As much as Black men fret and fume about Black women becoming completely enraptured by these ridiculously predictable shows featuring unrealistically attractive, insanely wealthy, and completely amoral people making reckless, shrewd, and illogical decision after reckless, shrewd, and illogical decision—basically people they’ll never, ever actually meet doing things they’ll never, ever actually be able to do—many of these men do the exact same thing…but they just like to call it watching the NBA Playoffs. 

Ah yes. The NBA Playoffs. That reality TV show complete with multi-layered narratives (Will Lebron get his second ring? How much does Timmy have left in the tank?), plot twists (Westbrook down!), fake outs (Derrick Rose is playing! Wait, no he’s not? Wait, yes he is! Wait…), antagonists (Hi, NBA ref!) and the slight suspicion that things might be scripted. That soap opera that has grown-ass men huddled around flat screens and iPads everywhere, watching, talking, shrieking, and tweeting about the sartorial choices of rich men living in South Beach, the interracial dating history of closeted Ivy league men with identical twins, and Lebron’s hair. That “television event” where men alter their schedules and ignore their girlfriends and wives to passionately watch the trails and tribulations of tattoo and underwear-clad young men. The paradoxical universe where men cheer for men from certain cities, even though neither them nor the men they’re cheering for are actually from that city, which means they’re kinda, sorta just screaming, sweating, and crying for laundry.

And yes, despite referring to “Black men” as “they” instead of “we,” I am one of these Black men as well. I’ve been a part of the chorus critical of Black women for being so invested in Scandal—even devoting 700 words to it despite, at the time, never seeing a minute of it—while personally investing just as much energy watching, following, reading, and tweeting about all things NBA. By my own logic, since I’m a college grad whose favorite players either didn’t graduate or just didn’t go to college altogether, I’m a hypocrite too. Apparently it is possible to write blog entries with bushels full of planks in your eyes.

Read more at EBONY 

Somebody smart once said, “if you stop learning, you aren’t learning anymore.” Go on ahead and let that marinate for a minute.

*marinate*

Deep. Knowledge my brothers and sisters. Use it or lose it. Word to Dormtainment.

So in the spirit of said education, here are some things I’ve learned from the commentary here at VSB.

1. Straw man arguments and sh*t

Real spit, I’d never heard the term “straw man” outside of Kansas until some of you folks who like to argue a lot started lobbing it around. I’m still not completely sure what it means unless I look it up. I just looked it up. If I’m write, its an easily refuted argument based in logical fallacy. Now I don’t think it means what some of you think it means. But that’s okay because I’ll forget it by the time this goes live anyway. Point is, I’d never heard that term until somebody brought it to VSB. Thank you. Kansas thanks you. And so does the Scarecrow.

New writtens.

2. Cognitive dissonance

I remember writing about the fact that I’d never heard this term until Champ used it once, and then he used it a lot. Context clues didn’t even help me out. I had to consult The Internets – and you know any and everything goes down on the Internets – to figure out what the hell it meant. Now I know and I use the term at least twice a week in front of people who clearly have no idea what it means.

3. Nearly all statements of opinions are useless without pictures

This is possibly going to be one of the most ridiculous things I will ever state, but I believe it to be true. Every opinion is shaped by experience just as much as facts of a case. People are human and therefore respond based on how some sh*t feels. Sure most of us are able to usurp our feelings for logic, but we’ve all seen completely non-sensical arguments presented due to somebody’s perception. Well, we write a lot about relationships and inter-personal interactions around here. And well, I don’t believe not a gotdamn word some people say until I see what they look like and then make a ridiculous judgement on whether or not its feasible for such an experience to have occurred.

This is what happened at the Three Deez party with the chick who commented afterwards that she finds it hard to believe that Champ and I were able to have the types of experiences needed to inform most of our opinions. Funny thing is, I didn’t have a problem with that claim. My issue was that she missed one vital part about male vs female interactions: a man with a personality that can make a chick smile can do damage out here in these streets. But be that as it may, I appreciate ninjas putting pictures up to go with their opinions.

Yes, this is something I learned from VSB. And it really wasn’t that ridiculous.

4. There are many ways to skin a cat, but two wrongs don’t make a right

I just solved racism.

5. Knowing when to bow out of a conversation is just as important as meaningfully contributing to it.

I decided long ago, never to walk in anyone’s shadow. That’s true. And what that taught me was that some folks don’t know when to leave things alone. I’m one of those people who enjoys debate for sport, old sport. But I also realize at some point that whatever debate I’m having isn’t going to change my mind or the other person’s. And I don’t really care one way or another, old sport. Debate is an art. Some motherf*ckers paint with crayons. Point is, knowing when to let something go is important, for your own sanity. Now, for some folks, the joy of battle is enough to keep them engaged. I can respect that. But for me…sometimes I want to watch Friends and stop battling.

Those are five things I’ve learned during my time here with VSB. I may come back and toss some more into the ring if the site isn’t f*cking us all with spoons. So what have you learned from VSB? And hey hey…keep the shots fired to a minimum. No personals.

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka MR. OPENLY AWESOME aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3

Clearly everybody has noticed that we’ve been having some technical difficulties lately. The comments aren’t loading all the time, the site is down sometimes. I promise you’ve paid all of our bills. Our host is negotiating with terrorists or something which is why we’ve had difficulty even logging into our site. Hell, I’m writing this telepathically right now. I took the one sliver of time it worked to write a post to update you all on what’s happening. We’re getting it together though…or our host is anyway. Hold tight y’all. We’ve got some big things in the works soon so this helps us know how its about to go down. But trust and believe…big sh*t poppin.

That’s also why I haven’t posted anything. If the post is going to be eaten by WordPress, well I’d rather not drive everybody crazy by trying to beat a system that’s already won the battle. If we can get a post up and the systems are a go, we’ll rock and roll baby.

On another note, we here at VSB do attempt to do some social good and help those who are in need. And when somebody in our community is deeply affected by something, and asks for help, we do see fit to do what we can to get the information out there. Such brings us to a cause:

Walk 4 Lee.

Read about his story here.

Should you be so moved, you can donate money if you’d like to help. Also, on this Sunday, May 19th, there is a Walk 4 Lee taking place from 10-3pm in Reston, VA at Lake Fairfax Park. Feel free to spread the word. You can also follow the Twitter handle @walk4lee for updates and information.

Sharing is caring.

Lastly…we’re nearing completion of our pilot. It’s coming. #knowthat But shhhhh…don’t tell nobody except everybody.

[***Y'all will have to forgive us for yesterday. Apparently our host got attacked by terrorists or some such f*ckery and nobody using our host was able to log into their WP accounts until mad late. At which point Panama said, "f*ck it". Well, today, we're letting VSB legend, Cheekie, come thru and spread love the Brooklyn way. We'd let her do it the Chi-town way, but somebody might get shot then. Shots fired. Triple entendre, don't even ask me how. So without further ado, the floor belongs to the cheeks.***]

So, I be debating in these streets. And I enjoy it, thusly. Seriously, I love to debate for the sake of debating. Not because I want to change my opponent’s opinion (this mission is as futile as me trying to jump into freeze frame in real life as they did in 80s sitcoms, but still, I rise), but because I genuinely enjoy the discourse with someone who doesn’t share my opinion. It’s an adrenaline rush. A long one (heh), too. Apparently, the “gotta have the last word” is a Leo thing and it takes a lot for me to let sleeping dogs lie. #StayWokeDawg

Because of this, I’ve developed a few pet peeves when it comes to debating others. These are the things folks say in rebuttal, but in a “bringing a knife to a gun fight” manner WHILST puffing out their chest as if they brought an AK-47. So, without that ninja Adieu popping up to say anything further, I’m gonna to list ‘em for ya:

1. “I have a right to my opinion.” 

Often said when I disagree with someone. Um, yes, booboo, we know you do. Know what I didn’t do, though, by disagreeing with your opinion? TAKE AWAY your right to yours. For the 50-leventh time folks (especially ya’ll in the back row), if I disagree with you, that is not taking away your right to your opinion, it’s using my own right.  Capiche? Quiche. Also in this same vein: “I have freedom of speech.” You GO BOY/GIRL. But, I ain’t the gubment. Thus, I can sh*t on your speechy freedom as I dayum well please. Because I am doing, what again, class? Class: USING MY OWN RIGHT. *clap clap clap*

2. “Only SOME do this, NOT ALL.” 

Chile. I think Panda-Panama wrote an entire post on this in the past, but in the spirit of being truthful, this IS in my top five of debate tactic pet peeves. So, I gotta speak my piece in order to maintain peace. Wait, what? Anyway. For some reason, generalizations ain’t what’s sizzling on these boulevards. And I get why, I really do. We are not a monolith, blah blah skippy. However, generalizations are necessary sometimes. Yes, necessary. Because what we can’t do is note every single instance in which our claim has occurred. I mean, do I gotta be like, “ONLY the 56,48484.54 men I have encountered have approached me on some street harassment steez” or can I assume readers have common sense and will read “Men engage in street harassment” and — by default — realize it only applies to the specific men who have engaged in such behavior? I be TRYING to achieve the latter, but alas…

3. “Agree to disagree.” 

Now, this is my Lioness roaring again, because I do acknowledge that sometimes this is necessary. However, it’s oft-abused like a mug. So, while the term itself doesn’t particularly annoy me, it’s the manner in which it’s used: to have the last word, which, by default, MUST mean you have won. “Agree to disagree” is the end of the discussion and if you say this right after you have said all you need to say on a matter, you can smugly claim victory. Except not. But, folks do this sooooooo often and I be mad. Q: You mad? A: Yup.

4. “You just a hater./Why you hating?” 

This is usually uttered when discussing a famous entity, even when you have a legit gripe about them. Lemme tell you something. Numero uno, someone has to be in the position to be hated on, in order for me to hate on them. Gotta get that outta the way as folks STAY claiming we’re hating when… girl wut… why???? Further, just because I have one not-so-glowing thing to say about someone doesn’t mean I hate them. It just means I know they ain’t perfect. The problem is… some folks don’t get this. It’s a low down dirty shame. Whew.

5. “You’re comparing apples to oranges.” 

Another actually-necessary phrase that is oft-abused. And to use an example, I’mma bring up old sh*t (but not really, as it’s still an ongoing argument, in general). So, Panama (hey boy hey!) and I had this forever-and-a-day argument about how men are hypocrites for calling women hypocrites for liking “Scandal.” The menfolk (remember: NOT ALL! tee hee) came to a consensus that women are hypocrites for enjoying the drama within “Scandal” while hating cheaters in real life. And I used the example of how men love “The Wire” yet wouldn’t necessarily love the violence that came with it… in real life. I said that both occur for sheer entertainment, and it’s okay. It really is! He said I was comparing “apple to oranges.” NO SIR. Yes, the specific situations may be different in that women are more vocal about cheating, but the concept is exactly the same! Which is what I’m comparing. The concept that just because we are entertained by something in fiction, that doesn’t mean we condone such an act in real life. If we can’t separate the fact that even though it’s entertaining, Olivia Pope is a cheater (and we hate cheaters), then ya’ll can’t separate the fact that even though it’s entertaining, Stringer Bell, Avon Barksdale, an’nem facilitate in killing the community, including the kiddies (and ya’ll surely hate that if you have a heart, Five Heartbeats). Apples and oranges may be different in taste and color, but they still both fruit. (Manager’s Note: Did this motherlover really just come into my motherf*cking establishment and take as hot at me on a guest post I allowed to happen? Oh. Yes. Carry on. – Panama)

Woo, followed by… sahhhhhh.

Aiight, VSB fam, what other debates tactics annoy you? Do any of the above annoy you or do you think they’re valid? Speak (or debate) on it.

(Hey Panama, can I do this alias sign-off thing? It always seemed like fun.)

– Cheekie aka CHEEKS aka BELINDA J. CHEEKINGTON aka DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWG, SHE GOT CHEEKS

Chicks dig this guy.

So a couple of weeks ago, indy-alt-ratchet rapper Danny Brown allegedly got some head from a which while he was performing in Minneapolis. Not only did he get head in the whip without crashing it on stage, he FINISHED his verse AT THE SAME DAMN TIME!

I don’t care who you are, that’s talent. I remember one time at band camp, I was performing Michael Jackson’s “Speed Demon” on stage and some chick yelled out “you suck” and I totally forgot the words and stood there doing the same ole two step while the instrumental played in the background. Totes embarassing.

Since I’m a dude, you’re a dude, she’s a dude, we’re some dudes my first thought was how crazy that is and also how cool that is. I mean, you can’t see that type of thing coming can you? No pun intended. But he’s just on stage doing his thing and some chick just can’t wait for the hotel room and not only grabs his crotch but yanks his chain and domes him off. That is some rock start sh*t.

But of cousre, I have the Internets. And the Internets told me that Danny Brown was sexually assaulted. Tour mate and friend Kitty Pryde penned (or typed since I don’t know if you can pen something if you don’t actually use a pen) a letter where she mentioned both Ricky Smiley and To Kill A Mockingbird within 200 words of each other. That, my friends, is a some amazing command of the written word. I remember once I used the words Barack Obama and new Bugatti pretty close to one another. That was a good day.

Champ wrote a post some time ago about a time when he got drunk and woke up to some sexxing that he didn’t even remember til the next day. He immediately felt like he got a happy ending while being able to realize that had something like that happened to a woman it’s rape, thru and thru. But for some reason, when situations like Danny Brown or a man waking up to some woman humping him to high hell just don’t seem…bad, per se. I realize this makes no sense. But I also realize that double standards exist.

Back in 2005, I was out in the mean streets of NYC with a gang of folks for New Year’s Eve. Long story short, a friend of mine pulled out my johnson at the bar. No dome, just freedom. Why she did it is unimportant because it happened. I was too drunk to immediately react but I’m fairly sure that had I just grabbed some woman’s boobs and pulled them out I’d potentially be on my way to jail. And that would be fair.

Kitty Pryde brings up a good point via her letter though. Men aren’t well equipped to handle these situations either. When my homegirl pulled out my wang, I just laughed it off and waited for her to return him to my Hammer pants. In school, and actually out and about, I’ve had women walk up to me and grab my wang. Never once did I feel compelled to say something to an authority. I guess it’s because I had no idea what to say. It happened and after the shock wore off – face it, we’re taught that women just aren’t generally that foreward – I just laugh it off and tell my boys that some chick grabbed my sh*t, to which they usually want to know which chick so hopefully she’ll do the same to them.

Men and women view sexual contact differently. It’s clear that the same interactions can elicit wholly different outcomes depending on who is doing the initial contact. Which is probably why Danny Brown wouldn’t punch the chick in the fore head when she domes him off. Can you imagine if Rihanna is on stage and some dude jumps up there and puts his mouth on her vajayjay? He’s going to jail, the concert is going to stop, and news media would explode from all of the articles about how dangerous men are getting and how prevalent rape culture is nowadays. This Danny Brown story barely got any traction anywhere outside of rap blogs. It doesn’t matter as much. It’s the same reason why people shrug off the idea that men can get raped.

Men are bigger and usually stronger – though Wendy Williams pisses all over that theory – so a man should be able to stop some sh*t from going down. If he doesn’t he must want it and since all men are all sex all the time its hard to fathom the idea of a man being sexually assaulted.

Was Danny Brown sexually assaulted? Yes he was. But do most of us view it along those lines? Hell does he? Probably not. And if you aren’t upset that you got assaulted, is it still assault?

Overall, I just find it curious that this happened, and even if it wasn’t to an A-list superstar artist, there’s really not much coverage of it all. I think we can all agree that male sexual assault isn’t getting as much face time, no pun intended, at the sex crime table. I wonder why that is?

Or do we all, men and women, truly subscribe to the boys will be boys mantra and as long as its happening to him and not by him then he’ll be alright? I don’t know.

But I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t punch any chick in the forehead for doming me off on stage either.

Help me.

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka MR. DON’T STAGE ME aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3

…and Panama Jackson…

…wish all the very smart moms out there a happy Mother’s Day weekend!

The Cruel Summer album

So what if no one—not even the biggest, most diehard Ye fans—loved this album. (Some people liked it. But, no one loved it) So what if it was titled Cruel Summer even though it was released two weeks before the first day of fall. So what if I still kinda think this album was just a very elaborate 401k for Pusha T. So what if my two favorite songs on it (Higher and Sin City) happen to be the two songs that the seven people who actually like it always skip through. So what if one of these songs (Sin City) features two verses from my least favorite rapper. And, so what if one of those verses happens to be my favorite verse on the album. For reasons I’ll probably address sometime later this year, no album is more connected to a year to me than Cruel Summer is to 2012. (I realize that last sentence was unnecessarily cryptic, but it’s Friday and, well, f*ck you, it’s Friday.)

Derrick Rose sitting out until he feels ready to come back and play

If you disagree, if you think that since he was “cleared” to play a couple months ago, Rose is basically just being a spoiled little bitch who needs to put away those big-ass Coogi neckties and get back on the court, you are an intentional idiot, and since intentional idiots need to die, you need to die.

Tyler The Creator doing the things Tyler The Creator does when he’s not making music

(If only because “Proud of that nigga cause I know that shit is difficult or whatever. Anyway. I’m a toilet.” is, all things considered, the best tweet I’ve ever seen.)

Cheese-less sandwiches

***My reaction to the next person to ask me if I’m sure when I tell them I don’t want any cheese on my sandwich***

Standardized tests

I have nothing particularly witty or insightful to say about this. I liked taking them while in school. I like the fact that students still have to take them. I even like the fact that while the rest of the world embraces technological advancement, standardized test results are somehow rendered completely obsolete if not completed with a number two pencil. (BTW, has anyone ever used or even seen a number one pencil? How about number three? Or four?)

***Spoiler Alert!!!***

The way Omar was killed on The Wire

For a series that prided itself on its stark realness, Omar’s character just got progressively more fantastical and contrived as the seasons passed, and although it seems like everyone was waiting for a showdown between him and Marlo, getting got by a 10 year old restored the natural order of the show.

That’s it for me today. People of VSB, I’m curious: Name some sh*t you do like even though no one else seems to share your opinion. 

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

A couple weeks ago, the Gay Reindeer and I were sitting in my car, people watching and eating applesauce (don’t ask), when a conversation about Pittsburgh neighborhoods segued into gentrification, which then segued into the surreal experience of seeing White joggers trying to navigate past the hordes of people standing outside of liquor stores and check cashing marts, which then finally landed on a point she brought up: Those anonymous people hanging outside of those stores all day long—people who usually are middle-aged, Black, and poor—often serve as the neighborhood’s Shakespearean fools.

Perhaps they don’t seem particularly lucid or observant, and maybe their English isn’t the best, but they’re watching, recording, and assessing everything that’s going on in the surrounding area. And, if you ever have the opportunity to talk to one of them—like, seriously sitdown and talk—they have the tendency to provide plain-spoken insights and witticisms about the community and the people who inhabit it that would make you wonder if they were secretly undercover PhDs doing a years-long anthropological study.

Anyway, I’m bringing this up because this was the first thing I thought of when listening to Charles Ramsey’s entire interview. (Actually, that was the second thing. The first? That’s a really nice white tee he’s wearing. It must have been brand new.) Like a true Shakespearean fool, Ramsey’s appearance and “commoner” sensibilities belied the wit and bravery he so obviously possessed. And, also true to Shakespearean fool form, an off-hand, matter-of-fact statement made towards the end of the interview ended up being the most memorable (and insightful) thing he said.

(Paraphrasing) “If you see a pretty White woman running towards a Black man, either she homeless or she got problems.”

You know, out of all the interracial dating/relationship-related conversations I remember having, I can recall in-depth, nuanced, emotionally charged, and surprisingly sober discussions about…

1. The type of Black man who dates White women

2. The type of Black woman who dates White men

3. The type of White man who dates Black women

…conversations where everything from the way they typically look to the base reasoning behind their choices is examined and assessed with care.

But, there doesn’t seem to be that same level of discourse among us about attractive White women who choose to date Black men, mainly because we have a tendency to dismiss whatever attraction they may have for brothas as some sort of sexual fetish, a way of “getting back” at her family in some way, or a blatant cash grab.

Basically, if she runs to a Black man, either she homeless, or she got problems.

While this line of thinking is usually thought to be an indictment on White women—or, rather, the type of White woman who primarily dates Black men—it actually is a bigger insult to brothas. By believing that White women who choose Black men are effed up in some way, you’re also implying that there’s no reason for a normal, well-adjusted White woman to want to be in a serious relationship with a Black man.

Admittedly, I’ve fallen victim to this line of thinking as well. I’ve joked before about the type of White woman you might find at a predominately Black nightclub (I even have a name for them: “snizzles”—a term that derives from “snowbunnies”), but those jokes were rooted in a very real belief that something had to be wrong with a White chick who was into Black dudes. While I do believe that there has to be something wrong with someone who only dates outside of their race, I make concessions and justifications for Black men, Black women, and White men who do this that I never have with White women, and this lack of interracial dating-based empathy boxes me into a very awkward corner.

“If I believe that there’s something seriously wrong with her if she’s into me, that a decision to date a Black man is a seriously bad one, doesn’t that also suggest that I believe there’s something seriously wrong with me?”

I haven’t answered that question yet. Maybe I just don’t want to hear the answer. And, maybe I’m just not smart enough to be a fool.

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

1. As I listened to Jason Collins and Oprah discuss the extra “stigma” of being gay and Black, I couldn’t help but wonder how true the “Blacks are more homophobic than everyone else” sentiment truly is. I think many of us—myself included—have said it so much that we’ve accepted it to be true, and since we’ve accepted it to be true, we don’t bother challenging or even testing that theory. And, over time, this widely-held theory is repeated as fact.

I’m not here to argue whether it’s true or false (at least not yet), but how do we really know? Sure, we can cite a few rap lyrics or some loosely connected vagaries about Black people and Christianity, but all that might prove is that a certain type of Black person might be more likely to be homophobic. But, once you control for education, class, location, and any other environmental factors, how would we (Black people) fare?

This phenomenon sort of reminds of me of the theory that Black people are the worst tippers. Whether or not the theory might be true is inconsequential (And yes, I believe it to be true). It’s so ingrained into so many people’s minds that they don’t even bother challenging it, they use confirmation bias to strengthen their beliefs, and after enough circular thinking it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

2. I think that when people say that Black people are more homophobic than everyone else, what they’re really saying is that Black men are more homophobic than everyone else. Black women generally get a pass, and I think that pass is undeserved.

Generally speaking, I think straight Black women are more superficially accepting of homosexuals—more likely to have gay male or lesbian friends, more “comfortable” around gays, more likely to participate in the fight for gay rights, etc. But, when it comes to actual beliefs about what constitutes male homosexuality, they’re no different than the typical Black male, as both the typical Black male and the “gay-friendly” Black woman tend to believe that there’s no such thing as a bisexual male. Basically, if a man has ever participated in any type of non-straight activity—a one-time act, a thought, a recurring dream, anything—he’s gay now, and gay forever. This is homophobic.

3. I think quite a few women are going to read those last couple sentences and tell me that I’m wrong, that they and most of the Black women they know don’t have any homophobic bones in their bodies. I think that before they leave any comments today, they should ask themselves two questions: Would you date a man who had one gay experience fifteen years ago? If no, would your answer change if you were 100% certain he wouldn’t do that again? If the answer is still no, I’d like to know why. What is it about that one-time act that would completely eliminate a man from your consideration?

4. I think I’m anxiously waiting for the day some prominent person just stops the denials, double-talk, and mealymouthedness and just comes out and says “Yes, I’m homophobic.” I think I’ll be waiting a while for that to happen. I don’t mind that, though. I’ve been waiting a couple decades now for a public figure to just say “Yes, I’m racist. Can you stop asking me whether or not I’m racist now?” so if anything it proves I’m patient.

5. I think I don’t like it when certain people (and by “certain people” I mean “certain Black Christians”) are asked about their views concerning homosexuality, and are criticized for responding honestly. But, I also think that socially abhorrent views are meant to be criticized. I think my problem isn’t necessarily with the criticism but with the ambush tactics—ask someone a question even though you already know how they’re going to answer just so you can make an example out of them—especially from other “progressive” Black Christians.

6. I think you can ask a million Christians about the Bible and what they take from it and get a million different variations. I mean, we (Christians) all believe that, to paraphrase Bill Maher, there’s a “magic genie in the sky that’ll grant our wishes if we ask really hard,” so is it really that bad when one of us also believes homosexuality is a sin or that you can legitimately pray your gay away?

7. Speaking of progressive people and homosexuality, I think there’s a bit of a disconnect when it comes to what people are willing to admit. To wit, many people (myself included) believe that human sexuality exists on a continuum. Basically, there’s a sexuality scale that we all fit somewhere on. Most of us are gathered either at the gay end or the straight end, but the rest of us are somewhere in the middle.

But, if a scale exists, I think it also stands to reason that a person in the middle can consciously choose to be gay or straight. Yet, I think you’re unlikely to find a liberal/progressive person publicly admit that people who can actually make that type of choice exist because it opens a Pandora’s Box for “less enlightened” people to say “See, I told you that all gay people are only gay because they chose to be.”

8. I know I’m far from the first person to say this, but I think someone needs to invent another word to use to describe someone being uneasy around, unaccepting of, or hateful towards homosexuals. “Homophobic” just doesn’t seem comprehensive enough to capture all of that. Feel free to list any suggestions.

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

***After watching Love Jones again last weekend, I was urged to revisit and revise something I wrote about the film for the Loop21 a few years ago***

Approximately halfway through Love Jones, the iconic 1997 romantic drama centered around a Chicago-area couple, protagonists Darius Lovehall (Larenz Tate) and Nina Mosley (Nia Long) attend a dance together—their first real “date” since a few somewhat contrived situations caused them to momentarily break away from each other. Predictably, the date goes extremely well. The otherworldly connection and chemistry Darius and Nina share is palpable, and, despite any romantic roadblocks (contrived or otherwise or just named “Bill Bellamy”), you know that things are going to work for them.

But, while this date night dance scene’s main purpose was to give the audience a visual segue from Darius and Nina’s short-term separation to their impending romance, writer/director Ted Witcher does something else, something a bit subtler and a bit more poignant. With the vibrant music, colorfully coordinated dance steps, and equally colorful (and equally coordinated) attire, Witcher introduces the audience to the world of Chicago steppin’—a derivative of swing dancing popular in the South and Midwest. Although the scene is only a couple minutes long, Witcher presents this dance phenomenon and the anonymous steppers to us with the same regard, enchantment, and love exhibited when the lens is focused on any of the main characters.

Says the late Roger Ebert:

“There’s electricity when they go on a date to the weekly steppers’ ball hosted by Herb Kent the Cool Gent, who plays himself. Steppin’ is a Chicago dance style that comes out of jitterbug, cooled down, and as we watch this scene we get that interesting feeling when a fiction film edges toward documentary and shows us something we haven’t seen before.”

In the 16 years since its release (damn, just typing that made me feel old as f*ck) Love Jones has gone from underappreciated romantic drama with a banging soundtrack to the cinematic standard for realistic black romance. (Well, “realistic” other than the fact that it featured a bunch of underemployed negros living in lofts…with exposed brick…in Chicago. But, who’s nitpicking?)

And, while the story and the chemistry between Tate and Long are the most memorable aspects of the film, Love Jones is held in such high regard because Ted Witcher was so obviously in love with everything he put into this movie. More than just a drama, it was an ode to Black culture, to Chicago, to music, to movies, to love, to words, to sex; a paean to the possibilities of people not constrained to 140 characters or less. It’s loved and appreciated because it loved and appreciated both its characters and its audience, a trait also found in Soul Food—a movie that, although not necessarily a romantic drama and not as universally praised as Love Jones, shared Love Jones’ love for its characters and their customs.

These movies, and the level of love and exuberance they were shot with, stand in stark contrast to much of today’s Black romantic fare—both at the theater and on the small screen—which seems to be content with browbeating the audience with messages so heavy-handed it feels like you’re being kicked. (Before this devolves into another angst-ridden conversation about all things wrong with Tyler Perry, I do think that Perry loves his characters. But, Ike loved Tina too, didn’t he?) Instead of a peek into a world we may not have been completely familiar with, we’re left with 60 to 120 minute long psychotherapy sessions and self-help pamphlets featuring people who have never existed on Earth, After Earth, or any other planet humans have ever lived on—movies where writers and directors use the screen as a palate to work out their own issues instead of allowing the audience a chance to be vicarious.

Maybe this cinematic shift is our doing. Maybe our expectations have devolved to the point that we wouldn’t be able to handle a Black movie with more love and nuance than ill will and temple knocking. Still, after watching Love Jones again last weekend, I think we’re ready for another one. We just need to find the love needed to pull it off.

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)