The Blackest History Month

“People are comfortable with certain images of Black history…safe, static images that have no bearing on our lives or the present. Not this year. February 2016 will go down in history as the Blackest Black History Month on record.”


It’s been quite a Black History month.

For most Americans, February is when everyone watches the “Free At Last” clip of MLK at the March on Washington or grainy B&W documentaries of cops attacking Black students with dogs and firehoses. There may be PSAs on tolerance with cursory mentions of Harriet Tubman and Frederick Douglass on local news segments. People are comfortable with those images of Black history, because it’s history. Safe. Static images of things that happened before any of us were born and have no bearing on our lives or the present.

Not this year.

As far as popular culture goes, February 2016 will go down in history as the Blackest Black history month on record.

Conventional music industry wisdom says that Black artists who aspire to mainstream (white) superstardom have to make their ethnicity as ambiguous as possible. Beyonce destroyed that convention with “Formation”, a track with lyrics that explicitly declared her Blackness and Southern bonafides and a video with images right out of the protests that have erupted nationwide over the past two years. People who where confused and shocked by the song went into hysterics after her halftime show at the Super Bowl. Flanked by all Black female dancers dressed in a homage to the Black Panthers she used a world platform to call attention to Black womanhood and Black activism. The image of a Black woman celebrating her Blackness in the middle of America’s (White America’s) game, a game where one of the teams had a Black quarterback who has been attacked for being his authentic Black self, was a bombshell with reprecussions that are still being calculated.

A few days later, Kendrick Lamar gave a visceral, searing performance at the Grammys that condensed the oppression, hope, joy and anger of Black American life into six minutes. His set put images of Mass Incarceration, African dance, and social uprising on a global stage and reminded America that the Black music it loves to consume comes from a place of real struggle and creativity in the harshest economic and psychological conditions.

The week after that saw the premiere of the PBS documentary Vanguard of the Revolution, a history of the Black Panther Party that got great ratings and critical accolades. It’s sparked discussion about the how some of the conditions that created the party are still with us today, as well as the extrajudicial tactics the government pursued to destroy the party leadership, including fomenting internal division, false imprisonment and state sanctioned murder. Conservatives attacked the film, saying it praises a group that incited terrorism and violence against police, ironically the same lies used to discredit modern protestors.

Not even the Academy Awards provided white people any respite from the onslaught of angry Blackness. While the show itself was indeed the whitest awards telecast in years the #OscarsSoWhite hashtag brought attention to the lack of Black nominees and diversity in the Academy, despite it having a Black president and Chris Rock as a host.

One of the memes that circulated in the wake of Kendrick Lamar’s Grammy set was of white audience members sitting with their lips tight, staring nervously at the uncompromising Black spectacle taking place in front of them. It’s a great metaphor for the different perceptions of Black culture in America and levels of comfort with the history that formed that culture. For many African-Americans, February’s celebrations of Blackness were seen as acknowledgement of strength in the face of adversity and hatred. For many whites, they were seen as angry, hostile actions by race baiting troublemakers.
Regardless of the responses, February 2016 reminded everyone that Black American History is a living, vital, ever evolving tapestry, one that still has the potential to make power structures nervous. What the people who are uncomfortable with that don’t understand is that none of this was about them. It was about Black people acknowledging our own heritage and greatness,  taking it out of textbooks and continuing to create it with present day actions.

Did You Miss Me?

Hello everyone, good to see you!

First of all, I owe my Sum City readers an apology.
I have not posted here in quite a while, but that’s because of a series of events that I became swept up in, all positive, but also demanding. It’s good to be back at my literary home base after a crazy four months. I guess the best way to start is to just jump in, so here I go.

Some of you may remember that back in March I became a featured blogger for Huffington Post Black Voices. It came at me totally unexpected. Almost overnight I became a writer for a website with a huge following and added my voice to others I respect there. I joined Huffington Post at a turbulent time in American History, starting with Ferguson, going on to New York and Baltimore, currently with Charleston. Most of my articles for HuffPo have focused on what’s happening and have generated support and controversy. Before I knew it, I had a following of my own, people who seek out my writing. At the moment it isn’t a huge audience, but it’s an influential one. One that is opening doors and opportunities that again, I never could have prepared for.

I can’t say much at the moment but there are media things in the works. I recently completed a series of photo shoots with a very talented photographer and took part in a Vice News series.



Things are still developing. If you followed my earlier blogs here, a lot of my subject matter focuses on social justice. I will always be interested in that, but i want to expand. No one is one dimensional and I don’t want to be. I joke, I dance, I talk about trivia same as anyone and I will do that here.

I know that a great deal that’s happening can be linked back to me starting this blog. I put myself out here, people here responded. Then other people responded. I plan to share myself with Sum City again and I hope you will respond again.

Thank You.

Torraine Walker

When The Cameras Leave

wpid-20150311_183636.jpgThis past Tuesday I attended a protest rally in Decatur, GA for Anthony Hill, a young man shot and killed by DeKalb County Police while outside, naked, in the middle of a bipolar episode. He was an artist, a veteran. His Facebook and Twitter posts reveal him to be a sensitive, socially aware, idealistic man. He was buried yesterday. His is the latest hashtagged name in the long, sad litany of black males killed in confrontations with police. There were a few hundred people there, gathered to celebrate Anthony Hill’s life and the tragic way it was taken. There were impassioned speeches, followed by a march and some tension when protesters took over a busy intersection.

There were also cameras. Lots of cameras. Bloggers like myself, mobile news trucks, writers and reporters were filming, recording, and livestreaming every step of the march. It could be said that the proliferation of cameras and smartphones and social networks is why the movement against police brutality is ongoing, but I couldn’t help thinking, how many of us will stay, not just in Decatur, but everywhere across America where people are fighting this new civil rights battle, when the cameras are gone?

Last Sunday in Selma, Alabama, the town swelled with politicians, celebrities, and elders of the civil rights movement gathered to commemorate the fateful day at Edmund Pettus bridge that arguably sparked nationwide support of the civil rights movement. That support happened because the brutality of Jim Crow law enforcement was televised to a shocked outside world. But the work that ended Jim Crow was done by unsung, dedicated fighters who battled in courtrooms and city halls as well as in the streets when cameras weren’t always watching.

The mainstream media is a machine that feeds on novelty. It is never satisfied, and it never stops consuming. The attention it can garner for causes is invaluable, but it’s only loyalty is to it’s own appetite. That same attention will also attract huge numbers of people which can also be good for a cause. But it would be a mistake to believe everybody who shows up will stay to help do the heavy lifting and thankless work necessary to repair a community. Some will, of course. Tragedy and injustice are powerful motivators that always move people to fight them. The desire to be seen is just as powerful, if not more so, and there’s always a possibility that a social movement can be co-opted by those just wanting to be seen.

Eventually the names of Ferguson, Mike Brown, Tamir Rice, and Anthony Hill will fade from the news cycle. The media will pack up their equipment and move on to the next story. A lot of people who claim to be down for the cause will move on too. All that will be left is the void caused by their deaths in the souls of those who knew and loved them. Their larger legacy will be in the laws enacted to prevent atrocities like the ones that ended their lives and by punishing those who took them. As far as who will keep the pressure on and work to see that happen away from the spotlights, only time will tell.

American Booty

A funny thing happened in the Atlanta suburbs last week.

Well, maybe “funny” isn’t the right word. A woman in the affluent Johns Creek area was arrested for running a prostitution ring. It gets worse. One of the girls she pimped out was her stepdaughter. Within an hour of the story breaking, local message boards were filling up with comments saying that the women involved weren’t hurting anybody and that the police were persecuting people for “victimless” crimes. I won’t get into the argument about whether prostitution should be legalized or not, but I was intrigued by how many people rushed to this woman’s defense. I also wondered how sympathetic some of these same people would be if this bust has taken place in Bankhead instead of Johns Creek.

For those of you outside the Atlanta area, Johns Creek is one of the wealthiest suburbs in Atlanta, with an average household income of over $135K. Bankhead is one of the poorest neighborhoods in Atlanta, which you already know if you’re a fan of ATL hip-hop. In the collective psyche of the Suburban Atlantan mind and local TV news, Bankhead conjures up images of dreadlocked, gold-front wearing corner dealers holding AK’s and shooting at each other like rival militias in Beirut.

It is fascinating to me how forgiving of crime suburbanites can be when the criminals look like them. A prostitution raid eerily similar to this one happened a few years ago and prompted some of the same calls for leniency. In fact, one of the residents said that this sort of behavioiur “doesn’t happen here,” implying that it’s expected to occur in other parts of the city.

There’s an interesting dynamic going on there. It overlaps with the double standard and perceptions of white and black crime that the Twitter hashtag #crimingwhilewhite and the recent release of the Ferguson Report make clear. There is a definite double standard to how laws are enforced. White people, especially wealthy white people, are given the benefit of the doubt by police and the general public.

Back in 1996, PBS filmed a documentary about an underworld of unprotected group sex, drug use, and binge drinking among teen and preteen kids in Rockdale County, another affluent Atlanta suburb. When the documentary aired, there was the same disbelief and cries of “not my little angel” that most parents everywhere say when their kids get caught up in mischief. The problem occurs when local media and residents in the neighborhoods agree with that mentality and turn a blind eye to the delinquents on their block to condemn delinquents across town that they never see.

Whenever something happens in poor communities, the entire communty falls under a cloud, not just the parties involved. The usual cultural and racial indictments begin, the kids affected don’t receive the same level of empathy, and definitely not the same calls for therapy and treatmen. The only “remedy” they receive is jail time.
People are going to do dumb shit. That is almost the human default. But some people get to have their mistakes, and their deliberate actions excused while other people’s mistakes follow them for life.

You can find decent people in the poorest communities. You can find low-lifes in the wealthiest ones. Being born well off isn’t a guarantee you will be well raised but it will afford you infinite chances to get away with not being so.

With Friends Like These…

There’s a lot of speculation among Daily Show fans about who should be the next host now that Jon Stewart has announced his departure. A lot of the positive chatter has centered on 25 year-old show correspondent Jessica Williams to fill the chair. While she is indeed funny and very good at what she does, she herself refused the nomination and took herself out of the running for the host spot with a Twitter post stating that, in her words, she feels she is “extremely under-qualified” for the job. In the wake of her decision, writer Ester Bloom responded in an article by saying that she was not going to accept Jessica’s explanation and placed the blame for it on “imposter syndrome”, the tendency some intelligent women have to downplay their intelligence and qualifications so as not to threaten male superiority. While I believe the writer’s heart was in the right place, to me it was indicative of a disturbing trend among white feminists to take it upon themselves to speak for women of color, as if Black women don’t have the mental capacity to speak for themselves and make their own decisions.

I’m a man and I will not presume to speak for any woman although I have been in situations that for me feel similar. I’ve been in professional meetings and had a suggestion I made be ignored only to have a white person in the same room make the same suggestion and have it taken up. I once had a white grad student say during an online debate that he was qualified to talk about how it feels to be a Black man because he took an African-American Studies class. I think for a lot of white people, even the most well-meaning, Black people are only seen as objects or victims to be rescued so they can feel good about themselves and satisfy their hero complex. We are still not seen as full human beings capable of critical thinking, but psychological children who are spoken about or spoken for, but never spoken to. It’s a condescending attitude that does nothing to address any individual issue.

63 years after Ralph Ellison’s landmark book and people of color are largely still invisible. In the movie Being There, Peter Sellers plays a possibly autistic gardner who stumbles into the world of the political elite but only speaks in snippets of dialog he picked up from watching tv. His wealthy new associates take his ramblings to be profound statements and create global policy from them. All too often the lives and the struggles of African-Americans get co-opted by sympathetic people and turned into the social media equivalent of a Che Guevara t-shirt. It shows that many progressive “allies” believe Women of Color have no active agency or intelligence beyond being rescued by White saviors.

Jessica Williams is a very talented woman who doesn’t need me or anyone else to speak for her. I think Ester Bloom’s article had valid points about patriarchy. I just wish she would have given Jessica enough credit for being intelligent enough to self criticize without patriarchy being the reason.

MLK: A Dream Discovered

Today is Martin Luther King Day.
In Atlanta there will be a march down Auburn Avenue to Ebenezer Baptist Church where he preached. The media will be there, while social, civil and entertainment leaders will appear and give speeches. No mainstream politician can hope to gain support in the Black community without showing up at a Black church and invoking Dr. King’s name.

As a child, my image of Dr. King was the one most Americans have; the round determined face in black and white photos and films shown every February; the rich, resonant, unmistakable voice giving the “I have a dream” speech at the March on Washington; the tragedy of his assassination. Since his murder, Dr. Martin Luther King has become an American saint, revered, paid homage to, universally recognized as an icon of the struggle of Americans forcing America to honor it’s promise of “liberty and justice for all.”

As a teen I became less of a fan of Dr. King’s nonviolent approach. I was deep into Malcolm X by way of Spike Lee’s film of his autobiography. I was listening to Public Enemy, NWA and the Geto Boys and the idea of allowing a mob of savage racist whites and redneck cops to beat you while you don’t fight back or defend yourself seemed like the definition of weakness to me. I was much more receptive to Malcolm’s Self Defense Self Determination philosophy. But at the time I wasn’t aware of the deeper meaning and objectives of the approach that Dr. King advocated.

On Christmas day I saw Selma. It was fascinating to see that film as a resident of Atlanta, a city where the power of MLK’s legacy is more physically tangible than anywhere else. Aside from being a mastetfully done film, it inspired me to reexamine my assumptions about MLK and his movement; what I found caused me to revise a lot of what I thought I knew.

The genius of the SCLC was in framing their concept of nonviolent resistance as a moral crusade against the ugliness of segregation and Dr. King’s genius was to gamble, rightly as it turned out, that Americans would be so shocked and disgusted by the sight of Jim Crow’s hateful true face that they would sympathize with and come to assist those fighting to destroy it.

I had forgotten, and history often overlooks, just how radical MLK was. He has been deified but the depth of his message has been obscured by that deification. People quote “Free at Last” and his “Mountaintop” speech without exploring the full range of issues he touched on like Vietnam, economic opportunity, and black power. He also made speeches about Black manhood and America’s systematic economic disenfranchisement of the Black working class that lined up with the teachings of Malcolm X and emerging nationalist groups like the Black Panthers.

Something the film touched on was King’s ability to get different groups to unite against a common enemy. It would be great if organizations dedicated to social justice could find common ground without surrendering their respective visions. I would love to see more cooperation between Black, Latin, LGBT and Women’s Rights groups amongst each other, and with any group that wants to see all people respected equally.

The struggle is still necessary. The deaths of Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, Oscar Grant, John Crawford, and Tamir Rice have made that very clear. In Ferguson, in Paris, in Nigeria, young people are still having to take to the streets to call out and expose evil.

For me, rediscovering MLK reminded me that a fight against an evil system doesn’t always have to be a physical one. I will always believe in self defense, but I realize that there are many ways to defend yourself. The pen and the voice are powerful too.

Invisible Women

One of the biggest stories to captivate entertainment headlines this year has been the emergence of Lupita Nyong’o. Her Oscar winning performance as Patsey in 12 Years a Slave catapulted her to the forefront of the public eye. Once there, she has developed almost a second career as the Queen of the Red Carpet, appearing at film festivals looking flawless in stunning gowns that designers are falling over themselves to dress her in. This summer she landed the cover of People magazine’s 50 Most Beautiful issue. Her Oscar acceptance speech about what defines beauty sparked a wave of affirmation from women around the world who fight daily to be seen as attractive and desirable within themselves when bombarded constantly with a narrow standard of beauty. Lupita is the most recent black female star to explode into pop culture but obviously she isn’t the only one. From Michele Obama to Olivia Pope, from top grossing movies like The Best Man franchise to About Last Night, Black women are everywhere, looking beautiful. Why then, with all the highly visible women of color in mainstream media, are so many people who work in the media so blind and tone-deaf when it comes to their beauty?

The past few months have been rife with cringe-inducing gaffes from writers who should know better. Patricia Garcia wrote an article for Vogue that attributed the acceptance of the big rear end to Kim Kardashian, Jennifer Lopez and Iggy Azalea. According to the article, a big butt was something to be ashamed of until these ladies made having one acceptable. The writer lives in Miami so I don’t know how she missed seeing all the confident, curvy Latin American and Caribbean women walking around. It was a fairly clueless premise but it did give the world the sadly hilarious twitter hash tag #voguearticles

On the heels of that faux pas, Alessandra Stanley of the New York Times managed to stumble not once, but twice in an article about the huge success of Shonda Rhimes by suggesting that the title of any future autobiography Miss Rhimes chooses to write should be “How To Get Away With Being An Angry Black Woman”, and referred to the star of Shonda’s new show How To Get Away With Murder, Viola Davis, as “less classically beautiful.” Never mind that the article itself is full of praise for what Shonda Rhimes has accomplished, those phrases derail the article like a turntable needle scraping across a record.

Whether by design or carelessness, There is a definite lack of awareness of the origin of many cultural trends that become commodified by other cultures. Until very recently, when it comes to African Americans and the cultural and artistic statements they create America has always followed a definite pattern: Love the creation, ignore the creator. It’s a pattern Black people know all too well. Back in the 1950’s, as R&B evolved into Rock and Roll, Pat Boone became famous by releasing milquetoast covers of the raucous, powerhouse songs of Little Richard, Fats Domino and Ivory Joe Hunter. When Bo Derek made her bikini-clad run down the beach with her hair in microbraids in Blake Edwards’ “10”, Middle America magically became aware of and copied a hairstyle that Black women had been wearing in great numbers for decades. Whenever shows like Friends, Sex and the City and most recently Girls are heralded as true depictions of young people navigating city life they are always set in a New York City where people of color don’t exist except as a sassy sidekick of the type that Wanda Sykes has cornered the market on. People of color have been the ghost in the machine of American social and cultural life; a rich reservoir of creativity that could be sampled by mainstream media, as long as the source was kept out of sight.

What defines beauty? What’s interesting about this is that while the last two decades have seen women of color featured more prominently than ever in mainstream media,it’s no secret that the gatekeepers of American fashion and media are overwhelmingly white. When you are not used to seeing people from different cultural places and getting different ideas about what is beautiful, you end up recycling the same images of beauty to a market that is no longer satisfied with them. Part of what makes Shonda Rhimes’ characters so compelling is that she writes black women with all the flaws, depth of character, inner turmoil and sexuality as their white counterparts. The instances of black characters being written so well are rare and maybe that’s why there has been so much cultural cluenessness in mainstream media’s handling of their presence. It’s as if the idea that black women are physically beautiful, multifaceted real women never occurred to them.

Viola Davis responded to being called “less classically beautiful” by refrencing the comment during her People’s Choice Award win. The concept of what is beautiful is expanding. It would be in the best interests of the people who consider themselves the gatekeepers of beauty to catch up.

Raising the Bar, Raising the Roof

From Jack Johnson to Muhammad Ali, from T.O. to Richard Sherman, America has always had a love/hate relationship with the Black sports figure. Larger than life with an attitude and ego to match, in many ways they could be considered the ancestors and counterparts of today’s rap stars. They are both seen alternately as “trouble men” and America’s heroes, worshipped for their skills on their respective fields but often vilified for their personas away from it. Their intelligence is often ignored but they are also allowed to express their blackness, however limited that expression may be for whatever times they live in.

In Corporate America, it ain’t like that. Conservative by nature, submerging your personality into the larger corporate culture is the only way to succeed, especially for black men. Especially in broadcast journalism.

All of this is why Stuart Scott was so important to journalism and why his death from cancer at age 49 is so tragic. He understood the swagger of the pro athlete and the dedication of the sports fan, and translated both for the larger world using the language of hip-hop. In doing so, he changed the sportscasting game in a way that hadn’t been done since the days of Ring Lardner or Howard Cosell.

Listening to Stuart recap a game was like watching a rapper freestyle, spitting lyrics off the dome and hitting you with metaphors that sounded dissimilar for a second before conveying perfectly what just happened once your brain caught up. Stuart’s passion and immediacy matched the speed of the touchdowns, blocked shots, slam dunks and half court three-pointers he reported on. Whether namechecking Luke, Wu-Tang or Cypress Hill or using the latest hip hop rap tracks and catchphrases during airtime, his mainstream audience enjoyed his enthusiasm, but the hip-hop heads/sports fans like myself watching saw it another way: a broadcast version of “the nod”, a not so subtle acknowledgement of our presence. Like with so many cultural media trailblazers, the corporate bosses were hesitant. But the public ate it up.

Iconic journalist Ed Bradley wore an earring in his left ear during the later years of his career. It didn’t effect the excellence of his reporting, but there was concern by CBS executives that it would be a distraction. It became his trademark, along with his continued excellence. The same can be said for Stuart Scott.

There has always been a battle that many brothers in corporate jobs have to fight: how to be professional and still be comfortable in your own skin, relatable to other people using your own background and cultural references. Stuart Scott made that battle a little less difficult for countless businesspeople of color by just being himself. The language of Corporate America and Sportscasting got a little bit cooler because of him.

Raise the Roof up there Big Stu.

Charlo Greene’s Nice Dreams

By now, everyone on Earth with internet access has seen the clip of Alaskan news reporter Charlo Greene giving notice to her employer in the most epic “I quit” moment since Johnny Paycheck wrote “Take This Job and Shove It.” Overnight she became an icon for every frustrated 9-to-5 wage earner who ever fantasized about telling off their boss and walking out the door, never to return. Most of the attention on her dramatic exit from TV journalism has been focused on her dedication to the cause of marijuana legalization but in my opinion the bigger issue is the fact that she found the courage to declare her independence at all.

For most university-educated American women life follows the tradition of get a degree, get a job, get married, have kids. While women have indeed made great strides when it comes to respect and power in the workplace there are, unfortunately, certain rules that women must abide by to survive in that world. The primary rule is don’t make waves. It was true in the era of Mad Men and if the recent bestselling books by female CEOs are to be believed, it’s still true today. This is especially true for black women. Even more so when you are the only one there. Stories from the first women of color who were admitted into corporate positions are full of them being made painfully aware of having to carry the burden of representing their entire ethnic group, and the rest of that group being judged by others solely on the individual woman’s conduct.

African-Americans, especially African-American women, have been taught that education is the path to success in America. And while that has overwhelmingly been the case, it is not the only way. In the days of Segregation and Jim Crow, most towns had a thriving African-American section full of barbers, tailors, carpenters, grocery store owners and bricklayers who’s success allowed them to send their children to college to become doctors, lawyers or educators. The Civil Rights Act, while dismantling the legal framework of Segregation, also had a negative effect on the Black-owned businesses and neighbourhoods that had thrived for decades. Once Blacks were free to trade, work, and live anywhere they chose, all too often they began to neglect the neighborhoods they were once confined to. Whether from a desire to shake off the past or to assimilate fully into American society is difficult to day, but one unfortunate effect of this cultural shift was a decline in the entrepreneurial spirit that had created so many self-sufficient, profitable areas. The goal became to get a good job, not create a successful business.

The entrepreneurial spirit remained in decline until the birth of hip-hop. The ghetto kids who started Luke Records in Miami, Def Jam in New York, and Ruthless in Los Angeles along with scores of others brought a revolutionary new form of music and expression to the world. Part of that expression was allowing people to break free of the cultural straightjacket imposed by mainstream and corporate America. For the first time, people in lower class areas nationwide had a way to communicate with themselves and the rest of the world that didn’t rely on polished spokesmen or sugarcoating to get their message across. It was raw, abrasive and uncompromising; a way to vent frustration and call out the fakeness and hypocrisy so often hidden behind the façade of polite society that many affluent African Americans bought into. Miss Greene is a college educated, attractive black woman, and nobody has been more horrified by her actions than her fellow college educated sistas. Message boards have been on fire with the scorn many of them have for her and there is a feeling that she set a “bad example” and disrespected herself and other black professional women by breaking the unwritten rule of never “showing out”-meaning behaving in what could be perceived as a “ghetto” way- in front of white people on the job.

Well, Charlo Greene “showed out”, spectacularly. But by doing so, she also declared her independence and reclaimed her heritage as an entrepreneur with a bold, showy display in the finest American tradition. I don’t know if Miss Greene is a hip hop fan (although I have a feeling she’s a fan of The Chronic) but her departure was definitely a hip-hop inspired moment. It remains to be seen whether or not she will sustain a successful business but it won’t be for lack of an explosive debut.

Ratchet Television: Watch In Disgust

At the risk of sounding like a grouchy old uncle, I remember when to be on TV you had to have a skill. You had to be a singer, a dancer, an actor, or a rapper, a writer, a comedian; you had to do something. The only talent you need to be on television now is a talent for self-promotion and self-abuse, and most importantly, a lack of self respect. Ever since shows like Real World, Jersey Shore, and Bad Girls Club hit the air, we’ve been subjected to the tantrums, mood swings, and delusions of grandeur from overgrown children with maximum egos and minimum talent.

The overwhelming majority of modern reality shows have mostly Black women in them. Shows like Married to Medicine, Love and Hip-Hop, The Real Housewives of Atlanta (although I want to know how you can be called a “Real Housewife” if you’re not real, you’re never at home and you’re nobody’s wife) are a parade of loud, ratchet Black women doing what ratchets do: backbiting, gossiping, throwing drinks at each other in clubs and getting into physical altercations.

A lot of people in the Black media community have pointed out that these shows feed into the worst stereotypes about Black women. Mostly they have been ignored but it looks like things have finally reached the tipping point with the backlash over VH-1’s Sorority Sisters. Black sororities have been extremely vocal about the way their organizations, which have historically been instrumental in promoting the dignity and education of African-American women, are being represented on the show. I admit I haven’t watched it but looking at the trailer, I can see that it’s more of the ratchetness that Black reality shows are known for but this time, sponsors, probably mindful of the extremely high racial tensions in America right now, are deserting the show as fast as they can.

The uproar has sparked renewed discussion about the future of a type of programming that uses stereotypes as a hook.

In the days of blackface minstrelsy, people worldwide paid dearly to watch Black and Caucasian men in blackface act out racist parodies of African-American culture that degraded performer and audience alike. And always behind the curtain was the ringleader, racking up money while his “darkies” capered for the hicks.

From a production standpoint, these shows are cheap to produce and are very lucrative, just like the old minstrel shows, and Mona Scott-Young and Andy Cohen are the two most successful modern day ringleaders. They are the producers of VH-1’s Love & Hip-Hop and Bravo’s Real Housewives franchises respectively, and have grown very rich by using a formula that record label execs and far too many rappers long ago learned to exploit: double down on ignorance and cooning, reduce yourself to a stereotype, and people will throw money at you to reinforce their feelings of superiority.

I’m not saying these shows don’t have a place on the air. The problem is they take up so much of the programming that features women of color that it feels like a deliberate insulting response by networks to complaints about the lack of diversity on television by finding the lowest of the lowest common denominator of programming to box Blacks into.

There is something else that’s not being discussed in regards to the Sorority Sisters backlash: class. The sororities represented on the show are some of the most prestigious Greek-letter organizations in Black America, with a great many wealthy and accomplished women of color among their members. I can’t help but wonder how much of the outrage at this particular show is because it is the “talented tenth” being degraded this time, as opposed to the “ghetto hoodrats” on the other shows? These shows are a detriment to the image of American women of color regardless of their economic or social background. The average viewer of these shows is not going to waste time making distinctions between a loud wannabe singer and a loud sister wearing a Greek letter pin; all they see is a bunch of black women looking ignorant.

It’s a shame that so many professional sisters are lining up to damage their credibility by appearing on these shows. It’s tragic that there are so few roles for Black actresses that so many are signing on to shows like Hollywood Divas for work that will irreparably damage their brand. Saddest of all is the fact that these shows are so avidly consumed and obsessed over by Black women who don’t seem to realize their complicity in the ongoing degradation of their image. These shows make Black people, Black women in particular, look like the grotesque deformed characters that minstrel shows traded on. It’s even worse because the Black performers in those days had no choice. The women in these modern day coon shows, ringleaders and performers, do it voluntarily.