by Tatiana Richards Hanebutte

When I saw yesterday’s post about the bitter ignoramus who superimposed a gorilla over Nicole Beharie’s face, I was appalled. Then I was pissed. You see, this year, I became a Nicole Beharie fan, and in true fangirl fashion, I don’t take kindly to folks throwing shade at someone I admire. So, though I’m preaching to the choir, let me take a second to tell y’all why Nicole Beharie rocks. And why the bitter chick can kick rocks.

I first took notice of Nicole Beharie last December. I was sort of on my honeymoon–sort of, because my husband had a fever, so we had to postpone our trip and honeymoon on our couch instead. I was checking out some of my favorite blogs when I came across the film, My Last Day Without You. I literally squealed: the film was about an artsy black girl who falls in love with a German man while he’s in America on business. Me? I’m a writer who fell in love with my German husband when he was in the USA on business. Life imitating art? More like art reflecting real life.

My husband was just as excited as I was, but because it was an independent film, My Last Day Without You had a limited theater release. The DVD wasn’t available until April, but it was so worth the wait. The mister and I had tons of fun watching the film, mainly because it was a great story, but also because it was a familiar story. Our story.

And Miss Beharie? Sista is talented. I watched the movie a bunch of times and googled her interviews like a stalker. I even managed to find a copy of her film American Violet at our local bookstore, a not insignificant feat here in Germany. She killed it in that film, too. Beharie is a fantastic actor and from what I can tell from her interviews, she’s also a woman of substance.

Brains, beauty, passion–even if she weren’t dating one of the hottest guys on the planet, she’d still be my friend in my head. And not just because I’ve had the same kind of venom directed at me because my husband is white. It’s because the women she portrays are people I recognize. They’re not basketball “wives”, they’re not mammies. Some are professionals; one was a struggling single mom. But they’re all beautiful reflections of women I know. Because of this, I’m a fan of Nicole Beharie, and I wish her all the best in the world–and if that includes love with one of the sexiest men alive, even better. Haters, hate on.