CheapThrills

Dating White guys and my beef with CNN’s Black in America

I DVRed CNN’s Black in America: The Black Woman and Family and watched it last night with a few other people. We all agreed that it was God-awful. The whole show went through all the problems with the “Black family” (whatever that means), and then included this asinine section about dating outside of one’s race. The basic jist: there are positively NO Black men for Black women to date, so some of them are even resorting to (wait for it) WHITE MEN. OH NO. The world is coming to an end.

I’ve been dating White men my whole life - so am I some kind of freak? It’s not like I was pushed to it out of desperation either. My first love was interracial, like me. We met in 2nd grade, and I loved him immediately. He moved to Kansas in 5th grade, then to Woodstock in 6th, and then to the Greene State Medium Security Penitentiary at the age of 17 – but we’ve remained close.

Since then, I’ve found myself deeply attracted to people who are my opposite (at least on the outside). I’ve been trying to figure out why for quite some time, and I think I’ve boiled it down to a few reasons. The first has to do with catcalling. I was an early bloomer and I remember, at the age of 11, being very uncomfortable walking past large groups of Black men (well, male teenagers). They’d always yell things at me or whistle or walk next to me. Not saying all Black guys do this, but on the whole Black men are much more vocal with their flirtation, and when I was young I really didn’t know how to handle it. I think this informed my early proclivity for White boys.

The second has to do with my family. Both my mom and my aunt (her sister) married White men. We’re a family of mixes and matches, of skin tones and hair products. I guess I always thought that was the norm. My dad was White, my uncle was White, my cousins were tan like me – that’s how it always was.

The third reason is a bit harder to explain. For some reason, I get this sentimental feeling deep down in my stomach when I see a Black woman and a White man together. Maybe it’s because I figure any White man has a relatively easy life in comparison to any Black person. But when he decides to enter into a relationship with a Black woman, he is immediately making his life (on the outside at least) just a little bit more complicated. Of course, the same can be said for the woman. They will both have to answer questions and endure the 2-seconds-too-long glance from virtually everyone they pass. But they’re both willing to answer the questions and stare back. Together. There’s something absolutely beautiful about that.

And on a purely personal level, star-crossed lovers – separated by age or location or race or gender or whatever else can keep two people apart – have forever fascinated me. I have a catalogue of movies in my head that feature such relationships, I rummage around in bookstores for such stories, and I have also yearned for a star-crossed ingredient in my relationships. A little extra element to push things into the realm of the sentimental. Something to make my heart ache, at least ever so slightly.

But that’s just me, of course.

So what really bothered me about this CNN Special Report? They chalked up the dating preferences of all Black women to logistics, pure and simple. Workplace, school, neighborhood, whatever. Here’s a tip to CNN: Black people are not some monolithic group that one can do a little study on and call it a day. Everyone has preferences (White people AND Black people AND everyone in between!), driven by a multitude of factors. Factors that include logistics, sure, but also include – dare I say it – feelings. Crazy, convoluted, tangled feelings.

So in the end, I’d like to say thanks but no thanks to CNN for this predictable and ice-in November-thin lab rat study.

This is your brain. This is your brain on hope.

This MoveOn.org ad for Obama is freaking dorky, to say the least. Would've been funnier had it been a bit more over-the-top... though I do like the "sorry mom!" crying bit.  But the "brain on hope" ending - EEK (Sidenote: the guy holding the chick is none other than Rider Strong, the third "hunk" to appear in my Cutest MEN of 1994 scrapbook). This ad reminds me of the unintentionally hilarious anti-drug ad from 1987 (below), which I found just as goofy at the age of 4 (when it came out) as I do now.

Open Letter: Talking politics with Google Adsense doesn’t make sense

Dear Google Adsense,

What are you trying to do to me? Isn’t your service called Google Adsense? Aren’t you supposed to “match ads to [my] site's content… ads so well-matched, in fact, that [my] readers will actually find them useful”? You do a marginal job at best, and when it really counts you fail miserably.

What am I referring to, you ask? I'll tell you what: these stupid GOP ads. I hardly ever even mention their candidate by name (exemplified by the screenshot below, taken from a May post), and yet you continue to serve this crummy animated GIF at the bottom of 9 out of 10 of my political posts.

I wish you’d just sit down and read my blog once it a while. Understand it. Because right now, I feel like you don’t get me at all – like we’re not on the same page in this relationship. I really don’t want to end things with you, but it might come to that if you keep misinterpreting my feelings.

Best,
Ryan 

And to my readers – please ignore the GOP ad that’s probably at the bottom of this post. Clearly, I do not support their candidate’s campaign.

Cute boys, the boring lives of 12 year-olds and Barack Obama

With all the “That boy is sooooo fine!” “I’m going to sneak behind my mom’s back and start shaving my legs” “I can’t believe my best friend is going to try smoking… now I have to try too” “I think Bobby brushed my hand in Meeting For Worship (Quaker School, gotta love it) moments, being 12 was internally both exciting and excruciating.

But outwardly, it was boring as hell. Couldn’t date, couldn’t drive, couldn’t see any good movies, couldn’t party. The best option was to walk around the neighborhood (or, on your lucky days, the mall) and semi-flirt with Starter jacket clad boys / talk about the things you wish you could be doing if you were allowed.

And of course, there was always the option of sitting on the floor in a bookstore, drinking Café au Laits and riffling through magazines... which is what I did practically every weekend with my best friend in the whole world (who I just found out is moving to Ghana!!!).

We’d always go for the Big Three: Bop, Tiger Beat (which now appear to be one in the same) and the (apparently now defunct) Big Bopper. We’d spend hours crouched in the brand new Borders at the top of Philly’s Chestnut Hill, searching for posters of our favorite guys. Both of our bedrooms were wallpapered, floor to ceiling, with these touched up glamour shots – I even had my walls sectioned according to the crush.

I also kept a scrapbook, entitled (fittingly) The Cutest MEN of 1994. It housed all the greats of my time: Matthew Lawrence, Mike Vitar, Gabriel Damon, Luke Perry, Boyz 2 Men and my mega-crush, the late Jonathan Brandis - who actually signed my scrapbook after I stood in line for hours to meet him at the Philadelphia Car Show (I had the image to the right plastered on my wall for years... sigh).

Anyway, this Tiger Beat cover shown below is from ages ago, I know, but that doesn’t really matter for the purposes of this post because I’m still thinking about it. The whole thing is hilarious, no question, but isn’t it also borderline inappropriate for a teen (really PREteen) rag to feature a 47-year old man? With a caption placing him in his shower? NAKED? And the promise of MORE PERSONAL facts?

It’s too easy to imagine myself meticulously cutting out Obama smiling faces from magazines, taping them into my scrapbook and scribbling the caption “Obama is SO fine!” in purple marker next to each one. Because, for realz, that Giant Obama Poster would have definitely made it to the wall. Which is ridiculously ridiculous and just a tad terrifying.

Related:
The Black Snob
The Onion

The South End needs to dance!

The Most Depressing Image: 10-12 young ladies, decked out in shiny little dresses, 5” heels and entirely too much makeup, bouncing with excitement and glee towards Stella. Or Banq (come on BanQ, get over yourself with that damn Q!). Or, worst of all, The Beehive – a South End jazz bar with an inappropriately large ego, demonstrated by their holding up the line every empty weekday night.

What makes me want to cry is that these beauties have no idea that the place they’re so keen on going, the place they’ve heard so much about, is 90% restaurant, 8% bar, and 2% bar seating area. They’ll spend an entire night shifting from foot to foot as their shoes become more and more uncomfortable, sipping $15 drinks and wondering when the party will actually begin.

But alas. This is the party. Swank and sexy at times, sure, but in desperate need of a little revving...

Can you believe that there’s no spot in the South End where patrons can shake it a little on the dance floor? This baffles me, what with all the crazy money-spenders, pseudo-celebrities, young couples and uber-handsome gay men that the South End attracts. I thought the owners of Mantra would bring some dancing to the South End with Banq, but the only thing they carried were their leather-clad fans (seriously, I’ve seen red dominatrix outfits in Banq) and general not-quite-right-ness.

I’m thinking Stella will make the move first. They’ve actually got a hidden gem of a back room (who knew?) equipped with a relaxed bar, plenty of floor space and room for a DJ booth. Weekend dance parties at Stella would be huge – a fulfilling blend of Stella’s millennium-chic and, er, movement.

Because there are too many bars in the neighborhood for sitting standing around and acting cooler than you actually are. I want to go to a South End bar and end up making ridiculous dance-y faces like this:

Or this:

... or maybe even this (if it’s been an incredibly good night):

In defense of Barry Blitt's New Yorker Obama cover

 You all know that I’m the first one to point out all things offensive. I call out any –ism wherever I see it – from media coverage and interviews to New York streets and Boston watering holes.

So it might come as a surprise when I say that I find Barry Blitt's June 21st New Yorker cover (shown above) quite provocative and necessary.

Some say that the image merely parrots attacks we've already seen; that it contributes and/or reinforces instead of parodies. In addition, both the Obama and McCain camps have expressed their outrage over the cover, in addition to countless bloggers and media pundits.

But I understand each element of this cover as pure satire in an attempt to depict all the absolutely ridiculous ways that the Obamas have been illustrated, in an absolutely ridiculous and almost routine way. Let’s go through each element one by one.

1. Barack's outfit. Clearly Muslim attire (sandals and all). Satirizes the myth that Barack Obama is Muslim, and furthermore, that being Muslim is somehow a bad, scary thing (oh, the horror of a Muslim in the Oval Office!).
2. Barack's glance. It’s saying “Yeah, I’m in the Oval Office now. What you gonna do about it?” I think this is a nod to two attacks: a) the idea that Obama is somehow elitist/above it all and doesn’t really care about the needs/wants of the American people, 2) the idea that he’s secretive and mysterious – he has his own hidden, “terrorist” agenda.
3. The fist bump. It became shockingly clear the right-wing MSM had no clue about African-American culture after Barack and Michelle’s nomination dap. And, I think, this realization frightened the beejesus out of them. So again, we can see the New Yorker’s depiction here as a satire of the right-wing’s fear of the unknown, and in turn, their spinning it into something foreign, secretive and suspicious. I understand this bump as a satire of what Fox News called a “terrorist fist jab”, and also another depiction of the Obamas “taking over the good ol’ U.S.A.” in scary, “un-American” ways.
4. Bin-Laden portrait on the wall. I think that one’s obvious.
5. Burning American flag. A satire to the whisper that Obama is “unpatriotic” and “not really a true American.” We can look back to all man-on-the-street interviews from the West Virginia primary for a reference of what Blitt is satirizing.
6. Michelle's outfit. Camo pants, military boots and machine gun all reference that militant, Black Panther, Black Power image that many Americans seem to be terrified of. She’s the African-American who hates “whitey” and is secretly plotting to mow down every golf course and Yacht club this side of the Atlantic.
7. Michelle's Afro, big lips, hand on hip. Ok, here’s the one that many people are struggling with, as these characteristics come straight from the African-American stereotype playbook. But I see this depiction as a satire of Michelle Obama, the “angry Black woman” – a label that Fox News has been trying to pin on her for months. Her whole stance screams, “<sucks teeth> Sheeeit, I will CUT you if you come to close. Don’t mess.” And clearly, Michelle Obama looks, talks, thinks, acts nothing like the “angry Black woman” stereotype, and that’s why I think this depiction works.

Perhaps each element is mundane, as we've heard all of these attacks before. But maybe 1,000% over-the-top + mundane is exactly what the American public needs to truly see the routine, casual racism that the Obamas have had to endure. In fact, I’d venture to say that if this cover were toned down at all, THEN it would be offensive. Because a slight reference to all the “scary elements” that people have been trying to pin on the Obamas might go unnoticed or overlooked. One might see a toned down cover (perhaps Obama with a headwrap, Michelle with hand-on-hip and boots, perhaps) and think, “Yep, that’s the Obamas. Very true to life.”

But this depiction is patently and unashamedly satire. And I think this crazy cover will force people to a) really reflect upon all of the offensive labels and attacks that have been hurled at the Obamas, and b) keep their eyes open for other attacks that might fall into the satirized categories.

And, hopefully, the outcome will be a readiness to see through inherently racist attacks as both sickeningly silly and tediously tiresome.

Related:
Huffington Post, with other Blitt covers: Barry Blitt Defends His New Yorker Cover Art of Obama
Gawker Opinion

Snapshot in time vs. repurposing for the future