[THE WEEKLY READ] To R&B’s Tragic Three

Given it’s been a minute since there’s been a new edition of The Weekly Read, I’m feeling generous, thus, treating y’all to a three for one. Consider this the literary equivalent of the Popeye’s Tuesday special, only I ate your biscuit and I don’t apologize for it. You didn’t need those carbs no way. In any event, this is an R&B dude themed starring The Alvin and the Chipmunks of R&B: Trey Songz as Alvin, Luke James playing the role of Simon, and Chris Brown giving a great impression of Theodore. And that’s no shade ‘cause I look exactly like Dale from The Rescue Rangers. All three have tried it as of late, so let us pray that they get it together…well, after I read.

Trey Songz:

Oh, bae Trey. You remind me of that scene in America’s Next Top Model where Tyra yelled at Tiffany, “WE WERE ROOTING FOR YOU! WE WERE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU!” What is this Trigga album supposed to be? It’s like one long song best described as melodic misogyny. Wait, I’m being rude. You keep remaking the same three songs, and to your credit, it hasn’t exactly hurt you. Insert a body roll to “Na Na” here.

However, I feel as though you are capable of more than cornball songs about “b*tches” and vulgar sex romps – all set to the same trap beat on the new project. Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate vulgarity and the sex songs they inspire, but you do remember you’re the guy who used to release songs such as “I Gotta Go” and “Can’t Help But Wait,” no?  Now you’re recording songs like “Smartphones?” Mr. Neverson, you have got to let “LOL :)” and “Say Aah” go. They were cute – for some people – but that’s done.

Also, we’re the same age, which means you’re entering your 30s this year so one would hope that your maturation level didn’t peak when you were in your early 20s rocking braids. You’re old enough to remember Jodeci, so you’ve got to recall that even their sex-fueled music encompassed variety. And despite my yearning to see him rot in jail and suffer a horrible depiction on Law & Order: SVU, even R. Kelly has managed to mix bumping and grinding subject matter with love songs, Sam Cooke impersonations, and fake inspirational songs that likely make Stevie Wonder go, “I mean…I guess it’s cool or whatever.”

Come on, Trigga, do better.

Luke James:

First off, Simon, let me be clear that as a Mariah Carey fan and someone who kept rewinding the opening scene of last week’s True Blood, I have no issue with miscegenation. I clocked the clap back you got on Instagram after posting a picture of your White girlfriend. Was it fair? No. People are petty, evil, and even if you personally have done nothing to them, select folks will project their issues onto you even if you’re not one of those Black men whose relationship girls are best described as “EWW, BLACK ICKY. WHITE YUMMY.”

And while you’re right about being human, which allows you to feel a ways when people come at you crazy, you are a human in 2014 i.e. do not upload anything on a public forum that is personal and may cause you to react. We all struggle with this, but as someone inching past celebrity-adjacent status, you have got to learn this lesson faster than others. Your fan base is primarily Black women, a group that very often sees the men they deem to be heartthrobs sharing their off-stage lives with women of other races—usually White ones. That is going to stir up some feelings and if you’re gonna do this fame thing, you have to handle that with grace.

Speaking of your fame, why isn’t there more of it? Forward this inquiry to your team and have them report back to me. I mean, you have a gorgeous voice and record R&B that actually sounds like R&B. And your music doesn’t scream “I hate women, especially my mommy.” You’re also not a bugawolf, so I do not understand the issue here. Is your Illuminati application on hold because you made Beyoncé mad on tour? If so, go bring her some vegan chocolate chip cookies and vegan macaroni and cheese (yes, it’s real, and it’s alright or whatever) and apologize. We gotta get you poppin’. We both know Trey Songz won’t be heeding my advice. Save us, my dude.

Chris Brown:

Breezy, unlike some folks, I have no issue with you growing your hair out and leaving the dye alone, gaining a lil’ weight and looking like the love child of Al B. Sure! and Walter Oats, but for the love of God, can you stay out of trouble?

Read the rest at EBONY.

Rick Perry Would Rather Spread Conspiracy Theories Than Shake President’s Hand…Again

Rick Perry  is the village idiot of gubernatorial politics. Those of us who unfortunately have become his victims during his king-like reign as governor of Texas knew about this long before he made a fool of himself in the 2012 Republican presidential primary, but as he looks ahead again toward failing in the 2016 presidential race, Gov. Perry is back on the fool train. Choo choo or whatever, y’all.

On Sunday, Perry served the girls conservative troll realness as he insinuated that President Barack Obama is purposely trying to fill the country up with undocumented immigrants during an interview with ABC News. When offered the chance to step two steps back from the crazy talk, Perry pressed on with the paranoia. Speaking to Martha Raddatz, Perry explained, “When I have written a letter that is dated May of 2012, and I have yet to have a response from this administration, I will tell you they either are inept or don’t care, and that is my position.” Rick Perry, whose solution to the drought in Texas was to pray for rain in stadiums, is calling another administration “inept”? Super.

Continuing on with his rant, Perry repeated the “inept” accusation and said it’s either that or “you have some ulterior motive of which you are functioning from.”

He went on to offer the following ominous warning (via Raw Story):

“Unless we secure our southern border, this is going to continue to be a massive amount of individuals that are coming to the United States. And, frankly, we don’t have a place to house them as it is. And if we have a major event, a hurricane that comes in to the Gulf Coast, I don’t have a place to be housing people who are displaced because this administration….”

Ever responsible, Raddatz interrupted Perry and concluded the interview with, “Okay, Governor, I’m going to have to stop you there, but thank you very much for joining us.” Mind you, days before this interview, Perry said to FOX News’ Sean Hannity, “I mean I hate to be conspiratorial, but I mean, how do you move that many people from Central America across Mexico and then in to the United States without there being a fairly coordinated effort?”

In other words, he very much wants to be conspiratorial. Hello, Republican primary voters, did that moisten your insanity enough?

When Perry isn’t talking crazy, he’s being disrespectful. In Texas for two days for private fundraising, the Obama administration extended an offer to Perry for him to greet Obama at the Austin-Bergstorm Airport. Perry’s response? I don’t want to shake your hand again, boy. No, thank you.

Read the rest at NewsOne.

“Love & Hip Hop Atlanta” Recap: Keep Your Paws to Yourself

While the debate on when and where it is appropriate to breastfeed lingers on (answer is usually whenever the mama, baby, and nipple feel like it), can we all come together as a people and agree that it’s probably not a good idea for a mother to breastfeed her son until age 14 and chase the milk with six ounces of Colt 45? As much as I appreciate Lil’ Scrappy’s commitment to remixing the English language in his own image, there comes a point in a man’s life when he ought to say to himself, “I cannot be the peach state’s Jody forever.” Hopefully, after he watched himself on last night’s edition of Love & Hip Hop: Atlanta, he looked in the mirror and promised to get his shiz-nay-ee together…feel me?

For a show with a level of couth as low as the VIP suite in the seventh circle of hell, you have to do something pretty damn terrible to have your scene partially blocked out even if only for mere seconds. And based on Erica P’s disheveled Malaysian sew-in and an apology from Momma Dee on her son’s behalf, one assumes that Scrappy put them paws on the woman he referred to as his “friend.” However, as Erica rightly pointed out to him during their meeting that turned into fight night at the Chiptole-esque restaurant, real friends don’t do certain things. Like, flirt, flirt some more, and, when called out for blurring the lines of their friendship, refer to their friend as a “bum bitch” that’s “fucked up” and “crazy.”

Even so, Erica has to come to grips with her behavior in the matter, too. You knew this man had a relationship with The Bam, yet you threw your ass in his face whenever production said “rolling.” Plus, if this is your friend, then you know how he is when it comes to relationships. He can’t commit and has a level of respect for women that is surely influenced by his overbearing mother, the ex-nurse turned pimp and dealer. So with all of that information in mind, are you surprised by his behavior, Erica?

This is not a defense of his assumed actions last night, but it is a reminder for Erica that if it barks like a dog, drunk texts like a simp, and let’s a Momma Dee step into his affairs, it means you should block his number so he can’t iMessage you.

Keeping with the theme of not making sense of blatant signs, Kaleena ended her homie, lover, friend relationship with her big booty homegirl from Baltimore, Ashley. During another work-dodging field trip to the strip club, Ashley told Kaleena, “People make time for what people want to make time for.” This was in response to Kaleena “making time” to do her actual job: singing. If that doesn’t sound possessive enough for you, Ashley also took Kaleena’s phone to prevent contact with her husband.

That husband was none too pleased about all of this (surprise, surprise), spurring Kaleena to finally decide that maybe she should just focus on the person she actually married versus the girl who wants all of the attention a committed relationship brings without actual commitment. To be fair, though, part of Ashley’s assumption that she deserves all this attention is rooted in Kaleena giving it to her whenever she brings those cheeks down to Atlanta.

I don’t know why it took so long for Kaleena to realize that polyamory doesn’t work when trying to pursue your dreams of music stardom as a solo act, but better late than ever. Just one thing, though, Kaleena: You got a kid being raised by your parents in another state while you chase your dreams and you waste that time jumping out of cars to dance with your sidepiece?

Tell me that editing exaggerated this situation. Wait, don’t tell me; tell CPS. By the way, K: Y’all gon’ smash again.

Let’s move on to the somewhat self-aware portion of the program, shall we?

Read the rest at Complex.

How To Tell When An Article Is Fake

As a decent enough human being, I, like many of you, try very hard to give people the benefit of the doubt. Yet, the Internet makes that extremely difficult as many of your cousins, ex-classmates, and significant others (and side pieces) prove themselves to be just as gullible and uninformed as you assumed most to be. There are many fine examples of this across social media, but the one that vexes me most – and serves as the central theme of this post – is posting fake ass news stories and foolishly passing them off as real news.

Y’all.

Al Gore didn’t invent the Internet for you to access via someone else’s Wi-Fi to do this. But instead of just being condescending and insulting, I’m going to also offer tips on how you and yours can tell when an article is fake. After we’re done here, promise me you’ll stop doing that shit. And you’re welcome.

Since people love conspiracies – especially about life-threatening diseases – there is always some site that Bill Nye, The Science Guy would spit on trying to sucker you into clicking their link and boosting their Adsense dollars courtesy of some story about the man hiding the cure for AIDS in Scrooge McDuck’s vault of gold coins. Don’t act like a Republican when it comes to science related stories. I beg of you.

Read the rest at Complex.

Can You Just Say You’re Rich And Move On, Hillary?

At the rate we’re going, the second Clinton administration will feel like the longest one of our natural lives. That prediction is based on the longstanding history of the media collectively dissecting every facet of Hillary Clinton no matter how minuscule. The fact that presidential campaigns now begin almost four year’s in advance only magnifies an already maddening problem. Hillary is painfully aware of this, which is why she’s tipped on the tightrope with respect to her massive media campaign to promote her new book, “Hard Choices.” Yet, this also dually serves as a shadow test run for 2016, so if there’s anyone who ought to know what not to say to fuel an unnecessary media storm, it’s Hillary Rodham Clinton. To that end, Hillary, why won’t you just own the reality that you are wealthy and end this non-story already?

In her now-infamous interview with ABC News, Hillary explained to Diane Sawyer that when she and former President Bill Clinton left the White House in 2001, they were “dead broke.” However, as since highlighted over and over and over again, the couple still managed to buy nice homes in exclusive neighborhoods in the real estate crapshoots known as Washington D.C. and New York City, respectively, and go on to earn millions upon millions of dollars in speaking fees and lucrative book deals.

Since then, Hillary has gone on to note that her comments were “inartful,” telling PBS’ Gwen Ifill, “Well, I shouldn’t have said the five or so words that I said, but my inartful use of those few words doesn’t change who I am, what I’ve stood for my entire life, what I stand for today.”

Fair enough, but she’s since told The Guardian that there is a difference between people like her who “pay ordinary income tax” and those who “are truly well off” who don’t.

It’s not hard for me to decipher the crux of Clinton’s comments about her financial state. Her definition of wealth is different from those who have never taken a tour of Scrooge McDuck’s bank of gold — a.k.a. the super wealthy people who can afford Hillary Clinton’s hefty speaking fees. It’s akin to some people thinking that anyone who makes more than $100,000 can vacation with Beyoncé and Jay Z, but in reality, are making meatless Mondays a thing mostly to keep their cable on so they can watch VH1 on Monday.

Most folks don’t get into specifics, though. They merely hear millions are made and make assumptions. They’re not completely off base, but they’re also not in to hearing someone in designer pantsuits complain about being “dead broke” while their rich friends sign mortgages on their behalf knowing full well that his political homies are about to make it rain in a few months’ time.

So again, Hillary, just be rich already.

Fortunately for her, because this is happening in 2014 — again, why are we talking presidential politics this early — it will be much ado about nothing in a year’s time.

Well, if she learns from this mistake anyway.

Commentators like Bill Kristol may find Hillary Clinton to be a “weak candidate,” but as someone still championing war in Iraq, it’s clear he doesn’t have a clue as to what he’s talking about.

Oh, the joys of privilege.

In any event, she’s not Mitt Romney in a bra.

“Love & Hip Hop Atlanta” Recap: Sex, Lies, & I’m Sorry Parties

Last week, I ended up my LHHATL recap asking for more Erica Dixon after she delivered a splendid performance at the train tracks with her now ex-boyfriend, O’Shea. And to the show’s credit, the mother of Scrappy’s child did kick off yesterday’s episode—only it was in the capacity of repeating some Mimi Faust-fed gossip about Benzino’s boo thang to Karlie Redd. I know Erica has to keep collecting those club appearance checks, which means she’ll do whatever is required of her to stay on the show. Still, I’m not convinced she gives that big of a damn about Althea allegedly bedding Stevie J and Benzino.

No matter, though, as the opening scene’s biggest farce was Karlie Redd pretending that she wasn’t going to run and tell Joseline about Stevie J’s alleged infidelity to be messy; instead, Karlie said it was about their friendship. Hardy har. Karlie Redd is about as genuine a friend to Joseline Hernandez as anyone reading this is to Sallie Mae.

This was proven when Karlie Redd damn near climaxed on the gym mat when she told Joseline what she’s been hearing about her dude. If Karlie Redd ever gets saved, she’s going to be the messy old church lady. If not, she’ll be the messy old lady in her apartment building. Karlie Redd doesn’t spill tea; she takes a 2 liter bottle of soda, shakes it up furiously, and promptly twists the cap open so she can spill that shit all over the people in her presence. She’s fun, but no one is fooled.

Joseline knows this, so you can’t blame her for being initially skeptical considering both the source and its messenger. Clearly smarter than the average cast member despite not remembering much past eighth grade, Joseline is right to point out that Mimi still wants Stevie J and would like nothing more than to cause trouble in their rented paradise. So the Puerto Rican Princess opted to do her own investigation before reacting.

That investigation led to Joseline informing Stevie J at the very end of the episode that she is going to beat the hell out of Althea the next time she sees her—mostly because she feels she can’t take Stevie J. I’m surprised by this admission given the previous two seasons featured Joseline being the Ultimate Warrior to Stevie J’s Hulk Hogan. I don’t know, maybe she stopped drinking as many protein shakes and feels less confident.

Funny enough, Benzino has all but forgiven Stevie J for messing with his girl, though Stevie J swears that he’s never had sex with Althea. It’s very hard to know whom to believe. Mimi lies about her feelings and the porno movies they inspired all of the time, so she’s not exactly trustworthy. Neither is Althea, who is desperately happy to be on TV. And Stevie J is well…you know.

Read the rest at Complex.

“Love & Hip Hop Atlanta” Recap: The Body Counts Keep Rising

Although she could never fill the fruit wine cooler-colored wig of K. Michelle, there are some similarities between Kaleena and the Memphis-bred R&B singer. They both seem like the type of girls who can jump a gate, and as K. Michelle once warned, you never want to mess with a girl who knows how to jump gates. Both are good for the one liner. And as we learned last night, the two women share dual memberships in #dicktoobomb and Cat Trap Nation.

Most of all, similar to K. Michelle, Kaleena is no rookie to music. Beyond her time as the Kima of Diddy-Dirty Money, Kaleena released the painfully ignored mixtape Chamber of Diaries, which showed Kaleena had far more to offer the world as an artist than a mere resemblance to Estelle. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why Kaleena fizzled away despite the ample amount of evidence that she deserve to join the Tribe of Lost Bad Boy Acts.

Thank you, VH1, for solving the riddle.

While Kaleena’s husband was pushing her to get her album together—and, you know, make this whole reality show thing work for them—Kaleena was more interested in smacking the ass cheeks of her homie, lover, friend, Ashley. We learned about this special friend while Kaleena shopped with Karlie Redd for “the Cadillac of all mattresses.” Kaleena explained that Ashley helped her deal with her bisexuality. So much so that she went on to say, “It’s always been my dream to have a wife and a husband.”

Not all dreams are possible, though, leaving Kaleena to find contentment with having a “best friend with a fat ass, that’s beautiful [and] smiles [and] is pretty.” And well, one you can fuck every now and again to your husband’s delight. Karlie approved Kaleena and her husband for “keeping it hot and sexy” and went on to show that she is bi-curious.

Whether or not this curiosity was spurred by a genuine interest in smooching a different set of lips or Karlie just shooting for more screen time is up to you to decide.

Kaleena should’ve been more focused on finishing up her music so she can finally get the attention her talent deserves. Like, do these people not realize what K. Michelle did with her time on Love & Hip Hop besides make fun of the elderly and alleged closeted gay men? Nevertheless, I promise to dap Kaleena on sight for tricking her husband into thinking he was going to get a threesome out of Kaleena’s little escape from the world of heteronormativity. Kaleena and Ashley told that dude to go wash the dishes while they go have a play date.

Love & polyamory, y’all.

Read the rest at Complex.

Float.

I’m sitting at my desk in my increasingly uncomfortable office chair drinking red wine while listening to Anita Baker. For someone in desperate need of a vacation, but months away (at the very least from taking one), I’ll take whatever temporary moments of escape I can get. For years now, editors and many of my fellow writers have referred to me as a machine due to the way I’ve been able to churn out assignment after assignment. Maybe, but I think it’s about time someone put me in the shop.

Last week, Cord Jefferson wrote yet another very good essay, this time on how tiresome it can be writing about racism over and over again. It’s worth the read, and as someone who, too, writes about race a lot, I can attest to the sentiment. For one of the outlets I regularly write for, I often joke to my friends that they might as well give me a column called “That’s Racist with Michael Arceneaux.” My way of tackling what I often think are worthless targets is to simply make fun of them. Even so, I’d much rather go with the Mariah Carey method of dealing with a complete waste of space: “Ain’t gon’ feed you, I’mma let you starve.”

I wish dealing with racism was the least of my problems, though.

Since graduating from college and actually collecting checks for my writing, I’ve tackled pop culture, politics, music, celebrity gossip, sexuality, race, satire, and social media. I am happy I’ve been allowed to write about so much. Not everyone can be versatile, or at least, be convincing at. That doesn’t negate exhaustion, however. Like, I’m not necessarily over writing, but I am somewhat tired of a few things.

The aforementioned writing about idiotic racists, but also subject matter I can classify as either “dumb shit” or “silly shit” or “patronizing shit.” I came across an article entitled “The Internet has a content diversity problem.” In it, the writer basically takes shots at varying publications for following into the listicle vortext in response to the chase for clicks. I’m somewhat conflicted on that. Do I think “sharebait” has further contributed to the decline of people’s attention spans and their desire to read anything more than 500 words that might require them to think? Yes. Nevertheless, for a bunch of people stuck in cubicles and offices at least three hours too long, I can understand the desire to read something easy breezy.

Plus, I’ve contributed to the problem ’cause those pay the checks. And honestly, writing a “dumb list” is a lot harder than people realize. It can be a challenge to make any piece look like easy reading.

I’m less annoyed by the list than I am this growing subgenre of online journalism that’s basically “Tell ‘Em Why You Mad, Son.” It’s like watching people race to out politically correct the other in an effort to sound more evolved than the next. There are plenty of things to get mad about, but so many seem insincere because it pays to rage. A lot of it comes across a lot like masturbation. As in, let me patronize you, oooh, baby, baby, they’re so bad, but your point of view, so-so-so good.

I don’t wake up everyday wanting to be “mad.” I want to make people laugh and make people think. If some people deserve a roasting, so be it — just don’t position it as “moving the debate” forward. That would require a level of respect, and gasp, nuance, which so many writers seem to lack.

Then there are the “LET ME ENRAGE YOU ON PURPOSE AND THEN PRETEND I ACTUALLY HAD SOMETHING MEANINGFUL TO SAY BECAUSE MY ATTENTION WHORING ASS GOT THE ATTENTION I SO DESPERATELY WANTED.” Fuck off twice, please.

In any event, I found it more interesting that a writer is complaining about diversity in content but only cited works from mainstream publications. That’s not surprising, but no less dually ironic and irritating.

What I’m personally sick of is having to chase for a check. I’m even more sick of having to churn out more than ever because though there may be an across the board wage depreciation, the publishing industry has really made an effort to take advantage of it. Even when I am offered the chance to write something that actually excites me, I have to contend with the reality that I have to be careful where I pitch it ’cause motherfuckers ain’t trying to pay the way they did even six months ago much less two years.

And yes, sometimes I do feel like Beyoncé being forced to cover Keri Hilson’s catalog due to increasingly stupid and/or lazy readers. 

You know, a lot of the time I get told, “I’m so proud of you for living your dream.” I know the intent is complimentary, but I sometimes wince anyway. Yes, I’ve written a lot of things I’m particularly proud of – this year included – but I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m living my dream. I’ve accomplished select goals, but my dreams are too big to truly embrace a statement I find hyperbolic.

I could go on, but I’m about to switch to Anthony Hamilton and perform “Float” in my apartment.

A few weeks ago, while watching Oprah’s Master Class with Whoopi Goldberg, she said something to the effect of, “Do what you have to do until you no longer have to.” That’s something I continue to tell myself, though I do know I have to push (and get it right) to do more things worthy of my talent (that pay better). Even if I feel tired. Even if I increasingly get upset by the state of the biz. Thankfully, there are people every now and then who remind me that in the midst of the noise, my voice still stands out. I appreciate that. More than most will ever understand.

Black Gay Celebs, White Partners: What Does It Mean?

We’ve reached the point in which Black gay people can now complain about Black gay folks dating Whites as opposed to their own just like their heterosexual brethren. In some ways, that does suggest some nominal level of progress. In others, it just makes me want to turn up Mariah Carey’s new album to tune all of y’all the hell out.

In an essay for the Washington Blade entitled “Why do Black gay celebs have white partners?” Orville Lloyd Douglas, tells us why he’s mad, son, over so many of the LGBT public figures of color having melanin-challenged partners. Douglas writes, “There is a paucity of Black gay public figures who are out and since images are important in society, the few Black gay celebrities are sending the wrong message.”

This includes Michael Sam, who Douglas says “he felt disappointed” after the sight of Sam kissing his “White twink Boyfriend Vito Cammisano” upon word that he was drafted by the St. Louis Rams. Douglas goes on to question whether or not Michael Sam would be “celebrated as a hero to the LGBT community if he had a Black boyfriend?”

Well, that depends on what one defines as the LGBT community. As I’ve mentioned here and across the Internet as much as humanly possible, in 2012 Gallup confirmed that as far as America goes, LGBT identity is highest among those who are younger, not White and lower income earners. A year prior, the New York Times highlighted that gay couples of color are twice as likely to be raising children than whites – mostly in the South, FYI.

Yes, Black people identify as gay more than whites, so to answer Orville Douglas’ question, I believe Michael Sam would so long as we wouldn’t be basing our assessment of the LGBT community solely though the lens of the white, upper-income earning men who continue to be the face of our collective group.

I do get the crux of Douglas’ complaint. Images do matter, though I think Douglas’ complaint about the lack of representation of gay Black couples has a lot to do with the lens in which he chooses to view it. For starters, since its immediate relaunch, EBONY.com has worked to give Black members of the LGBT community a voice – including issues related to love and sex.

Also, one of my favorite Tumblrs, fckyeahblackgaycouples, is dedicated to showing nothing but the very displays of love Douglas is looking for. Earlier this year, Kordan, Kaleb, and their blended family became an Internet sensation after the world discovered them and all that adorableness surrounding them.

And for the life of me, I never understood why R&B Divas Atlanta didn’t get more credit for them showing a healthy, loving Black lesbian couple in Monifah, and her partner, Terez. Okay, “Touch It” was a long time ago, but handclap for a Black network showing Black love of a sort most aren’t used to all the same.

Speaking of that, for someone who complains about Black gay public figures following “the white gay standard,” Douglas subjects his readers to a bunch of stereotypes about Black gays that he was clearly spoon-fed from the other side of the rainbow.

Douglas describes Sam’s mama as a “stereotypical pious Black woman” as he theorizes that “due to the homophobia in Black culture, some Black gay people just want to be accepted and I can understand that. Some Black gays believe to assimilate into the white gay mainstream they can obtain social acceptance.”

Raise your hand if you think the key to social acceptance for any person of color is to run to a white person? If your hand is up, do the following steps: Slap yourself silly. Rinse and repeat.

That leads me to the biggest gag of this entire diatribe: Orville Douglas is the same person who wrote a piece called “Why I hate being a Black man” and also once argued that we “need to get over slavery movies.”

He doesn’t seem to like himself or his own people all that much, so it’s surprising to see him suddenly write a call to arms in this fashion. You can’t see me, but I’m over here sitting at my desk chuckling like Miss Sophia at Mister’s table.

Read more at EBONY

Why Has R&B Become So Misogynistic?

If there’s any artist who can best describe the troubles facing R&B – at least from the XY chromosome side – it’s Bobby V. I know, I know: “Are you about to quote Chingy about the state of hip-hop next?” Fair enough, but you can’t deny the bop that “Anonymous” brought, nor does Bobby V’s current place in the genre negate the accuracy of his criticism.

Speaking with Rolling Out, Bobby V. lamented over how R&B has gone “all the way hip-hop” and how that has essentially left many singers “out the door.” How can one maintain some level of success in this climate? Bobby V explained, “Of course, you can make an R&B song degrading women and saying some negative things and that may work. Because it seems like those are the R&B songs that are working now, which is a little sad to me. But I’m not that kind of guy.”

Not being that guy has a lot to do with his not being among the men who currently dominate radio. Among those that do fit very nicely into Bobby V’s recipe for relevancy in this rap-centric world of R&B, look no further than Chris Brown, who despite being every bit the screw up in the recent years, has managed to maintain his star (albeit a dimmed one) largely based on his ability to combine his knack for penning hooks with the aggression, and more importantly, misogyny that fuels so much of rap. So far, it’s a winning combo.

Even if you believe Chris Brown needn’t be judged for the violent beating he gave Rihanna five years ago, one wonders how that same person has been able to successfully exploit his clear contempt for women for profit. His kindred spirit in troublemaking, Bobby Brown, would’ve dared sing a line like that. That is, not if he wanted to get radio airplay.

Those days are over now, though, as Chris Brown is free to do 8-counts in the carnival while crooning about broke bitches and disloyal hoes. Chris has managed to flip Who Hurt You ‘N B into a successful sub-genre of R&B.

Sadly, he’s not the only guilty party. There’s also Trey Songz, who now sings about bitches and disses women based on whether or not they’re wearing cheap shoes. And of course, The-Dream, who is a pioneer in “I hate women, but I’m going to market my music mostly to them” music. Others dibble and dabble when convenient – Usher in recent years, newcomers trying to make their mark – and some like R. Kelly, are just well…you know.

Read the rest at VIBE.