Greatest Antoine Pic EVER

In between carbo-loading and hydrating last night (gotta prepare for YK2K10!) I came online and saw a link from my girl Scribe, who now exclusively associates me with Antoine Dodson. Homey's on USWeekly's website, talking about the new home he and his family moved into with the help of his iTunes earnings!



I am obsessed with this pose--they look like an early-90s R&B duo. Antoine's got the hips of a 13-year-old Korean gymnast. What is his sister doing with that hair? I bet Antoine braided it, too--he should have known better!


(You can read the entire piece here.)

[Sidebar: Do you even think the Huntsville, Alabama, police are still looking for this rapist? I'm surprised he hasn't come forward and tried to get a cut of the family's earnings. After all, if he'd never tried to get in there, we wouldn't have the Bed Intruder hit we have now.]

Antoine's fierce, but he's more than just a flash in the pan, y'all. In the article he says he plans to return to school. "I signed up to finish my Associate's Degree in business," he says. "That way I can take everything to the next level and be on a more professional level."

His ultimate goal? To "open a salon," he tells Us. "Or a hotel."

I would check into that hotel in a hot second, and I'd have him touching up my roots once a week. Even though Kelly's head is a hot mess, do you see how deep-conditioned his strands look?!

I'm Livid!

Fellow woman of color and writer Scribe just brought the following hot mess to my attention:

Apparently, in Nettleton Middle School in Mississippi, black students aren't allowed to run for class president, and mixies don't even count!!

Look at the class elections handout, which lets students know their place:


This image is courtesy of Jezebel, where you can also find the more-detailed story.

Of course, the obvious levels of wrongness are in all our faces (if you're reading the blacktress blog, you must be down with equality!). What's most terrifying is that in most middle schools, students have to get parental signatures to engage in extra-curricular activities, including student government. This means that several parents and families saw this paperwork and didn't flinch. They signed little Sally's paper, letting her run for class president. Or, even worse, families of color accepted this statement as well. Of course, there is a group of mixed-race families reacting to this news, but why is this the first time we're hearing about this school and their election system? Is it only because now we're supposedly in a "post-racial" America? It seems like now more than ever, all this hidden racism is coming to light.

I mean, several school-board members, PTA moms, and faculty have held this in place for who knows how long. When a mother of a mixed-race child finally spoke up (her child is White and Indian), she said "They told me that they 'Go by the mother's race b/c with minorities the father isn't generally in the home.' They also told me that 'a city court order is the reason why it is this way.'"
Um, WTF?!

I don't even know what to say. There's nothing funny about this. It's terrifying. It's why I can't ever do a cross-country road trip--there will inevitably be some tiny towns where a blacktress can't afford to have her car break down! This shit is real, people.

Oh, before I go, let me take a moment to jot down a quick letter to our southern friends.

Dear People of the South,
These are the kind of bad apples that spoil the bunch. If you'd like a better reputation among citizens above the Mason-Dixon line, don't do shit like this.
Love,
Blacktress!

Fellow Truth-Tellers

Happy Friday, gentle readers. It’s not even 11 am, and I’m already procrastinating on the plantation with a new post. I don’t really have anything report. I’ve got two stand up shows this weekend, and need to find the funny, stat. I think a grande Starbucks is in order sometime before lunch--extra cocaine sprinkles, so I can really feel my heart burst!

I’m just surfing the information superhighway, getting my daily dish, and I was pleased to see that my homegirl SCRIBE is back in the blogsphere. She’s another freedom writer (see my list on the lower right of your screen), and lately, she’s been telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the ugly truth – and I’m loving it. Check out an excerpt from the latest post:

Jesse Tyler Ferguson plays Mitchell on Modern Family, one half of a gay couple with an adopted darkie. Recently the NY Post interviewed him and everything was fine and dandy until:

PW: Are there any actors you'd like to have on the show?
Jesse: The one person I actually have gone after -- because she'd be so brilliant -- is Gabourey Sidibe. I think she would be fantastic as a nanny we hire. She's just so bubbly and sweet and a fan of the show. I think this would be a seamless fit for her.

Black woman as a nanny, hasn't that been done to death? I mean it is 2010, we have a Black First Lady for Buddha's sake! Are you for real?

Thank you, Scribe! Bringing some truth. This is why Sojo doesn’t have an agent yet—they want to box me in, bring me down!

Y’all know I’m all about breaking the barriers, especially with the black female image. This morning, as I ate my oatmeal and watched VH1 (you know how I do with my fiber boost and morning videos--it’s how I stay hip with the young people), a video came on by an artist named Angel Taylor.

It was kinda meh, poppy-acoustic-guitar summery vibe, but I was so into it because…SHE’S BLACK!
She’s basically the black version of Colbie Caillat, and I am very pleased by this.
We so rarely see black acoustic-pop female artists—I think they’ve always been there, but record labels haven’t known what to do with them. Now that we’re allegedly in some “post-racial” world, they’re not afraid to put Angel Taylor out there, complete with a video chock-full of miscegenation! Check it out:


I think it’s quite fitting that she’s on a label called AWARE Records.

Her voice has zero soul or flava, but there she is, strumming along in a coffee shop with her Colgate smile, and I’m glad.
Homegirl even has a song called CHAI TEA LATTE.
I think if we were introduced, we’d be besties—we’d bond over how people said we “talked white” growing up, and share our tastes for tall glasses of milk (you know the kind….)

I bet her dad’s a dentist.

And Now a Word From Our Sponsor

I think I’ve found a potential sponsor.

Tuesday night, while doing some stand up at The Pinch, I watched the other comedians and learned what to do—and what not to do. Last night’s show was interesting for a few reasons:

1. There was a large crowd in the back of the bar glued to the basketball game on the television, and they were quite vocal—about the game. This meant that during a comedian’s set, there would be random loud groans and frustrated screams as basketball player Tony Parker (aka, Eva Longoria’s husband) dribbled up and down the court with his fine-ass self. This created awkwardness and discomfort.

2. 4 of the 7 comedians were female!! Woot, sexy lady time! AND there was a blacktor. AND one of the chicks was Canadian!! It’s like it was minority night at The Pinch—god bless it!

3. Quite a few randoms appeared, though not many of my die-hard fans. This made me slightly nervous, as I felt the need to win over the crowd.

4. Oh yeah, and I met my sponsor.
Let me explain.

Fellow woman of color and writer, Scribe, explained the concept of sponsorship to me. A sponsor is your Caucasian ally who will support your dreams and goals through financial support, reference writing, and generally vouching that you will not roll your eyes or snap your neck in public—they will help prove you’re a darkie that can be trusted. Basically, if we were still in slave days, a sponsor is the white person who would buy your freedom.

My future sponsor’s name is Debbie Shea, and she’s a funny comedian--and probably a strong black woman in her own way. She’s been on Comedy Central’s Premium Blend, won competitions, and even crosses her legs when she drops a doody in the toilet (her words, not mine. Actually, she didn’t say “drop a doody,” because she’s not 4 years old, but I think you get what I mean). She performed before I did, and I was instantly nervous because she had actual professional credits to her name. She was also sitting in the very front during my set, and I feared her judgment.

However, when the show was over, Miss Shea had praise for a blacktress. She was as cool and deadpan offstage as she was on, so when she said, “Hey, I’ve never seen you around. Do you perform a lot?” I felt a shiver down my spine, as though the cool kid in class had suddenly asked to borrow my pen. I told her no, and how I had been nervous to perform after someone “who was real”—I mean, after all, you’re nobody until you’ve been on television. I gave her my blacktress business card and asked her if she’d buy my freedom. She took this request in stride (as only a potential sponsor could), and gave me a link to her website.

I am swooning over her. I really want to keep doing comedy, but standing up in front of strangers who are basically looking at you with a face that says “dance, puppet, DANCE!!!” can be terrifying. When a seasoned pro tells me I’m good in a way that’s too cool for school, it gives the blacktress the boost she needs to keep spreading the TRUTH.

So, Debbie Shea, if you’re reading this… Thank you for the street cred. I promise, if you’re ever on the verge of getting into a bar fight, I will be your blackup.


The blacktress. Brought to you by Debbie Shea, the letter Q, and....readers like you.

The Emperor Club’s New Groove

Okay, so as you all know by now, former NY governor Eliot Spitzer resigned after he was discovered to be part of a prostitution ring known as the Emperor’s Club VIP. A high-priced international call-girl ring that serviced wealthy men in major cities around the globe, The Emperor’s Club’s clients paid upwards of $3,000 per hour for a moment of magic with some classy broads. They say on their website (which has been taken down):

We specialize in introductions of: fashion models, pageant winners, and exquisite students, graduates and women of successful careers (finance, art, media, etc…) to gentlemen of exceptional standards.

Women are rated on a diamond scale (cause, really, who doesn’t love bling?) of three to seven, with their rating directly proportional to a price of an evening or hour with them. A three-diamond ho costs $10,000 per day; a four-diamond ho costs $12,000; a five-diamond trick costs $15,000; a six-diamond tramp costs $21,000; and a seven-diamond lady of the night will set you back $31,000.

Um, let’s take a look at the chick Spitzer was caught with:

How many diamonds do you think this homegirl’s worth?

Here’s a screen capture of some of the ladies of the Emperor’s Club:

Notice that none of them are darker than a paper bag—at least, not without the help of a tanning bed.

Clearly, this is where Sojo comes in.

I’ve been inspired by the work of fellow blacktivist Scribe, who recently ended her Adopt-A-Darkie Campaign. Capitalizing on White celebrities’ preference for brown babies, she put herself up for adoption, even offering to wear a diaper and call Gwyneth Paltrow “mammy” if she helped eradicate her student loans.

This, to me, is genius. Some may call it “Selling Out” or acting as a “brazen race traitor,” but I call it acting on the freakonomics of the day and letting a rich white person work for you.

So here I sit, in all my mocha brownness.

Emperor’s Club, I offer my services to you.

Looking at the screen capture above, it’s clear they are missing some key flavors of dark chocolate. The only black girl they feature—a “Caribbean Beauty”—is lighter than Halle Berry, and certainly won’t cure any of these wealthy men’s chocolate addictions.

(You won't piss of the Spitzers at Seder dinner with that light skin!)

And we all know they have them. In fact, there is nothing a powerful white male wants more than for a black woman to say he has a big penis and let him….colonize her dark CUNTtry, if you will.

How do I know?
You don’t want to know.

I think I’d be an excellent addition to the Emperor’s Club—especially if I’m getting a substantial cut of that $31,000 per day (oh yes, I’m a seven-diamond sister). This is also payable in euros and pounds, which means I’ll be doing some international travel—to lands where all the men are down with the brown.

Reasons I’d Be a Good Emperor’s Club Trick

1. I’m young and fertile, but I won’t get knocked up.
2. I’m discreet (um, you will not find Sojo on myspace, with her crotch out and about, bent over a Vespa)
3. I’m really dark-skinned. I mean, I Am. Black. You won’t have any doubt that you’re doing something taboo when I’m in your boudoir!!
4. I, too, was an “exquisite student” (HIGH HONORS from a prestigious New England private university, what what?!)—the epitome of high-class ladies that the Emperor’s Club takes in.
5. I don’t talk White, I talk right. I can be your arm candy at all your events, and I’ll be even more well-spoken and dazzling than your wife.
6. For the right tip, we can even play “Thomas Jefferson and the Slave Girl”….. let the hate mail begin….

Basically, what I’m trying to say is: if Spitzer had gotten down with a sister, he might still be governor today.

Model Woman

On the 4th day of B.H.M./ my blacktress gave to me….. a story about Miss Na-o-mi.
Campbell, that is.

Today I have decided to sing the virtues of the cray-cray Naomi Campbell.

First of all, let me say something about Naomi. I was talking to Scribe earlier today, and she dropped some good knowledge about Ms. Campbell. She said:
SCRIBE: no i love her being cray
check this out
naomi campbell is known to be a b*tch
she beats people
throws tantrums
and it has never affected her work
no one has ever decided, ok Naomi is out
this is a black woman who is allowed to be cray cray and has yet to be punished for it
AND she gets to be cray, without anyone making her the "crazy black woman"
she is just crazy
i wanna know her secret.

Come to think of it, Scribe, I do, too…

This conversation was serendipitous, as I already had Naomi on the brain after her random appearance in a commercial for Life Water which debuted during last night’s Super Bowl and involved her dancing to MJ’s “Thriller” with animated lizards. See for yourself (click "Sobe LifeWater" from the pulldown menu):

No, you’re not drunk. And you’re not dreaming. And no, it makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. But Naomi looked fierce and didn’t throw a celly at anyone, so I consider this commercial a success. I was then further pleased with her when I discovered earlier today that Miss Campbell is boycotting Fashion Week. I really think she is moved by the spirit of BHM. Naomi is finally using her status as a fine (part) Black woman to speak out against the racism and prejudice in the fashion and modeling industries. The runway is her plantation, and she is standing up as a runaway slave, fleeing the shackles of high-heeled oppression, and crying out for justice.

I just wish she’d stop letting them dye her hair all kinds of non-Negro colors (like blond) and stop hitting her help. When a rich Negress hits her help, it sends the message to White folks that we can’t have nice things cause we won't know how to behave.