What they’ve got wrong is that there isn’t a free speech issue here. Free speech is about not being prosecuted by your government for expressing your views. A private company is not obliged to give platforms to racists in the name of free speech. If a private company willingly gives a platform to racists, then they should be prepared to have their reputation suffer accordingly. No-one would be denying the racists of Reddit their constitutional rights to free speech by banning them from the website. Just like you couldn’t go running to the Supreme Court if you were ejected from a houseparty for being racist.

So let’s imagine Reddit is indeed a giant houseparty taking place in a great sprawling mansion and see what a tour feels like, All the examples that follow are from real, heavily-upvoted Reddit Racism.

You arrive at the Reddit party. Food, drink and conversation flow and everyone seems really friendly and almost awkwardly polite. As you walk through the many rooms everyone seems to be having a good time, seems like a pretty great place. You join in a conversation: people are discussing an airline, one that has put in place a policy of not allowing unaccompanied minors to be seated next to adult males. The general opinion in the group is that this is ridiculous: How likely is it for a child to be placed next to some predator? Then one of the group says:

“Statistically its probably less safe for them to sit next to blacks as well.”

Your eyes bulge. Everyone bursts out laughing.

Someone adds: “That’s why they should be moved to the back of the plane!” More laughter. You reel with the shock, and back away.

Shaken from the encounter you decide to go round the party to listen in to some more conversations. And you start to notice a pattern: polite, friendly conversation, corny jokes. And never a missed opportunity to say something racist. Most of the time the racism goes unchallenged, is laughed at, is agreed to, is celebrated and is the spark to whole new threads of racist conversation.

“I asked my dad if he was racist” you hear said, “he told me he doesn’t hate black people, just niggers”

A whole group of people are agreeing that black people don’t tip. “Fucking truth. Here in Detroit, even the black waiters and waitresses don’t want to serve black people because they know they don’t tip.”

You hear the same “joke” about ten times: “I’m not racist. Racism is a crime, and crime is for black people”

More and more of it, you think you’re going crazy.

“It’s a shame that so many black people chalk up using proper English as acting white.”

“Feces are people, my friend…”, “Well, 3/5 of a person…”

Someone gathers a crowd, hushes them down and reads their haiku on the subject of slavery, to rapturous applause:

“Lord, let me be free

How am I supposed to pimp

With a sugar cane?”

You run upstairs to try to find a quiet place to gather your thoughts. Instead you find a great room decked out like a church dedicated to the genocidal hatred of black people. On the walls are ridiculous caricatures of black people, with greatly oversized lips, eating fried chicken and watermelon. There’s a group in discussion, and the topic up for debate is “Why don’t we pay black women to have abortions?”.

“I have to find the host of this party” you think. “Have to tell him what’s going on here”.

When you find him, you tell him about the weird cult gathered to preach the hatred, exclusion and elimination of black people, here in his house. He seems unconcerned at the news.

“Yeah, we don’t get in involved unless it has something to do with rules,” He says.

“Rules? Surely they’re breaking the rules. What are the rules?”

“Here”

“No child porn and no sharing of personal information? That’s it?”

“That’s it. We’re a place of free speech, and It’s not in our interest to make moral judgements.”

I leave you to make your own moral judgements on Reddit.

It wasn’t until we started having class discussions about African-American autobiography that I’d realized I’d been praying to Satan. I’d gotten what I’d wanted, but in a way that was so mind boggling and distorted I wanted to close my textbook and leave on a regular basis. What could possibly be so terrible about studying African-American autobiography? What could be so wrong with analyzing Washington, Du Bois, and Douglass alongside the likes of Franklin, Thoreau and Whitman?

Literary colorblindness. Literary colorblindness is best described as evaluating someone’s writings based solely on their words, meaning you may not fully consider the author’s race as the backdrop. Sounds awesome, right? Sounds like a good old fashioned we-are-the-world type throwback?

Wrong.
Dead. Wrong.

Case in point, we began studying W.E.B. Du Bois’ works and his life as an African-American in the 19th century. We discussed a story of his life wherein as a black professor in Atlanta he’d heard about an upcoming lynching. He decided to write a letter against it, and had plans to deliver it soon. When he’d finally gotten ready to deliver said letter, he came into town to find the man already lynched and his fingers and toes being displayed casually at a market nearby. He kept the letter to himself, and walked home.

When the question of how we viewed that story was brought to the class as a discussion question, the girl sitting right next to me chimed in that “W.E.B. Du Bois always ran away from his problems”. She went on to say that he also may have had an “anger issue” that he’d never dealt with and that he could’ve tried to stop the lynching. I distinctly remember my eyes widening and the fire I was about to breathe welling up in my lungs as I looked over at the professor. I waited for him to explain something, anything that would make up for the nonsense that’d just been said. Instead, he looked right at her and nodded. He agreed that W.E.B. Du Bois had an issue with running away from problems and the girl started to compare W.EB. Du Bois to Benjamin Franklin and made sure to remind everyone that Franklin often stood up for what he believed in.

Why wouldn’t a black man in the 19th century be interested in talking to an angry mob of white people about the problem with lynching in the Deep South? Why would a wealthy white man (pick any century you want to) have no problem expressing his opinions among other wealthy white men? These are the questions that never came up during the discussion, as I sat there, bewildered. I realized that the discussion was purely about the actions of Du Bois as compared to other writers, but without the emphasis on his being a PoC. It was borderline cringe worthy to hear synonyms for “coward” thrown around when speaking about an objectively courageous man for his time.
After class and after discussions with other PoC about this strange phenomenon in academia, I came to find out this wasn’t an isolated incident. PoC were having their color erased but still being discussed as authors on par with the dead white men. By putting PoC in literary “whiteface” they’d become just as worthy to discuss (just don’t mention that they weren’t white, please). This not only explicitly invalidates the meaning behind a lot of PoC work, it successfully makes it impossible to talk about racial issues that prevented PoC voices to exist in the golden ages of American literature. Douglass might as well be Thoreau. Unfortunately, I believe that the “equality” of literature between dead white men and PoC is meant to be a pseudo-compliment. Except that PoC were never on par with dead white men, and were often writing in the opposition of such literary predecessors. If PoC are brought into the discussion to only talk about the surface of discrimination they wrote about and not about why they were writing such stories in the first place, major points of PoC literature can and will be missed.

As far as college goes, I guess I can say I’m partly happy my prayers were answered. At least PoC are making it into literary canon to be studied alongside the dead white men. Even if their words are being misinterpreted, some new voices are finally being heard. Now, if only we could translate their words back into color…

But unlike Regular Joe, Barack Obama didn’t have a happy ending.

Mitt Romney came out swinging from the get go. He was very aggressive and flighty, constantly attacking Obama on any and every front while hyperactively avoiding any association with the GOP platform or even the former governor’s own public voting record. Romney has ran on a platform of cutting taxes. I’m 90% sure he has a flatbrim cap somewhere on his campaign tour bus with stitched white lettering reading “Imma Cut Dem Taxes.” When confronted about this by Barack Obama, Mitt Romney simply denied it. It seemed like something out of the opening verse of a Shaggy song.

“Hey, Shaggy.”

“Yeah, Mitt.”

“Barack Obama caught me.”

“Caught you?”

“Caught me cuttin’ taxes.”

“With who?”

“The banking industry next door. What should I do man?”

“Just say it wasn’t you.”

“Alriiiiiiight.”

Obscure R&B references aside, I can hardly even get mad at ol’ Mittens for this one. It was a dumb tactic, probably one he never thought would work. Keep in mind, in this same debate he also threatened to fire the moderator of the debate and compared Barack Obama to one of his teenage sons. These almost seem like the blunders of a campaign who is purposely trying to toss the election. The conspiracy theorist in me suspects that they’d like to get Paul Ryan off this sinking ship so they can save him for the 2016 election. If Obama had held Romney’s feet to the fire on any of his campaign statements, his party’s goals, or even the stuff Romney was saying in that very debate, the President would’ve won handily.

But he didn’t.

One thing that attracts voters to Barack Obama is his unyielding coolness. He always stays calm and collected in the center of the political circus. In 2007 and 2008 when both Democrats and Republicans were attacking him with lies about his birth certificate and his religion, Obama never slung mud back, instead insisting that we should all calm down, be adults, and stop letting petty politics distract us. It was so refreshing for a young voter like myself. In the craze of the final years of Czar Bush, Barack Obama was a soothing voice in the Washington chorus.

Times have changed though.

The Republicans have spent four years re-writing their disastrous eight years in power as the fault of the current President. We’ve heard all the metaphors before, but it’s still true: Barack Obama inherited an absolute mess from his predecessor, and by all quantifiable accounts, he is doing a fine job of cleaning it up. However, facts don’t mean nearly as much as feeling, and the GOP have been hard at work making people feel like their problems are the fault of the President. Struggling families are angry at the only person who has an interest in helping them. The time for playing it cool is over. Obama needs to defend himself, his administration, and his actions.

On Tuesday night, if Obama had attacked Romney once for his statements, if Obama had passionately defended himself just a little bit in the face of Romney’s outright lies, I’m convinced he would’ve won. Imagine the devastation to Romney’s campaign if after comparing the President to one of his sons, Obama had said something along the lines of: “I am not your child, Governor Romney.” Something as simple as that could’ve sunk Romney’s campaign in just a few words. He could have won this debate.

Instead, the President kept it cool.

Instead, the President lost.

I don’t want the election to go down the same way. I don’t want to have to say, “Well, Obama could’ve won it if he had just been more aggressive.” If Barack Obama has to go down, I want to see him go down fighting. Just like in the debt ceiling negotiations, Obama’s cool is allowing the GOP to define the terms, pace, and conditions of the discussion regarding who is better suited to lead this country for the next four years. I don’t want a President who will keep it cool while I’m being kicked in the face with student loan debt, rising housing costs, and poor health insurance. I elected Barack Obama to fight for me, and I’m looking forward to the day when he does.

For the sake of all of us, I’m hoping Barack Obama loses his cool and loses it soon.

Spoiler alert for TMP’s pilot episode.

I’m no television buff, but I’ll suffer a few boob-less hours in front of the “boob tube” if it’s worth it. I’m no huge fan of Fox either, so tracking down “The Office” veteran and supposed comedienne Mindy Kaling’s new project–interestingly titled “The Mindy Project”– was something of a small feat for me. Until my first viewing of the pilot, I hadn’t paid much attention to Mindy Kaling, outside of the fact that I knew she was wasting her (and my) time on The Office. Aside from a few quotes floating about on Tumblr and some admittedly funny out-of-context photosets, I hadn’t been truly exposed to the talent everyone seemed to gush about. When Fox announced her new show and “dropped” the pilot early, I decided to dive in.

And I swear to God, I was ready for Mindy Kaling. I was ready to go hard in the paint for another cute, forward woman of color; it is, after all, my specialty.

I was not ready for a shitshow of haggard jokes and regurgitated Tina Fey quirkiness–but now I can say that I’m truly, truly over Mindy Kaling…for now.

A little background: “The Mindy Project” follows titular character Mindy Lahiri, a Bridget Jones-esque character with a booming career as a doctor and the saddest love life on the down-lo. Her love life is so sad that it consumes her entire show. She’s clumsy, awkward and perpetually unsure of her male interests; she runs off at the mouth, constantly embarrasses herself, takes cues from the romantic comedies she is obsessed with–but do I seriously need to go on? Right off the bat, the show’s premise seems to be another dump in the long line of toilet-worthy romantic comedy tropes. With lines and giggles and smiles that I have only seen on the white heroines of these types of movies, Mindy tends to fall flat.

I have to admit: I initially wasn’t bothered with the idea of watching Mindy Kaling struggle through her relationships. Curious, maybe–but not bothered. After all, relationships are tough–and the added component of watching a woman of color flounder her way through love and lust like we all do (with just a tad more comedy) was alluring enough for me to give it a chance. Of course, I wasn’t expecting any deep discourse or any rallying cries for women of color exclusively; the most I could just hope for was for Kaling to be…well, funny.

So I waited. And I waited. And I waited.

The Mindy Project reads like a mishmash of the shit Hollywood expects from female writers nowadays. Now that Bridesmaids has finally opened the floodgates for poop jokes and “forever alone” storylines, it’s been really hard to get certain things across to female writers and the producers who support them. I’m really over the concept of the awkward, fucked-out-of-love main female character; you know, the woman who runs into more cringe-worthy (but really ’funny’) hardships than she does love interests. Sprinkled throughout Bridesmaids was the idea that women could be strangesf and silly and shit in the middle of the street; that abnormality was the new normality and Kristen Wiig too has a had a day just like yours. I’m not particularly wary of the need to connect with female audiences or the need to ensure again and again that women can too be fucked up and funny. I’m just wary of the fact that we keep forgetting to write something else.

In the pilot episode, Mindy Lahiri gets drunk at her ex’s wedding, tells embarrassing stories about him, insults his new wife and crashes out of the party and into a pool. She gets strangely specific advice from a long-sunken Barbie doll (“get your shit together or no one’s ever going to love you”) and cries underwater when even the doll admits to having a boyfriend. Everything revolves around her also sunken love life. She has the hardest time realizing that she’s not part of a romantic comedy. She spends half her time trying to decipher the code to her unpopularity with men and the other half insisting she’s dateable.

She somehow manages to fit in being a doctor between her hilarious strings of fuck-ups, but it’s hard to buy completely; in fact, it’s a little confusing. I just spent all this time being convinced that Lahiri is incompetent, awkward and even a little immature–but apparently she’s competent enough and not too self-absorbed to dart between taxis barefoot to deliver a patient she had already  totally forgotten about while being drunk and breaking and entering into her ex’s home. Alright. Okay.

This isn’t even half of the episode, to be honest. To be even more honest, I didn’t finish the episode.

Yeah, I totally hear you; maybe it is douchey to critique an episode you didn’t even finish. It’s also douchey to sell the same tired concepts and ideas under the guise of a new project and expect me to sit through it. You know, even now I don’t doubt that Mindy Kaling has talent. Maybe it’s because I’m an optimist, or because I really understand the way the television industry works. Do I blame Mindy Kaling exclusively for giving me the same kind of boring I’m-so-great-what’s-wrong-with-me bullshit that usually helps Tina Fey stick out of a line up? Nah, not really. But just because the blame does not rest solely upon her shoulders does not mean that it can’t be spread around. In the same way Mindy Kaling shares in the failure of this pilot, she shares in my disappointment.

Female characters and femininity in television has been changing for sure; a few decades ago a character like Mindy Lahiri would be unimaginable. A woman who doesn’t have it altogether? A woman who flirts kind of desperately and gossips kind of easily and self-depreciates as quickly as she breathes? Unthinkable, perfectly ludicrous. For all my bitching and moaning, Lahiri as a character is still worthy of a thumbs-up.

Even as I groan my way through her pilot, I have to admit that it’s refreshing to know that Lahiri is only a few degrees away from us in some areas. It’s just that I’m not interested. I don’t want to see Mindy face plant every five seconds. I don’t want to be convinced of her normalcy, how she’s just like every other woman out there–weird and nervous and awkward. I’m tired of the idea that women are perpetually fucked up being used as the source of comedy. The self-depreciating era of humor, while original in its genesis and revolutionary in its application to the lives and minds of female characters, died a particularly invigorating death ages ago. The Mindy Project is beating the shit out of a dead horse.

It’s not only just that; I’m also just not used to stuff like this. I’m not accustomed to a woman of color having to resort to the same kind of tactics that romantic comedies use to put asses into seats. I’m definitely not used to the idea of having to grapple with supporting a woman of color who could’ve done so much but put very little on the table. Some part of me wants to blindly go forth in the name of  solidarity, but the other, more sensible parts of me just can’t swallow the bullshit.

Thus, I’m still on the hunt for the perfect show of support.  The obvious choice would be to recommend it to friends and family, but I’m only good at bullshitting about my own fuck-ups, not anyone else’s. Could I really enthusiastically submit people to Mindy Kaling’s various attempts at having Kristen Wiig and Liz Lemon’s love child? Do I really want to have to answer to why someone so good could create something so horrendously bad? Is it honestly that serious?

The answer is no. It’s also “maybe,” but only because I still feel that I can, someday, stir up something in my heart for this show that isn’t annoyance. I’m not banking on this though, and neither should you.

You know when people just try shit?

Yeah, you do–you just thought of someone who has. I’m no professional, but plenty of experience and contact with People Who Try Shit has convinced me that there are certain class of people put on this Earth to consistently work your last goddamn nerve. I pegged Lupe Fiasco as one of those people months ago.

Trust me when I say that things have not always been this way. A year ago, it would’ve been really hard for me to accuse Lupe Fiasco of Trying Shit. Even now I’m totally aware that little white suburban kid who scoffs openly at the idea of Kanye West is probably somewhere disagreeing with me, and that’s fine. I can agree that sometimes Lupe Fiasco does not come off immediately as a Person Who Tries Shit, which automatically means that he is indeed Trying Shit all the time.

I’ve been watching Fiasco’s slow descent into the ever tricky “educated nigga” trope and the fall has been a slippery one. You’ve heard of the educated nigga–the kind of dude who would rock dashikis if he could find one, who preaches about empowering the black community but still uses the same tired ideas about black people in order to build a connection. The kind of dude who forgets that a nigga isn’t concrete or a particular mindset. You know, the kind of dude who spews the same kind of shit he claims to fight and tells you he’ sjust “being  real.” Case in point: “Bitch Bad,” Lupe’s newest foray into the kind of “let-me-show-you-how-to-feel” shit that gets niggas like him in trouble.

Do not confuse my criticism with derision: even though I’m not all about Lupe’s approach, I’m about his goal. There’s never really a bad time to talk about misogyny, black women and hip-hop: I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again. These are important conversations to have! But if the majority of your conversations are reduced to finger pointing and shaming, then I have to call a party foul, take a seat in the corner.

Educated niggas like Lupe Fiasco forget a lot of things. They forget that women are people, that kids can understand context and that the Internet is not the bastillion of parenting. The idea that young black males learn how to live, eat and shit from their mothers? Over it. The idea that young black girls emulate the booty-quaking styles of video vixens? Double over it. The subliminal messaging to parents that long for the old school style of parenting where parents were all up in your shit? Bleh. The overt, hard-to-miss finger shaking at black women for failing at everything in life? Dude.

I don’t doubt that Fiasco was looking for a conversation; I’m just aware that he ended up at the wrong one. His goals were admirable: it’s not often that we talk about black women’s relationship with the misogyny found in hip-hop and rap. When we do, it’s unfortunately washed in similar tones: with a lack of understanding about black women and a misconception of how relationships to music work. Do I doubt that there’s a black girl out there confusing her femininity with the famed “bad bitch?” No, but I also know that this is not the swarming epidemic that Fiasco is making it out to be. I also know that if educated niggas like Fiasco spent less time on the outside looking in (and writing raps about what they say) and, you know, actually sat down with a real live black girl or once in a while, we could start crafting conversations that were aware, empathetic and didn’t make me barf in my mouth.

What does “Bitch Bad” do but not open up yet another conversation in which the black woman is considered at fault for the failure of those around her or that of herself? I’m tired of having to wade through the conversations of grown ass men who should know better.  I’m tired of black misogyny being disguised as some kind of teaching point. I’m tired of the black woman being the base of all that is good or holy in the black family. That’s just now how shit works.

Mostly I’m just tired of educated niggas like Lupe Fiasco who waste their intelligence on tired-ass songs like these. Come sit by me, dude, and a learn a little something.

Let’s call these laws what they are. They’re a poll tax. Poll taxes have been outlawed in the United States for decades, as their only purpose is to discourage poor people from voting. Just because you move the tax from the polling location to the DMV, doesn’t mean it somehow becomes legal. As long as licenses cost money, and as long as you need a license to vote, you’re preventing people with less money from participating in the basic function of a Democracy. It’s classist. It’s racist. It’s disgusting.

I think we can balance it out though. We just have to appeal to the most efficient and understanding organization in the government: state departments of motor vehicles. Who’s more flexible and helpful than your local DMV? Sure, if you need to get a new license or register a vehicle, the DMV is happy to not assist you in any way at all, but what I’m suggesting would actually appeal to their employees’ sense of patriotism, general dissent, and unrelenting laziness. From now until November, all drivers licenses should be free.

Now, before you misunderstand me, I don’t mean that anyone should just be able to waltz down to a DMV and get a license just by asking nicely. No, you should still have to take the test and do your parallel parking, three point turns, and whatever else you have to do these days to legally get behind the wheel of a car. I’m just saying that at the end of that, you shouldn’t have to pay a dime to get your license. This isn’t socialism either. It’s just a way to make sure everyone who can vote will be able to. The pretend voter fraud will still be eliminated and poor people will still be able to elect Barack Obama to his second term as President of the United States. Everyone’s happy, except for Mitt Romney and his little brother Paul Ryan.

We need to contact state DMV’s and state officials and let them know that this program isn’t really optional. Again, poll taxes are illegal, so until drivers licenses are free in these states, these voter ID laws are unconstitutional. Make no doubt about it, as of right now, it technically illegal to have to pay for a driver’s license in Georgia, Indian, Kansas, Mississippi, Pennsylvania, or Tennessee, so call them up and let them know. Seriously. Flood their offices with calls. If there’s one thing DMV workers love, it’s talking on the phone, but they’re bashful sometimes, so if they pretend like they don’t want to talk, just call them again until you get through.

• Georgia Department of Driver Services - (404) 657-9300
• Indiana Bureau of Motor Vehicles – (888) 692-6841
• Kansas Division of Motor Vehicles – (785) 296-3963
• Mississippi Department of Driver Services – Email LWilson@dps.ms.gov and ask them for their phone number.
• Pennsylvania Department of Transportation Driver and Vehicle Services - 1-800-932-4600
• Tennessee Department of Driver Services - (615) 253-5221

Together, we can reverse this discriminatory law, and irritate the piss out of a bunch of salty DMV workers. It’s a win win. It’s the American Dream.

Although her show takes place in New York City, arguably the most ethnically diverse place on Earth, the world of “Girls” revolves around four white women. The only people of color who appear on screen are homeless, taxi drivers, and/or drug dealers. Despite the controversy, Dunham has never seriously addressed the lack of diversity in her show in previous interviews. In fact, the NPR interview conducted today marks the first time she has talked about the issue without openly laughing at the question before saying “whatever.”

“Writers are supposed to write what they know,” Dunham told a reporter. “I don’t know any black people, so how do I write about them? I’m not sure how they think. I’m not sure what they feel. I’m not even sure they exist. Is there any conclusive evidence that people can really be black? I don’t see color, so I honestly don’t know.”

Many members of the black community who enjoy the antics of the “Girls” girls are displeased that the creator of the show not only included no non-white cast members, but consistently resorted to tired stereotypes when the characters are forced to interact with people of color.

“The show is hilarious. Don’t get me wrong,” said avid fan and black woman Keisha Jones. “But the only black person I’ve ever seen on screen during “Girls” was a crack-addicted stripper who was giving birth on a basketball court as the girls were walking to Starbucks. It was a little much.”

Those who know Dunham confirm that she is, in actuality, completely surrounded by nothing but white people at all times and becomes visibly distressed whenever a minority is present. According to those in her inner circle, the exclusion isn’t racism at this point, but an active effort to stay immersed in the all-white reality of “Girls” so she can continue to develop her characters accurately.

“She wants to preserve her integrity as a writer,” says close friend Diane Sherman. “She can’t start hanging out with coloreds now. It would ruin her vision. She needs inspiration for quality television. With every black or brown person Lena includes, the show takes a step away from being a fresh take on young adulthood and a step towards ‘Meet the Browns’ and nobody wants that to happen.”

“I don’t really understand the controversy,” said Dunham. “It’s ‘Girls,’ not ‘Homegirls.’ Even though all the characters are white women from wealthy backgrounds living in New York, this represents the typical girl experience as far as I can tell. The show’s accessible to everyone that matters.”

At the conclusion of the interview, after more pressing and a brief explanation of what a black person looks like, Dunham stated that these issues will be “addressed” in the next season of “Girls,” giving fans of all colors something to look forward to.

“You know, maybe I could think of a black character or a handicapped character or something. I did ask a black guy if I could borrow his pencil once in college. Well, I thought about it, but then I got too scared.”

That’s where Totally Biased with W. Kamau Bell comes in. The brainchild of national treasure Chris Rock, Totally Biased is one-part stand up comedy, one-part sketch comedy, and one-part talk show. It covers race, pop culture, current events, religion, and the media with critical analysis and snark in abundance. One his first episode, he goes in on some topics that have been burning up the black blogosphere for the past month or so (note: the black blogosphere is exactly like the regular blogosphere, except we don’t update as much and we’re allowed to use the word “yall” and still be professional). Bell tackles NBC’s highly side-eyeable coverage of Gabby’s Douglas’ gold medal victory, takes a second to explain to Mitt Romney the difference between Sheiks, Sikhs, Shaq, Shaq drinking shakes, and the Shake Shack, and theorizes ways to make NYC’s “Stop and Frisk” better for all involved, such as filling your pockets with sushi or winning a few Subway sandwich with each sixth stop.

This is the first episode, so were there some virgin jitters? A bit. Bell is at his best when he’s in freak out mode, finding some aspect of a story too ridiculous to fathom, such as when he covered NBC airing footage of a gymnastics performing monkey right after Gabby Douglas. He shows off fantastic comedic timing during his sarcastic moments as well, the biggest laugh of the first episode being when he airs a tweet suggesting that every black woman is criticizing Gabby Douglas’ hair and he wonders out loud if Eryka Badu and “Beyonce from Austin Powers” would be in that party. However, when the jokes turn serious, like when he comments that no matter the difference between Sikhs and Muslims, it’s not okay to kill either of them, it almost looks as if Bell isn’t quite comfortable trying to hit his audience with the feelings bomb. The interview segment was a bit aimless, but a lot of that probably had to do with his guest Chris Rock. The segment was very, very funny, but it was mostly a Chris Rock stand up routine. I’m sure Bell will be able to handle himself a bit better when he’s able to interview someone who’s not executive producing his show though.

Despite those early issues, I have confidence in this show, not because it’s perfect right now, but because we need it. No show is going to be perfect on its first time out of the gate. Even Seinfeld’s first episode is kind of shitty. As Bell finds his footing and his team continues to explore what they can do with their new platform, a very funny show will only get funnier. While watching it, I was reminded of other shows: Tosh.0, The Daily Show, and Conan mainly came to mind. The difference is that I was watching someone who looked like me. White people might not understand how huge of a factor that is, how much of a pleasant surprise it is to not only enjoy a show, but to feel represented in it as well. That’s why we need Bell and we need Totally Biased.

To catch the first episode again, tune into FX this Saturday night at 11pm. Wait, you won’t be home a Saturday night, will you? Fuck it, you’ve got DVR. Make sure you record it.

To the American People:

Recently, it has come to my attention that certain factions of the liberal media machine do not believe my husband really represents you, the people. With my husband’s signed permission, I am writing this letter in order to dispel myths and to assure you that nothing could be further from the truth.

As some of you urge my husband to release his tax returns, you people need to understand that, as President, Mitt’s job won’t be to give you information. It will be to hoard all of the information so that your feeble minds don’t get confused or overwhelmed. Then he can make the sort of level-headed decision that only a straight white land-owning male can make.
That’s what this country was founded on. That’s what a President is for.

I haven’t made one decision during our entire marriage. My name’s not even Ann. Mitt just decided it was. I once suggested adding an ‘e’ to the end of it and Mitt made me sit in the Time-Out Chair for two weeks. Just as I have come to love my name, you will come to love not having health insurance. The next time your son Pablo breaks his leg and you have to set it with two branches and some off-brand Saran Wrap, consider it a lesson. Not only does this teach Pablo not to fall down the stairs when he’s moving my armoire up to the master suite, it also adds a little excitement to your undoubtedly dull life of poverty. It’s like Russian Roulette without the communism. There’s nothing more American than that sort of risk-taking spirit.

Despite accusations to the contrary, my husband truly feels connected to the working class. Just the other day, he went down to the soup kitchen to visit Herman Cain. Mitt may be worth millions, but he could be worth billions if he put his mind to it. But no, he chooses to spend his time giving speeches to the NAACP and generally trying to make you people understand how much he truly cares about our country. To my husband, it doesn’t matter what nation in Europe your people are from or what Ivy League school you went to. We’re all Americans. Some of us are just more American than others.

At the end of the day, we Romneys are just like you. Sure, we may have a car elevator and you may live in your car, but what’s important is that we know what’s best for you. Even more important, we know that what’s best for us is what’s best for you.

Yes, we wrote off $77,000 in taxes for our dressage horse Rafalca. But do any of you people know how much it costs to dress a dressage horse? No, of course you don’t. You people just look at that number and think, “I can’t even count that high” or some nonsense about not being able to feed your family. But consider all of our expenses: the fancy horseshoes, the trips to Europe, the mud baths. She’s an Olympic athlete, for crying out loud. That horse lives better than I do, and I haven’t washed my own hair in thirty years.

As the election nears, I encourage you people to stop calling for my husband’s tax returns and start calling for some of Obama’s documents. Maybe he released a “birth certificate,” but is Hawaii even really a state? Has anyone checked lately? These are the sort of investigative efforts you don’t see from the flag-burning God-hating leftist yellow journalism that pervades today’s media.

This election is about more than getting a possibly illegal immigrant out of the White House. It’s about defending the very bedrock of this great nation, a bedrock laid by hardworking brown people with low expectations combined with the cunning and wealth of men like my husband.

I urge you people, come to your senses.
Vote Mitt Romney this November.

Sincerely,
Ann Romney

Instead, I want to take this as an opportunity to showcase some of the good, Black friendly YA fantasy that’s already out there. These are the writers we should be reading instead of Foyt. All of these novels are speculative fiction of some sort. Most are young adult fantasy – everything from paranormal romance and historical fantasy to science fiction. All of these novels are written by Black authors and feature Black main characters.

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1. Noughts and Crosses series by Malorie Blackman

Like Save The Pearls, the Noughts and Crosses series is a young adult fantasy series set in a racist dystopia. Yet somehow, the series itself manages not to be racist. Imagine that! Malorie Blackman writes an imagined world where skin colour matters – though you wouldn’t be able to tell that from the titles alone. The main character of the series, Persephone ‘Sephy’ Hadley, is a cross. That means she has dark skin and is a member of the ruling class in society. Her love interest, Callum, is a nought and a member of the marginalized social class. Callum is white. A series of rules and regulations (read: Jim Crow) operate to keep Crosses in control. The first novel is about the tests that Callum and Sephy’s love must endure in order to survive.

2. Feathers by Jacqueline Woodson

Jacqueline Woodson’s Feathers straddles the divide between middle grade and YA fantasy, but is suitable for all ages. The story goes like this: a young, deaf white boy enters a class of able bodied Black children. His name is Jesus Boy. He is the only white boy in the class. Madness ensues. Frannie, a Black girl who knows sign language, attempts to get to know Jesus Boy. The plot covers a lot: bullying, religion, racism, ableism, colorism — but mostly it’s a story about hope and understanding. It takes place in an unnamed fantasyscape that sounds kind of like Brooklyn.

3. Asleep series by Wendy Raven McNair

The Asleep series by Wendy Raven McNair is a paranormal romance for young adults. People have called it the Black Twilight. The series revolves around Adisa Summers and her super powered boyfriend Micah Alexander. Only, Adisa doesn’t know Micah has powers. Eventually, she discovers this is the case and the plot takes off from there. Adisa works to reconcile her boyfriend, her family, and other teenaged concerns (read: angst). The series is set in Atlanta, McNair’s hometown.

4. A Wish After Midnight by Zetta Elliott

A Wish After Midnight is young adult historical fantasy. Protagonist Genna Colon is a mixed race teenager (Black and Panamanian) living in Brooklyn. She shares a cramped apartment with her mother and two siblings in a crime filled neighbourhood. Genna is smart and ambitious and dreams of being a psychiatrist. She spends her free time hanging out with her boyfriend. Somehow, Genna manages to wish herself out of her situation and into Civil War era Brooklyn where she finds herself in a time of extreme racism. Elliott draws comparisons between today’s Brooklyn and the Brooklyn of the past as Genna works to get herself home.

5. Zahrah the Windseeker by Nnedi Okorafor

Zahrah the Windseeker is a story of difference that invokes West African myth. Okorafor’s story is set in the northern Ooni Kingdom where “fear of the unknown runs deep and children born dada are rumored to have special powers.” Thirteen year old Zahrah Tsami feels like a regular kid, in spite of the tell tale signs that she is different. Only her best friend Dari isn’t afraid of her “dadalocks.” Just when strange things are beginning to happen to Zahrah, Dari is put in danger and Zahrah must face her fears alone in the Forbidden Greeny Jungle. Like Feathers, this book is young adult fantasy that is also suitable for middle grades.

6. The Shadow Speaker by Nnedi Okorafor

Another of Okorafor’s books too good not to include – this one is set in Nigeria in the year 2070. The main character Ejimafor “Ejii” Ugabe is a fourteen year old Muslim girl who’s half Wodaabe and half Igbo. The daughter of a dictator, she witnesses her father’s death at the hands of the Red Queen who brought peace (by violent means) to the region. When the Queen demands Ejii be groomed as her successor, Ejii and her mother resist. But Ejii’s magic tells her she must follow the Red Queen in order to prevent a coming war, so Ejii sets out with her talking camel and a kickass caravan on the adventure of her life. Straddling the divide between science fiction and dystopic fantasy, Okorafor does an incredible job of blending traditional African elements and futuristic devices in her novel (so definitely check this out if you love Afrofuturism).

7. The Golden Hour series by Maiya Williams

Another time travel adventure series, The Golden Hour series features siblings Rowan and Nina Popplewell. After their mother dies, they travel to a fictional town in Maine where they meet twins Xanthe and Xavier Alexander. The Alexander twins guide the Popplewell siblings to an abandoned resort that turns out to be an elaborate time machine. When Nina goes missing, the rest of group goes on a quest through time to find her. The first book takes place during the French Revolution.

8. The Marvelous Effect by Troy CLE

The Marvelous Effect, the first in a planned series by Troy CLE, tells the story of 13 year old Louis Proof. He enjoys hip hop, racing, and chilling with his best friend Brandon. One day, during a race (Louis races radio controlled cars), the unthinkable happens. Louis falls into a coma when he catches a virus of “celestial origin.” When he wakes up from his coma three months later, he comes to realize the world he knew no longer exists – and he is part of the reason why. The plot follows Louis as he navigates his new world. Geared towards young males and heavily features video game references throughout. This one tends more towards the science fiction end of things.

9. Ninth Ward by Jewell Parker Rhodes

Ninth Ward is a fantastic retelling of the story of Hurricane Katrina. Lanesha is twelve years old and lives in New Orleans with her caretaker Mama Ya-Ya in a tight knit and poor community. Lanesha has powers and she has been shunned by her family for this. Because she was born with a caul, she can see ghosts. Her Mama Ya-Ya, who is also magic, foresees the storm coming. The novel tells their story of love, magic, support, and resilience in the face of an epic storm. This book is good for middle grade as well as young adult audiences.

10. 47 by Walter Mosely

47 is the “intergalactic story of a boy slave.” 47, the title character, is referred to by his number and not a name. One day, he meets another young slave called Tall John. Tall John introduces 47 to a “magical science” and teaches 47 what is means to truly be free. This book straddles the genres of fantasy, science fiction and historical adventure – it could work for young adults or middle grades.

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As I was doing the research to put together this list, I confirmed my suspicion that there isn’t a wealth of fantasy out there for young Black readers. Surprised? I didn’t think so. Meanwhile, writers like Victoria Foyt are lauded by the mainstream and presented with literary prizes. One way we can help is to support writers of colour like the ones listed above. And of course, always continue to call out racists and racism.

I’ll leave y’all with a piece from our sister blog TIWP: “White privilege is never knowing what it feels like to want to escape into a world of fantasy, only to be told through its characters that you and people of colour like you do not exist, even in the furthest stretches of the imagination.”

Happy reading!