Brittney Cooper is just mad that Iggy Azalea is hot, and she is not

“Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful…”
-Kelly LeBrock

I remember the very first time I saw Tina Turner; remember it like it was yesterday, in fact. I was about six years old, sitting in the middle of my grandparents’ master bedroom in their huge home in North Philly. I was watching their enormous floor-model Zenith television set – a big deal to own back then – and when Ms. Turner took the stage, I was spellbound.

She sang “Proud Mary” and was shakin’ it something fierce; my hypnotic, trancelike state was so profound that my grandmother turned off the T.V., muttering something about “them fast-assed girls” – a phrase I would hear quite a bit more in the years to come from her, as I, ahem, came of age in her home.

From that moment on, I was a stan for Tina.

It didn’t have a darned thing to do with “cultural appropriation” or any other convoluted notion toward “deconstructionism” that is so much a part and parcel the M.O. of the Sistas of Perpetual Grievance; heck, I didn’t even know, nor cared, that “Proud Mary” was originally written and performed by a White guy – the famed John Fogerty, front man for the “swamp rock” (even though they were from sunny California) band, Creedance Clearwater Revival. All’s I knew was that day, I knew exactly what a Hot Woman looked like.

So, when I got word from my colleague, Ms. Janet Bloomfield, that “Professor Crunk”, Ms. Brittney Cooper, was on yet another Id-Monster-fueled tear because her seven year-old nephew sat enraptured by a recent Iggy Azalea performance, I both chuckled and felt deeply saddened at the same time. Not because I could relate to Cooper’s nephew – I most certainly could – but because I saw right through the facade that Black Feminists like Cooper always put up when it comes to things like this. Things like beauty. Things like attractiveness.

Things like Hotness.

Cooper’s understanding of musical history – Hip Hop or otherwise – is at best, suspect, if not downright farcical – but Ms. Bloomfield has already done a masterful job in demonstrating how and why. And of course, Ms. Bloomfield – a White, and yea I’ll say it, conventionally attractive woman, despite her having birthed three kids – can’t say what I’m about to say. And on balance, that is actually a good thing. Because it was time that a Brotha like me started saying what I’m going to say.

And that, is this:

The entire Black Feminist “project”, if one can call it that, is built around being Butthurt that they ain’t Miss Ann.


This has always been my argument, and recently here at AVFM, I’ve laid it out as concisely as possible. I argue, and maintain, that the chief “beef” Black Feminists have, is that they ain’t good looking. White women, by and large, or failing that, good looking Black women – you know, the kinds of White and Black women Brothas Who Matter, tend to come out to the yard for.

And. That. Drives. Them. Batty.

Like Ms. Bloomfield, I’m no fan of Azalea, and to be frank, believe it or not, I actually prefer Sistas who are NOT “conventionally attractive” – but I still got eyes that work. And the simple truth of the matter is, that Iggy ain’t hard to look at. There. I’ve said it. Women who ain’t hard to look at, tend to get more attention, get a bit further along in life, and yea, get more attraction from a wider swath of guys, than women who aren’t so great to look at, all other things being equal. Sucks, I know, but such is life.

But, instead of focusing on what they CAN do to make their lives better, Sista Feminists like Cooper bemoan the very existence of the Iggys of the world (and blame everyone else first and foremost Black men, dontcha know) – who, I remind everyone, work their tushes off to get where they are to begin with. The so-called “issues” Black Feminists tend to bang on about – “street harassment”, “Black male privilege” and so forth – are really thinly veiled covers for Sour Grapes gripin’ that they came up on the short end of the lovin’ stick – and try to ape White Feminists by making their personal butthurt political. It’s silly, it’s sophmoric, it’s petty and yea, I’ll say it, it’s pathetic – especially when you’ve gone to the point of going in on young boys who truly don’t know any better anyway.

I mean, really.

Ms. Cooper – and her Sistas in Arms – would be much better served by losing weight, hitting up Sephora and, since they admire Ms. Ann so very much, actually LISTENING to White women, like Ms. Bloomfield, as to how to get and keep those Brothas Who Matter. If they really want to tackle “issues” facing Black women in America, they can start by following Chris Rock’s lead in his excellent documentary “Good Hair”; or by addressing the fact that, taken together as a group, Black American women are the heaviest people in the country; or, by addressing themselves to matters of comportment, attitude and decorum – things that make it easier, not harder, not just to attract suitors (and keep them! – since Black American women also have the lowest marital rate and highest breakup/divorce rate of all American women, too), but to get along in life, period. These are all real concerns that everyone reading along right now with one good eye can confirm out there – and don’t require far-fetched, quasi-metaphysical solutions to implement. It really, truly, ain’t that hard.

And I’m really, truly, too tired of listening to Black Feminists moan, whine and hate on Women, White or otherwise, who just happen to put a premium of importance on actually looking good, and using what they got to get what they want.

Please, get with the program, Brittney…

…and leave your nephew alone.

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