Why Are Women Such Haters?
Let’s be very honest with ourselves: we all watch reality television for the drama, the “real life” depictions of crazy housewives from popular cities, baby mamas, basketball “stars,” and random celebrities that are famous for nothing other than their ability to spray tan and wear Sketchers. But despite knowing how cheesy, phony, and shameful some of these shows can be, we tune in every week.
The possibility of seeing two girls yank each others hair out on live television or participate in a cat fight is better than watching two cats actually fight–and is actually worth the senseless brain cells murdered from the wasteland that is reality television.
But let’s stop all the politically correct crap and get to the point: why are chicks such haters?
No, really, please put your answers in the comments section ’cause I’m seriously asking. And before everyone gets up in arms about how anti-feminist I am or how the media loves to put us out there packaged nicely in hourly-slotted stereotypes, generalized for the world to see, please know that I am a black woman. I also watch said shows. So, I guess I’m not really a part of the solution, but I can’t help myself and apparently neither can the millions of viewers who dutifully watch and later lend attention to any gossip pertaining to the show’s “stars.”
Perhaps it’s the inner b**** that lies in every woman. The catty ability to snip and snide each other, from spreading gossip to stealing boyfriends. From eyeing unflattering outfits to calling out tacky tumbleweaves, we are the first to offer our very opinionated points of view. Maybe it’s the result of years of fighting for our right to party in a society full of guest-list-only venues.
But women hate taking responsibility for their extra-hater activities, so instead of blaming us, I think we should blame chronic angry women like NeNe Leakes and Star Jones for ruining everything. They’ve taken hateration to such another level that even Donald Trump has decided to cash in and put them both on the next installment of ‘Celebrity Apprentice’. The gossip rags and entertainment news shows have puffed up their beef to epic standards. Obama might even do a wine summit. It’s bad, real bad.
Let’s blame Nicki Minaj for stealing Lil Kim‘s spotlight, causing Kim to hang on by Black Friday laced with threats. Or how about Wendy Williams, who’s created an entire career on talking trash about others? Even the highly respected Oprah Winfrey aired the dirty laundry between herself and Iyanla Vanzant this week. They are the real culprits, for if they’d just shut up for two seconds, no one would know our dirty little secret: that we all secretly hate each other.
Or maybe we just hate ourselves.
Yep, I said it. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but most stereotypes have bits of truth in them. The hand waving, neck twisting, eye rolling, attitude-having black woman we find personified on such lovely gems like ‘Real Housewives of Atlanta’ stem reality. For whatever reason, we are really darn angry.
Without getting all Lifetime on everyone, know that it stems from our own insecurities. The things we feel inadequate about are just so befuddling, we cast the shade on someone else, making sure they don’t get too big for their britches or reveal to everyone else just how inadequate we actually feel.
But the thing about being a black woman is… we’re just so dope. I’m serious. We’re warm shades of butterscotch and dark chocolate truffles. We come in petite and voluptuous sizes (and our men love it). We are rhythmed nations, gyrating in magical ways (hello, we invented the booty clap). We’re smart as whips, funny as hell, and have single handedly carried the world on our shoulders for centuries.
So, yes, maybe we have a few gripes here and there, but the rest? It’s all just nonsense crowding everyone’s view, casting our own negative spotlight on our race and gender, yanking us back, reminding others that we’re just crabs in a barrel.
So, in the words of another great reality television black chick, Babs (Season 2 of ‘Making the Band’), “Let em fight!” Go on and let NeNe and Star battle it out. Gobble some popcorn as Omarosa and Wendy Williams gouge each other’s eyes out. Go for it. But don’t try to call yourself anything different, cause you’re just like ’em and you do it too.
As a matter of fact, many of you are loading up your guns, preparing your ammo for the comments section, but it’s okay. After all, I’m a black girl. I love beef, haters.