Let's take a short tally of the celebrities and artists I love that all look like me.
Azealia Banks refuses to shut up. Kanye West is the epitome of egomania and snatched a microphone from a singer once. Nate Parker was acquitted of rape on an irrelevant technicality at the expense of his victim's well-being. Erykah Badu has a few erroneous beliefs regarding rape. Cam Newton doesn't seem to know how America works. Lauryn Hill can't seem to show up to her scheduled shows, and Kendrick Lamar may be misogynistic. We don't even need to discuss Bill Cosby, Chris Brown, or even Beyonce'. Let's just stop before this gets too depressing.
Why can't I just admire a black celebrity without them displaying some hugely problematic view or tendency? I kept thinking about it until I got the answer, and it may shock you, but here it is: Celebrities are just like us. They're all of us with extra visibility, money, and reach, but you get my point.
The reason I can't find a black fave who's unsmeared is because I have problematic views and tendencies as well, and so do all of my peers and family. I drink, smoke, lie, and engage in other unsavory behavior just like famous folks do. The difference is that I don't have a worldwide platform or millions of people out there trying to emulate my behavior. Every action my faves take or thought they express is scrutinized and dissected, and they make me almost thankful to have relative anonymity. I can laugh when I imagine paparazzi waiting outside of every restaurant for me to leave dinner because the thought is absurd; seriously, all the cameras would capture are extremely unflattering images of my food babies and stained shirts. Paparazzi would smell my fondness for tobacco in the air and hear the profuse profanity I'm always uttering. But if this were my life, my public image would warp and deteriorate through click bait titles and pop culture podcasts, just like those of my black faves. This is not my reality, but it is for Beyonce and Kanye, and that reality can change and stress a person in ways that we, as fans, can't imagine.
We know that black stars are given undue scrutiny from all sides, and that they face additional barriers in the entertainment industry because of the hue of their skin. I realize that it seems as though their problematic white counterparts can navigate the industry unscathed, no matter how much they screw up. Ryan Lochte's lies surfaced and gave us all a refresher course in white male privilege and how the benefit of the doubt is doled out for white celebrities, and, we were forced to consider how Lochte's situation would have played out had it been Carmelo or LeBron in his shoes. That said, I do not believe there is a grand conspiracy to besmirch and smear black celebrities. Nate Parker's scandal isn't a secret plot to undermine his work, and Bill Cosby wasn't ever really going to buy NBC. Let's get real.
If we are going to survive in this pop culture-heavy world that's been established around us, we are going to have to stop deifying our black stars. The task of "saving" the black race isn't up to them. It doesn't really help us for our artists and visible people to be black incarnations of Mother Teresa. They don't have to be spotless to deserve to be successful, or to make the type of impact that has the power to influence millions. They can use their platform the way they choose. They have the choice of which injustices they'll speak out against and what causes they'll support, just like we do.
Black stars have to be extra mindful of their platforms and views, and act accordingly when speaking or acting in the public eye. It's the fans who will support their projects and tirelessly defend them from criticism. However, to be truly comfortable and successful, all celebrities, including our own, need to realize that facades of perfection will inevitably fail. Money can't buy invincibility, and we see star after star crack under the weight of that realization. Black stars are unduly tasked with upholding these fragile illusions of perfection, along with respectability politics that their black fans place on them that their white counterparts don't seem to stress much about. It's unfair. But until the white gatekeepers make the necessary moves to diversify and change the inherently negative lens of pop news media, black stars are going to have to be smart about their decisions in order to preserve their fan bases and defenders. I don't like the uneven playing field, but I believe it can be maneuvered.
So, how can we reconcile the fact that our stars are no purer (and oftentimes, no smarter) than we are? We, as money-bearing and influence holding consumers, have more power than we think. The truth is that the levels of support we give to black stars (or any stars, for that matter) are all subjective. Each of us must establish what we can condone and support with our attention and dollars. Every consumer will have different ideas about what is acceptable or a dealbreaker for them, and that's okay. For instance, I don't like Azealia Banks' skin-bleaching and I actively speak out against it. But her album Broke With Expensive Taste remains one of the best debuts I've ever heard, and I support it through frequent listens on Spotify. Also, I plan to buy The Life of Pablo tour tickets, even though some other black consumer out there may think Kanye's attitude or unpopular rants are too much, and hold on to their coins. Should I find their Twitter handles and berate them? No! The fact is, we each have different ideas about what constitutes dealbreakers for the artists we support. Another example: I don't plan to support Birth of a Nation, because of moral issues I have with its director and co-writer. But my sister will still see the film because she's curious about Nate Parker's version of the classic Nat Turner story. Should it cause a rift in our family dynamic? Absolutely not; in fact, she and I have discussions regularly about Parker's film institute at Wiley College, and although I believe he is an extremely problematic figure, I can recognize that his contributions to film and educations are extremely beneficial. It's okay for us to disagree: black people are not a homogeneous group that hold all of the same values dear and share the same opinions (tell that sentiment to your "But my black friend says..." peers). I cannot expect others to share each threshold I establish for my problematic black faves, and it should not inspire arguments between us.
So, form your own opinions about what you can handle from your favorite artist and celebrities, and divide your coins and attention as you see fit. Recognize that each person you'll meet or learn about has duality, qualities that are good and bad, and choose how you'll react to them. I urge you to take it a step further and apply your findings to all celebrities, and not just those that look like you. You may find that you'll see all famous folks through a new lens. They are just as screwed up as we are, and in order to keep our own heads from exploding, we have got to accept that fact.
