The 2010 Year in Review: And Now a Word from Our Sponsor...

A few years ago Beyonce and her girls sang about their independence. Then Jamie Foxx, Ne-Yo and them were happy she had her own, even Lil’ Boosie was chanting I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T. Just when I thought those housewives in Atlanta were setting Black women back singlehandedly, here comes Teairra Mari and her new song, “Sponsor”. What part of the game is that, it is now ok to prostitute yourself musically, as long as the beat is nice?


The song is a declaration that “I lack the ability, aptitude and attitude to acquire the accoutrements I aspire, so I’ll snare a new fool to purchase those things for me”. I guess it ain’t trickin’ if you got it. I don’t know what’s worse, the message the song conveys or the fact that Gucci Mane and Soulja Boy are rapping on the same song? Ok, it’s the message, the song is about a woman that gets pretty much anything she wants from a guy, and her only fear is him telling her goodbye. Not too bad? Check out some lyrics:

He ain’t no square, he just like to share. In love with the tipper throwing hundreds in the air, throw some over here. And Louie, drop the Louie, drop the Louie in my lap
Forget what Steve Harvey and all of those quasi “experts” are telling you, so many Black women are single because of trifling ass chicks out here just looking for a sponsor swaying the pool of eligible bachelors. Why would I settle in when I can have a woman at my disposal for a tennis bracelet, a couple stacks, a few pair of shoes and matching bags and she goes just as fast as I…you get the point. That’s just at a high level, at eye level aka my level, a sponsor could simply be the guy that gets you through a few Happy Hours and helps out with the cable bill occasionally.

The song is disturbing because there’s a population of young women out there that actually are influenced by the things they hear and proceed to put them into practice, without fear of reproach or even the hint of respect of themselves. The song says nothing about reciprocated affection, it is probably aimed at the strip club demographic, it is simply the new golddigger anthem, the “use what you got, to get what you want” mantra of 2010. Bad enough in one ear they have Nicki Minaj fetching chicks to freak off with Usher, now they have the former “Princess of the Roc” telling them to be compensated for boo lovin’ or a sexual relationship with a man, so at some point it becomes the acceptable thing to do.

Throw in the phenomenon of Reality TV celebrating lush lifestyles and groupies and we have a generation of Black girls lost. Representations of “real” Black women are so far and few in the mainstream media that it’s hard to identify one when you come face-to-face with her looking for reed diffusers at Walmart, because the image in your head has been so distorted by what you see and hear, it’s easy to juxtapose Sharee, Nene, Tiny, or Cocktail with the woman you envisioned while listening to Stevie Wonder.

I’ve noticed women taking cues from these caricatures, women that are more likely to be impressed by a man “making it rain”, than by a man interested in making a home. Yet, these are the women that end up with the men some of you had your eye on and I’m perplexed by it all, because I have no idea what anyone is after anymore. In the end, many Black women aren’t getting married, but the skeezer next to you in your pole dancing class is, I guess that makes her Ginger huh, go figure…(watch Casino people).

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