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Them Ain’t For Us

Its not for us. its not for them. its not for anyone I know. Even tho I watch a lot of tv, as is oft repeated in this space, I purposely avoid things that will affect me adversely. It may come from my background in working in news. I don’t watch hurricane devastation coverage. I don’t watch the lives of black men and women snatched from us on video live streams at the hands of those sworn to protect and serve us and I FOR DAMN SURE DONT WATCH THE COVERAGE OF THE TRIALS OF THOSE CRAVEN MURDEROUS ASSHOLES. I am not coming for, nor shading anyone that feels the need to watch these monumental events in our history. I promise Im not. It’s just not for me. I like my horror and scares on the big (or these days, the small) screen. Freddy Krueger, Yes Please! Lovecraft and that fine assed Michael K. White, Ill have a double order ma’am. Get Out is one of the best horror movies, maybe ever In my humble opinion. So imagine how excited I was to see the trailer for “Them”….its seemed like it was gonna comprise the elements of some of the aforementioned titles. I looked at the sneak peek, not as a knock off, like most of black twitter did. I wasn’t bothered by Dwights being the villain in this movie. I didn’t see another “Us”, I saw something that could be fresh and exciting….Lena Waithe’s name in the credits notwithstanding. Speaking of horrid creators and the horrid creations they create, Lena Waithe isn’t my fave. Queen and Slim was one of the worst movies ever- ‘cept for Uncle Bokeem. I can’t count the myriad ways that movie depressed my sensibilities and overall emotional state. The things that happened in that movie only happen in movies where people aren’t smart enough to make sane decisions id est going on the run with a Tinder date, who doesn’t seem to like you very much. I don’t like my black folks created by other black folks presented to black folks to be that damn stupid. I realize Im in the minority about one of her other creations, The Chi. I actually like it…but I don’t need my gangs to be the real gangs of Chicago, or for my street names to match….my brain operates on a larger scale than that. Art and reality don’t necessarily have to co-exist. If you think it does, please book a trip to Wakanda thru my travel agency, cash deposits only. NO REFUNDS. On to the reason for the season….the not so smartly named “Them.” Im not sure what crept into the mind of WRITER AND DIRECTOR Little Malcolm that made him say, “hey, you know what’s not been done on film before? the brutal rape of a black woman who sees her infant child being viciously murdered as she is being violated. Lena pass me my finest ‘I am not my ancestors shirt’ and lets get to creatin!” Yeah….thats not hyperbole….that shit actually happened in easily the worst episode of a horrid harrowing ride to nowhere. I, or someone equally as brilliant as me, coined the phrase “torture porn” and thats being kind to describe this fuckshit here. Rape, murder, some astonishing black blackface, an aborted lynching, some confusing dream sequences, extraneous plot lines take center stage. The only redeemable thing about this show, is the cast – gorgeous and talented tho they may be, they can’t save this drivel. Them is, on its face, a story about a upwardly mobile black family, escaping a horrific past, by heading west, to Compton, California to integrate a neighborhood. Soon strange things start to happen, aside from every white woman in the neighborhood setting up a desk outside the family’s crib to play their radios all day. (yeah). Supernatural things, which in my mind were a larger threat to the family, whose name I didn’t care to retain, than the white folks, but I guess when you throw everything against the wall to see what sticks, narrative storylines wont matter much. The younger black daughter is plagued by a malevolent force come to life in a book she is reading. The fact that that force changes from man to woman on a whim? DONT MATTER. The oldest daughter hates her mother’s trauma induced personality so much that she wishes to be white, and actually covers herself in white paint, after being befriended by a white girl that doesn’t exist. The mom is suffering the lingering mental effects of her rape and sons murder and believes she is gonna murder her own children, like some other black moms of Compton did before her. And dad….I really don’t know what the fuck was going on with him and his ever present friend in black face, but he does some crazy shit as he tries to hold his family together. And wait a minute, lest you think all the terrible shit was reserved for the blacks in the series, the lead Karen, is so desperate to preserve her whiteness, that she goes to see her wealthy estranged father for a loan to move off the block. Daddy dearest, agrees to finance her move, ONLY after she agrees to let her bathe him. She initially agrees, (LOL WHAT) but eventually decides to flee the scene to only be kidnapped, held captive and murdered by her friendly neighborhood milkman who she runs to for assistance in murdering the black family. YES BOYS AND GIRLS ITS THE FEEL GOOD MOVIE OF THE YEAR!!! So how does this all end up? FUCK IF I KNOW. The first five or six episodes and I hate to count episode 5, because thats where all the brutality takes place, at least provided a strong narrative. The ending is a clusterfuck of whogivesafuck. The penultimate episode goes into great detail explaining why the black families have such a hard time in this hood but comes very late in the

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What’s My Favorite Word?

I fucking love hip hop.  I don’t love all rap music.  But I fucking love hip hop.  I suspect many people that are celebrating or have celebrated the 20th anniversary of their 20th birthday share my sentiments.  I’ve seen that conflict rear its head again with the release of the oh-so-EPIC Straight Out of Compton, a biopic chronicling the, awwww, fuck that shit, you know who and what the movie is about.  I loved that fucking movie.  I fucking love them people.  I fucking love Cube – and his fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine assed son.  I fucking love Dre.  I fucking love Ren.  I fucking love Yella (not really, just stick with me).  And I fucking love EAZY. I still remember being over KT’s house listening to Boyz N The Hood, ON CASETTE, with the door locked, under the covers – cuz was there any other way for some pre-teens to be listening to that shit?  After one particularly scandalous line, I turned to KT and said “Did you hear what the fuck he said?”  Cursing wasn’t new to my ears, nor mouth, but to hear it said so brazenly in the form of music certainly was.  And with that prepubescent voice of Eric’s tugging at my heart, I fell in love with N.W.A.    Straight Outta Compton, Eazy Duz It, AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted, 100 Miles and Runnin’, Death Certificate (PERFECTION!) and E.F.I.L.4.Z.A.G.G.I.N., the beloved soundtrack to my senior year of  high school.  Things happened, people fought, people died, people left, people came – but nothing could take away the impact they had on my life, and the culture at large.  Murrica never saw anything like them before.  Young, brash, bold, unapologetically BLACK and telling their story in their words.   FUCK THA POLICE.  WHAAAAAAAAAAT?  YASSSSSSSSSSSS! The most dangerous group indeed. Approaching my 40th year on this thang, sadly and righteously, I still find reason to yell that sentiment.  Them boys were SO ahead of their time, so prophetic, so revolutionary, if only they hadn’t called me a bitch 5,000 times while they were introducing the masses to the strength of street knowledge.  Cue the conflict.  I can appreciate, in totality, their contribution to the culture.  But I also acknowledge, in totality, their detriment to it as well.  Them niggas done ensured that my grandson’s grandsons will proudly proclaim they a nigga and you a nigga and she’s a nigga, and that we some niggas and then will turn around and ask someone if they would like to be a nigga too. Them niggas done ensured that my granddaughter’s granddaughters will be called bitches, hoes, sluts, cee you next Tuesdays and will likely call each other that, as a fucking term of endearment.  They helped to ensure that black women are seen as objects, to be fucked, disrespected, BEAT(s by Dre) and tossed aside – to not even be the sum total of their parts. Ain’t none of that shit cool. And when I think about the effects of this music that are still being visited upon us today, it cuts deeply.  Black women and men are at war – largely – with each other.  No community can rise with that type of dissention in the ranks.   And Old Mya struggles with them attitude having niggas, whereas Young Mya would have just said that Old Mya just didn’t get it.  Both would be right.  There is no resolve to my inner conflict with these dudes. One thing’s for certain though, when it’s 90’s hip hop day in the old folks home and the song says “What’s My Favorite Word?” I’m going to scream that shit.  LOUDLY.   #StraightOuttaCompton #Rap #HipHop #Movie #DrDre #IceCube #Eazy-E #NWA  

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