Monday Morning Bullets

Here goes:

• Last week, I was listening to NPR on my drive home and heard Michelle (say it with me, now Meeee-shell) Norris' description of FLOTUS, Michelle Obama's trip to South Africa.  During her introduction, Norris was sure to mention that the FLOTUS danced with some South African kids.

Did Michelle O's Dougie spark a minor obsession with her dance moves?  There's a partial list of news sources discussing FLOTUS dancing here.  I think this is something worth keeping an eye on.  Viral videos of the FLOTUS cutting a rug inevitably raise questions about black spectacle, white consumption, and also about the relatability/likeability of our head(s) of state and his family.  It's complicated, a very thin line, but worthy of unpacking.
Now, if FLOTUS does The Percolator and/or engages in a footworking contest with Chicago Bulls star, Derrick Rose, let me know, because I will want to see that.

Chick-fil-Gay

Last week, Atlanta-based fast food chain, Chick-fil-A opened its very first Chicago restaurant.  Although it does not counteract the negative effect of parking meters and winter, this culinary addition only helps the argument that Chicago is the greatest (American) city ever.  (New York, NOLA, I love you, but the City of Wind tops my list.)  I've not been yet, but please believe that Chick-fil-A may very well be the last meal I have before I go on my next detox.  Chick-fil-A nuggets--along with jibaritos and bleucheeseburgers--is what prevents me from actually believing I could ever permanently be vegetarian.

Today in Post-Race History: Kreayshawn

*sigh* Well, there's one (or more) for every generation.

I think Kreayshawn (nee Natassia Zolot) is a fraud.  I don't believe she's serious; I don't believe she's real.  Some good discussion about Kreayshawn and appropriation is happening, but I'm still at the start line refusing to believe her alleged biography about being the child of a teenaged mother and growing up in East Oakland.  

White people do this kind of thing--and by "kind of thing" I mean fabricate a story that somehow makes them more authentic, more "down"--all the time.  Vanilla Ice was never really stabbed five times; Margaret B. Jones was never really a gang member in L.A. despite what her memoir said.  (Apparently, folks love to lie in memoirs.)  So, I'll just take Natassia's stage name at its word: Kreayshawn = Creation.

Perhaps the truth will come out now that she's inked a record deal.

We should, I suppose, ask: What would the point be of making all of this up?  To prove that even in Obama's America, even during the recession, blackface money can always be made?  To remind us that white people acting how they think black people do will always prove endlessly fascinating and lucrative?  To suggest that talent only actually matters when you're the person whose likeness is actually being appropriated?

What say you about Kreayshawn?

On Black Beauty

The nature of blogging necessitates that each Monday I dedicate my time to commenting on the most recent news that I care about to varying degrees.  That said, I thought I'd take this first June entry to say something about an issue that I didn't have an opportunity to discuss because I was busy hating on Common and famous gay people.


Last month, a few completely different, yet not altogether unrelated issues made a blip on my pop culture radar.  Briefly: