Photograph of a Female Pop Star
This snapshot of a black pop star should be the reference photo for an oil painting. I know there has to be a living artist somewhere on the planet doing European classical/romantic/rococo oil paintings of contemporary subjects—like an exquisitely detailed rendering of a small woman in a huge SUV. This moment in time with the pop star captures the depths of her capacity to continue to be human. This expression of poise on her face should be regarded as unexpected by the many millions who have seen her flash her buttocks on stage. This visage is what parents expect to see in their adult children when they are pleased with the complex maturity that grew out of their crib. But I doubt that few parents plan to see their child on stage flashing her ass (especially parents from Barbados). Why do I sound like some bitter old man “hating” on this?
I challenge you, you person of wisdom, grace and love, to find ten women of African descent born and raised in the United States that look just as “good” as this pop star—just as physically fit (with the same body weight)—just as poised—who hold advanced degrees in the sciences. What pisses me off is that the patriarchal process of socialization damn-near forces such an intelligent-looking woman to shake her money maker. Not every extremely attractive woman—especially Black women—should end up in some line of business where the sale of her body is relevant. Instead of sipping on an iced drink from a red straw, saying “whatever” and moving on, when you really dig deep into this issue you will find me standing there singing strange funk songs to myself. It really irks me, lady, when you want to start looking into this after you get old and ugly.
Here are a few selections from the Bryan Wilhite house of mourning:
- “Mae Carol Jemison (born October 17, 1956) is an American physician and a former NASA astronaut.” She is older than me (but still fine). I nearly passed out when I found out about her.
- Dr. Lillian McLean Beard is much too lady-like to participate in this writing.
- I have not seen the sisters listed in “Blacks in the Sciences at UCSB” in years. My apologies for sounding so superficial—but what happens to our bodies goes deeper than just selling looks.
- “I am a second year doctoral student in the department of Epidemiology at the UCLA School of Public Health. I was born and raised in Senegal and came to the United States after high-school to pursue higher education.” She is not an American citizen. She will probably be leaving soon.
- I remember hearing that Polish-born pop singer Basia Trzetrzelewska is a mathematician—but her African descent is way too ancient for this subject matter.
- “Making Black Girls ‘Ladylike’ Discourages Achievement?”
- “Maiysha is the Future”
- “Flippant Remarks about the Double Life of Véronique”
You see, kids, being a ‘traditional’ American pop star is like being a martial artist without taking Qigong: in the short term, you will kick much ass but in the end there is too often no preparation for old age. So this ‘flower of youth’ image of Rihanna is always tragic-looking to me. I am the grandchild of this style of beauty—and I spent my formative years living with a super-fine woman’s dramatic decline. I guess I must be biased. You do the science my fellow Americans: find the 10 women!
So here are some female pop star questions for which I have some post-pubescent answers:
Female Pop Star: I know you want me. Don’t you? Ha!
rasx(): No one can actually have you. Sometimes you may look at a photo of yourself and talk about the person in the photo like the person is not you. You are too much for one person but not enough for two. You bring misery into the world through the awesome power of desire. It is a delicious misery that people are willing to pay money for… so go collect bills, baby girl…
Female Pop Star: Can you see me having fun?
rasx(): I see you at work. I respect your dedication to a task. I had a full childhood. I know what fun is…
Female Pop Star: Don’t you understand that I am helping young people dream?
rasx(): You are helping young people lose themselves in your expensive productions. There are dreams of self-empowerment and there are dreams of captivity. You are taking part in an unspoken agreement that basically says, “You people ain’t shit and I am the shit. You can never be me so why not pay money to see me?” Your lifestyle burns so much resources that it is scientifically impossible for every person on Earth to “live” like you do. You are effectively demanding that there must be a privileged minority that has the “right” to waste while the rest of the world watches you with envy.
Female Pop Star: (Playfully, sarcastically) Huh? What did you say?
rasx(): Girl, go get that paper! Is you doing your thang? You got to use what you got to get just what you want. Smokin’!
Female Pop Star: Are you trying to put me out of business so I can’t be an independent woman? Are you a little baby trying to cripple me?
rasx(): I ain’t go’ lie to you. You are a very sexy mama. But my little fetish is getting a body like you at a discount or not at all—I want to get off with you without telling a single lie… I even dare to “dream” that a woman like you would actually seek out me! Weird, huh? So dig: Vandana Shiva is an independent woman. Wangari Maathai is an independent woman. As of this afternoon, Janelle Monàe is an independent woman. Save your money. Don’t go into debt in order to look like you are “rich” to people that are “poor.” Even L.L. Cool J drove around in a bucket well after he blew up. Your biological clock is ticking in a world ruled by recessive-gene patriarchs from a fictional alien planet. Save your money, G.
Female Pop Star: You so crazy! Ha! Ha! Look. I got to go.
rasx(): She ain’t conscientious about her talk! She don’t give a damn about her walk! She puts the f in afterthought. But when it comes to funk, she never faults. She don’t claim to be a super freak. She just wanna dance to a freaky beat. She don’t claim to be another girl. She don’t claim to be a girl o’ the world. She ain’t a girl o’ the world. Girl ain’t a cover girl. She ain’t a girl o’ the world. Girl ain’t a cover girl. She ain’t a girl o’ the world. Girl ain’t a cover girl…
By the time rasx() finishes singing the song the Female Pop Star waves, smiling… walking away turning back like a trained dancer, she walks some more, dances sexy a little and gets in the car waiting for her in front of the hotel. Her driver pulls off. The young white dude working behind the desk in the lobby claps for me. This makes the security guard posted behind me a few feet away relax. I bow for both of them and walk to the upper-floor elevators.