.

Speaking of well-meaning intentions going the way of Jeb Bush’s presidential campaign, why was Madonna dressed more like Liberace than the Purple One? Let’s reflect more on this: Madonna, queen of the visual, dressed like Michael Douglas’ body double in Behind the Candelabra for a Prince tribute.

Beloved, WYD?

Read the rest at EBONY.

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There are two types of men in this world: those that are comfortable with listening to music created by a woman without feeling any sense of threat to their masculinity, and the alternative—a neanderthal that assumes the second you listen to the sound of a woman singing or rapping, your penis longs for a sword fight.

This is not a new concept, but like most things triggered by the biggest pop star in the world, Beyoncé, it only becomes more prominent once she releases something. Insecure men scatter out like roaches in a RAID-less house the second the light flickers on.

One message that responded to this stuck out to me.

I’m embarrassed for any man who thinks listening to a woman’s music is a test of his sexuality or masculinity.

This would include numerous tweets sent out over days following the release of Lemonade.

And last year.

And the year before that.

Of course, I’ve heard this over time in classrooms, locker rooms, and barbershops. I mean, there are men who worship Future the same way gay men and Adele worship Beyoncé. Or name any superstar athlete of the past half century here.

I appreciate videos like this because more times than not, you have to make light of the idiocy suffocating you. However, this addiction to hypermasculinity is vile no matter the form. Even if it’s as silly as a Beyoncé song, the root issue still hinges on the idea that, to some, you are less of a man for appreciating the art of woman. Well, a certain kind of woman. One is ultra feminine (yet strong), one who caters specifically to Black women (yet has proven again and again she can literally go as hard as her male contemporaries).

Read the rest at VH1.

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It didn’t take American Idol runner-up and new Motown signee La’Porsha Renae long to realize she probably should have kept her stupid to herself with respect to thoughts about the LGBT community. In a recent interview, Renae was asked about the controversial HB1523 legislation that was passed in her home state of Mississippi recently. While Renae did express some niceties about LGBT folks – we’re people like everyone else, we have feelings, and other things you learn early as a Sesame Street viewer – her phrasing rightly courted controversy.

You see, Renae could have left her comments right there, but she went on to note: “I am one of the people who don’t really agree with that lifestyle. I wasn’t brought up that way. It wasn’t how I was raised. But I do have a lot of friends and a lot of people that I love dearly who are gay and homosexual and they’re such sweet, nice people. We should just respect each other’s differences and opinions and move on.”

Renae has since conducted another interview that ran on Tuesday in which she acknowledged she had been “offensive by using the word ‘lifestyle’” to describe homosexuality. Renae adds that while she’s totally aware of the details of HB1523, she is “firmly” against any discriminatory laws. How nice.

To some, this would be the part where I pack up my annoyance and mosey on over to the next thing many would describe as “problematic.”

However, I’m comfortable right where I am so I would like to spend a lil’ more time addressing the issue with use of “lifestyle.” La’Porsha Renae is 23 years old, but sounds like an uncomfortable senior citizen describing her gay child’s longtime “roommate.” And just like Big Mama, Renae needs to understand that veganism is a lifestyle, not my predominate and natural attraction to members of the same sex. No matter what Rachel “Fake Ass Freddie Brooks”  Dolezal tells you, being Black is not a lifestyle choice either.

When people invoke “lifestyle” to describe one’s sexuality, they are insinuating that it is a choice. As in something that can be changed or “cured” depending on what kind of zealot you’re talking to. Renae might not even be fully aware of this because homophobia is so ingrained in society. Even her use of “homosexual” speaks to antiquated viewpoint of gays and lesbians. Whether or not she realizes any of this is irrelevant. The damage is done the minute the words are uttered.

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It’s pretty clear, these days, why no one can use the Bible’s “Curse of Ham” to justify enslavement of black people, or why it’s in poor taste to ask a woman if she is menstruating even if Leviticus considers her “unclean”. The Bible, as Desmond Tutu explained in the 2007 documentary For the Bible Tells Me So, “is the word of God through the words of human beings speaking in the idiom of their time.”

More simply put: whether or not the Bible was meant to be taken literally when written, times change. And I’m all for more folks analyzing scripture to help square their holy text with modern realities. It is imperative that we stop empowering those who distort God’s words to use them against marginalized members of society.

But the text is still the text – changing how you interpret The Word is different than deciding other words are better. That is why I question Robert Whitehead’s idea to create what he is calling a Queer Bible. Though increasing number of US Christians are more accepting of homosexuality, Whitehead doesn’t think the religion goes far enough. He writes:

I want to make an inclusive, celebratory space within the text that undoes the implicit sexism, misogyny, heterosexism, hierarchical oppression, slut-shaming, etc. and reconstitutes the feminine, the queer, the outcast, the strange.

Whitehead has already exceeded his Kickstarter campaign goal, but for all his good intentions, what’s the softer, sweeter way to write: “And if a man sell his daughter to be a maidservant, she shall not go out as the menservants do?” How do you massage text that says anyone who works on the Sabbath must be put to death?

Whitehead says intent isn’t to “change meaning” but “rather to show meaning in a queer way”. You can gussy up an ugly sentiment all you want, but there’s only so much makeup you can pile on to cover a blemish that hideous. Considering his source material, Whitehead would literally have to create a whole new text to net his goal in any meaningful fashion.

Anyway, re-translating the Bible to deliberately elide its medieval edges doesn’t grapple with its flaws so much as seek to evade them, and this doesn’t queer the Bible – it just offers an alternative, which devout believers of The Word would undoubtedly reject, and which hurts efforts to undermine those who cite “religious liberty” to justify their prejudices.

It’s a feel-good premise without actual significance, and it’s how too many progressive Christians try to soften what’s there instead of just being daring enough to smartly argue that the book is a historical text that’s not meant to be taken literally.

Read the rest at The Guardian.

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Last night, I found myself singing an impromptu rendition of Toni Braxton’s “How Could An Angel Break My Heart?” upon word that the legendary Foxy Brown had endorsed Donald Trump for president. I mean, that’s some sh-t I would expect from Smooth or Sylk-E. Fyne, but certainly not Fox Boogie. The New York Daily News, which has such a hard on for Trump right now, published the story, leading with “Move over, Stacey Dash.”

Oh my God, the disrespect.

They quote the rapper claiming that while she loves Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders, she’s supporting Trump’s presidential bid.

Foxy apparently says: “No matter how many people sabotage his campaign, it keeps growing and growing and growing. I know so many people won’t agree with me and will try to change my mind, but I’m a smart girl. I’m excited … I haven’t been this excited in so long. I know people say he’s a racist, but that’s just crazy.”

With this quote came many of us who grew up with her music bewildered, promising not to return to the Hot Spot or bar, y’all until Inga Marchand took a hard look at herself and her choices. Alas, there is now no reason to fear the politics of Foxy Brown.

Foxy took to Instagram to refute report, writing: “I am in no way endorsing Trump. What I said verbatim was Trump had tenacity, much like I said Hillary Clinton I love dearly and Bernie Sanders I absolutely adore.”

You see that? The evil, vicious media tried to turn Foxy Brown into Azealia Banks, who actually did endorse Trump for president. I can understand why the linkage in theory. After all, Azealia Banks is just Foxy Brown without the hits. And you know, Foxy Brown has been accused of spitting on folks, which is sort of a Trump supporter thing to do. Trump and Foxy would probably have an enjoyable dinner of Trump steaks, talking about “the haters” and losers.

Read the rest at VH1.

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It didn’t dawn on me until someone else told me: My first appearance on Melissa Harris-Perry was the show’s premature finale. Before MSNBC host and Wake Forest University professor Melissa Harris-Perry announced in an email to her staff that she would not be returning to her show due to disputes over airtime and editorial control, I did hear that the segment I appeared in, about Beyoncé’s new video for her song “Formation” was a hotly contested issue between producers and network execs. As we’ve since learned, MHP had been out of  contact with MSNBC’s president, Phil Griffin, for over a year, and in recent weeks, her show has been repeatedly preempted. The segment about Beyoncé is pretty typical of the show itself, and yet, the network wanted coverage only pertaining to the election. That’s frustrating for multiple reasons.

For one, there is never not a good time to talk about Beyoncé. Moreover, if Beyoncé is offering imagery that speaks directly to some of this country’s greatest lingering challenges with respect to race and racism, why not discuss it? CNN certainly felt compelled to ask Hillary Clinton about the reaction from select police officers to Beyoncé’s Super Bowl performance—why would it be off limits on MSNBC, on a show hosted by a Black woman who has consistently spoken up about racism in America?

MSNBC touts itself as “The Place for Politics,” but if the network fails to explore the politics behind a major cultural event from the biggest pop star on the planet, it’s doing a disservice to its tagline and audience. I agree with Harris-Perry that the show “deserved a proper burial.” Likewise, she is correct to say that her eponymous show “didn’t deserved to be disappeared” and that the disappearance does have “racial implications.” CNN Money reports that a new MSNBC from Alex Wagner, who is Burmese-American, is now not happening.

Funny enough, after the “Formation” segment wrapped, I told Harris-Perry how nice it was to finally meet her outside of Twitter and email. I told her, “I love you forever for mentioning SWV’s ‘Downtown’ on your show.” What I wish I had added was that it was a reminder to me, someone who aspires to such a platform, that it was inspiring to watch someone succeed as their authentic Black-ass self in that space.

It wasn’t my first time on MSNBC. Nearly five years prior, I appeared on the network during the daytime to discuss a piece I wrote about the KKK and its attempt at “rebranding.” I blinked like Mary J. Blige (no shade) the entire time—not so much out of nerves, but more because I felt that I was assimilating to a style of cable news that didn’t really reflect me. That’s what made #Nerdland such an integral space on cable news.

Through Melissa Harris-Perry, everyone got to be authentic. I saw Black people as varied as the community I encountered on the campus of Howard University. I saw trans men and women like the ones I met back in my days in Houston, or now, in NYC. I saw women who looked like my former professors, my best friends, and the people I grew up with. And everyone was treated the same. No one’s point of view was more valued than the other.

There was no other show like it and my fear now is that many of the people who sat at Harris-Perry’s table will not receive invitations to anyone else’s. News media is primarily white and male, and of the few people who register as “other” who get inside that space, it is typically dependent on 1) how close you are in attitude to mainstream (re: white) outlets, and 2) how quickly you can assimilate to that demo’s media culture.

Where do the rest go?

Read the rest at Complex.

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