"She's Like Gandhi with Amazing Tits..."

What the hell kinda male chauvinist bull shit is that?!?

http://www.hot97.com/Channels/newonhot/story.aspx?ID=1546569

That substance bereft radio broadcast that you may or may not have bothered to listen to was young Miss Amber Rose's "confrontation" of Peter Rosenberg on Hot 97 about the criticisms he made concerning her latest book-writing pursuit. Allegedly he'd on a previous broadcast asserted that her fame was unfounded thus she had no cause for hammering out a written account of her semi-charmed, recently fabulous life. On that much, I would have to agree with Mr. Rosenberg. I don't see much point in her producing yet ANOTHER scandal laden autobiography about sex, "the hip-hop game," stripper stories, and similar professional arm-candy tales of coonery. I believe the literary world wouldn't miss just this one, but write ya book, maw. I ain't mad at cha... but I digress. Amber Rose's somewhat contrived and conspicuous stab at authorship is not what this post is about. Over the course of this enduring 45 minute broadcast, I heard Amber Rose tell her side of her story. I heard her defend her accidental fame and public image as it pertains to her much discussed associations with high-profile penises. I even heard her touch on some of her personal world views that had a an almost brassy air of genuine concern for the underclass. What I ALSO heard was Cipha Sounds and Peter Rosenberg objectify and patronize Amber Rose AT LENGTH and flatter her into submission. Yeah she dissed Funkmaster Flex and called him an asshole but he wasn't even there. Peter Rosenberg however WAS there and she was gentle as a lamb in dealing with him.

(Side Wail: Perhaps Amber Rose is of mild-manner. Perhaps she is just so jaded by her attributed celebrity (which is primarily based on her looking a certain way) that such affronts do not take root with her. But a broad like me? If the dude who dragged me through the gutter just a day prior was now sitting directly in front of me, I would rain hot liquid female fury all over his life. Ain't no mutha fuckin way that I would let that clown sit in my mutha fuckin face cheesing, schmoozing, grinning and going on and on about how "beautiful" I am when just 24 hours ago I wasn't shit to this dude. Naw. To hell with that. Answer for your offenses or be dealt with, douche.)

Even though I listened to this broadcast hoping to hear Amber Rose draw some figurative blood from her offenders, I approached the situation with a general understanding of how "important" it is for female "celebrities" to present an amicable front so not to appear socially abrasive or confrontational. Women who come into fame the way Amber Rose, Kim Kardashian and others who have (through social osmosis) gained overnight fame must maintain a certain likability because without it they are no longer every man's fantasy or every woman's idealized symbol of male-coveted female perfection to love/hate. Talk too much, push too hard, show too much individual strength and you become all too real. One thing I've observed in popular culture that reality is bad for business if your business is being a sexual commodity. And for a "woman of color" who is promoted as a sexual commodity, she has to be content with having a big round ass, nice perky tits and no will of her own outside of chasing cash and partying and sleeping with the most sought after celebrities popular culture has to offer. Just fuck these rappers/actors/ball players/moguls, make out with a few equally hot girls, overindulge in overpriced champagne, make bold fashion choices, stir up a little scandal and shut the hell up.

I found that Amber Rose's overall response to their shamelessly puerile cajolery was reminiscent of the nonthreatening giggling school girl who lives for the attention of her cohorts. I honestly don't know shit about her outside of this one 45 minute radio show but she clearly allowed these men to belittle her by focusing on her sexual commodity rather than her human worth. Rosenberg and Cipha outright degraded Amber by (at times quite graphically) harping on her more sexually arousing attributes while she just smiled and politely acquiesced to their blatantly demeaning flirtations. She entered the conversation as a woman brave enough to confront her uninformed critics and exited a little girl content to to lean on her vanity for moral support. She even made a few maybe vain attempts to take something of a "political" stand but she was easily subdued by the condescent of her moderators' whose sexual self-control appears to have gone unchecked since puberty. When she referenced the backlash she received after posting pictures of the desolation in Ghana because she felt it was more important that the world see that rather than yet another photo essay in the lifestyles of the rich and famous, Mr. Rosenberg chimed in with his "Gandhi with amazing tits" comparison and quelled the slight swell of activism in her identity that has been represented as purely sexual. Throughout the interview Cipha Sounds and Peter Rosenberg made certain that this image of Amber Rose as a bodied sex vixen was the one that stuck with their listeners. At times it seemed it was actually their goal to solidify her rather banal oversexed persona by not allowing her much elbow room to possibly challenge her "fans" to see her any differently.

To be fair by allowing this one-dimensional ideal of unquestionable vixenhood to prevail, Amber Rose participated in her own media prostitution; therefore she must be as basely sexual as we all perceive her to be... or maybe she has been made to believe that, as a woman, it is much safer to be revered as a man's every fantasy than rejected as a woman with her own mind that she uses to think critically of the world around her. I would like to believe that deep inside Amber Rose there is a woman who has a passion for helping those who are less fortunate but as long as she is willing to cooperate with a system that exploits her just as much as it keeps those babies who moved her so deeply in Ghana hungry and sick, she will remain another cog in the great oppressive machine. Just like with any of us who want to change the world for the better, Amber Rose would first have to recognize her role as a media pawn for the patriarchy and understand that an individual revolution would need to happen before a larger one could occur.

Conversely if her claims of a having spirit of charity were only veneerings of her cliche public image as "the rapper's sexy girlfriend," I wish her all the success in the world being a career implement of sexism and a willing victim of male-ego driven psychosexual slavery. With such lovely parts, why should she object to simply being the sum of them?

This Is Bigger Than Ray J's Street Cred...

... even though he may not believe such a thing could occur in this life.

This post needs little introduction from me so I'll just let the world-class reporting team of (insert sarcasm here) MediaTakeOut.com  handle my lightweight.

http://cdn.mediatakeout.com/51207/mto-world-exclusive-ray-j-and-fabolous-got-into-a-fight-and-you-ll-never-guess-who-got-knocked-the-f-ck-out.html

As eloquent and masterful as that rendering might have been, I would like to take this opportunity to perhaps elaborate on some of the more intricate issues involved in this situation.

1. If Ray J was not so insecure, this altercation would have never even had a chance to transpire.

2. If Fabolous was not so easily goaded, he could have soundly put the ensuing conflict to rest while simultaneously proving that he was much more man than Ray J. Unfortunately he took the "I wish a nigga would" route instead and beat Ray J like a lazy, entitled, $5 hoe... and made MUCH change.

(LATE BREAKER: Fabolous claims to have NOT beat Ray J's ass... even though it would've been understandable. Hear his side of the story on Power 105.1 http://www.power1051fm.com/pages/onair/djclue.html?article=9131842 )

3. After talking that much shit and then not being able to back it up with ANY action whatsoever... Ray J deserved to get stripped of his worldly possessions. That's just part of the Unofficially Official G-Code (or rather "The Code of the Streets") which Ray J is now painfully familiar. This is the shit that happens to little boys who want to stomp around in big boy Timbs. Also, considering that his nuts also were stripped from his person, those "jewels" of his should have been the least of his worries.

4. So after being publicly humiliated for talking way out of turn, Ray J decides to take his circus of bumfuckery on the road to one of the most popular nationally syndicated radio programs in hip hop where he confirms exactly how insecure (i.e. "bitch made") he is by rambling on about NOTHING in his own defense. It is a widely known fact that a man who represents himself in front of a court of his peers surely has a fool for a client. Like it or not, Power 105.1 is a major branch of hip-hop culture's governing body. When you go on Power 105.1 with "your side of the story"... son, you officially on trial. Speak with CAUTION and CLARITY. Most of all you gotta come with SOME substance. Ray J came with "I got this and this and that. I know him and him and her." He was name-droppin' and collar-poppin' with nothing of merit to truly validate his claims of "gangstership." At first he had 7 Rolls outside. Then he had 6 Rolls and 2 Bentleys. He prattled on and on about "The money team," "My big homey Diddy," "I socked that nigga (Fab) in the face," "Tell [Fab] to send a picture of his face," "(Mayweather) That's my big brother. We grew up together." "Fabolous gone apologize" "I swear to God, [Fab] running from me right now." All this humbuggish bullshit yet nothing that would adequately affirm his masculinity. He brags about his famous "homies," his 20,000 sq. ft. home... NIGGA YOU AIN'T DOING AN INTERVIEW FOR BETTER HOMES AND GARDENS!!!!! What do all those worldly possessions have to do with the fact that you got knocked THE FUCK OUT?!? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Don't get me wrong though, there's no shame in having nice things. True, it makes you a puppet and a slave of the capitalist machine but if you want that and you got that good for you. What Ray J had to find out the hard way is that all those fancy toys and baubles and high-profile connects don't protect you from a well-deserved ass-whuppin. Ray J thought he was invincible and he got touched-up like some three-month old highlights.

Anyway, the only reason why I found this exercise in outright bumfuckery to be important enough for me to address is because it points to a common problem among black males today. Instead of feeling secure in their manhood based solely on the strength of their character, the contemporary, mainstream black man relies on brutish and ostentatious displays such as these. In regard to Fabolous, he could have just brushed Ray J off as the nut-jocking, spine bereft, cartoonish, pretentious R&B gangster that he is but instead gave in to his male ego that would not be deterred from proving itself to the onlookers who witnessed such a blatant affront to his cosmetic manhood. Do I really blame Fabolous for knocking lil dude out? Not really. In a similar situation, I might have done the same thing. That still doesn't justify his actions as "righteous." In regard to Ray J what is there that could NOT be said about his obvious lack of testicular fortitude? There is very little in this world that appears less masculine than a man who can't stop running his damn mouth even AFTER he's already been embarrassed for the same offense.

I'm not a man therefore I will not arrogantly claim to have the formula for what it means to be one. What I CAN say is that over the course of my life I have witnessed the actions of REAL MEN first-hand and those actions shaped my model of what a man should be. One thing that I've learned from these real men is nothing speaks more pointedly to genuine masculinity than inner strength, honor, control of one's speech and humility. When I see a MAN, I see a person who doesn't need to make grandiose claims or vulgar exhibitions to be certain that everyone in the room has a perpetual awareness of his dick. I see a person who is self-aware but not self-absorbed. I see a person who may have clout but has no need to flaunt it. I see a person who exudes pride but not hubris. This incident is tantamount to the corrosion and corruption of the archetype of manhood in the black male psyche. The black man (in a general mainstream sense) has devolved into a greedy, materialistic, anti-intellectual, dishonorable, disloyal, unfaithful, baby-making, self-destructive shell of a human being or rather a Europeanized version of the original black man which would undoubtedly be easier to for American capitalist society to manipulate...

But what do I know anyway? I'm just an uppity, militant, book-reading Negro who is lacking greatly in the area of social importance, i.e. A Hater. 

Confessions of the "Au Naturale"

There is no end to the socially acceptable nonsense which begs me to reproach humanity on a semi-regular basis but what I find MOST irksome about you hoes is the fact that you insist upon being SO... DAMN... FAKE. From the tops of your heads to the soles of your feet, you people hide your identities beneath illusions of the wealth and beauty that you believe you cannot attain while being your truest selves. Of course, us women are the most committed to pretense as it relates to our appearance. We have Spanx, padded bras, weaves, wigs and every other ridiculous implement of aesthetic torture we can procure from our most trusted retailers. Of all the methods women employ to feign perfection however, the use of make-up might be the one that causes my inner feminist the most unrest.

I am and have always been unapologetically anti-cosmetics. I don't believe a woman should feel obligated to paint her face like a clown to mask her "flaws" for a society that really doesn't even give a damn about the individual. Not only that but the cosmetic industry thrives on the impossible demands of eternal youth and unchanged appearance that women are expected to live up to. My friends often try to persuade me by saying that "It's supposed to enhance your features" and all kinds of other buck nekked bullshit but I ain't buying none of it. Whether it is in the foreground of your thoughts or not, women wear make-up because from a very young age we are made to feel insecure about each and every one of our imperfections; as a result we are encouraged by our mothers, grandmothers, sisters and televisions to conceal those flaws by any means necessary. I could make bell hooks say "Bitch, chill" after listening to me prattle on and on and on about the subject of women and their inane yet sometimes rigorous daily routines born of insecurity and assumed inadequacy (whether they care to admit it to themselves or not). At first glance I would appear to be the most fervent espouser of being our most organic selves at all times free of doubt, but I must admit that lately I've been engaging in some intense inner battle betwixt my strong aesthetic values and my own self-image. 

It has always been so very depressing for me to see a woman who thinks so little of her aesthetic design that she doesn't feel comfortable just walking outside her door without the proper augmentation. I used to pity you hoes because of the simple fact that I wouldn't want to trade places with you for anything in the world. When I see some women without make-up on, I think to myself, "DAMN... if I looked like that in the morning I'd be laying on the Maybeline pretty thick my damn self. You look TERRIBLE. Bitch, you HIT." I figured being so horribly unattractive by the face must be hard which is why I have always been so proud of myself for never once having a desire to don my face with various rouges and mascaras and concealers and the like. My unflinching apathy toward make-up began to feel more like an affirmation of beauty than a principle. If I thought so little of my natural appearance the way most of you hoes seemed to, then I would be foaming at the mouth in Sephora as well; but I didn't so I wasn't.

To make a long story short: DeDeT has been giving some serious thought to wearing make-up. In fact I have just about decided that I am going to buy some. Have I actually bought any? No. Have I looked into getting any? Kinda. During the past year, I've been paying more and more attention to make-up and how it "works." I've been trying to figure out how to find the foundations and concealers that best match my natural skin tone. I've been paying attention to all the latest lines and brands. The whole while slowly dying because I know my growing curiosity was merely a subconscious acceptance of the fact that my looks were already beginning to wane at the tender age of 25. It would only be a matter of time before I looked old and washed out like so many others. Pretty soon men would no longer find me so fascinating and engaging. I would have no one to entertain my many charming quirks! Nobody puts up with ugly chicks who have head issues! This is common knowledge. A PRETTY girl, however, can get away with all kinds of eccentricities. In fact many men fancy these whims as bemusing and enchanting on an adorable morsel like myself. If I looked like a hag I wouldn't be able to get away with shit ever again! How could I live with no one to shower me with adoration?!?!

All that understood, I want to buy make-up today because of the fact that I feel SO FLAWED that I doubt that I could been seen as "beautiful" (or even mildly attractive) in my most natural state. My skin for no reason has taken a turn for the absolute worst and all my efforts to correct this disaster have yielded no result whatsoever. I need relief lest I lose my ENTIRE mind.


Now for the wailing...


Basically I've decided just to give up on everything I believe in regard to what it means to be a "real woman" because my reflection no longer upholds the facile ideals of beauty that I've secretly been clinging to all my life. True beauty MIGHT come from within but in what I have long perceived to be "the real world" the beauty that one can have on the surface is the kind that everybody has a boner for. With my insatiable thirst for attention and adoration, naturally I aspire to the superficiality which I have quite stupidly allowed myself to fall victim. If I had some GOOD sense I would thug it out sans the aid of artificial enhancements and perhaps develop a more resilient sense of self that would not be so easily capsized by such an unquestionably asinine affront to genuine human suffering like a bout of bad skin. If I was really so passionate about being authentic at all times, my definitions of my OWN beauty wouldn't be so damn hollow and petty. Somebody oughtta check me in the throat for being such a simple-minded slut.

Furthermore who's to say I was that I was even all that cute from the jump? Sure I've turned the head of many a simpleton but the substantial often passes me by. I'm rather intelligent, witty and charming and there's no way anyone could ever be bored around me but alas... I'm not very enticing to anyone of merit. Could my superficiality be that pervasive? Do you think the smart ones noticed? Duh, bitch. Of course they did which is why they kept it pushing. Anybody with some real depth could easily spot that shallow shit a mile off even if it is veiled by an impeccable vocabulary.

So I guess my question to myself is: Who am I really trying to impress with this assumed beauty of mine and why in the hell am I clinging so fast to all the witless delusions therein? Just stupid like dem'ohs I guess...