Last night at the 84th annual Academy Awards, the stars lit up the red carpet in true Hollywood fashion. While many oogled the designer dresses, jewelry, and stars, black Twitter (and the Negro-net) was steadily giving props to Viola Davis for her “bold” choice to rock her natural hair on Hollywood’s biggest night.

While white folks didn’t seem to care, Twitter, Facebook, and blogs lit up with stories about how FAB Davis looked in her emerald green Vera Wang gown and short TWA (tiny weeny afro).

To say she looked stunning is an understatement. Viola glowed! Her deep brown skin positively shimmered against the contrast of the green dress, and her natural ‘do was a welcomed reprieve from the (tired) wigs she usually wears. Although I have no problem with wigs, weaves, and adding a little something to what God gave you, let’s just say Ms. Viola doesn’t always choose the best hair pieces, and after showing off her curls in the LA Times magazine shoot, I didn’t see any reason to keep them under wraps any longer.

But the relationship between black women and our hair is….complicated.

For every person who screams, “It’s just hair!” there are 20 others who will tell you it is anything but. While I hope we get to the “it’s just hair” stage in my lifetime, I won’t be surprised if it goes the way of finding Biggie and Tupac’s killers, peace in the Middle East, and putting an end to global warning: It’ll never happen.

For centuries, our bodies, our hair, and our being have been up for public discussion and display and we cannot deny the fact that sometimes hair is political.

Viola’s choice to strip down to her natural ‘do was not only a triumph for her (because she looked banging), but it was a shout out to black women around the world. By showing up sans wig, Davis told the world that black women–however we chose to look–are JUST as amazingly beautiful as anyone else.

Seeing Viola Davis shining on the red carpet and in the front row made my heart smile. Even though she didn’t bring home the Oscar (peace to Meryl Streep), Viola made an indelible mark on the show.

And as writer and culturist Rebecca Walker put it, Viola used “her hair to say, ‘Don’t be confused. I am not who I play on TV or movies. I have left the plantation and wait for no one to tell my story.’”

Along with Viola’s choice to rock a slightly chunky TWA, natural hair was also center stage throughout the night. Although some cracked jokes on Chris Rock’s Fredrick Douglas ‘fro,  I must say I thought he added a bit of much-needed “color” to the otherwise white-on-white affair (and his humor? On point). Perhaps it was a tad too high, but I was feeling Rock’s hair.  Like Davis Chris Rock showed that he wasn’t really interested to caving to the traditional standards in terms of his style. Bravo, Chris.

Esperanza Spalding also graced the show with her ‘huge 70s throwback, black-power-fist-in-your-eye afro. As she sang, “What A Wonderful World,” Spalding proudly showed off her signature hairstyle and didn’t try to “tame” her hair for such a prestigious evening. While many sisters would have been looking for the nearest pressing comb (or headband), Esperanza embraced her hair and let it shine almost as loudly as her voice.

Oscar night wasn’t a complete coup for black hair, though. While Viola Davis, Chis Rock, Octavia Spencer (her hair was LAID!), and Esperanza looked absolutely magical, once again, Gabourey Sidibe got played.

Gabby was apart of a montage of actors talking about the craft, but nobody even remembers a thing she said because her hair was a MAJOR distraction. If our hair is *just* an accessory, Gabby’s hair looked liked it came straight from the bargin bin at the 99-cent store.

WHAT WAS THAT?

Gabby seems to always get it wrong. As a (very) big girl she already has several things working against her, especially in Hollywood, but dammit if she can’t get her look on point at least once. ONCE. Gabby’s team is forever styling her in matronly outfits and wigs that look straight outta the Jim Crow era.  But even that would have been an improvement over the matted mess that lived on her head last night.

I like Gabby. I think she’s a cutie with a great personality and stellar acting chops, but she needs to holla at Viola and figure out how to let go of the old lady wigs and finally look like she belongs on the red carpet (because she totally does).

But here’s how I know it’s not *just* hair. Just as folks cheered on Viola and Esperanza’s fros, many others saw Gabby’s wig (or weave or that thing that attacked Martin & Gina) as an affront to black women everywhere. And it it sorta was.

The Oscars may be a bit outdated and it’s definitely biased against folks of color, but we showed up and showed out last night. But because images have power, that picture of Viola Davis looking absolutely stunning with her polished dark brown skin and short kinky ‘fro will live on and inspire young black girls forever.

What did you think? Did Viola’s hair make a statement or is it really just hair? 

Just a mere 6 days ago, we witnessed the Homegoing of arguably one of our greatest treasures in music and popular culture. Whitney Elizabeth Houston, R&B and Pop Superstar was found dead in the bathtub of her Beverly Hills hotel room the night before the Grammy Awards, February 11, 2012. There was a collective mourning on Facebook, Twitter, on the street and in the blogosphere from Saturday afternoon clear through the rest of the weekend as we held our breath for the Grammy’s to honor music royalty. Who would be paying tribute? Would they be able to withstand the pressure? What would the committee do with so little time to honor such a music giant? That outpouring of love, shock, sadness and disbelief has continued clear through today, and will, expectantly, for quite some time. We had lost Whitney…and it hurt. She wasn’t just a singer, actress or a celebrity…she was ours…seemingly tangible even if you had never made her acquaintance. Almost immediately, speculation as to the cause of her death ran rampant. Her troubles with drugs and alcohol and a tumultuous marriage to R&B singer Bobby Brown led to all types of speculation including overdose. It’s been hard to accept that she’s gone…even harder to swallow the fact that she could have possibly relapsed into the world that many of us as fans cheered and prayed her out of. Some hoped silently and even vehemently through social media, that it wasn’t true. The coroner ruled out foul play almost immediately, but the toxicology report remains, after prescription drugs were found in her room. There’s also nowhere you can go and escape the whispers and even loud yells of Bobby Brown being at fault and Whitney’s life being transformed the very day she decided to marry him. It didn’t help matters that allegedly after not adhering to the agreements in place by Whitney’s family that Bobby Brown decided to leave Whitney’s funeral. It’s been reported that the family outlined 2 things for Bobby to adhere to on that day: 1) he ALONE could sit with the family and 2) he would not reach out to their daughter Bobbi Kristina unless she initiated contact or conversation. When he violated both and was asked to move because all of his children and guests (or “entourage”) couldn’t be accommodated with the family AND he attempted to speak to his daughter, security stepped in. Before the service could begin, Bobby’s car service was seen picking him up and there were reports about his abrupt departure throughout the service. My personal feelings about that: Even in death, Bobby had to try and upstage Whitney. I’m not one who blames him for her struggles, but I do believe that she endured a special kind of hell trying to be a “regular wife” and appease his ego when she’s always been a Superstar.  The one day to bend and pay homage, he showed what many have believed all along. I can’t imagine the pain he must be enduring, but as a former husband and a father to their child, I expected more. I rooted for him to grow up…stand up. He didn’t. So, enough about that.

Whitney Houston was a personal heroine of mine. Before the bout with drugs and alcohol, she was (and still remains), simply, “The Voice”. If you were a little girl growing up in the 80s, you probably wanted to be Whitney, or at least sing like her. She was beautiful, talented, personable, poised, glamorous, endeared, beloved, heralded…and then, we turned our backs on her. “We” is relative I know, but in Whitney’s eyes, her every move was scrutinized and judged…and unfortunately under the powerful influence of addiction and “love”, she wasn’t always making the “right” decisions. But “we” loved her anyway…and no matter how ridiculous it got, we pulled for her…we wanted to see her shake free from the bondage and resume her rightful place on the throne as Queen. And in 2009, we got our wish. Whitney emerged in all of her splendor with a #1 Album, a candid and open 2 part interview on Oprah, a divorce from Bobby Brown and a new life as a mother to her beloved daughter Bobbi Kristina. But then there were the crack jokes, comedy skits, talk about her voice being gone, comments about how she looked etc. It was never quite the same, and my heart breaks for someone who lived so openly and authentically before the entire world (good, bad and ugly) who may have never had the peace and joy that she deserved because she gave to so many, literally and figuratively.

Last Saturday morning, her family gave her to us one last time in a televised, 4 hour service that paid tribute to a most deserving “Nippy” and portrayed her as her father’s daughter, a Child of the Most High God. Last week, in the words of Pastor Marvin Winans, Whitney’s mother Cissy, “took the world to church.” Whitney has never been shy about her faith, her beliefs and her relationship with God. And no matter what you thought of her, you most definitely knew, on that day, where she drew her strength.

Since that day there have been photos released of her hotel room, the bathtub where she was found and even, her body inside of her casket. Even to find a photo for this post, by just typing “Whitney” I was subjected to all types of questionable Google searches about her. And again my heart aches. My heart hurts now for her mother, her daughter and those that loved her best and longest. Each time they go to grab a loaf of bread or gallon of milk, they’ll see their loved one in a moment that most reserve strictly for the inner circle, if at all. How insensitive are we? Would we be able to stomach our lives (and deaths) on display like that? Does it just “come with the territory” of fame? Anyone can be famous, but very few rise to the iconic status of Whitney Houston, and those are people we should bring flowers to before it’s too late. After all, they are people just like you and I.

What’s your favorite Whitney Houston song or memory? How have you felt or reacted about/to her untimely passing and the media hype surrounding it?

*Follow WhoYouCallinABitch on Twitter & Facebook

BTW, L.A. folks: Come hang with us on Monday Feb. 27 from 5-8pm at Lucky Strike in Hollywood. We’ll be hosting our FIRST ever WYCAB Tweet Up welcoming Luvvie and Afrobella to L.A. RSVP here!

I was watching Cosby the other day on YouTube when I ran across an episode about dating. Titled, ‘Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Astoria,’ this episode examines that age old problem of where to find someone who actually stacks up to your ever-growing list of “must haves.”

After Erica (Hilton aka Bill Cosby’s daughter) comes home from a night of clubbing, she shares her horror stories of trying to wade through the frogs to find her prince. As she and her friends are complaining about their night, the girls ask Hilton and his wife Ruth to hook them up.

The couple schools the ladies on their problem: they are looking for love in all the wrong places and from all the wrong men.

As the ladies run down their list of “must haves” (you know the basics: young, handsome, smart, funny, makes a lot of money, and worships at their feet etc.), Ruth hips them to game.

She tells the ladies, “Men don’t come like that. You see, men are like old cars, you just gotta find one that works. You find one that works [and] you take care of it long enough…eventually it will be worth something.”

That line definitely made me chuckle, but when I started to think about it, there was some truth to it.

While no one wants a complete jalopy that needs to be rebuilt from the ground up, a man who is a bit rough around the edges and just needs a coat of paint and some wax, might just work.

Far too many times I’ve seen men and women pass by perfectly good folks because they didn’t come in the right package, or didn’t seem–on the surface–to be a match. However, when they took the time to get to know them, they really saw the person for the first time.

I’m guilty of this.

I like attractive, artsy dudes. But on the flip, I’ve gone out with and totally crushed on brothas who were…let’s just say…unconventionally attractive all because they had *it.* You know that certain something extra that drew me in. Call it personality, call it irrational self-confidence, whatever, it worked.

But how often to we immediately place folks in the “friend” file when–if they just looked how we wanted them to–we should totally be all over them?

Are you ok with a fixer-upper?

Holla back folks.

–cher chez le brit

~~

*Follow WhoYouCallinABitch on Twitter & Facebook

BTW, L.A. folks: Come hang with us on Monday Feb. 27 from 5-8pm at Lucky Strike in Hollywood. We’ll be hosting our FIRST ever WYCAB Tweet Up welcoming Luvvie and Afrobella to L.A. RSVP here!

Let’s have a little chat about a little movie that came out a little while ago, shall we?

“Just Wright” is a romantic comedy/sports flick that was released in 2010, starring rapper-cum-actor Dana “Queen Latifah” Owens and rapper-cum-actor-cum-resident Drake hater Lonnie “Common Sense” Lynn.  Also in the cast, Paula Patton, Phylicia Rashad, James Pickens, Jr., Pam Grier and an All-Star roster of NBA star cameos.

Here’s my version of the story:

Stocky girl is physical trainer. Pretty cousin is gold digger.  Stocky girl and gold digger go to basketball game.  Gold digger likes star player.  Star player meets stocky girl at gas station. Stocky girl opens his gas tank for him. (True chivalry!) Stocky girl and gold digger end up at star player’s birthday party.  Star player falls in love with gold digger.  Stocky girl stands by, fully supportive.  Gold digger and start player get engaged.  Star player gets hurt.  Gold digger calls in stocky girl to help him recover and then ditches star player as damaged goods.  Stocky girl develops tough attitude to motivate star player, at no time demonstrating any feminine tendencies.  Star player begins to get sweet on stocky girl.  Star player gets better, paints stocky girl’s car and gives her a taste of the d to say thank you.  Stocky girl thinks she’s in the game.  Gold digger shows up and stocky girl gets kicked to the curb.  Star player gives gold digger another chance, but then realizes stocky girl is the one for him.  Star player & stocky girl end up happily ever after, with stocky girl becoming a trainer for star player’s team, thus giving her access to naked teammates in locker room.

We all caught up??  Good.

Here’s the most major of the issues I have with this whole movie:

SHIT LIKE THIS NEVER HAPPENS. EVER. IN. LIFE.

There are a select and elite group of women that, not unlike the Paula Patton character, spend their time calculating, planning and plotting how to get into the “right” circles to mix and mingle with professional athletes, in the hopes of being permanently put on or at the least, impregnated.  They are far more stealth than the average groupie and often earn themselves face time with prominent figures in sports and music, thus becoming women of choice.  Look at Patricia Smith, wife of Emmitt, for example.  She was married to Martin Lawrence for a year and then later moved on to Emmitt.  That’s a helluva starter husband, but I’m sure she ran in the right circles to even get to that point.

That being said, a Latifah-esque physical therapist ain’t getting next to a Common-esque star player romantically.  Could you see Latifah as one of the “Baskeball Wives”??  Chicks would be getting chin checked every episode.  Eff some water throwing.

Another major issue I had with the story was the amount of shade that Coffy Pam Grier was throwing at her “daughter”.  I mean, damn.  How’s your mom just going to count you out of the dating game and pass on family heirlooms to a makeshift cousin?  For a mother, her character was a mother.  If it weren’t for the father telling Latifah that she was worth a damn, I would have expected her to jump off the nearest curb after Common dissed her to go back to the “salad eating chick”.

Why was Latifah so pressed to get a dude in this movie??  She was a successful physical therapist, recently purchased a home, appeared to be intelligent and was able to at least secure dates on her own.  Yet, she wasn’t all she could be because no man had validated her.  Wack-tastic.  Conversely, the gold digging, tragic mulatto Paula Patton character was happy-go-lucky and seemingly content in her unemployment and lack of accomplishment.  Finding a man was her job and, as long as Latifah was housing and feeding her, all was right with the world.

In 2012 (and even in 2010 when the movie was released), that kind of cavalier attitude towards self-preservation will lead to nothing but destruction.  Rich men are not as willing to take in a pretty face with no talents or contribution as they once were.  With the mogul wife being the continuing trend, these Maybach chasers have to show that they can earn their own Louboutin’s before  Big Daddy starts gifting, unless “Big Daddy” is Chad OchoCinco.  But, that’s a whole other post…

Funny thing about this movie is that as awful as the story is, I find myself watching it when I catch it on.  Secretly, I’m hoping that the story changes on my next viewing.  I don’t want to see another stocky/plus-sized/big girl portrayed as the second choice or the underdog.  I don’t want to see her counted out.  I guess I’m hoping that next time this story is told, she wins out of the gate.

Yeah, I’m delusional.

Did you love or hate “Just Wright”??

Follow me on twitter, if you please…

When I first heard Chris Brown and Rihanna would be teaming up for a new track, my first thought was…WTF would she do that for?

I mean, on one level I get it. Having Chris Brown, the man who left her bloody and running for her life, on a track is “shocking.” And since “the incident,” the self-proclaimed rude gal has seemed to go out of her way to cultivate a “I don’t give a f*ck, I’ll do what I want” image. So it makes sense.

But, really Rih?

Dude went HAM on your face and threatened to kill you, and you repay him by letting him sing on your track? #Fail

Over the past few years, while Rihanna’s career has soared, Breezy has struggled to reclaim his fame. After “the incident” he lost major endorsement deals, and continued to fuel speculation that that night wasn’t a fluke. Instead of remaining humble, dude seemed to be competing for America’s Biggest Asshole whenever he was asked about what happened that fateful night.

And while I’m a firm believer in forgiving others and moving on…you gotta draw the line somewhere. And for me, beating someone so badly they look like their picture was pulled from an episode of Law & Order SVU is where I tap out.

But apparently money, buzz, and telling the world–yet again–you’re tough and don’t give a f*ck is worth more than any sort of role model status Rihanna has.

When word leaked that the two would be getting back together (at least on wax), people were upset. Twitter blew up, blogs talked about it, and everybody wondered if it was a good business move. While I think both camps subscribe to the “all press is good press” idea, some things are better left behind.

When I’ve spoken about my ambivalence surrounding Breezy, I’ve been told to simply get over it. And while it seems like a reasonable request considering I wasn’t the one getting wailed on in the Lambo, I just can’t.

My brain knows that Brown deserves forgiveness, like any human being, but my head, heart, and pocketbook? Nawl.

Just like I cannot divorce the thought of R. Kelly’s proclivities for underage girls (and Dave Chappelle’s ‘Piss On You’) from his extensive catalogue, I can’t just “get over” Brown’s tantrums, violence, and idiotic Twitter rants (and I’m not the only one). I can accept the fact that he messed up…and I forgive him for it…but forget? Probably not.

Forgiving and forgetting are strange bedfellows. Some people think that in order to do one (forgive) you have to do the other (forget), but it doesn’t really work that way.

Our memories don’t just go away once we “get over” the pain and anger someone caused us. They are still there, just below the surface. While we may no longer hold a grudge against those that did us wrong, we’ll still flinch if they get to close.

Despite not wanting to be a role model for young girls, Rihanna’s just that. And by allowing Brown to jump on a track with her, RihRih is sending a very real—and possibly dangerous—message to her young fans: it’s ok to invite your abuser back into your life as long as he says he’s sorry.

While I know Chris Brown and Rihanna shouldn’t be teaching kids about what relationships look like, the sad fact is that they do. When I was teaching, I was alarmed at the lack of real role models many kids have. Many of my students were searching for answers about life, about themselves, and about how to treat others, and do you know where they got it? From pop culture.

My male students ran around with an “I don’t love them hoes” mentality, while the girls were just trying to get over and stick dudes for their 13-year-old paper. Ridiculous.

So when people say that talking about Chris Brown and Rihanna ain’t that deep, point them in the direction of the nearest school and ask who their favorite artists are and if they’d like to be like them one day.

I bet you’ll be surprised.

Talk to me folks.

Does forgiveness have to come with forgetting? Or can you forgive, but never forget?

–xo,
cher chez le brit

~~

*Follow WhoYouCallinABitch on Twitter & Facebook

BTW, L.A. folks: Come hang with us on Monday Feb. 27 from 5-8pm at Lucky Strike in Hollywood. We’ll be hosting our FIRST ever WYCAB Tweet Up welcoming Luvvie and Afrobella to L.A. RSVP here!

Well if you’re in L.A., you can find out!

Next week, Monday Feb. 27 from 5-8pm we’ll be hosting our first ever West Coast Tweet-up and this one will be special.

Not only will the WYCAB team be in the house, but we’ll be welcoming Chicago-based bloggers Luvvie and Afrobella to Los Angeles as they venture out West to cover this year’s Oscars awards.

Join us at Lucky Strike in Hollywood for an evening of food, drinks, and awesome conversation. Bring your business cards,  twitter handles–and if you’re brave–your bowling shoes.

You down? RSVP here.

(Details: Free entry, Happy Hour pricing until 8!)

See you soon!

~~

*Stay up to date by following WYCAB on Facebook and Twitter. 

There’s something about Valentine’s Day that brings out the worst in people.

Judging by my Facebook news feed yesterday, there are a lot of bitter broads out there, and quite honestly, I’m sick of it. They’re starting to bring me down.

I mean, I get it.

A lot of my sistern have been done dirty in the love game. They’ve given their all to unworthy dudes. They’ve put up with some ignorant man’s bullshit. They’ve washed his dirty drawls until one day he packed up his duffel bag and bounced (peace to Maxine Shaw). So yes…I get it. But lemme ask you this:

How is being bitter working out for you?

Skeptical of love? I get that. Weary? I feel you. Apprehensive and love-shy? Yup, I understand that, too.

But how does one allow oneself to get to a point where you absolutely detest the thought of someone loving you?

Bitterness isn’t cute. (And I don’t just mean being in pain, I mean downright spitting on love, saying “fuck cupid” and “ALLLLLLLL men/women ain’t shit” type bitter. You know, the serious kind.).

As people, we are not solitary creatures. We are made to live in communities, to love somebody, to coexist. So swearing off all man/womankind because the last knucklehead did the ‘Cupid Shuffle’ on your heart is not only fair to the one who may be really trying to love you, but it’s also contrary to how we are at our core.

I understand wanting to take a break from dating. Hell, we’ve all been there.

But there’s a looooong distance between taking a break from “the game” and shitting on everyone else’s love-filled parade.

Folks, bitterness never led to anything positive.

Think about it. How many people do you know that are completely broken by the past? Are they living a happy life or are they wallowing in what happened to them way back in 2002?

Being single is not synonymous with being angry and bitter. We’re proof of that.

But the next time your friends (or, God forbid you), gets into Bitter Betty mode, hit them with this T.I. quote:

“Is you happy?”

What do you think? Why do people wallow in bitterness when it’s one of the least helpful emotions in our toolbox? 

Music is one of the most important parts of our lives. Whether we like it or not, when we deal with issues of the heart, we often search for the perfect song to fit our mood.

Whether we’re happily single, blissfully boo’d up, or single and ready to mingle (no Bitter Betty’s allowed…today lol), I’ve got a song for you.

Check it:

Here are a few songs to add to your list even if your relationship status is ‘it’s complicated’

For Lovers Only

Sade – Lover’s Rock: You CANNOT go wrong with Sade, whether you’re in love or trying to recover from it, she has something to fit any mood.

Maxwell – Fortunate: If you’re not in love this will make you really, really want to be boo’d up. I wouldn’t put this one for someone you’re ambivalent about or your situation might become even MORE complicated.

Anita Baker – Angel: This is a song for hardcover lovers. I’ve always pictured this song being played at my wedding. First dance steez.

I Think I Like You…A Lot! 

Frank Ocean – Thinking About You: You know that stage when you’re in like, but not quite love, but you can’t stop thinking about the person? That’s when you put on this song.

Bilal - Soul Sista: This song has always been a favorite. It’s just right on the border between I’m really, really feeling you and I love you. Play this is you’re trying to set the mood.

Kelis – Get Along With You: Kelis was truly ahead of her time. Play this when you’re trying to convince the object of your affection that you don’t need NOTHING but them.

I’m Single….and Ready to Mingle! 

Nina Sky – Move Your Body: If you can listen to this song without dancing, I can’t help you. This song is so damn bass heavy that I can’t help but busting a slow wine.

Beyonce – Get Me Bodied: I’m not the biggest Bey fan, but I can’t deny how infectious this song is and how much it makes me feel GOOD. Put this on when you’re headed out and need a little something extra is your strut.

Mariah Carey – The Roof ft. Mobb Deep: Ok, so maybe this is just a personal fav, but this song always makes me feel young and slightly daring. Perhaps it’s the addition of Mobb Deep or just the fact that it reminds me of high school, but M.C. had me with this one.

What’s on your V-Day playlist?

As of late, it seems like everyone’s an expert on how everyone else should be living.  Prime example ^^^^…

Yes, I’m going there today.

I have noticed more and more in my social networking exploration the cropping up of more and more self-appointed “relationship experts”, all focused on one specific demographic: The confused, misguided women folk that walk the earth in a daze, looking for that one man that holds the key to the Kingdom.

GLORY BE!!

But, wait!  Which one of the MANY men doling out advice via tweet/magazine article/blog/YouTube channel/smoke signal is the REAL expert??  Which one of these dudes is going to get me hitched and happy??

If you didn’t catch the heavy dosage of sarcasm just hurled at you, just stop reading now.

I don’t know if there was a 2-for-1 seminar/certification/Time Share presentation meeting at the local Marriott or what, but all of a sudden, there are more than a few new faces on the “expert” scene.  These men are ready, willing, and more than receptive to telling the Millennium woman what she’s doing wrong and  how exactly she can change her silly ways in order to snag that man she’s had her eye on for so very long.

The most famous of the new experts is, of course, Steve Harvey.  Initially known for his stand-up comedy as an introduction into American Pop Culture, Mr. Harvey has since been anointed “THE Relationship Expert”.  Am I the only one that missed that whole transition??  I mean, there was “Me & the Boys”, “The Steve Harvey Show” with Tasha Mack, “The Kings of Comedy” (which Bernie Mac slayed), his transition into radio and then, out of very thin air, relationship guru.  Is this the new natural progression?

Now, I must give credit where credit is due.  Mr. Harvey has a helluva marketing machine behind him and his brand.  When his initial literary offering “Act Like A Lady, Think Like A Man” hit the scene, single, Black women started carrying and quoting that thing like the new, NEW testament.  I stopped talking to one of the homegirls because EVERY sentence started with “Well, Steve Harvey says…”

Girl…

With the success of this new wave of widespread Female Correction Therapy overtaking Black communities around the country, there became a need to micro-manage all of the women that needed a one-on-one handle of how to put all the wisdom and “game” brought down from the Modern Day Moses of Cleveland, Ohio.  *Cue the disciples*

While there are some relationship experts that offer actual services and have proven results, like Paul C. Brunson, there are many recent college graduates that are looking for a quick buck & know that women will pay if they think it will yield them results and a ring.

I read postings on twitter daily from one upstart “expert” that feels the need to dole out the most inane, one sided “advice” to women.

  “Ladies: If you’re interested in a man, give him “hints”. This will make him wonder what it is you want and work harder to figure it out!” 

“Ladies: When you speak to your ex in public, you show him that you forgive him for everything, and that he no longer has power over you.”

 My favorite tidbit that he shares is that he answers all questions submitted, but gives priority to paying customers.  Sir, stop.

I guess my greater issue with this whole movement is the fact that the focus is on the “flawed woman” and how we need to straighten up to get chose.  Otherwise, we will continue to find ourselves by ourselves.  Even more dangerous than the men charging women to tell them a whole bunch of nothing are the everyday guys who’ve come down with a case of Steve Harvey Syndrome.

These are the FB scholars  that wax poetic on the plight of the Black woman while still stocking their own stable.  The wouldn’t know how to treat or deal with a REAL woman in a monogamous, successful relationship if their lives depended on it.  Yet, they make a point to assign all those women that don’t cook daily and make their man’s plate to a life of Costco-sized battery purchases.

I am of the opinion that everyone needs to feel out a relationship for themselves, if they happen to be in one.  The real talk of the situation is that the numbers are skewed and there are less people interested in exclusivity and commitment than in past eras.  Add that fact to the male to female ratio and learn to find your happy place on your own.

No charge for this one.

Would you pay an unproven “expert” to help you find love ??  Have you been burned by an internet guru??

Follow me on twitter.