Processed Cheese
I cringe each time. But still, I watch. Do the opposite of what Dr. Maya told black women to do. I sink, not rise. I admit, I watch it every week. Not for the entertainment value, but for the amount of devaluing that will most certainly take place.
I watch because it claims to be reality — but it’s not even close to being mine. I watch just to see how far they will take it. How over the top. How low. How crass. How crude.
I watch. And take notes, too. How come? Because I need to. I need to see the other side of being a black man. The buffoonish side. The scripted side. The surreal side. The processed-for-the-camera side. Yup, the anti-Will side (wait, his real name is William, isn’t it? Help.me.).
And that … is why I watch … “Flavor of Love.” Oy.
