Let me be clear about where I stand before going further. My love for this woman’s catalogue runs back most of my life, and what follows comes from devotion rather than spite. That distinction matters more than it once did, because somewhere in the last ten years or so we quietly lost the ability to talk about her as if she makes songs instead of miracles. Play “Morning Dew (Donk)” with clean ears and you hear a pleasant, minor, slightly dated groove that any of a dozen artists could have released to a shrug. Fine, is all. A B side, no more. Yet the apparatus around her cannot process fine, so fine gets translated into triumphant, and an old unreleased song becomes evidence that the reigning queen has never once wavered.

Think about the last time you read a genuinely searching review of her work. Not a rave. Not a takedown either. Something in between, the kind of writing that sits with a record for a week, admires the audacity of the thing while admitting the second half drags, or that one feature never earns its place, or that a concept got announced louder than it got executed. I have to reach back years to find one, and when I do, I remember the pile on that followed. The writer’s mentions turned into a courtroom. Their whole taste went on trial. Every motive got read like tea leaves. And the lesson every music writer absorbed, whether they say it out loud or not, is simple. You praise, or you stay quiet.

The machine that enforces this is famous enough to have a name. The hive shows up fast and it shows up organized, and I want to be careful here because there is a lazy version of this complaint that treats fandom itself as the villain. It isn’t. Passionate listeners are the whole point of making anything. What has changed is the temperature and the reach. A three out of five used to be a defensible opinion. Now it reads to a certain corner of the internet as a moral failing, an insult flung at a Black woman who has already given more than the culture ever thanked her for. And that framing, the one that turns a middling score into an act of disrespect, is where the honesty starts to drain out of the room.

Here is the part that keeps me up, though, the part the cynics skip. That protective instinct did not come from nowhere. Black women in this industry have been robbed in slow motion for a century. Their sounds get borrowed and repackaged and handed to prettier, whiter faces who then get called geniuses for it. The wins arrive delayed, questioned, asterisked. You can watch a woman dominate a decade of popular music, reshape what an album even is, and spend years watching the biggest prize remain out of reach before Cowboy Carter finally broke that pattern. So when her people close ranks, I do not roll my eyes. I get it in my bones. The defensiveness is a scar, and scars form for a reason.

But a scar can grow over a wound that already healed. The tragedy of the current moment is that the shield built to protect her from an industry that undervalued her now protects her from the one thing every serious artist actually needs, which is a listener willing to tell the truth. Somewhere the logic flipped. Loving her stopped meaning engaging with the work and started meaning defending the work, and those are not the same act. A bodyguard and a critic want different things for you. One wants you safe. The other wants you great, and greatness has never come from a room full of yes.

None of this is helped by how thoroughly she has mastered the art of the event. The surprise drop she pioneered, the visual album, the rollout so meticulous it feels less like a release and more like weather moving in, all of it reframes each record as a cultural occasion rather than a collection of songs. And you cannot review an occasion. You can only attend it. When the discourse arrives before the download finishes, when the think pieces about what it means for the country are already queued up, the humble work of listening closely and deciding whether the bridge on track nine lands starts to feel almost rude. Small. Beneath the size of the thing. So critics reach for the language of significance instead, importance, moment, statement, reclamation, and that vocabulary is a beautiful place to hide. It lets you say a lot without ever saying whether the record is any good.

Take her country turn, which I adored and will defend to anyone. That record was a genuine act of reclamation, a Black woman walking back into a genre her ancestors helped invent and got shut out of, and the sight of it moved me. But watch what the conversation became. So much of it centered on the gesture. About Nashville and gatekeeping and history, all of it real and worth arguing over. What received less attention was the actual sequencing, the moments where the album’s ambition outran its focus, the tracks that felt as though they were there to prove a point rather than to be lived with. Those observations existed. They just could not compete with the weight of the story, and so they got whispered, if they got said at all. An artist that big absorbs criticism into her mythology. Every complaint becomes proof of what she is up against. Every doubter becomes a character in her comeback.

And I have not even reached the loneliest corner of this, which belongs to critics who look like her. A Black woman writing honestly about the biggest Black woman alive walks a wire nobody stretched for anyone else. Praise her and you are accused of bias. Question her and you are accused of betrayal, of handing ammunition to people who never wanted her to win in the first place. I have felt the second one personally, the flinch before you type a mild reservation, the internal negotiation about whether the truth is worth the cost to your own standing in your own community. That is not artistic freedom. That is a tax, and it gets levied hardest on the people best positioned to write about her with real understanding.

So can she still be reviewed normally? My honest answer is almost, but not quite, and the gap is widening. The infrastructure that should make honest assessment possible, editors willing to run a lukewarm take, writers willing to sign it, readers willing to sit with disagreement instead of treating it as an attack, has gotten brittle around her specifically. Other enormous artists get the occasional rough review and the world keeps spinning. Around her, the stakes got tangled up in something bigger than the music, in race and legacy and a very justified exhaustion with how this industry treats women who look like us, and once those wires cross, ordinary criticism reads as something it was never meant to be.

She does not want this, for what my reading is worth. The woman is a documented perfectionist. She reportedly reworks, rejects, rebuilds until the thing is right, which means she must know, better than her most devoted defenders, that adoration and improvement live in different houses. You do not sharpen yourself against applause. Somewhere she has to feel the difference between a room that loves her and a room that will tell her the truth, and I suspect the second room has gotten very quiet.

The kindest thing we could do for an artist that magnificent is remember that a mixed review is not a slur. It is a form of respect, maybe the highest one, because it assumes she is an artist and not a monument, capable of a weak song, capable of growing past it, worthy of being met with a whole mind rather than a raised fist. We used to give her that. I would like us to try again. Not because she has fallen off, but because the woman I have followed my whole life deserves listeners, not just guards, and honest music has never had anything to fear from an honest ear.

Staff Writer; Raven Jones

Raven writes about music, relationships, and the everyday ups and downs of Black women… She keeps it honest, encourages other sistas, and can be reached at RavenJ@ThySistas.com.

Let me clear the air early, because these conversations get twisted the second they start. I am not asking for Cardi to be canceled, silenced, or shoved out of the business. Making whatever records she wants is her call, and grown folks have every reason to spend their money on them and shake whatever the good Lord gave them while they do it. Her talent is not up for debate. Funny, quick, magnetic, she built a career out of a personality most executives would have sanded down to nothing. Earned, every step, and it belongs to her. My question runs along a different road. Why does ESSENCE, a brand that has spent decades telling Black women they are worthy and brilliant and whole, decide this particular message deserves one of its biggest stages on its most important weekend?

Because a Friday headliner slot carries weight. No small favor, that. The message could not be plainer: this is who we hold up. ESSENCE promoted her as a marquee name, slotted her at the top of the bill next to Kehlani and Latto, sold three day packages behind her face, and stocked BeautyCon with her hair line. Nobody was tricked. Everyone in that building knew the catalog, the stage persona, the raunch, the joyful vulgarity, the beautiful and complicated package all of it arrives in. Cardi has never once pretended to make inspirational music, never sold herself as a role model in the church basement sense. There is a strange integrity to that, honestly. What you see is who she has always told us she is. My discomfort, then, is not about her fooling anybody. It sits with the institution choosing her, eyes wide open, then asking the rest of us to read that choice as a celebration.

Here is where it gets tender for me. Cardi stands for the uncomfortable side of authenticity. We spend so much breath telling girls to be themselves, to stop shrinking, to quit apologizing for taking up space. Beautiful advice. Except the culture only hands its trophies to certain versions of that self. Be yourself, we say, but stay palatable while you do it. Speak your mind, only keep it classy. Enjoy your body, sure, just not so loudly the room turns uneasy. That fine print, she ignores entirely, and part of me cheers the nerve of it even as another part flinches at where it lands. The very trait gets her punished and praised, sometimes inside a single week. Online, folks drag her for being crude, then stream that same filthy song forty million times. Nobody in this arrangement keeps clean hands, myself included.

What made this edition sit so heavy was the company she kept on the calendar. That very night, ahead of the concert series even cranking up, Michelle Obama took the stage with Keke Palmer for a live conversation tied to her latest book, The Look, talking about identity, scrutiny, purpose, and the weight of being watched and judged as a Black woman in public life. Sit with that whiplash a second. In one corner of the building, a former First Lady is unpacking the exhausting labor of dignity, the expectation to represent an entire people without a single misstep, the way she is never once allowed an off day. Hours later, on the largest stage the weekend offers, the festival throws its considerable institutional muscle behind music that plenty of women in that very crowd feel shrinks female sexuality down to a sideshow. Both moments belong to ESSENCE, each handed the platform. I doubt the people programming it ever paused to sit with how strange those two rooms look side by side.

Now, I can already hear the pushback, because I have stood on that side myself over kitchen tables and in group chats. Sexual freedom is Black women’s freedom too. Our foremothers were denied the right to want, to enjoy, to name their own desire until somebody weaponized it against them. There is real liberation in a woman planted flat footed before a stadium crowd, saying out loud exactly what she likes with zero shame. I believe that down to my shoes. I have defended raunchy Black women artists all my adult life against the respectability crowd that would have muzzled every last one of them. So no, I will not pretend this splits neatly into good taste and bad. It does not. Real tension lives here, and anybody who swears it is obvious is peddling you a story.

What I cannot shake is how choosy the applause tends to be. A white pop star sings a filthy verse and gets called bold, a boundary pusher, a genius in charge of her own body. A Black woman does the identical thing and the culture reaches for uglier words, then turns around and profits off her anyway. The double bind is not Cardi’s doing, and it is no reason to shove her offstage. It does mean, though, that the stakes of who the institutions we built choose to lift up run higher for us than for anybody else, because we are already being watched through a warped lens. When the mic is in our hands, the choice weighs more, not less.

Freedom and celebration are not the same word, though, and ESSENCE keeps smudging the line between them. To say a woman may make whatever art she pleases costs nothing. Insisting that art belongs at the sacred middle of a gathering built to affirm us is the heavier claim, and a different one. A festival, stripped down, is a pile of choices about what a community wants to raise up as its best face, its hope, its point of pride. When the flagship celebration of Black womanhood makes that particular sound its Friday centerpiece, it is quietly answering a question about what it thinks we most want to see reflected back. And I am not convinced the answer it gave this year is the one most of the sisters in that room would have chosen.

There is also the question of who gets flattened along the way. This year’s lineup ran gorgeously wide. Patti LaBelle. Brandy and Monica together, which had me hollering out loud. George Clinton hauling the Mothership back after fifty years. Babyface. Public Enemy. Soul, funk, gospel, the diasporic songbook laid out end to end. Breadth like that is the case some will make in its defense, and it is a fair one. Cardi was a single thread in a rich tapestry, not the entire cloth. Fine. But threads do not carry equal weight, and everybody knows it. A headliner sits at the peak of the bill for a reason. When the marketing leads with a certain image, that image turns into the shorthand for the weekend, top to bottom, in a way a Sunday tribute set never will. Our elders get honored. The young provocateur gets pushed out front. Read that gap however you like, but do not tell me it means nothing.

I keep circling back to the mothers and the daughters. I watched grandmothers, mamas, and teenagers drift through those daytime spaces together, three generations shopping the Black owned marketplace, sitting in on panels about ownership and wealth and healing. That intergenerational current is the soul of ESSENCE, the true reason for the pilgrimage. So what is a fifteen year old meant to make of a weekend that lifts up Michelle Obama’s discipline in one breath and, in the next, crowns a starkly different notion of what a woman’s body is for? I do not have a tidy answer. Honestly, there may not be one. What I do know is the organizers showed no sign of wrestling with the contradiction, and that absence of struggle is what nags at me. It read less like a considered stance on identity and more like a bet on ticket sales dressed in the language of empowerment.

Maybe that is the crux of it. Somewhere along the line the vocabulary of liberation curdled into a marketing tool, and now any booking, any brand deal, any filthy verse can be scrubbed clean by the word empowerment until it means precisely nothing. Cardi did not build that. A machine assembled around all of us did. Walking through a door somebody else propped open is no crime, and any of us would have done the very same.

Getting rid of her is not what I am after. I want the institution to look itself in the mirror and be plain about what it picked, and why it picked it. Celebrate us, by all means, mess and glory and all the shades in between. Just do not wave a pretty slogan in my face and expect me to miss which version of a Black woman keeps landing the loudest mic, while the other one gets a folding chair, a courteous little clap, and a panel that wraps up before the lights come on for the real show.

Staff Writer; Raven Jones

Raven writes about music, relationships, and the everyday ups and downs of Black women… She keeps it honest, encourages other sistas, and can be reached at RavenJ@ThySistas.com.

Unfortunately, fangirl behavior can cloud reality when this space becomes how all of life is coped with. For some when life gets hard watch your favorite K-drama…when depressed turn on BTS. I can definitely understand why one would do it; I admit if my morning is rough BTS is a happy encouraging go too. They have been a wonderful addition to my current playlists. However, some of us tend to overlook issues regarding race and racial appropriation when they happen. Furthermore, in this new found love of Korean men…we end up trashing Black men without cause. We can love the culture and its entertainment while still being honest about the state of the world and keeping our identity.

While I love cultures, I tend to stay away from artists that commit the appropriation crimes. If there is an issue whereby there is true ignorance, and that artist does the work to be better humans and that is reflected in their medium of art…I can forgive. However, the blatant appropriation with no regard to the feelings of the people that support your work is unacceptable. We need to be fair in this. If the behavior is in appropriate and disrespectful when we are dealing with White people…then it is the same for People of Color all over the world. If we are not fair across the board, we are sending a message that it is okay for some to not value our culture…this will never be okay as it further chips at respect. I for one am not a Black Pink fan for this very reason…I can’t abide the constant appropriation issue with what looks like no intention to fix the disrespectful behavior. Even if it’s your favorite artist and you choose to continue listening, it is important to be honest about the problematic situation. It’s known that even amongst our artists there are those that choose to separate the music from the individual. However, some of them can admit the individual is toxic and a terrible person. The same situation applies to other groups if you choose to keep listening.

It is important to understand yes there are those that are racist within the groups of whose culture you love. If you go visit those cultures, you may have encounters that remind you of this trust. No, it is not everyone…but again this is about being honest. We cannot equate all the people of a particular group to just what we see in the art of a few. This must also be considered when looking at men. Every Korean man is not the actor you love in the K-dramas. The idea that other groups of men are automatically better than Black men as a whole is a dangerous false narrative to feed yourself. There is good and bad in every group yes but remember this when you scold Black Men for this position regarding other groups of women. If you like what you like there is no need to drag Black men into that. Black men know our plight better than others because they too live it…this is still the truth.

Enjoy engaging in other cultures and meeting the people. Enjoy the art forms if they make you happy. I absolutely love music from all over the world, and it is the same with film & TV for me. However, I am not so far off into any fan girl behavior that I forget who I am, and the truth of the world I live in. These two things can exist in the same safe and both of them be true.

Staff Writer; Chelle’ St James

May also connect with this sister via Twitter; ChelleStJames.

Different games offer different lessons, depending on what you are looking for. I found that failing was something that has been very difficult for me to deal with, and that goes back to my childhood. Though I’ve gotten better, there was a point when I’d doubt myself so much that I would not be able to begin a task that I didn’t believe I could accomplish. The fear was absolutely arresting…and stifling. If you add to that a difficulty with repetition, you can see the vast limitations lying ahead.

When I started my gaming journey, I found that it did not come easy. From navigating the controller, to being able to see and navigate my surrounding…I found that I was constantly frustrated; more importantly I was afraid I would always lose so I began backing away from gaming. When I couldn’t get past a certain point, I wanted someone to get me past it, or I’d abandon the game. Though we’re talking about a game this behave can be seen in other areas of life.

I decided one night while battling with Smite that it was time to put this game to good use. You see, this wasn’t a life event…it’s game and it should be fun. With that fun, I had to learn to have the patience to learn. I needed to allow myself to lose and play again as many times as it took for me to no longer feel anxious. I realized it was okay to play in front of my friends and lose a match or die multiple times in an RPG. I learned to value the story in some of my games, value the process, and take the time to get better if I wanted to win. Okay, so navigating the controller didn’t come naturally to me…no problem. I needed to work with it until it became natural. If I was stuck on the tutorial for a week…so be it. As I continued to play I began to find my rhythm, and I no longer got that bad feeling in my stomach when I lost a match.

This might sound trivial, but the fear of failure is a real issue for many. How we navigate that fear is different for each individual. I found that gaming was a good platform for me to begin to work through those issues as it was a safe space. I wasn’t learning on something that could seriously affect my finances for career. However, the principles of working through a matter…or a battle until I was comfortable became universal. I began to slow down and allow myself the opportunity to practice, try, fail, and do everything over again. The challenge was to not put the controller down and walk away when I got frustrated. I realized that was the issue in principle in every other area of life. I needed to face my fear and work through my frustration. Gaming has its benefits. It helped me work through my fear of failure…it can still be a challenge, but I can et through it.

Staff Writer; Christian Starr

May connect with this sister over at Facebook; https://www.facebook.com/christian.pierre.9809 and also Twitter; http://twitter.com/MrzZeta.

One possible reason why Black women in their 20s are attracted to reality TV is the opportunity to showcase their talents, skills, and personalities to a large audience. Many of these women have aspirations to pursue careers in entertainment, business, or other fields, and reality TV can serve as a platform to gain exposure, recognition, and connections. For example, Cardi B, who is now a Grammy-winning rapper, started her career as a cast member of Love & Hip Hop: New York, a reality show that follows the lives of hip hop artists and their associates. Cardi B used her charisma, humor, and musical talent to attract fans and build her brand, eventually landing a record deal and becoming a global star.

Another possible reason why Black women in their 20s are attracted to reality TV is the chance to challenge stereotypes and represent their communities. Black women have historically been marginalized and oppressed in American society, and have often faced racism, sexism, and discrimination in various aspects of life. By appearing on reality TV, some Black women may seek to counter these negative images and show the diversity, complexity, and beauty of their identities and experiences. For example, Rachel Lindsay, who was the first Black lead of The Bachelorette, a reality dating show, said that she wanted to be a role model for other Black women and break the barriers of interracial love.

Another possible reason why Black women in their 20s are attracted to reality TV is the availability of new and diverse platforms and formats that cater to their interests and preferences. Some of these platforms include Zeus Network and Now That’s TV, which are online streaming services that feature original and exclusive content created by and for Black audiences. Some of the shows on these networks are:

• Zeus Network: This network, founded by TV producer Lemuel Plummer, partners with popular social media influencers and celebrities to produce unscripted and scripted series and videos. Some of the shows on Zeus Network include Baddies, a reality show that reunites former cast members of Bad Girls Club and social media influencers; Joseline’s Cabaret, a reality show that follows the lives of exotic dancers; and The Conversation, a series that features candid interviews and confrontations between famous personalities.
• Now That’s TV: This network, founded by TV producer Carlos King, focuses on producing quality and authentic content that showcases the stories and perspectives of Black people. Some of the shows on Now That’s TV include Big Lex Baddies Collection, South Central Baddies, and Young and Reckless.

By joining these networks and shows, Black women in their 20s may find more creative freedom, representation, and empowerment, as well as more financial and artistic opportunities, than they would on mainstream or traditional media outlets. Unfortunately the “fight culture” has spread at a rapid rate on reality television shows to where auditions are held to just fight!

However, being on reality TV also comes with some drawbacks and risks for Black women in their 20s. One of them is the potential for exploitation and manipulation by the producers, editors, and networks who have the power to shape the narratives, conflicts, and outcomes of the shows. Some reality TV shows may intentionally or unintentionally reinforce the stereotypes and prejudices that Black women face, such as portraying them as aggressive, loud, or jealous. For example, Omarosa Manigault, who appeared on The Apprentice, a reality show where contestants compete for a job with Donald Trump, was often edited to appear as a villainous and scheming character, which she later claimed was a result of racial bias.

Another drawback and risk of being on reality TV for Black women in their 20s is the exposure to public scrutiny, criticism, and harassment. Reality TV stars often have to deal with the opinions, comments, and reactions of millions of viewers, fans, and haters, who may judge, praise, or attack them based on their appearance, behavior, or choices. Some of these responses may be positive and supportive, but some may be negative and harmful, especially if they are motivated by racism, sexism, or jealousy. For example, Tayshia Adams, who was the second Black lead of The Bachelorette, faced backlash and hate messages from some viewers who accused her of being fake, boring, or unworthy of love.

In conclusion, reality TV is a genre of entertainment that attracts many Black women in their 20s, who may have various reasons and goals for joining. Some of these reasons may include the opportunity to showcase their talents, skills, and personalities, and the chance to challenge stereotypes and represent their communities. However, reality TV also poses some challenges and risks for these women, such as the potential for exploitation and manipulation by the media industry, and the exposure to public scrutiny, criticism, and harassment. Therefore, reality TV can be seen as a double-edged sword for Black women in their 20s, who have to balance the benefits and costs of being in the spotlight.

Staff Writer; Mz. Whitsdom

This talented writer is also an accomplished author. One may purchase any of the following books; The Ausome Parent Journal: Your Journey as a Parent of Children with Autism, and Think About the Future!: Goal Setting Exploration Workbook for Students Paperback on Amazon.

Perpetuating Stereotypes:

“Baddies” and similar reality TV shows often rely on sensationalized portrayals and scripted conflicts, perpetuating harmful stereotypes about Black women. Characters are frequently pigeonholed into predefined roles, reinforcing narrow and unrealistic expectations. This can lead to internalized stereotypes and affect young Black women’s self-perception, as they may feel pressured to conform to the dramatic and confrontational behaviors depicted on screen.

Normalizing Toxic Behavior:

The drama, confrontations, and discord showcased in reality TV culture can normalize toxic behavior and unhealthy relationships. Young Black women may inadvertently internalize these patterns as acceptable, impacting their expectations in real-life interactions. Normalizing toxic behavior can contribute to strained friendships, toxic relationships, and an overall erosion of healthy communication skills.

Materialism and Image Obsession:

Reality TV often glorifies materialism, creating an environment where value is placed on external appearances and material possessions. For young Black women, this can foster unrealistic beauty standards and an unhealthy emphasis on physical appearance. The pressure to conform to these standards can lead to body image issues and a sense of inadequacy among viewers who do not fit the narrow mold promoted by the show.

Educating Real from Television:

To mitigate the negative impact of reality TV culture on young Black women, there is a need for proactive education and media literacy initiatives. Empowering individuals to critically analyze the content they consume can help them distinguish between entertainment and reality. Schools, community organizations, and families can play a crucial role in fostering media literacy skills.

Media Literacy Education:

Integrating media literacy education into school curricula can equip young individuals with the skills to deconstruct media messages. This includes teaching critical thinking, helping students recognize manipulative editing techniques, and encouraging a nuanced understanding of reality TV as a form of entertainment rather than an accurate representation of real life.

Open Dialogue at Home:

Families play a pivotal role in shaping the perspectives of young individuals. Creating open spaces for dialogue about the unrealistic nature of reality TV, its scripted elements, and its potential impact on self-esteem can empower young Black women to navigate media influences with a discerning eye.

Promoting Positive Role Models:

Highlighting positive and diverse role models within the community can counteract the harmful influence of reality TV stereotypes. Celebrating achievements in various fields, including academics, arts, and sports, reinforces the message that success comes in many forms beyond the scripted drama of reality television.

Encouraging Critical Consumption:

Encouraging young Black women to consume a diverse range of media that reflects positive and authentic narratives is crucial. Exposure to a variety of stories, representing the richness of the Black experience, helps counteract the narrow and exaggerated portrayals often found in reality TV.

Reality TV culture, exemplified by shows like “Baddies,” can have a profound impact on the perceptions and behaviors of young Black women. By recognizing and addressing the perpetuation of stereotypes, normalizing toxic behavior, and promoting materialistic ideals, steps can be taken to mitigate the negative effects. Education, media literacy initiatives, and fostering open dialogues at home are essential components of empowering young Black women to distinguish between reality and the scripted narratives presented on television. Through these efforts, we can cultivate a generation of critical thinkers who approach media consumption with discernment and a strong sense of self-worth.

Staff Writer; Mz. Whitsdom

This talented writer is also an accomplished author. One may purchase any of the following books; The Ausome Parent Journal: Your Journey as a Parent of Children with Autism, and Think About the Future!: Goal Setting Exploration Workbook for Students Paperback on Amazon.

Influence on Self-Perception: Social media can have a profound impact on the self-perception of black teenage girls. The constant exposure to carefully curated images and highlight reels of others can create feelings of inadequacy, comparison, and pressure to conform to societal beauty standards. It is crucial to emphasize that social media often showcases an idealized version of reality and that everyone’s journey is unique. Encouraging girls to focus on their own strengths, talents, and values can help them cultivate a positive self-image and resist the negative effects of social media.

Amplifying Representation and Empowerment: Social media also plays a significant role in amplifying representation and empowering black teenage girls. It provides a platform for them to express their voices, share their stories, and connect with like-minded individuals who celebrate their identities and experiences. Social media allows them to engage with inspiring role models, learn about their history, and find communities that uplift and support them. By embracing their cultural heritage and celebrating their unique beauty, black teenage girls can use social media as a powerful tool for empowerment and positive change.

Cyberbullying and Online Harassment: One of the darker sides of social media is the prevalence of cyberbullying and online harassment. Black teenage girls may face unique forms of bullying, including racist comments, microaggressions, or the spread of harmful stereotypes. This can have a detrimental impact on their mental health, self-esteem, and overall well-being. It is essential to educate girls about digital safety, promote responsible online behavior, and provide resources for reporting and seeking support. By fostering a safe and supportive online environment, we can mitigate the negative effects of cyberbullying and ensure that social media remains a positive space for self-expression and connection.

Unrealistic Standards of Success: Social media often presents an unrealistic portrayal of success and achievement. Black teenage girls may feel overwhelmed by the pressure to achieve high grades, participate in numerous extracurricular activities, and excel in various aspects of their lives. It is crucial to remind them that success is subjective and cannot be defined by social media metrics or external validation. Encouraging them to set realistic goals, focus on personal growth, and prioritize their well-being can help counteract the negative impact of unrealistic standards and promote a healthy perspective on success.

Balancing Screen Time and Mental Health: Excessive screen time and constant exposure to social media can take a toll on the mental health of black teenage girls. It is important to encourage them to find a healthy balance by setting limits on screen time, engaging in offline activities, and practicing self-care. Promoting open conversations about mental health, fostering resilience, and providing support networks can help them navigate the challenges of social media. Encouraging them to curate their social media feeds, following accounts that inspire and uplift, and unfollowing those that trigger negative emotions can also contribute to a healthier online experience.

Social media can both positively and negatively impact the lives of black teenage girls. By understanding the dynamics at play, we can empower them to navigate the social media landscape with confidence and self-awareness.

Staff Writer; Mz. Whitsdom

This talented writer is also an accomplished author. One may purchase any of the following books; The Ausome Parent Journal: Your Journey as a Parent of Children with Autism, and Think About the Future!: Goal Setting Exploration Workbook for Students Paperback on Amazon.

The Woke Agenda

Oh yes, the both simultaneously-championed and ultimately demonized term, “woke.” The loudest protestors of the casting choice in this movie can also be found tossing around that term in the American political sphere. Terms affiliated with wokeness are “diversity” and “inclusion” and often brew up a bigger issue to them than just a child-friendly, Disney princess. In fact, The Woke Agenda, as it is defined on Quora Politics, is “a person/business/organization who believes they are progressive in their thinking and ideas but are actually backwards, bigoted, and racist depending on the topic.” The definition itself is very polarizing and many people would come to blows with just that alone. So, how can we break this down into more digestible chunks?

My mother had a perfect example for this wokeness definition.

Picture yourself at a beach with a stranger. You both are walking along the stretch and you come across a symbol written in the sand. Someone had drawn a fancy number and left it there as a message to all who come after. “It’s a six,” you say. “No, it’s definitely a nine.” You are on one side and they are on the other. Simple enough, until you add context. Let’s say that you’ve both read individual fortune cookies before strolling the beach. Your fortune said six is your lucky number and you’ll win a million dollars tomorrow. The stranger’s fortune said nine is the number of luck, and six is the number of doom and apocalypse. Now, neither of you are willing to budge from your perspective because budging, to you at least, means losing everything and gaining nothing.

These are the kinds of ditches we walk ourselves into when even our definitions lead us into a place of division. The original term “woke” meant to ‘be alert to racial prejudice and discrimination.’ It was soon broadened in the 2010’s to (much like an alternate fortune) encompass endless other ideals. The people on the beach feel like they are the championed ones meant to demonize the other when they are in fact two sides of the same troubling coin.

Whitewashing and Racebending in Film

We cannot even begin to understand the controversy behind casting a black woman as a fictional mermaid princess without first discussing the impact of changing the race of any character at all. “Racebending,” defined by Wordsense, is an informal term “to describe the act of playing the role of or casting someone in the role of a character of a different race or ethnicity.” While Merriam-Webster defines “whitewashing” as “altering something in a way that favors, features, or caters to white people…white actors cast in a nonwhite role.” To the casual eye, it could seem like racebending and whitewashing aren’t simply two sides of a coin, but the same side and the same coin. Writer Janna G. Noelle notices this and disagrees. In her article she argues that most beloved white characters were never written white at all. For characters such as Hermione Granger and Katniss Everdeen, inexplicit descriptions were used purposefully, opting instead to call them ‘olive-skinned’ or ‘frizzy haired.’ These characters were not white all along, but were interpreted as white much later by the casting directors. Noelle goes on to write “such is our society that in the absence of definitive racialized descriptors…the default human race is white.”

Some at this point may argue, does it even matter? Emma Watson did an amazing job as Hermione, and Jennifer Lawrence is Katniss Everdeen! What does the color of their skin have to do with the story?

Sometimes nothing. Other times, everything.

Noelle explains in her article that “racebending is transformative in the way that whitewashing isn’t.” Racebending adds a richness the same way adding lemon to water changes the flavor but not the water itself. For example, imagine going to see Patty Jenkins’ Wonder Woman and out walks Angela Bassett as Diana. Gal Gadot is an Israeli actress and did an amazing job as the Amazonian superwoman, but do you deny that a black woman trying to fight in a World War wouldn’t turn additional heads? Walking through that time in America as a brown-skinned demigod would definitely add flavors to the backstory that deepen the experience of the movie for bigger audiences.

Alternatively, what exactly did casting British-American actress Elizabeth Taylor add to the role of Cleopatra in 1963? Aesthetics? Star-power? Maybe. But what did it take away? Quite often the act of whitewashing a role forms a shadow over the very culture the film is tasked with highlighting. Take 2017’s Ghost in a Shell for instance. When Scarlett Johannson was cast to play Motoko Kusanagi derived from the popular Japanese anime-manga series, fans weren’t shouting their praises toward Hollywood, they were protesting. In her article Eliza Berman writes, “in some instances, it is not a case of an Asian role going to a white actor, but a bankable white movie star headlining a story that originates or takes place in Asia, like Matt Damon’s The Great Wall or Finn Jones in Marvel’s Iron Fist on Netflix.” Casting a white actor/actress just because of their star power with no consideration for how it takes away from the story of the minorities featured in it does exactly what racebending does not.

Brandy in Cinderella as the title girl herself, along with Whitney Houston as her magical fairy godmother is yet another instance of racebending adding flavor—not as an insult or shadow over the original, but as something of its own to expand on. No one would say that lemon water is no longer water. So, why would a black princess or a black mermaid no longer be true to the original story?

Princess Tiana vs. Black Ariel

Okay, I’m not naïve. I know things aren’t all kumbaya and happy town over there at Disney Studios. In fact, black people have been known to complain about black characters too. When Princess Tiana was announced to be Disney’s first black princess, there were black women upset about her having to kiss frogs, black people complaining about her screen time being dominated by being a frog, and upset that the Prince Naveen design veered away from traditional black male features. These comments greatly annoyed the animators, one in particular a black man credited with other Disney work like Snow White, causing him to say that overly racialized people take the fun out of animating altogether. By the time that Ariel was announced to be Halle Bailey, it seemed critics of another side issued their complaints as well. But when we take a look at the content of their discomfort, it wasn’t at all about whom Ariel would be kissing, what she’d be singing, or the time she’d get on screen…it seemed like it was just because she wasn’t white.

In an analysis on CNN Entertainment, AJ Willingham accurately debunks claims meant to shield subtle racist protests against a black Ariel. Online trolls said Ariel should be white because she is Danish in origin, to which Willingham politely reminds them that the short story says Ariel is from “far out in the ocean at the bottom of the sea.” No descriptive specificity for her race (and as we’ve established you don’t get to be default white). The next most popular argument against a black Ariel claimed a European monopoly on mermaids! Willingham again refutes this by illuminating the many Asian, Middle Eastern, and African folklore depicting underwater kingdoms, spirits, and ocean beings that take the shape of beautiful women.

While black people were up in arms about the representation discomfort they felt Princess Tiana could bring through the actual plot of the story and character interaction, those online trolls against Halle Bailey acting as Ariel rejected her due to her skin color and hair.

Pot and Kettle Fallacy

Worry not, we aren’t overlooking the blatant racial pandering. We are aware that some big studio versions of “diversity” and “inclusion” (oh no it’s all woke now) means grab the nearest woman and BIPOC actress to redo a role! We know that every interview with Halle is going to center around the fact that some little girl somewhere can ‘see herself and know she can be a princess too.’ We have seen this before, remember? During the release of Disney’s The Princess and the Frog, an article from The Associated Press took in the demographic of excitement and found it… surprisingly aged. It wasn’t the children taking photos and jumping on their bedsprings, it was mothers. In 2009, Malia and Sasha Obama were already the norm for kiddos youth, they had that representation, and the article noted “the historic nature doesn’t seem to resonate.” Black mothers who had grown up without that black princess, without a black First Family, without a black mermaid are the ones needing the healing of seeing one now. In an effort to show their children that your skin color won’t hold you back from your dreams, they are igniting more excitement and therefore fanning the flames of pander-minded Disney executives—of whom are still predominantly white and male. This, in turn, reignites the protests of those who smell the pandering and do not find themselves centered in the rewards promised, ushering in their vitriol.

And round and round we go.

The pot calling the kettle black is an idiomatic expression representing hypocrisy and projection. The pot is getting black and greasy just like the kettle is, and yet here they are. Here we are on the beach, staring at the number in the sand. Here we are talking about a movie for kids like it’s the next socio-political battlefield.

The original Little Mermaid came out in 1989. Art is reflected by its current society. It is now 2023. Why is there so much surprise at the change? Why is there so much controversy? Why are we all acting like frown-locked adults lined up against another slippery slope argument? Picture your niece and nephew or your child watching the characters they love come to life on a humongous screen. Ask them what they thought of the movie when it ends, and listen. Dare to become a kid again yourself. Because, when it comes to the socio-political controversy of American media, sometimes it’s better to be “unda da sea.”

Staff Writer; Erica Jackson

One may also connect with this sister online over at; E. Jackson – Medium.

“The skeptic in me would not allow me to be excites, like Chizi. Paulina had spent a lot of money on us and learnt a long time ago that kindness often came at a cost.”

The reader will experience an array of emotions, and the book could cause one to look at their own sibling and family relationships. I was on a rollercoaster while reading this book, but I had to know what would happen next. You’ll find that regardless of how you feel the pages will keep turning. There is just so much to unpack.

“Spear the rod and spoil the child. That was what Mama said when she broke a cane on Cheta’s back. Spare the rod and spoil the child. That’s what Mana said after she slapped Cheta so hard, her ring sliced Cheta’s face. Spare the rod and spoil the child. That’s what Mama said when she flung a frying pan at Cheta’s head and Cheta missed school because she had to get stitches at the hospital. Spare the rod and spoil the child. It was for our own good. That’s what they told us.”

The is a moment where each character could be the villain in the eyes of the reader depending on how your principles align. However, this book can allow readers to have open discussion regarding “Mommy” issues. That is a very difficult topic as mothers are placed on pedestals, and they tend to have the authority to change the narrative in their favor when they are the beloved yet feared matriarch. This is not the same grace given to fathers under any circumstance.  Allowing an open dialog about hurt that has experienced at the hands of ones mother is an opportunity for healing, accountability, and the building of positive relationships.

“You’re a coward. You knew how Mama treated me growing up was not right, but you never spoke up for me. You just sat there and watched it happen and you didn’t care because it wasn’t happening to you.”

The dynamics of the parental relationship can deeply affect that of siblings. The book shows this to be true at every turn. I’m definitely not one to give spoilers, but this is something else that can be flushed out in discussion. “How You Grow Wings” is a book that should be read individually, and collectively. Families can read this book together, it can be discussed in a therapy session, sistah circles can read together, brothers can read it together…this book should be read and objectively discussed in as many groups as possible. One of the beauties of literature is, we can use the text to work through the pains that are a reality. Books like this allow us to identify issues and get an understanding then apply that knowledge to self. This is definitely not an easy read, but it can be a life changing experience; I highly suggest embarking on this literary journey.

“How You Grow Wings” can be found at your local bookstore, Amazon, and anywhere books are sold.

Staff Writer; Christian Starr

May connect with this sister over at Facebook; https://www.facebook.com/christian.pierre.9809 and also Twitter; http://twitter.com/MrzZeta.

Granted, my thoughts on diss situations in Hip-Hop and what we’re willing to fuss about is a discussion for another piece. I realized a lot of sistahs are outraged that that Drake decided he’d come for these black women; to be fair there are also many black men that are speaking out, as the are outraged as well. I can’t lie; sistahs my first thought really was, are we surprised?

Let me give my disclaimer, Drake is not one of my favorite artists. I have a handful of songs that I like by him, but I’ve never been able to say there is a Drake album that I just love in totality. My issue with him as an artist has always been what at times appeared to be his misrepresentation of himself. He appears at times to be this hard rapper, but that’s not what we’re dealing with. Granted, I grew up in an era of Hip-Hop where the passive aggressive approach to dissing just wasn’t the way.

Drake is very passive aggressive and its weak to me. He rarely will say a name, and in responding to the diss on Twitter Megan Thee Stallion would make mention of this. Drake as been crying about women for a very long time everyone, and now he’s gone from crying to throwing a fit. It’s not cool, it’s disrespectful, and downright vexing.

I always figured it was only a matter of time before Drake stopped crying about the woman that hurt him, and start taking diss shots. Now, one could say Drake is defending his friend…interesting. However, even if that is the situation there is a criminal case that is currenting active. Why is he speaking on this matter? I’m fair and believe no one should be shooting people…so did he ask his friend why a gun was pulled in the first place? I mean friends should hold friends accountable right? You get where I’m going with that. If you think this water isn’t murky enough, why is he in Serena William’s business? Why is he concerned about what Ice Spice is going? There is so much that one could unpack…if they cared to spend the energy, and clearly, I’m one of those that do not.

Throughout his career, I feel Drake was simply given too many passive aggressive passes. Now he’s finally gone too far. For me, too far was long ago. All I ask is that we don’t be surprised by one of the kings of the passive aggressive whining. If you think I’m being to hard on him…just go back listen to those albums with your current state of outrage. Though it’s on the list of few songs I like by Drake, my introduction to him was “Brand New”. Truth be told he hasn’t changed much. His disrespect of these black women is upsetting, but sistahs unfortunately he hasn’t surprised me yet.

Staff Writer; Adonicka Michele