Disrespectful Moments from Insecure episode “Hella Disrespectful”

  • Molly’s Wig (s): Yvonne Orji is a beautiful woman. Yet her gorgeous African figures succumb to the unstated tragedy of unfla24-molly-2.w710.h473.2xttering wigs. This proves that inauthentic hair, be it a wig, weave, or unnatural hair color, is simply an injustice and insult to black beauty. FYI, I feel the same way about Issa’s dyed tresses, as it suggests that natural hair is more approachable or attractive if an unnatural color.
  • The Hyper-sexual Black Female:  Black women on prime time television function as an SOS that states WARNING  MARRIED WOMEN!! Black women will steal your man and have sex with him in bathrooms or AV closets (Scandal) when you are just steps away. aparna-1920
  • Lawrence and his non-black arm candy to an otherwise all black event: The series depicts the black man as driven away from the black woman due to her hyper-sexuality—a depiction that paints the black female body as a catalyst for black male emasculation. This of course veils the acts of a villainous white male patriarchal system as the misdeeds of black women.
  • The cantankerous,  heavy-set black woman: Kelli, the full-figured friend performs a familiar caricature. She’s the comedic relief, she’s comfortable in casual relationships to which many interpret as “winning.” However, an alternative kelli-1920interpretation may deem Kelli’s actions an acquiescence to an inferior position in the social hierarchy. Is Kelli funny? Yes! Is she beautiful? Yes. But her beauty is betrayed by way of humor, doing little to advance or challenge the way we as black people view big black women.
  • Light=Right: It is not accidental that Tiffany, the black female character with fair skin and a blonde weave appears the most conventional in the series. Tiffany, the Beyonce of the series, is married, whereas her tiffany-1920darker counterparts have issues keeping men and avoiding self-sabotage. She’s also sexually liberated. In the previous episode, Tiffany gloated about her willingness to perform fellatio, referencing her performance as instrumental in landing her a ring—illustrating the fairer skin woman as incurring opportunity where the darker skin woman incurs objectification.
  • Colorism Part 2: It is also worth mentioning that Dro, Molly’s fair-skinned, childhood friend  also bears a disturbing function on the series. Dro is married to a chocolate woman who he said proposed the idea of an open marriage. Molly finds herself within their arrangement, creating a love triangle where a lighter skin male sexually  Dro-S2-E7engages with two women of a darker hue in a manner that resembles their plantation use. Although he seems gentle and sweet to both his wife Candace and Molly, Dro devalues black women in a manner nurtured and encouraged by the white supremacy that dominates the globe. 
  • A convo isn’t a convo without the n-word: The n word is used freely and frequently—present in nearly every conversation and argument featured on the series. This implies that use of the n-word is a colloquialism or accepted norm between blacks. Are there some blacks who use the term frequently without explication or much thought? Yes. Is this everyone. No. 

    issa-rae-inscure-omondi-sweatshirt
    If you look closely you can see Issa is wearing a “n*ggas” sweatshirt–deeming this racial slur a fashion choice of “urban” youth.

            It seems in the series’ desire to be edgy and “urban” foments a caricatured   performance of blacks by blacks—an image that validates not challenges white perception.

  •  The White Savior Figure

A predominately black series is unapproachable to a white audience without a white savior figure. Insecure implements this figure through Issa’s coworker, whose name will be purposely omitted from this piece to eschew affording this character any more glory. When the black principal restricts resources to only black children, the white woman deems his actions racist and holds Issa— a black woman accountable in ensuring inclusivity. gallery-1481654683-insecure-2

Sure, this act seems noble—but in reality this white woman is the epitome of a contemporary feminist–implementing anti-racist initiatives by ignoring or oversimplyfing their own racism in naming the oppressed racists  in a distorted perception of global racism. As a result, she acknowledges that her approaching a black man on a racial issue as a white woman counters her attempt at appearing antiracist, so she appoints a black woman to do her dirty work. Because it is of course, this is not racist (side eye).

It would have been a step forward in black portrayal to see Issa have an enlightened Review: ‘Insecure’ remains funny and topical in Season 2exchange with  the vice-principal, but instead she does not understand or contemplate his behavior. Issa’s white coworker of course does not understand the Vice Principal’s behavior, but she does seem to contemplate said behavior due to her internalized need to emerge as a psuedo “savior.” The white female behavior illustrated in this episode depicts a commonly ignored reality with regards to the white gaze. Namely, that much of black behavior functions as an informal anthropological experiment to white people.

But, Issa is a good slave, I mean worker, and she confronts the black male principal demanding that he include those who in their adulthood will probably view themselves as above blacks, and assume opportunities blacks fought hundreds of years to obtain.

Closing Thoughts

If it sounds like I am disappointed in the series, I am. But at the same time, I tune in to the sole series that addresses my age bracket to support a melanated woman in her creative endeavor. I also watch in hopes for improvement. Yet instead, by the end of each episode I feel as the title of this latest episode reads: Hella Disrespected.

Black Power ❤ `

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Now, Tell Me that Ain’t Insecure…

Tis been a rough weekend ( I will further divulge the details of this in a post I hope to have up by Wednesday the latest).

I purchase vegetable patties from a black-owned bakery near my home, and often have to park creatively in order to patronize this business and depart without colliding with other cars. On Saturday afternoon, I parked my car and as I turned off my air conditioning and assembled my belongings, a grey sedan pulls up and out jumps a young black man with who I perceive was his Asian girlfriend. They emerge from the vehicle and begin kissing while leaning on the trunk of the car. He is a chocolate brown and she is porcelain white with long dark hair. They kiss in-between her a-0113puffs on a cigarette.

While certainly off-putting and inappropriate, these actions posed a collective disturbance in that it took place in the public-sphere of a predominately black neighborhood. A number of blacks walked by in this vulgar act between the two young people—  a public act of defacing blackness. The true violence in this behavior lies in the blatant fact that this dynamic  would have never occurred peacefully in Flushing, Bayside, or any of the other neighborhoods in Queens that are dominated by Asians and Whites. The young black boy used the pseudo safety of his community to engage in anti-black behavior an act reflective of the collective detrimental state that we are in presently.

This layers of this young man’s behavior implemented a deep upset that lingers in my bones three days later. I had a  similar feeling upon watching Sunday night’s episode of the HBO series Insecure.   jayellisissa

If you have read any of my prior posts about the series Insecure, you know that I have had my share of conflict with the show. From the hyper sexualized black female bodies, to the oversimplified depiction of black “prejudice,” the series attempts to depict blackness by simply casting melanated actors. I consider myself to be very much like others in my collective, who although not in complete accordance with every depiction on the series, still support a black (ish) series (kind of) authored by a melanated woman.

This belief was viscously exposed to be false during last night’s episode. As confirmed by a twitter picture posted by Issa herself, Episode 4 Season 2 of Insecure was authored by a white woman.

The subject of the episode?

Sex.

The sexual turn of the series follows Lawrence (Jay Ellis) encounter with a white cop for doing what countless other cars before him did to escape traffic—make a U-turn. This depiction reflects a white woman’s attempt to seem knowledgeable about the plights of black men. This attempt is of course provincial and adds no layers to the depictions to come.

Lawrence overlooks a similar compartmentalization of his black body by two seemingly friendly white women who pick up the tab when he misplaces his debit card. But this seemingly random act of kindness is neither random nor kind, as the two women solely wish to pay for Lawrence’s phallus. Small talk quickly turns to a threesome, to which the white women are disappointed in Lawrence’s sexual performance and begin plotting their next sexcapade with another black man before Lawrence has even dressed. This scene is a replica of the image in Jordan Peele’s Get Out, where the protagonist’s fictive girlfriend is already researching her next victim before the operation of her present victim was complete.

inseucre.w710.h473Both depictions depict the evilness of white female privilege, but also douse these evil bodies in a presumed desirability.

Up until this point, I believed that the target audience for this show was black women in their late twenties or early thirties. To this I say, depicting a graphic sex scene between a black man and two white woman is an assault on any conscious gaze, but is especially insulting to the black female gaze.

Although the episode eventually exposes the white women as coked out promiscuous women who “hunt” black men for an “elevated” sexual experience—the episode still paints white women as desirable and demonized solely for rejecting Lawrence—not for objectifying him. Had Lawrence performed to their liking, the episode would have bore a different connotation to most, but would betray the same black male hyper- sexualization as the depicted scenario.

The episode also fails to afford any depth to the black male/white woman relationships. Instead, Lawrence’s objectification and sexual rendezvous with these loose white women all appear a side effect of the sexual indecency Issa, a black woman.

Such superficiality is what is to be expected from a white female writer who even in her anti-racists attempts cannot be expected to not allot white females a collective compliment in her portrayal. But with my soul stirred and my eyes burned by the visual assault issued by a white female supremacists is far small for my journey to the prodigious state of consciousness. In short, while the series seems a means to explore the insecurities of being young, black, and unsure, it seems the series demands a level of insecurity from their viewers. An insecurity that the series will manipulate to ease with anti-black images and language.

Let me state that see this post does not function to portray a personal upset with  interracial sex or intimacy. I gifwould argue that anyone on a journey to consciousness is not bothered by the actions of individuals. Rather, individuals on a journey to consciousness are much more concerned about what these actions reveal about the collective. Seeing these depictions convey that we are in a collective state of confusion. The only means to counter this state would be for their to be a collective outage in response to such sightings, but as usual there are not enough angered by what should collectively disturb us.

This post also does not function to discount the reality of interracial relationships with the black collective. The conscious demand for pro-blackness calls for blacks to focus on blackness. By including whites in an attempt to compose our narrative in part or whole, whites cannot comment on blackness without including themselves. Thus, a predominately black show becomes gentrified in the white female need to for inclusion, and to prevent Insecure from being “too black” despite its HBO encasement and the fact that all its black characters speak the language of their oppressors.

Nevertheless, like the young man who likely drove his Asian girlfriend across Queens to have some very public private time, Issa’s success is largely based on those within the black community who view her series as pages in a shared narrative. Yet, rather than use the support from the black collective to implement pro-black images and dialogue, Issa extends an olive branch to a white woman and Insecure blossoms into a complete portrait of anti-blackness.

Now, tell me that ain’t insecure…

About the “Racist” Black Vice-Principal on Insecure

In Season 2 Episode 2 of Insecure viewers meet a seemingly insignificant new character. The character is Vice-Principal Gaines, an authoritative figure of a corresponding school for We Got Ya’ll—the non-profit organization Issa works for. He’s overtly inundated with responsibility, something made quite obvious. His responsibilities are far less overt than what appears to be animosity towards his Mexican constituency. Specifically, the series captures the principal joke about “building a wall,” and ordering a group of Chicano students to speak English.

Issa’s white coworker becomes quite insulted by the vice-principal’s behavior stating that she “had trouble sleeping.” She even goes on to acknowledges that “the oppressed can’t be the oppressor,” yet still asks if Issa would be what she considers “dismissive” if the principal were white. The suggested interchangeability suggests that while able to articulate the impossibility of the black racist, the fictive white liberal can not seem to understand this reality due to a failure to think outside the parameters of whiteness. Namely, most within the majority faction solely know how to process one-sidedness when things lean in their favor.  Thus, as a racist who is doing everything possible to control the impulses that this black man makes no attempt to conceal, the white woman is unable to see why Principal Gaines is not racist, but she would be under the same circumstances. This reveals an inability to properly conceptualize the term ‘wrong” as blinded by the cognitive dissonance of white supremacist thought.

The answer to the young white woman’s query, which flies over her head, lies in what she wishes to do with her knowledge—report him. Blacks are placed in scenarios like these everyday in workplaces throughout the diaspora, where they witness injustice but are often scared to speak up. Yes speaking up is the “right” thing to do, but it yields all kind of wrong. By speaking up, the black person would be risking the ability to take care of their family. They would also be risking their reputation and possibly the ability to work in their field of expertise. These are small prices to pay for those possessing a revolutionary mindset, but these mindsets are few and far between.

It is also imperative to mention that by choosing to “stand-up” the black person is almost always going to have to stand alone. As a white woman, Issa’s coworker does not have to fear systemic retaliation or a lack of support. Even though Issa does not want to partner  with her white coworker, this white woman can easily find support with those in higher places. Issa’s unwillingness to stand beside her white coworker to take down a black man is an accidentally strong depiction in the series. I say accidental because while her actions are respectable, Issa’s actions appear seems less about principle and more about a personal desire to get ahead at work.

The superficial portrayal of Vice-Principal Gaines however, is not a strong depiction. The image seems to reflects a “person of color” at odds with another “person of color” but in actuality depicts a black man opposing the partial assimilation of those wishing to appropriate his oppressed state. As the descendants of abducted Africans, much of the African diaspora has lost their native language and their native names. Black culture has been largely extinguished by white evil—so the contempt the series depicts this black man having towards Chicanos is a rightful rage against a systemized demon that stripped him of a collective identity. The stripped nature of an identity hollowed by white settlers and retained by their descendants is perhaps most obvious that the principal reprimands these persons of color IN ENGLISH.

Thus, despite the series efforts to depict the vice-principal as systemically disenfranchising his Chicano students by solely extended the supplementary resources of We Got Ya’ll to the black demographic, Gaines is merely an oppressed black man trying to afford an oppressed constituency something they may never get again in their lives–a chance.  Even with a slight advantage, those black children will still have to navigate their lives without the ability to pass for white, without access to their native tongue, without knowledge of their history, and without the ability to escape the cyclical disenfranchisement that waits them at every corner.

The series also  fails to combat the reality that other persons of color stealthy do exhibit similar behavior for their own groups. How is this any different that the jobs Asians, Hispanics, Chicanos, Indians, and Whites provide for their own without even considering hiring a qualified black worker? If hired by these other groups, blacks are typically  overworked, underpaid, and solicited to police their own people i.e. the migrant black man hired to follow his own people around a store owned by a white man or person of color. Moreover, when blacks place their own first it’s negative, but when other groups do it its nationalism.

There are many different routes the series could have taken to illustrate the issues between blacks and other factions of color. The instance that comes to mind is the recent comments George Lopez made about “not marrying someone black” as a member of the Chicano or Latino collective. Instead the series seeks to state a commonly overlooked truth, blacks cannot be racist, but place this truth in the backdrop by suggesting that—while they should not be able to be racist—they are. This is even more detrimental on a show dominated by black presence, from the writers to the actors. Thus, this paradoxical performance infiltrates both the mind of the oppressed and oppressor to cultivate a collective misunderstanding of black thought and behavior.

Insecure is the perfect platform to challenge the caricatured black identity that continues to dominate black portrayal, but instead the series maintains the single dimension allotted to blacks since their forced arrival. So while I am thankful for another opportunity to analyze, I am disappointed that another black within the collective has once again opted to entertain rather that educate, which is a choice to appease not agitate the system that continues to hold us hostage.

Insecure, An Analysis of Season 2 Episode 1

In Shonda Rhimes like fashion, Season two episode one of Issa Rae’s HBO series Insecure issues its most memorable content in the last two minutes. The episode ends with a reunited Issa and Laurence, who abruptly split after Laurence discovers Issa’s infidelity. Their reunion was brash, unemotional, and brief. Upon conclusion, Issa’s facial expression mirrored my own–mortified, regretful and confused. 

The two reunite when Laurence returns to the apartment to pick up his belongings. The two then become immersed in a brief sexual encounter, where Laurence leaves moments afterwards. This behavior is a vast contrast from the Laurence viewers meet in Season one. That Laurence was sweet and innovative. He was the contemporary frog prince–a good guy in a bad place.   detail

This once  ideal man is now tainted by infidelity. He has a casual sexual relationship with Tasha, a bank teller he met while cashing his unemployment checks. The two don’t click on a mental level, Tasha being a simple girl with modest ambitions and Laurence being a young man with mogul potential. However, although their relationship is convenient, it is hard to watch–as hard as it was to see Laurence work for a company that lacked the advancements of his own startup that although unsuccessful was a stroke of genius.

I cringe a little writing this, because as a black woman I think most of us have been Tasha. By being Tasha, I mean the rebound girl given shelf life because you fill a void. Filling this void only allows the rebound girl to possess a single dimension, something the three dimensional woman often sees in hindsight. It’s obvious that Laurence clearly likes Tasha, and we’ve all been liked in this negligible way that allows us to appreciate those in the future who appreciate all of our dimensions. Tasha is the voice in Sevyn Streeter’s Before I Do, a woman caught in the in between a man and his former love.  

HBO

Tasha, like Laurence, appears a product of Issa’s infidelity. Because Issa cheated on Laurence when he was in transition and broke his heart, Issa emerges as an eve-like figure that hands Laurence a poisonous apple. This poisonous apple prompts Laurence to shed his nice guy exterior as an effort to protect the heart he once wore on his sleeve. 

The guy who took Issa ring shopping is now doing “drive bys,” and skipping out moments after sex. The guy who once was sweet and kind is now curt and crass. 

Now, are nice guys ruined by the poor choices of some women? Yes. But surely the reverse is true also. The issue here, is what this representation means when both parties are black. Namely, it is troubling to depict “nice black men” as ruined by black women and their sexual carelessness.

This portrayal is particularly problematic as the show appears an effort to narrate the black female experience. This reality begs the query,  must we always be a sexual villain in our own narrative? 

This is not to say that the emotions in the show are not real. Going through a breakup is scary and it takes a while to find yourself afterward. However, illustrating the black Woman as a catalyst for black male behavior is a misrepresentation of a global setting that plagues black love. 

 Issa, like so many millennials has job she does not like, and is working  ayanna-james-insecure-season-1-8desperately to make ends meet. This part of the show proves shockingly accurate to many others going through the same thing– validated in not feeling so alone or berated by an unanticipated reality. However, her indiscretion has little to do with Laurence and more to do with her general unhappiness. Discontent at work tends to birth unhappiness outside of work, something we see in the series but is not quite discussed. The discourse remains in the series’ background, which could be an artistic choice implemented to get viewers to think, but paints the series protagonist as obsessed with what could have been rather than what is. By what could have been, I’m referencing the man from her past whom Issa had always been curious about, an itch she scratches which ultimately ends her relationship. This young man  is of course an escapist route that Issa takes to avoid confronting the real issues in her life. This is another relatable moment that is veiled superficially as curiosity, a curiosity that fizzles after the two consummate their lust–depicting the black female as carelessly hyper sexual.  

This act does not only offset the course of Issa’s life but the other parties involved, as both men are hurt by her selfish deed. Just as Eve’s curiosity ruined the generations to come, Issa appears the catalyst for Laurence’s metamorphosis from caring to callous. 

x240-lH_Realistically, black love is hard. Had the system favored Issa and Laurence, the unemployment that drove a wedge between them would potentially not exist. Had cyclical disenfranchisement not been a real things, perhaps Issa would not have sought to escape, and Laurence would not have had to compromise his ambitions to work for himself. This is not functioning as an  excuse, but as an explanation the elephant in the room of so many black relationships. Love is hard for everyone, but a relationship between two bodies systemized in every way possible is exceedingly difficult.  Thus, the series’ portrayal of Issa as a black woman who morphs the good guy into a hyper sexual beast with her own immutable sexuality– thereby offers a shallow reputation of what it means for two black people to love each other in the context of global racism. 

Separating the black woman from the sexualized image allotted to her during slavery is an ongoing struggle in black female portrayal. However, this depiction becomes more concerning when efforts to counter this image nullify advancement with a unintentional revelation of internalized racist perceptions. 

These portrayals prompt the query as to whether or not the antagonized black female protagonist will eventually surface as a heroine, or whether this will even be enough to undo the damage of her initial error.  Insecure

This is not to say that conflict should not accompany black bodies on the big or small screen. This is to say that oversimplifying black issues to appease the western gaze, compromises what could be an opportunity for the masses to contemplate collective behaviors and thoughts.

So, if anything, I would say that the series title “Insecure” is its most accurate attribute. This insecurity appears to lie in black female inability to reverse her obscurity from a unrelenting racist gaze. 

Issa Rae’s Insecure and the Black Female Narrative

In recent years, the western world has seen an abundance of black faces on television. From Kerry Washington as Scandal’s Olivia Pope to Loni Love as co-host of daytime talk show The Real, the black female body appears prominent where she was once obscure. Featuring blacks as professionals appears a necessary shift away from caricatured imaging that plagued past representations like Mammy in Gone with The Wind and Sapphire from Amos n’ Andy. However, the influx of visible black female bodies appeases rather than challenges white supremacy, employing visibility as a means to symbolize a change that has yet to occur.

Writer and actress Issa Rae rose to fame a few years back with her Youtube series Awkward Black Girl. The series accrued significant popularity landing Ms. Rae an HBO series entitled Insecure that mirrors the tone and premise of her Youtube series. Insecure centers on Issa, a young black woman who at twenty-nine is educated, employed and in a relationship. The series depicts Issa as loved by all whom compose her life, yet ironically the series’ protagonist is overtly out of love with herself. This lack of love Issa conveys for herself affects the tone of the show and ultimately how the character comes across to viewers . To put it bluntly, Issa and the entirety of the black female cast is vastly unlikeable. Interestingly enough, the series depicts redeeming black male characters—all in which endure rejection from black women due to their strive to exist outside the systems of white supremacy.

Issa’s boyfriend Laurence (Jay Ellis) for example, is a gifted techie whose ability does not manifest into conventional success. The series does a good job depicting the toll Laurence’s adversity takes on him, showing a pre-employed Laurence as sweet but slightly unpolished and sometimes idle. The series also depicts Laurence as a college educated black man who loves Issa and eventually pursues conventionality for the sake of their relationship. In fact, Laurence takes a job at a company drastically lagging in the advancements present in his own initiatives to sustain Issa’s happiness. Issa not only proves unsupportive of Laurence’s ideas but visibly annoyed at any of his non-lucrative attempts to showcase his skills.  This dynamic illustrates the contemporary black female as an assimilatory figure.

Similarly, Issa’s best friend Molly (Yvonne Orji)  also illustrates the black female body as striving to adhere to western convention. Namely, Molly depicts the black female as emotionally desperate, despite consummating conventional success. Molly illustrates an image consistent with predecessors Olivia Pope, Annalise Keating and Mary Jane Paul, all whom exceed societal expectations yet prove incompatible to romance. Viewers watch Molly interact with a number of men, all of whom  are drawn to her sexually. Molly continually rejects Jared— the sole male character to express an actual interest in her. Like Laurence, Jared does not have conventional success, but unlike Laurence  Jared did not attend school. Jared also makes a confession that speaks to a sexual fluidity that ultimately disqualifies him as a prospect for Molly’s affection. This issue I have with this depiction is that it displays the black woman as incongruent to honesty. Generally, everyone in relationships desires at least some form of honesty. In this case, Molly receives honesty from a prospective love interest yet is seemingly unable to coexist with the truth as rendered. This depiction validates dishonesty, illustrating the black female psyche as too ingrained in western standards to engage functionally with black men because she holds him accountable to western standards. Moreover,  as an assimilationist, the black woman is more of an ally to whites than to her own people.

Issa and Molly collaboratively depict the black woman as implementing assimilatory action to ease the insecurity inured in a white supremacist society– an act that ironically proves counterproductive. It is white supremacy that foments a strive towards conventional success. It is white supremacy that nurtures an inaquedacy in those without higher education, six figure salaries and five bedroom mansions.This being said, I will admit that oddly Insecure helped me to observe the assimilatory tools placed on my own path.  I too have been nurtured into insecurity, silently encouraged to chase conventional success and deemed unsuccessful in any failure to adhere to these standards. This show however, is yet another means to nurture said insecurity. Namely, Issa Rae’s decision to create a series that caricatures back female bodies to traditional stereotypes reflects a desire for fame and fortune at the expense of furthering the black female collective.

Insecure also does little to dissolve black female correspondence to hyper sexuality. Where popular series Scandal, Being Mary Jane and How to Get Away With Murder hyper sexuualize their protagonists by making them companions to married men, Insecure takes a vastly different route. Insecure hyper sexualizes protagonist Issa by casting her as the series’ philanderer. This act not only depicts her disloyalty to her boyfriend, but depicts Issa as undeserving of said loyalty. Alternatively, Molly is seen engaging in intercourse with numerous men— none of who initiate any kind of commitment first. The series pushes forth an ongoing joke in “Broken P@SSy”– a diagnosis given to Molly by Issa. It is Molly’s broken genitals that account for her constant heartache. This assertion not only renders a black woman’s genitals as a primal source of power, but suggests that without this functioning sexual organ she is virtually worthless.

Collaboratively, Issa and Molly resume the black female narrative depicted on Scandal, Being Mary Jane and How to Get Away with Murder, painting the contemporary black female body in the pernicious image of 1954’s Carmen– attractive but utterly self-destructive (Bogle). Contemporary portrayals of black femininity commonly validate the systemic disenfranchisement extended to black women, simultaneously suggesting this villainous sexuality is the catalyst of said disenfranchisement not white supremacy.

Shows like Insecure easily garner white approval and sponsorship because while they may contain the occasional “conscious” or “enlightened” moment intertwined with its witty dialogue, the series suggest that blacks create and administer their own misfortune. Furthermore, Insecure provides the means necessary to fester the wound of white supremacy.

Namely, Issa and Molly suggest that discontent and insecure black female bodies occur as a product of blackness– seducing its viewers into a social amnesia that erases the impact following centuries of oppression endured at the hands of whites. Believing that blacks caused their own demise also foments the belief that whites, not stolen land and labor, produced white wealth. Furthermore, social amnesia breeds the very insecurity referenced in the series’ title as insecurity  remains an inevitable destination for those convinced that the Emancipation Proclamation ended slavery. Contemporary television employs the dynamics of slavery–namely, using the black body as a gateway to the black mind. Television functions similarly to the historic chains and whips that bruised and restrained the black body to ingrain inferiority into the very blood spilled in the process. Only, I’d argue that television is much more dangerous because at least with chains and whips one was fully aware of their limitations and physical assault.  The contemporary world employs television as a means to numb the black body to blows that manifest in the form of entertainment.