When was the last time you sat around with your girls staring at your new lover’s dick pic?
Girls Trip is funny, but that’s not why I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it because it’s raunchy, but not just raunchy, white-girl raunchy. And black girlfriend films don’t get to be too edgy because, until recently, those films relied heavily on the middle-age-movie-after-church audience. This is not a criticism, it’s a financial and cultural reality. How many chick flicks or romcoms starring a black cast in years past could afford to alienate this demographic? When you do see us in salacious roles, usually our libido is antagonist, something to use against us, something demented and pedestrian: the sex-addicted stalker, the ingénue whoring for celebrity or financial gain, the zealot condemned to walk the earth alone with incurable disease, penniless (you all know which popular top-selling filmmakers/films this references so there’s no need to name them here). Rarely are we allowed to be funny and dirty like Kevin Hart or Dave Chappelle, just to name two, in mainstream roles.
Yes, we need films that display our breadth and depth of cinematic brilliance and the experience unique to black life in America, theatrical monologues that elicit tears and masterful renderings of epic tales, but we also need the jovial dalliance of women friends getting drunk, being carefree, and trading blow job tips. I owe my blow job prowess to years of giggling with my girls over glasses of Beaujolais. When you consider the gaggle of repressive and negative motifs black women navigate in our professional and personal interactions, it should come as no surprise that we use laughter and satire as a lifeline.
But black girls aren’t supposed to laugh because black girls aren’t allowed to be happy or without worry. We are allowed to be sexual for the sake of male gaze, we are allowed to nurture everyone around us to the point of forsaking ourselves, we are allowed to be alone, prayed-up, and tarrying long for a man to age out of his sex drive, drag his half-working penis into our aching arms so we can scrub clean and spit-shine his errors, and make him a fried egg sandwich, but we are not supposed to mine that shit for comic relief. Viewers are more at ease seeing black women portrayed on screen in sorrow, in shackles, in servitude than telling a dirty joke where her pussy is not the punchline.
Well here it is folks, black girls are funny as fuck. And I want to howl at brown girl gab that makes comedy of grown-ass woman secrets — those truths hard-fought and won that make you wince in the retelling and wipe the spittle from your chin when you’re finished. I want a little pussy and some motherfucker, and a hair/makeup/wardrobe budget beyond reproach (Latifah’s hair was amaze!). Throw in some $2 whore sex and full frontal nudity and I’m all in. When was the last time you sat around with your besties looking at a dick pic from your new lover? For me, it was July 2010, outside a restaurant north of Atlanta to which my friend Candace replied, “That’s is a beautiful dick!”
Guess what, it still is.