Spilling Whitney's Tea Redux

Since I have done nothing but act like my mother's child and mourn the passing of Whitney Houston for the last 10 days, I knew today's post would be a return, in some way, to The Voice. Early last week, I had resolved to write a fun, lighter post, tentatively titled, "Whitney: Anatomy of a Diva," where I post videos of Whitney singing with other, clearly lesser singers and offer commentary.

But that will have to wait.

After last Monday's post, I got a really thoughtful and thought-provoking email asking about whether or not it was too soon discuss the nature of Whitney's relationship with her former assistant, Robyn Crawford. It took me a few days to respond, because I thought I was deeply ambivalent about the matter. In reply, I questioned the impulse to posthumously out folks, and wondered if we had not found other ways to validate our own sexuality. I made that last claim with a little trepidation, because although I don't find being able to identify with a celebrity in such a way helpful to my own self-esteem, I must acknowledge that others feel differently. (Moreover, I must readily confess that my addiction to poorly produced webseries starring lesbians of color does not stem solely from my thirst for things to hate on.)

Two-for-One Monday

Instead of giving you a long-winded blog wherein I attempt to make sense of (read: hate on) some nugget of pop culture, I thought I just comment on two issues that have stuck with me since I last wrote.

On Useless Knowledge and Occupy Wall Street
As a kid, I used to collect useless knowledge. You know, stuff like, If you tap the 57 on a Heinz bottle it'll make the ketchup come out faster. (You're welcome.) Now, I'm sure the invention of Google has made this kind of knowledge a little easier to come by and a lot less impressive--even when coming from the mouth of a 12-year-old. But I must share one more: Wall Street is called Wall Street because the Dutch built a wall to keep the indigenous folks from "invading." Perhaps this account is disputed, but even if this factoid is not entirely true, I think it's important to think about it in terms of the Occupy Wall Street demonstrations.

Transgender Pillars of Salt

Although I'd like to spend this morning ranting about how Peyton Manning's neck is going to make this the most intolerable football season in years, I understand that no one but me, Colts fans, and folks who drafted him in their fantasy league really care. And so, I dedicate this morning's post to something we all care about. That's right.Dancing with the Stars.

It seems that while I was preparing for fantasy football drafts and such, the ABC Network was looking for more than contestants when it enlisted Chaz Bono, transgender activist and child of Sonny and Cher. When DWTS announced that Bono, who underwent both a physical and social gender transition several months ago,  would be taking part in this season, controversy ensued. Organizations such as onemillionmoms.com have called for a boycott of the show, saying that Bono's casting was "unacceptable" and imploring Christians not to watch it--to prevent any requisite eye-gouging, I'm sure. The Family Research Council has gone as far as to suggest that ABC is attempting to indoctrinate viewers--because, I suppose, one surely catches "the transgender" by looking.

Game Theory #Pause

Not that I pay that much attention to hip-hop anymore, but rapper, [The] Game (when did he drop the article?) spoke out recently about gays and hip-hop, and I noticed. And by "notice" I mean someone mentioned it to me and I bothered to Google it. Call it preparation for LGBTQ History Month.
In case you were wondering or concerned, "Game don't have a problem with gay people." Let's all take a moment and release that collective sigh of relief. I wish I could follow that quote with "The Game don't have a problem with not making albums anymore," but that would be a lie--or a wish. Take your pick. But I digress. So, yeah, The Game don't have a problem with gay people, but he does have a problem with believing myths and spreading them as if they are factually correct. The Game may not have a problem with the gays--and by gays The Game seems to speak exclusively about gay men--but he does have a problem with closeted men sleeping with straight women and consequently spreading AIDS to straight men who, I guess, would otherwise not have gotten caught up. This theory, as many of us know, has gained the appellation, "The Down Low Myth," and several blogs have responded to The Game's comments by refuting his argument. I support those efforts. And I hope those fans of The Game (because, seriously, who else was paying attention) who believed his words read those responses and gained some clarity. There was, however, something that the pundits missed, and I'd like to address it here.

Some Unsolicited Love Advice for Queen Latifah

(Since my last two blogs have been relatively serious, how about something light this Monday morning?)

Dear Queen Latifah,


Well, look at you! Just the other week I was considering the conditions under which you might come out, and now word on the street is you're all up in the magazines talking about what kind of women you like:

Queen Latifah: …I just like ladies who have class. Period. And if it’s “T and A” you’re sellin’, that’s fine, as long as that’s what you’re selling. But you don’t have to show everything, you know? You can hold some back and just be yourself and let your personality shine and let your individuality show. To me, that’s sexier. A confident woman is a sexy woman, in my opinion. And I think guys find that to be the same way.

Jamie: Right.

Queen Latifah: You don’t have to show everything; you don’t have to put it all out there to attract a guy. Because what kind of guy are you gonna attract? What is he really looking for? If you wanna be a booty call, I guess you can throw it all out there. (laughs) But if you’re looking for a relationship with someone who respects you and respects things other than your body—your mind, your spirit, your personality, your smile—then you have to kind of exude that more so than just yo’ booty and yo’ titties.

The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill's Fans

Last week, Lauryn Hill announced the birth of her sixth child, a son, and then somehow found the strength to perform in LA just days after giving birth. Of course, this newest edition to Hill's family surprised very few, since photographs of her on stage during her Moving Target tour last spring led to speculations that she was pregnant--a rumor she later confirmed. As is the tendency when news of Hill's personal life emerges, the commoners side-eyed, sighed, smh'd and almost angrily mumbled about Lauryn running game like the Knicks/build [us] up only to lose the championship. Would she still appear at Rock the Bells and perform 1998's axis-altering solo debut, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill as had been planned? Would we ever hear that follow-up studio album? This latest pregnancy put everything (the fans wanted) in jeopardy.

Ladies First (and Only)?

It wasn't until I sat down to write this that I realized I'd have to confess to watching Single Ladies--more than once. It's true. Admittedly, I watched the first episode because I think Dionne Stacey Dash is fine. And although I find the acting in some ways utterly intolerable, somehow I've seen enough episodes since to still be able to follow the story line. Saying I watch because I want to support Lisa[waaaaaybeyondhershelflife]Raye for miraculously still finding work--even in a recession--is pretty unconvincing. Perhaps I should just blame baseball season. Apparently, I'm not alone. Viewership of Single Ladies has been consistent, and Vh1, which has been steadily rebranding itself as a grown and sexy, older sibling counterpart to BET's blazing hip-hop and R&B, will more than likely renew the (two-thirds) black version of Sex and the City for another season.

Kiss and Tell: Losing Isiah

Johnson, left, and Thomas exchanging kisses before a game during the 1989 NBA Finals (Andrew Bernstein/Getty Images)

Those of us who lament the current incarnation of the NBA despite Lebron James' and Chris Paul's (he's soooo cute -- no hetero) greatness do so because we remember the golden age of the league.  (Are you looking for Kobe love?  You won't get that here.  Move along.)  Those of us born in the 80s were raised on the good and nutritiously entertaining similac of dope hip hop and an NBA that was absolutely faaaaaantastic.  Part of what made the mid-80s professional basketball such a renaissance was the rivalry between Magic Johnson and Larry Bird, a contentious pairing that began during the championship game of the 1979 NCAA men's basketball tournament, where Magic's Michigan State Spartans beat Bird and the Indiana State Sycamores.  Thirty years after the Bird or Magic debate began, the former adversaries, now friends, have co-written a book with the help of former Boston Globe sports columnist Jackie Macmullan.  Though the book won't be on shelves until November 4, last week the sports world took a brief break from obsessing over football to report on some of the juicier content.

Today in Post-Race History: No Homo

Remember last year when all the white gay people were mad at black people because Prop 8 passed in California?  Well, it wasn't a fluke.  We're still their whipping boys (er, bois?).  Last week, my internet boyfriend AC (again, the only man I'd ever seriously consider marrying), sent me a link of the above video, where Current TV contributor, Bryan Safi learns us about the phrase "No Homo."   Most of the commenters loved this piece and deemed it "genius."  Me?  Not so much.