One would think that as a militant blacktress, the drunk white male would be my sworn enemy.
But as you know from my profile, there is nothing I love more than a tall white boy. Wait, make that a drunken foolish white boy. Not the grabby, belligerent ones, but the ones who are naturally awkward and drink in hopes of alleviating their innate lack of social skills. Unfortunately, the alcohol usually leads to rambling and accidentally spilling their beverage-- oh yeah, and objectifying me.
There is nothing I love more than being objectified. Quite frankly, my evening is not a success unless someone has referred to me as "shorty" or "ma" (paging Dr. Freud!), or told me my "ass is like damn in those jeans!"
Last night, shortly after 2 am on Avenue A, I was walking with friends and stopped outside of a bar. Out of nowhere lumbers a short man who can best be described as a misplaced cowboy. With tight black jeans, cowboy boots, hat, and a wonderful shirt with roses on the pocket flaps, I thought he might be an oppressor. I was wary as he approached me.
He then smiled at me and said hello, revealing the longest southern drawl this side of the Mason-Dixon line. This both softened me and shuttled me back to slavery days.
It was late, I was eating my post-midnight pizza to stave off drunken nausea, and this fellow from Baton Rouge wanted to chat.
After asking him if he was having fun and complimenting his ensemble (and telling him to be careful with these city girls), I walked off with my group. As I exited, he called out,
"GOODBYE, BEAUTIFUL PIZZA-EATING BLACK GIRL!!!"
Do you now see why I can't pass up a tall glass of milk? I'm not lactose intolerant if you're not blacktose intolerant-- and this man clearly wasn't. He had taken his Black-taid tablets that morning.
And he saw into my soul. He looked into my eyes and saw that at the core, underneath the banter and the hot dress, was a beautiful, pizza-eating black girl.
I miss you, Baton Rouge cowboy. I want to ride off into the sunset.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Friday, July 13, 2007
UnderPaid Negroes
As you all know, I am a blacktress. I use this term because unlike your every day actress, who is seized with low self-esteem, competition from other actresses, and the need to be perfect, I am also darker than a paper bag and 3/5 of a woman. This often means that when I audition for parts I play some marginal character-- perhaps a stepparent, an old wizened woman, or wicked witch (or otherwise "dark" character).
I know there are a dearth of roles available for blacktors and blacktresses. As well as Asian-tresses? And Latinators? No, that won't work-- it sounds like some kind of dinosaur.
Anyway, I'm done bitching. I am going to DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. As you also know, I am a woman of color and a writer. And I am currently working on a television series that will not only give black actors much-needed roles, but allow them to appear on screen with White actors.
My show is a prime-time drama that will be set in antebellum South. Think "Grey's Anatomy" + "Roots." It will star Isaiah Washington as a gay slave (the man needs to do some damage control).
Okay, okay. Cool your jets. I'm hoping to pitch this to UPN-- a.k.a "Under-Paid Negroes,"* the network that brought us such great black sitcoms as "Half and Half," and "Homeboys in Outerspace."
I will give you a brief excerpt from the shooting script. Picture this:
EXT. Plantation Field. Day.
RUFUS, A young black teen picks cotton in the hot southern sun. He furtively looks around. He sees the MASTER, an attractive young White man (ideally played by Shia Lebouf) looking off in the opposite direction. He turns to his sister DELILAH, a younger black girl, who is picking nearby.
RUFUS
Delilah, keep a look out. Watch Massa.
DELILAH
Rufus, don't you get us in trouble. Celie's still sore from the last whoopin'!
RUFUS
I just need to take a peek.
Delilah rolls her eyes, but says nothing. She looks over at the MASTER. Rufus reaches into his pocket and pulls out a copy of The Devil Wears Prada. HE READS A PAGE!!!!
Meanwhile, MASTER/Shia Lebouf catches Delilah's eye. She turns away, then turns quickly back. He gives a small smile. Her cousin, CELIE, who is on the other side of her, chuckles as he saunters towards them.
CELIE
Hmmmm---mmmh. Massa McDreamy comin' over here!
DELILAH
Shut up, Celie!
(to Rufus)
Put that away boy, before you get yo' butt beat!
MASTER McDREAMY/SHIA LEBOUF reaches Delilah. He approaches her closely. Sketchily. She shrinks in. A slight girl (obviously underfed cause she's a SLAVE), she is pubescent and has a crush. This is not the first time he has approached her.
I know there are a dearth of roles available for blacktors and blacktresses. As well as Asian-tresses? And Latinators? No, that won't work-- it sounds like some kind of dinosaur.
Anyway, I'm done bitching. I am going to DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. As you also know, I am a woman of color and a writer. And I am currently working on a television series that will not only give black actors much-needed roles, but allow them to appear on screen with White actors.
My show is a prime-time drama that will be set in antebellum South. Think "Grey's Anatomy" + "Roots." It will star Isaiah Washington as a gay slave (the man needs to do some damage control).
Okay, okay. Cool your jets. I'm hoping to pitch this to UPN-- a.k.a "Under-Paid Negroes,"* the network that brought us such great black sitcoms as "Half and Half," and "Homeboys in Outerspace."
I will give you a brief excerpt from the shooting script. Picture this:
EXT. Plantation Field. Day.
RUFUS, A young black teen picks cotton in the hot southern sun. He furtively looks around. He sees the MASTER, an attractive young White man (ideally played by Shia Lebouf) looking off in the opposite direction. He turns to his sister DELILAH, a younger black girl, who is picking nearby.
RUFUS
Delilah, keep a look out. Watch Massa.
DELILAH
Rufus, don't you get us in trouble. Celie's still sore from the last whoopin'!
RUFUS
I just need to take a peek.
Delilah rolls her eyes, but says nothing. She looks over at the MASTER. Rufus reaches into his pocket and pulls out a copy of The Devil Wears Prada. HE READS A PAGE!!!!
Meanwhile, MASTER/Shia Lebouf catches Delilah's eye. She turns away, then turns quickly back. He gives a small smile. Her cousin, CELIE, who is on the other side of her, chuckles as he saunters towards them.
CELIE
Hmmmm---mmmh. Massa McDreamy comin' over here!
DELILAH
Shut up, Celie!
(to Rufus)
Put that away boy, before you get yo' butt beat!
MASTER McDREAMY/SHIA LEBOUF reaches Delilah. He approaches her closely. Sketchily. She shrinks in. A slight girl (obviously underfed cause she's a SLAVE), she is pubescent and has a crush. This is not the first time he has approached her.
MASTER/SHIA LEBOUF
Sure is hot out here. Ain't it, Delilah?
DELILAH
Sho' is.
(pause. unsure. she takes a breath)
You... um. You got some water?
MASTER
(loudly, putting on a show)
How dare you ask me for water!
(he moves to strike her and she flinches. He stops himself and whispers in her ear)
Sorry, I left my nalgene in the wagon. I'll come by your quarters after supper.
(His eye catches Rufus, who is furtively reading his book)
What you got there, Rufus?
Rufus stuffs the book into his pocket.
Sure is hot out here. Ain't it, Delilah?
DELILAH
Sho' is.
(pause. unsure. she takes a breath)
You... um. You got some water?
MASTER
(loudly, putting on a show)
How dare you ask me for water!
(he moves to strike her and she flinches. He stops himself and whispers in her ear)
Sorry, I left my nalgene in the wagon. I'll come by your quarters after supper.
(His eye catches Rufus, who is furtively reading his book)
What you got there, Rufus?
Rufus stuffs the book into his pocket.
RUFUS
Oh, nothing, Massa.
So that's just an excerpt people. What will happen next? Will Rufus's attempt at literacy be discovered? How long can Delilah and McDreamy's affair last? I think you know the world needs to see the next installment of "I Don't Cotton To It." This fall. On Under-Paid Negroes.
The tagline? SLAVES: THE MOST UNDERPAID OF ALL.
(Shia is clearly looking over his property, and Isaiah is saying, "Shh. Don't use the 'F' word.")
* (UPN recently changed its name to "My9," which is clearly indicative of the desperate need of negroes to have OWNERSHIP after being OWNED!!!!)
Oh, nothing, Massa.
So that's just an excerpt people. What will happen next? Will Rufus's attempt at literacy be discovered? How long can Delilah and McDreamy's affair last? I think you know the world needs to see the next installment of "I Don't Cotton To It." This fall. On Under-Paid Negroes.
The tagline? SLAVES: THE MOST UNDERPAID OF ALL.
(Shia is clearly looking over his property, and Isaiah is saying, "Shh. Don't use the 'F' word.")* (UPN recently changed its name to "My9," which is clearly indicative of the desperate need of negroes to have OWNERSHIP after being OWNED!!!!)
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Ode to Harry Potter
Okay, I know Harry Potter mania is sweeping the nation right now, with book 7 and the movie. But I deserve to add my three rupees to the Potter discourses. It's my 40 acres.
I heart Harry Potter. I swoon over every second of his milky goodness. He defies all laws of puberty and Britishness, with his clear skin and gleaming teeth.
Yeah, I saw the movie last night. Or, as one friend put it-- the movie and the gun show! Harry has got more definition than a dictionary, and I want to read him forwards and back!
Look, I know he's "underage." I know he "lives in another time zone." I know he "doesn't know I exist." But if I let that kind of negative thinking get in my way, I'd never have hopped on the underground railroad to freedom.
As a free slave, I have learned to read and write. And I will use Harry's native tongue-- the British sonnet (and iambic pentameter)-- to express my love. I think both you and Harry will agree that we are meant to be.
Let me in your heart and I'll take care of your magical creature.
I promise I'll be gentle and show more respect than that house elf Kreacher.
Let me ride your firebolt , I'm nimble like a Nimbus two thousand,
I can make your body jolt; like Lupin on a full moon, you'll be howlin'!
Your owl may be named Hedwig, but you've got more than an angry inch
I bet it's more like nine and three-quarters after I give it a little bit of a pinch.
Now I should say something about how I'm a muggle
Cause that would allow me to rhyme with 'snuggle'
But I think we both know I'm more clever than that
And I want to be on your head longer than the Sorting Hat.
In America, loving you makes me a pedophile
Cause you're still quite pubescent.
But I know I can make it worth your while
Besides, I hear in England 16 is the age of consent.
Do you see his pectorals through his t-shirt? I bought it for him at Tween Gap . I thought it was really sweet of him to wear it as I saw him off on the Hogwart's Express. He was really upset that we'd be apart for so long, so he had that "scary/nauseous-oh-my-god-it's-You-Know-Who" look on his face.
I heart Harry Potter. I swoon over every second of his milky goodness. He defies all laws of puberty and Britishness, with his clear skin and gleaming teeth.
Yeah, I saw the movie last night. Or, as one friend put it-- the movie and the gun show! Harry has got more definition than a dictionary, and I want to read him forwards and back!
Look, I know he's "underage." I know he "lives in another time zone." I know he "doesn't know I exist." But if I let that kind of negative thinking get in my way, I'd never have hopped on the underground railroad to freedom.
As a free slave, I have learned to read and write. And I will use Harry's native tongue-- the British sonnet (and iambic pentameter)-- to express my love. I think both you and Harry will agree that we are meant to be.
Harry Potter Book 8: Harry and the Legend of Interracial Love
Let me in your heart and I'll take care of your magical creature.
I promise I'll be gentle and show more respect than that house elf Kreacher.
Let me ride your firebolt , I'm nimble like a Nimbus two thousand,
I can make your body jolt; like Lupin on a full moon, you'll be howlin'!
Your owl may be named Hedwig, but you've got more than an angry inch
I bet it's more like nine and three-quarters after I give it a little bit of a pinch.
Now I should say something about how I'm a muggle
Cause that would allow me to rhyme with 'snuggle'
But I think we both know I'm more clever than that
And I want to be on your head longer than the Sorting Hat.
In America, loving you makes me a pedophile
Cause you're still quite pubescent.
But I know I can make it worth your while
Besides, I hear in England 16 is the age of consent.
Do you see his pectorals through his t-shirt? I bought it for him at Tween Gap . I thought it was really sweet of him to wear it as I saw him off on the Hogwart's Express. He was really upset that we'd be apart for so long, so he had that "scary/nauseous-oh-my-god-it's-You-Know-Who" look on his face.
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