'Girls' isn't racist. But Rupert Murdoch might be.

I get that things will not always go my way. I'm a firm believer in temporarily venting these frustrations and disappointments out to my friends that willingly listen [THANK YOU], writing it down, and moving on in hopes of creating a better scenario later. Not that everything is within the locust of our control [something else I'm slowly but surely realizing], but we can choose how we react.

I am not a fan of people that complain about their circumstances incessantly when for the most part, their existence is not worth complaining about. And what further gets under my bitten nails (or acrylic, really depends on the day), is when people do nothing productive to create a new reality. This is one of the reasons the 'May Day' protesters in Seattle particularly irritated me. Destroying the property of someone else's while wearing their brand is probably not the wisest decision. And if you can afford the shoes of the storefront in which you are currently destroying, my sympathies do not lie with you.

This issue is a bit of a side note [shocker], as my main purpose was to address the issue of a few black folks criticizing the new HBO show "Girls." Lena Dunham, the show's creator, head writer and lead actress, is a white woman in her mid-twenties. Her show "Girls" takes place in Williamsburg in the borough of Brooklyn, NY and in the THREE episodes that have been aired, follow the happenings of her and her three friends whom are also white.

I like the show. Correction, I have loved the first three episodes. As a woman in her mid-twenties, errr late twenties, I can still relate to aspects of the characters. Am I white? No. Do I live in New York? No.

Following the airing of the second episode, there were numerous op-ed columns devoted to ripping Dunham apart. "Why are there no black characters? It's in New York, after all, the most diverse city in the United States! We have a black president, haven't we evolved?!" Ugh. Give me a break.

How many shows have come before Dunham who have aired much more than 3 episodes that consisted of casts of predominantly white people? Friends (10 seasons). Seinfeld (9 seasons). HBO's own, Sex and The City (6 seasons) and Entourage (8 seasons). How I Met Your Mother (still airing; tell us who the damn mom is already). Yes, these shows have had black characters, but never apart of the staple foursome or sixsome that are the consistent make up of the show.

I get it. People want to watch people who look like them and have similar experiences. They want to relate. As I've mentioned, I can relate to what are white characters. I also can relate to black characters and often remember watching shows like, "The Fresh Prince of Bel Air" and "The Cosby Show" and thinking that they resembled my family. Were my parents doctors and lawyers and made of wealth? No. Did we live in a rich suburb of LA or a brownstone in Brooklyn? No.

What I'll admit...

It is annoying when you only see stereotypical portrayals of your race on television. As the homeless man, the prostitute woman, the thug with no father figure who thinks there are no other options but selling heroin. The reason for these stereotypical and frequent portrayals is because of who owns the media. 70% of our media is made up by about 6 companies: Disney, News Corporation, Time Warner, NBC Universal, Viacom and CBS Corporation. Within these companies comes 90% of our television programming (news and entertainment). Who do you think owns these companies?

I met the former CEO of Time Warner while in college and he was a black man. At that time, they fully owned the CW or what used to be called the WB. And guess what was on? Sister, Sister. Smart Guy. Shows with black people. But when Rupert Murdoch owns Fox, don't be surprised that the only black girl on "Glee" is sassy, sports large gold bling around her neck that reads 'Foxy,' is the best singer in the cast, and is full-figured. Or that the Asian girl has different color streaks in her hair from week-to-week and is dating the only other Asian character on the show who is a phenomenal break dancer.

It does disappoint me that our perspective is so limited because of who is control and decides what is worthy of television. It also disappoints me when a student raises his hand in class and says, "Well, there is BET." Oh my. PS - Guess who owns BET? The same fools that allow "Jersey Shore" to air, as MTV, MTV2, VH1, CMT and BET are all owned by Viacom.

What I know...


Race isn't the only way we connect and relate with one another. And on the contrary, I often watch shows in which I have absolutely nothing at all in common with the characters. I love "Dexter" and you'll be happy to know that I'm not a serial killer. "Breaking Bad" is one of my addictions, but I don't share the plot line addiction of doing or cooking meth. And "True Blood?" My girlfriends and I used to plan Sunday dinners around this show and none of us will melt in the sun's light. I also DVR "The View" on the regular and I have absolutely nothing in common with Sherri Shepherd, except the fact that we are both...black.

If you want your story told, share it. WRITE IT. Pitch it. But don't pick on a 24 year old woman for honestly telling her own in a clever, funny and relatable way. Don't expect someone else to write what your experience is and is perhaps something that they have no real knowledge about. That's where stereotypes are created, where they grow and where they get comfy cozy and manifest itself within our popular culture.

But this is only my humble opinion. And contrary to popular belief, I am not speaking for all of "us."

When I realized I was Black.

A few weeks back I was doing my daily morning routine of reading headlines on NPR, when I came across a review for a book called, 'How To be Black' by Baratunde Thurston. Before I read a word, I knew I needed this book in my life. I may not judge books by their covers, but I do by the words on that cover. After reading the synopsis, I was mad that I didn't write this book first. So out of spite but mostly out of curiosity, I put myself on the hold list for it at the Seattle Public Library and as luck would have it [or just by being one of seven black people in Seattle], I was the first one to check it out. I started reading it the other day and found myself laughing aloud and nodding to no one but myself. The white people congregated in  Starbucks were probably both frightened and amused by the large print title and the crazy woman behind the cover. At least I wasn't yelling, "I heard that" like my mom often does in movies. [I love you mom].

The two parts that I have appreciated reading most thus far are the "name-calling" section and the accounts from Thurston and some of his friends about the first time they realized they were black.

Through my 27.75 years, I have been called 'white washed,' 'a sellout' and on more than one occassion, have received the shocked look on the face of someone I've only corresponded with over the phone when they meet me face-to-face for the first time. I call this the, 'she's  b l a c k?' look. I always thought it was a bit silly that I was called these names. What does it mean to be white washed anyway? Being smart is only a trait that white people are capable of attaining? If we're being stereotypical, then I should've really been called Asian washed. Having the ability to speak in non-broken English is a white person trait? Weird, because I'm pretty sure most of my white friends hate me for correcting their grammatical blunders all the time. My favorite might be the protest of, "you're not really black!" Then I just look down at my arm in astonishment and back at my friend. Then down at my arm again.

These names came after I made the discovery that I was indeed black [amidst the protest]. So here's my story:

There are three specific times in my young life that I came to the realization that I was in fact black. This may seem like a weird 'revelation'...to suddenly notice the shade of skin that envelopes your entire body that you spend all of your time in. No I wasn't slow or late to the party, but with the exception of my family, I was surrounded by [mostly] white people. I grew up in Oregon. And those friends that I had weren't really concerned that their friend Teela had a year round tan, they just wanted to play barbies and blade around the block with her. So given my non racist social circle, I had three very vivid instances where it was brought to my attention that I wasn't just different, but that I was less than because of this distinction. I was utterly confused why this darkened pigmentation warranted negativity.

1. The first instance finds a young Teela in Kindergarten. Back then, I was not much different than who I am now. I know [a little] more now, still sang every chance I got, and one of my most favorite times to test my high notes was during nap time. I refused to sleep [still do, different reasons].

One day a little [white] girl came up to me. I don't remember what we were doing and she told me I had a really big nose and that hers was smaller and cuter. She tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder and walked away. Picture Dumbo's insecurities about his ears. Or Pinocchio about, well, his nose. That day I started to examine the noses of all my white classmates and did realize that mine seemed to be taking up a larger portion of my face. I'm sure this was exacerbated by embarassment, but I went home upset and told my mom what the kindergarten nose police had said while she was giving me a bath. I will never forget what my mom's big comeback was: "Tell her that you can breathe better."

Years later, I would pierce my nose.

2. The second time I realized I was black, I was in the third grade and I had a crush. Possibly my first...followed by another first-rejection. And oh was Nathan a looker! [Note: Names have not been changed. This douchebag deserves to be called out.] His face was covered in freckles, his skin detested the sun and refused to surrender to its tanning efforts and instead, turned as red as his hair when exposed to it. Hey, they say opposites attract.

It was Valentine's day and we had these heart-shaped books to pass around the room to write nice notes to our friends and classmates in. I think I still have my book. When I got Nathan's book, I wrote "I like you." My girlfriends and I giggled over it and later during recess, one of my friends asked while I was standing a few feet away, if he liked me. He said he didn't like Negroes "like that." It was 1992.

3. And of course, we all remember the first time we were called a 'Nigger.' I was probably 10 years old, so two years after this Negro was rejected by the monkey bars, and on a soccer road trip with my team. My mom came along to chaperone. This soccer trip was in Medford, OR which if any of you are familiar, well we aren't surprised that it took place here.

We had pulled up late to our hotel and were going to check-in. We were collecting our things out of the trunk when we heard the loud talking of some nearby men outside of their pick-up. I like to imagine them drinking Hamm's or Natty Ice [something classy], wearing overalls sans undershirts letting their beer bellies spill out of the sides of the denim, and probably mourning the loss of a few of their late teeth. Truth is, I remember nothing about what they look like. I just remember what they called my mom and me in that awful Medford parking lot.

This is why I don't use the N word. Because of how disgusting those men meant to make me feel, did make me feel and do make me feel even now 17 years later just thinking about it. They knew nothing about me and used this word to encompass my existence. There is never a time I would deem this appropriate to refer to my friends with this language and mean it as "brother" or "sister." There's already words that mean the same thing...look, I just used them. Right there ^  ^. 

I think this is one of the reasons I hate Tyler Perry so much [yes, we're back there]. He makes a career off of putting people in boxes like these men put me in. And being in boxes is no fun. That's why mimes are constantly trying to get out of them.

I'm not done with Baratunde's book yet, but I already know it's one I'll be recommending to you regardless of what color you discovered you were 15 or 20 years ago. On that note, I turn to Baratunde:

"My version of being black adheres as much to the stereotypes as it dramatically breaks from them, and that's probably true for most of you reading this-if not about blackness itself, then about something else related to your identity." -How to Be Black, Baratunde Thurston


Happy Black History Month.

Why Tyler Perry isn't Funny

I have a long standing disdain for Mr. Perry. Simply put, he's not funny and it continues to baffle me that he has such a following and is making so much cash over dressing in drag as an elderly black woman while perpetuating racial stereotypes.

Before I continue it must be noted that I like racial humor. Like is an understatement. I LOVE racial humor. I devoted an entire year researching and analyzing it and was able to snag myself a Masters because of it. The difference between what I researched and what Tyler Perry creates is that he isn't funny.

Humor is obviously subjective. I appreciate when comedians who use racial humor point out the ludicrous nature of stereotypes in clever ways or use self-deprecating humor to make light of a discussion of an otherwise difficult to discuss topic. Of course we have some of those 'it's-funny-because-it's-true' moments, but the overall purpose of racial humor is to shed light on topics that we don't necessarily talk about around the water cooler because we are terrified at the possibility of offending someone and coming off as racist.

I like the dark, non-laugh track, intuitive humor that makes me think about a joke further. I realize that not everyone is like this but when you are the creator of racial humor, I think it is your responsibility to not make buffoon caricatures based on race. Why? Because people that have limited to no experience with that group of people will begin to sketch a picture in their mind that represents what they believe that group of people to be like. Unfortunately, a lot of minority groups haven't been traditionally cast in a variety of roles. On the contrary, we can see a white male playing many different parts and therefore, it is much more difficult to categorize them as representing just one thing. You can turn on Showtime and see him as a serial killer; flip to NBC and see him as a stay-at-home dad; change over to ABC and see him as a lawyer; finishing off the night by spending an hour on AMC and see him as an ad man. Or a maker of methamphetamines.

When you lack this variety, it's very easy to create stereotypes and I believe Tyler Perry to be a master of this. Just turn to TBS. I think he does his entire race a disservice when he continually puts a certain number of unchanging characters in his casts.

Why the Cosby show was revolutionary in the 1980's was because here we finally saw a well to do black family where Claire and Cliff were working as a lawyer and doctor respectively, while successfully raising their large family. Their kids were even going to college. It gave America a new perception of the black family. And guess what? It was still funny.

Tyler Perry, you've set us back. Take notes from the 1980's and maybe you can start moving forward in 2012. Preferably off any TV or movie screen. To that, I would say 'hallelujer.'