On the heels of the choice entertainment of single-celled knuckle draggers, otherwise known as reality television, the likes of Tami Roman (born Tami Akbar) further tarnish the reputations of black women with her childish, ghetto-fied, fights with folks over some fake-arse hair.
According to TMZ:
YOU SKANK, YOU STOLE MY HAIR!!! … that’s the essence of a new — and might we say hilarious — lawsuit against “Basketball Wives” star Tami Roman.
Constance Corleone — who owns an extension line called Bella Dream Hair — filed the case, claiming Tami’s rep contacted her last September and asked to try out Constance’s product.
According to the suit, Constance obliged, and then was horrified to learn Tami had fired up her own extension line under the name, Curls By Roman. What’s worse, Constance claims, Tami was advertising her line with a pic of her wearing Constance’s extensions.
Thus began a serious of very funny tweets, including one from Tami which read, “Fraudulent people trying to take credit NOT. People trying to take credit for this hair. WTF they crazy.”
Since you asked, I’ll tell you why. Tami fits the stereotypical loud, neck-rolling, weave-wearing negress that some white folks (and a lot of black folks) are comfortable with watching on the boob tube. No I know this might sound like some radical fundamentalist mumbo jumbo, but I just gotta say it: Tami Roman/Akbar is the enemy of the Black Woman’s Empowerment movement. Yet, she’s on a hit show, getting paid to act out baffoonery for public consumption, all the while dragging our reputation under the bus.
Here’s a visual:
If we are really to take this movement seriously, we need to draw a line in the sand and make a distinction between us and coonery, because NEWSFLASH! the world–yes; the whole wide world–is watching. Negative stereotypes bleed through the borders via satellite television, and study after study proves that television is a major contributor to our perceptions of others absent the opportunity for real-life exposure. In other words, if one day you vacation in Croatia and meet a beautiful, milky-hued rainbeau with eyes as blue as the Adriatic Sea, and he walks up to you, smiling sheepishly, and asks if he can check your weave, you’ll have folks like Roma/Akbar to thank.
I know; I get it about guilty pleasures–until recently I was, to my shame, completely addicted to soap operas. But now that their dying like centurians in an old folks’ home, I’ve had to, well…read more. And guess what? I survived.
So do I really need to spell out my point? Ok fine. Just say “HAY-ELL TO THE NALL” to reality shows that perpetuate the worst of the worst amongst us. Go on You Tube and watch “Awkward Black Girl” or something.