Will it get the numbers necessary to stay on the air tho…I would rather see a TV series about Reginald Lewis, AG Gaston, or Robert Smith
The media business needs to make money.
Will it get the numbers necessary to stay on the air tho…I would rather see a TV series about Reginald Lewis, AG Gaston, or Robert Smith
Starz is 50 Cent nation. The fukk else they got besides 50 cent shows?
Naw I think we was beefing in another thread and you came with that comment it's all good we just talking shyt.Why you got beef wit me, Unc? I ain’t do nothing to you![]()
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We need another John Singletary or for Aaron MacGruder to stop bullshytting
What he do?fukk Aaron MacGruder
What he do?
The REAL PROBLEM is that non crime black shows are made by non-normal black people, white adjacent black people, "we gotta be inclusive of everyone" black people, anti black male hating feminists or fakkits for the most part so will either be laced with some bullshyt agenda or will be directed through non authentic black lenses
So what choice do we have![]()
Respectfully disagree. He was calling out a lot wrong things in black culture with comedy.Never cared for him or the Boondocks. Look I personally don’t care for ratchet shyt or culture, however I don’t like the idea of a dude who never grew up in those environments mocking them that actually do. That shyt ain’t cool. Yes theres room for criticism, but when that criticism is basically “lol nikkas amirite?” then you lost me.
Breh....that statement is a cluster fyck of stupid. So you are saying black people have to fit a specific mold to create a quality black product in film. Old movies like Life, Harlem Nights, Soul Food, Boomerang, The Wood haven't taught you it could be done without it being hood. I guess you need a real G like 50 who keep feeding you the same stereotypes that negatively impact black folks.
In December 2014, Chris Rock said of Hollywood:
“It’s a white industry. Just as the NBA is a Black industry. I’m not even saying it’s a bad thing. It just is. And the Black people they do hire tend to be the same person. That person tends to be female and that person tends to be Ivy League.”
Rock published his thoughts as the second wave of protests was ending in Ferguson. By January, #OscarsSoWhite was issuing a clarion call for popular culture to do something, and six months later, the culture’s victories were being tabulated. Essence Magazine dedicated its May issue to five Black women who were said to be “changing the game” in Hollywood: Shonda Rhimes (Grey’s Anatomy), Ava DuVernay (When They See Us, Selma), Debbie Allen (A Different World), Issa Rae (Insecure), and Mara Brock Akil (Girlfriends). Between them, at least three attended private high schools, at least three had parents with college degrees, and all of them attended college themselves—Stanford, Northwestern, Dartmouth, and UCLA are on the list1. Had the Essence article come out a few years later, Courtney A. Kemp (Power) would have assuredly made an appearance; Kemp received her bachelor’s at Brown University and her master’s at Columbia, attending not one but two Ivy League schools.
To go back to the 2020 National Book Award nominees for a moment, three of the authors were Black and two were Black women. Deesha Philyaw graduated from Yale, and Brit Bennet from Stanford. Jesmyn Ward—a Black woman, and the only woman to twice win the NBA for fiction (2011, 2017)—attended Stanford and then the University of Michigan, the latter considered a sort of public Ivy. In 2020, The New Yorker had nine visibly Black contributors (of which seven are men). All nine graduated from four-year colleges, and more than half gained their credentials at elite universities2. Based on publicly available biographies, compared to their non-Black peers, Black contributors had a higher rate of Ivy League attendance and were twice as likely to be college faculty.
Above-average privilege, particularly in terms of income, is the norm for successful creators both white and Black, but the ignorance that obscures the economic privilege of the latter group provides a bitter irony when you’re a formerly impoverished Black person operating in a highly educated milieu. The only time that someone recommends Colson Whitehead or Roxanne Gay to me—really, the only time any Black creator outside of music is recommended to me by a white person—is when the person I am talking to learns that I am from the Black underclass. Being Black and from poverty, I am what white Americans imagine they are learning about and “standing in solidarity” with when they imbibe popular culture’s Black offerings. But it never occurs to them that Whitehead and Gay come from a very different class to begin with, and are not necessarily standing in real solidarity with me.
The rarity of a film like Moonlight emphasizes what’s wrong with policies that aim to diversify race but not class. When HBO began its Access program in 2014, race, gender, and ethnicity were the only dimensions of diversity considered: poverty was not included as a dimension (and still is not).4 BFI, which provided the BAFTA diversity guidelines, included “lower socioeconomic status” as desirable for employment but not a priority; it was optional to hire someone from a lower socioeconomic background, and BAFTA left it up to the filmmakers to provide their own justification for who was of lower socioeconomic status rather than deferring to any government thresholds regarding poverty. That was six years ago. Last year, the Academy Awards enacted diversity standards of their own: “poverty,” “low-income,” and “lower socioeconomic status” are not mentioned as dimensions of diversity.
There is a real need to diversify pop culture, but it has to happen on more than one axis of oppression. As it stands, popular culture has been prioritized as a site heavily in need of racial change: it is the first and often only industry we expect to respond immediately to the oppression of the Black poor. That these efforts at diversification have not resulted in the Black poor gaining the opportunity to represent themselves in popular culture is a gross perversion of the stated goals of representation. Worst of all, we seem to be gaining in complacency with the status quo. Ibram X. Kendi, the prevailing Black consciousness of white liberals, gave popular culture as is his official sanction in February of this year, writing: “We are living in the time of a new renaissance—what we are calling the Black Renaissance—the third great cultural revival of Black Americans.” Kendi names nearly every Black creator mentioned in this piece but only to cite their existence in popular culture as proof of a race-wide achievement. The exclusion of the Black poor is never mentioned.5 The day before issuing that rosy pronouncement, Kendi and Keisha N. Blain (PhD, Princeton) published Four Hundred Souls: A Community History of African America, 1619-2019. According to Amazon:
“…this collection of diverse pieces from ninety different minds, reflecting ninety different perspectives, fundamentally deconstructs the idea that Africans in America are a monolith—instead it unlocks the startling range of experiences and ideas that have always existed within the community of Blackness.”
Out of 92 different Black writers (counting Kendi and Blain), 91
have bachelor’s degrees, 49 attended elite colleges, and 62 are college
faculty. You might not be able to sell a community history of Black
America without the continued suffering of the Black poor, but you
can apparently write the history of the “Black community” without
more than one or two of them.
Though obviously class-blind and constrained by racist stereotypes regarding poverty and Black identity, some portion of the racial progress that has occurred in popular culture over the last decade has been motivated, I hope, by a genuine empathy for the Black poor. There is still time to use that energy to direct popular culture towards policies that recognize class within race. But this will require that the privilege of acting as public representatives for all Black people be taken away from the Black middle- and upper- classes. Black Americans fortunate enough to be born outside of poverty need to establish identities that do not depend on erasing class differences or falsifying connections to poor black oppression. And white Americans will need to accept Black identities not based in poverty as perfectly “real” too—just not authoritative on Black poverty.
I don't think that what @Jazzy B. was saying if anything what he was saying is what this news article is talking about but in a more political correct way the whole of it is a really good read that you should check out when you have the time to read it here is some of the parts to it .
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Who Actually Gets to Create Black Pop Culture?
A closer look at the economics of Black pop culture reveals that most Black creators (outside music) come from middle-to-upper middle class backgrounds, while the Black poor are written about but rarely get the chance to speak for themselves.www.currentaffairs.org
Yall dont support black scifi so we get this
50 had a tv show about a dude that went to jail and became a lawyer but where was y’all at to push that show smh stfu
Like Black Panther?
Because Coogler had virtually total control over it and still ruined it by undermining Black men and promoting Black women at their expense along with Black weakness.
This why I can't watch the "raising kannan" shyt. nikka made a biographical show about about a fictional dope dealer. Like whatDon’t y’all get tired of this shyt? How many different ways can the same story get told?