The Tragic Mulattos Of The Real Housewives Of Potomac

Bravo screenshot
Bravo screenshot

The first time I heard the of “Jack and Jill” was in high school. A Black girl l knew — let’s call her Toni — was living her BEST life. Her dad had an MBA from Harvard and was on the board of a bank. She got accepted Early Decision to Harvard. They owned their place in Manhattan. They had a summer house! Let me repeat for emphasis: they owned TWO places in the United States of America. Her family did stuff like go to South Africa on spring break. (Which in retrospect was ridiculous. Spring Break is only a week, and it takes two days to just get to Johannesburg, but hey, far be it from me to police other folks’ pockets.) Being a noncitizen, I’ve always had a passport, but to that point I’d only hopped on a plane to visit family members or go to chess competitions.*


She was also highest of yellas.

I say that all to say, my folk may be humble island/Harlem projects folk, but I’ve run into an upper-crust Black or two in my day. And the ladies on the new Bravo show "Real Housewives of Potomac" just do not fit the bill.

The show is a sea of light brights (and Cherisse) talking about etiquette all the live long day, but their installs are leaning more than the tower of Pisa. Where they do that at?! How are you molded in affluence but your tracks are just sitting on top of that new growth without a care to be found?

Furthermore, as a relatively low maintenance gal, I don’t have very many rules in this world. But being talked down to by a woman whose eyebrows resemble a kindergartener’s crayola project is just not my ministry. How can I possibly be shamed by anything you have to say when you decided to freehand your brow line and came off worse than a B.o.B. TED Talk?

In this weekend’s episode, a woman unironically asked if a person's “background was cleared to enter the estate” at a crab boil! At. A. Crab. Boil. I don’t know about y’all but if I show up at a crab boil and someone’s raggedy Uncle Ernest isn’t manning the pot, then I’m wholly uninterested in indulging in the (non-alcoholic) fixins available. Bonus points if he has ever been in the possession of an unregistered firearm. Cookout food is automatically better when the grill/boilmaster is on papers. It’s science.

All of the aforementioned are small potatoes, however, to their truly disconcerting conversations with regard to racial identity. More than once in the two episodes I’ve seen, light skinned “affluent” ladies have earnestly talked to other light skinned “affluent” ladies about whether or not they “identify as” Black, whether or not their progeny will be Black, and what that means for the seasonings they use in their chicken.


For the life of me I struggle to understand how this is a discussion we are still having in this year of our Lord and Savior, 2016.

Listen, Linda. If you have a Black parent, you’re Black. Full stop. Them’s the rules. I didn’t make them, I was just born in them. This is an indisputable fact, same as the flats being the best part of the wing and Pimp C having the best verse on International Player’s Anthem. You have a White parent? Still Black. You converted to Judaism? Fantastic! I just DM’ed Lenny Kravitz and he told me you’re still Black. You believe in going to parties on time? You might be a lame…but you’re still Black.


Long story short: You can choose to not identify as Black as much as you want. But you’re still Black though. And you can tell me some nonsense about how claiming Black erases the reality of your White parent and not knowing where you fit in, but I guarantee your White cousins tell their friends that they have a Black cousin. You can be as light as Paula Patton, with hair as fair as Jennifer Aniston. But honey you are still as Black as the bottom of a rice pan.

In 2008, we didn’t elect our first biracial President, we elected our first Black President, and that man was raised by a single White mom in Indonesia and Hawaii! You’re not “more nuanced” in trying to go out of your way in highlighting your non-Black ancestry to prove a point to the rest of us regular Blacks. You’re just a doofus with light eyes who is apparently unaware of the realities of race in America.


Let us know when you’re ready to accept your truth; our door is (almost) always open. And we have (properly seasoned) chicken!

*Fun fact: Once upon a time, I was a nationally ranked chess competitor, and went to nationals twice. Shout out to the United States Chess Federation.

Brooklyn-based writer by way of Harlem, Canada and East Africa who comments on culture, identity, politics and likes all things Dipset.



Since we are talking about racial cluelessness, can we talk about this chick for just a moment? If you've seen the doc, "Little White Lie" on PBS then you know her story. She was raised as a Jewish girl in upstate NY and has a Jewish mom and Black dad. Although she didn't know she had a Black dad until adulthood and claimed to be a str8 up White girl, everyone around her seemed to have figured it out by the time she was in elementary school. The entire time I watched this doc I was sitting there shaking my head and rolling my eyes. How could she possibly not know?!…