#TeamBlaria, when some people we know accidentally get knocked up, we might respond the way I do when I return from the concession stand at the movie theater and I can’t remember where my seat is, so I call my friend as the house lights go down:
I’m scurred for a few moments, but I know that e’erything will be okay for my friend and I. However, when someone like rapper Carlos “Shawty Lo” Walker has eleven chillrens with TEN women, I’m not scurred; instead I’m just matter of fact like:
#RealTalk, Shawty Lo needs to tape his peen up like it’s a middle school Geology book and his teacher just told him he’s gonna get an A for expertly putting a paper bag cover on it. Get that A!! But in all seriousness, him having that many chillrens by that many women is utterly ridiculous and his deciding to turn this absurd and sad situation into a TV show for the Oxygen network instead of, I don’t know, bidding adieu to the poon:
aka pulling out is a damn travesty for everyone: him, the women he’s impregnated, the children, television, my brain cells.
Now, because of the outrage and the ever-growing number of signatures on a petition to cancel the show, which is currently at 19,657, Oxygen has removed the trailer of the show from the internet. But honestly, you don’t need the trailer. I’m sure you get the idea: a black dude with gold teefs and a bunch of black women all live under one roof (yes, he lives with all his babies’ mamas AND has 19 year old girlfriend who comes to visit him) and e’erybody acts a fool as the cameras roll, presumably, for the viewers’ amusement. I mean, it’s not like at the end of the show, folks can send a ten dollar donation towards food stamps by texting WRAPTHEDICKUP.GOV to 90099, so the well being of the chillrens isn’t why the audience is tuning in and even if it is the reason, the people watching the show are without the means to directly help Shawty Lo’s brood. Thus, the viewers at home are either yukking it up or pointing in horror and judging while thinking, “I feel better about my life since I’m not like that,” while Shawty Lo is happy to be getting paid and showered with attention. Fucking great. Another glorification of “shit fuckery.”
Btdubs, “shit fuckery” is like several levels above fuckery. See, fuckery is when you’re at the deli on your 30 minute lunch break and the mofo in front of you is taking forever to order by saying things like, “Ummmmmm, I think I’ll have mayo?” Bitch, you know you want mayo, so just own it and quit acting all shy and shit. On the other hand, “shit fuckery” is when the bitch asks for the mayo, sans confidence, the sandwich maker plops some on the sammich, and then the trick goes, “You know what? I changed my mind. I don’t want the mayo. Let’s start over,” and it turns out that was the last damn dollop of Hellmann’s, so your sandwich is just going to be meat and cheese on dry ass rye toast. Making matters worse, you’re going to be late back to work because her sandwich had to be remade and your boss is standing at your cubicle, giving you a hard time for being 217 seconds late and telling you a project needs to get done asap. You wanna be like:
but instead you mumble, “Yes, I’ll get on that right away,” and before you know it, it’s 5:23p and you realize you never got around to eating your lunch. Then your boss tells you have to stay late tonight and instead of cussing him out, you reach into your wrinkled bag and hate eat that dry ass, wilted lettuce, soggy tomato, cheddar cheese, and cracked pepper sandwich. Finally, you excuse yourself to the bathroom to call your boo and your cell phone dies as soon as you say “Hey,” and you remember you left your cell phone charger at home. So you begin to take a quiet and Angry Bird-less poop and the automatic lights in the bathroom go off. Out of sheer “who gives a fuck anymore?,” you start uncontrollably laughing. And it feels good. Really good. Until a co-worker enters the bathroom and your moment of emotional release looks like a crazy person who likes to drop a deuce in the dark while giggling maniacally like a cartoon villain. That, my friends, is “shit fuckery” and every second of All My Babies’ Mamas will be nothing but that sequence of events on loop. So why glorify that? And, more importantly, in my anguished slave voice: “LAWD, WHYS THIS SHOW GOTTA BE ABOUT BLACK FOLK?
Yes, I know. The race factor. But I can’t help it! Not when yet another TV is solely based on the most negative stereotypes of black people. This is not to say that I wouldn’t be as upset if AMBM was about a white dude and his babies’ mamas. I absolutely would be. However, the difference is that despite all the Honey Boo Boos & Redneck Islands (which is just a country ass version of Survivor), white people do have shows like Mad Men, Homeland, New Girl, and countless others to show. There are reflection of whiteness and not just the ignorance. Unfortunately, for black people, we are not afforded the same complexities. Reality TV shows featuring a predominately African-American cast amount to not much more than the sad and depressing (All My Babies’ Mamas) or the ludicrous and comically over-the-top (Real Housewives of Atlanta). And don’t even get me started on the dearth of quality scripted black TV shows. Only now in 2013, do I realize how lucky I was to grow in the ’90s and see all kinds of interesting TV shows featuring people of color like Living Single, New York Undercover, A Different World, Cosby, etc. I miss those days. And I think a lot of other black people do, too. At any rate, I hate that AMBM gets greenlit by Oxygen while the sitcom BET’s The Game, which had pretty good ratings rarely gets acknowledged because it’s on BET, which has now turned into the ghetto for most black TV shows. Meaning that they will be ignored by mainstream America while people like Nene Leakes has found sitcom stardom on NBC’s The New Normal because she snatched some weaves on The Real Housewives of Atlanta for several years. Tell me that isn’t fucked up. Sigh.
But more importantly than race, my outrage about AMBM has more to do with humanity. How are the chillrens’ mental and emotional development going to be affected by having their lives exposed sans analysis and compassion and merely just for yuks? For example, in the trailer for AMBM, Shawty Lo has trouble remembering all his kids’ names (!!!) and in another scene, he misses the high school graduation of one of his daughter, so he can canoodle with his girlfriend. Ummm,
Because these are some of the most ignorant things I’ve heard, so I need time to cuss and then reflect. Not only that, but for that daughter, it must be hurtful, tragic, and unacceptable to have the pain shown in 1080i. Look, I understand that things like this happen all the time, but it just makes me sick that TV executives make their living by exploiting this travesty. It’s not okay and the damage being done with this exploitation of pain will be life-long. Trust me. A battered child’s soul is not worth the advertising dollars gained from shilling Tide detergent between scenes of baby mamas fighting (See what I did there? Gain is a name of laundry detergent and so is Tide. Ugh. Okay, okay. It’s not that special. You win). So fuck you, Oxygen for essentially serving up this turd on a Styrofoam plate and thinking I’mma eat it.
And fuck you, Shawty Lo, (with a condom, obvs.) for thinking that the reward for being a shitty father is a paycheck, which you undoubtedly won’t spend on your chillrens. You should be ashamed of yourself. I haven’t met you, but I know you’re not a good person because you’re breaking your kids’ hearts. If I could, I would nestle your eleven chillrens’ heads in my 32A cup bosom, which is basically just clavicle and sternum, and I’d give them the love and affection they needed. And you can be damn sure I’d remember each and e’ery one of their names.
*Endnote: Oxygen has not announced a release date yet for All My Babies’ Mamas, but if they air this show during Black History Month, I will straight up pull a Jumanji and summon every dead and notable negro I can think off to fucking cuss e’erybody out who’s involved with this show while this song plays in the background:
I hope you’ll join me, #TeamBlaria, with both middle fingers up to the world because of this disgrace of the show. After the song finishes and we’ve put away our middle fingers, let’s get to work on making some TV shows that are worthy of being on television. Love you. Mean it.