I want to begin by saying I’ve been a fan and supporter of Amanda Seales since My Brother and Me. I’ve always appreciated her wit, candor, and love for Black people and Black culture. That will likely never change, and I am almost certain that there will never be a time when I have the opportunity to stand up and defend a Black woman who is being unfairly judged and villainized that I will stray away from it.
By now I’m sure most of you reading this have seen or heard about, Seales’ Reel from March 16 sharing with her fans how much she appreciated them for showing up for her in ways she felt she wasn't supported in other spaces. She also mentioned various high-profile Black media outlets and award shows for not including her. One of those outlets even replied to the reel by acknowledging her truth, apologizing, and pledging to do better moving forward.
However, since then three Black media outlets, including ESSENCE, have released op-eds justifying why Seales’ treatment might not only be acceptable but the result of Seales’ overall personality and character. The Root headline reading, “If Everyone Says The Same Thing About Amanda Seales, Could She Be The Problem?” While TheGrio led with “Amanda Seales is not a victim of anything but her own hubris.” Lastly, ESSENCE chimed inwith the narrative “It's Time To Admit That Being Liked Is More Important Than Being Good At Your Job.”
Though all of these pieces were op-eds and the publications noted that the views of their journalists weren’t necessarily the views of the publication itself, the questions must be asked, why even publish them then? What conversation were you looking to elicit from these harsh attacks on a Black woman’s character?
And I’m not the only academic or journalist asking these questions. Elaine Welteroth went to social media asking, “Why are we having a public town hall discussion about whether or not we like Amanda Seales?” Marc Lamont Hill released a 20-minute video discussing the recent backlash Seales is receiving on his YouTube channel, challenging the framing of the narrative surrounding Seales. In the video, he’s also acknowledging she speaks out on issues that challenge the patriarchy, calls out the military-industrial complex, addresses racism, educates people on misogynoir, and so much more, which in essence makes her an easy target.
“When people who are in power have their authority and their power and their privilege questioned, they don’t like it and they fight, and they strike back,” Hill says.
Each of the individuals who penned these articles acknowledged that Seales speaks out against important issues but framed their narratives around the reason she’s not being received within Black Hollywood is that people don’t “like her.” Hill continues, “If you have someone in our community that’s addressing issues that make us better and then you normalize a narrative that she shouldn’t be liked, and you advance a media attack on her you’re not just attacking her, you’re making her less credible to the people who follow her and listen to her.”
Some argue that Seales’ recent framing by the media as someone who is “disliked” stems from her calling out publicist Vanessa Anderson for having her removed from a Black Emmys party in 2019. Others feel it may stem from her speaking out about Myron Rolle, NFL player turned neurosurgeon, about sexual harassment. There are countless theories on why Seales is being excluded from Black Hollywood events that stretch from her days as an MTV VJ to her stint onThe Real.
However, gossip and hearsay have no place in journalism. Black media outlets and organizations such as the NAACP were birthed out of a necessity for Black voices and stories to be heard and elevated. They were created so our community could have a space to tell our truths, and not just truths that were pretty or popular. Their inception was meant to hold those with power and authority accountable for their actions toward our community and other marginalized communities.
Likewise, they were meant to be a space where Black people are uplifted, not torn down.
The Memphis Free Speech, co-owned by Ida B. Wells, was created in 1888 as a platform to challenge racial discrimination and became a prominent voice in the Black community as it advocated for civil rights and social justice. Wells used her column to form an antilynching campaign and in one of her most famous works, she boldly suggested white women were being dishonest when accusing Black men they were caught with of rape. Her column resulted in her having to leave Memphis due to threats to her life.
ESSENCE Magazine was first published in 1970 to fill a void in the mainstream magazine industry that largely ignored and or misrepresented Black women. Its mission was to create a beautiful tapestry where Black womanhood was protected, celebrated, and allowed to be as vibrant, multifaceted, and unique as Black women themselves.
The NAACP Image Awards were created in 1967 to honor and award the outstanding achievements of members within the Black community who were often overlooked in the fields of television, film, music, and literature while simultaneously celebrating social justice activists who were creating change in America and globally.
When Black media outlets tear down and berate Black women for telling their truths, for standing up for other Black people, or for living as their authentically and unapologetic Black selves, not only are they perpetuating and justifying misogynoir; but also losing sight of what their foundational purpose. Additionally, suggesting, as these articles alluded to, that Seales isn't successful because of her lack of likability is either delusional, disrespectful, or both, given her consistent sold-out comedy shows, a successful podcast, 5-star author status, and 2.2M+ social media following across platforms.
Black women face a myriad of hatred, judgment, and backlash every day and are consistently told how they’re at fault for the way they’re treated. It is time for us as a community to stop putting the onus on Black women and start holding the offending parties accountable for their part as well.
Featured image by Dominik Bindl/Getty Images
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A Goddard College graduate, who earned an MFA from Pratt Institute and was awarded an honorary doctorate from Marymount Manhattan College, Mahogany offers unapologetic realness with a side of grace and empowerment. "I started touring locally. I started creating chat books so that those poems will go in the hands of the people who were sitting in the rooms," she shared.
"And then I started facilitating poetry workshops, so I used my chat books as curriculum. And that, in turn, allowed me to further invest in my art and show the community and people who were hiring me that it wasn't just a one-off, that it's not just, you know, a fly by night—that I am invested in this art as much as I am invested in your community, in your children's learning, in our growth."
Mahogany has a special way of moving audiences, and her superpower sparks shifts in perspective, post-performance introspection, and strengthening of community bonds, especially among Black women. (One can undeniably recognize her gift for arousal of the spirit and mind merely from her listening to her insights from the other side of a Google Hangout call. I can only imagine the soul-stirring, top-tier sensory encounter when watching her perform in person.)
In this chat with xoNecole, Mahogany reflects on sustaining a creative career, the aftermath of writing a banned book, and using poetry for both healing, community-building, and activism.
Anthony Artis
xoNecole: What are three key things that have laid the foundation for a sustainable creative career for you?
Mahogany L Browne: What has helped me is that I'm willing to go in being an expert at knowing poetry and knowing the way in which art can change the landscape of our lives, not just as a poet, but also as a poetry facilitator. How you move through classes, those things are mastered, right? So when I go into another space that's maybe tech-heavy, I don't mind learning and being, you know, a student of the wonder of how we can make this magic, work together.
Two, you’ve got to know how to pivot. Sometimes we say, ‘Alright, this is what my life is going to be. I'm going to be a New York Times best-selling author. I'm going to, you know, have an album that's Grammy-nominated. And then, say you get dropped from your record label. That doesn't mean you can't make an album anymore. You can also still create an album that can be submitted to the Grammys. So, what does a pivot look like as an artist who doesn't have an institution behind them? Pivot being a student of the wonder.
Relationships also really help. How do I serve the community? And in turn, that tells me how the community can show up. For me, I have long-standing ties with a community that will outlast my one life. So, what does it mean to create space where these relationships can develop, can be nurtured, can be rooted, can be cultivated? Creating space—it happens through relationships.
xoN: With today’s economic challenges, what does your current creative process look like, and what are you working on?
MB: I’m always thinking five years ahead. I just reviewed the pages for two children’s books and recently released a YA novel. I’m drafting an adult fiction manuscript now.
Anything I create is founded with the root of poetry, but it can exist in captions. It can exist in commercials. It can exist as a musical. So that's where I’m at now.
xoN: You started performing "Black Girl Magic" in 2013, had an acclaimed performance of it via PBS and the work went on to viral success shortly after. Talk more about the inspiration. And what do you think about the continued relevance more than a decade later?
MB: I wrote it as a rally cry for the mothers who had been keeping themselves truly in harm's way by, you know, being a part of the community right after the death of their child or their loved one. They are usually mothers of victims of police brutality—and just seeing how they showed up in these community spaces, they are devout to the cause but obviously still grieving.
"I wanted this poem to be just a space of reclamation, of joy and of you, of your light, of your shine, of your brilliance, in any which way in which you fashion. Every room you enter is the room you deserve to be in. What does it mean to have a poem like that that exists?"
And the first time I did the poem, the Weeping that occurred, right? It was like this blood-letting of sorts. The next time I performed it, I'm moved to tears because I'm seeing how it's affecting other women who have just been waiting to hear, ‘You belong. You deserve. You are good. We see you. Thank you, despite everything that they said to make you regret being born in this beautiful brown, dark-skinned, light-skinned, but Black body.’
Black women are the backbone—period. Point blank. And so, that that poem became a necessity, not just to the fortitude of Black women in the community, but like you know, in service of healing the Black women.
xoN: One of your books was banned at a school in Boston, and it was later reinstated due to parental and activist support. What was that experience like?
MB: Well, I think it happened because they were racist. That's it. Point blank. The reversal of it was empowering, right? I realized, oh, I thought we just had to sit here and be on a banned book list. But no, parents are actually the leaders of this charge.
So to see that, the parents said, ‘Nah, we're not gonna let you take this book out of my baby’s school just because it's a Black kid on the front saying, ‘Woke’ and they're talking about being a global citizen. They're talking about accountability. They're talking about accessibility. They're talking about allyship, and you don't want them to have compassion or empathy or have even an understanding, right? So no, we rebuke that, and we want this book here anyway.’ To see that happen in that way. I was, like, reaffirmed. Absolutely.
xoN: You recently organized the Black Girl Magic Ball at the Lincoln Center in New York. Honorees included author and entrepreneur Rachel Cargle and National Black Theater CEO Sade Lythcott. What impact did it have and what expanded legacy do you hope to leave with your creative works?
MB: I was really interested in not celebrating just the book, but celebrating the community that made the book possible. And so I gave out five awards to women doing that thing, like, what does it mean to be a Black girl in this world?
I just thought it was gonna be an amazing time. Everybody's gonna dress up—we're gonna celebrate each other. And boom, I then realized that it responded to like a gaping hole. There was a missing thing for Black girls of all walks of life, all ages, right?
"It's very intergenerational. That was intentional to come together and celebrate just being us."
You have all these instances where just being you is either the butt of a joke or it's diminished and not worthy of a specific title in these larger institutions. So what does it mean to just to be loved up on and celebrated?
It felt like a self-care project at first. You know, for the first couple of years, folks were coming and they were getting that sisterhood. They were getting that tribe work that they were missing in their everyday lives.
I love the Black Girl Magic Ball because we got us. If I go out with a bang, they'll remember that Mahogany worked her a** off to make sure all the Black girls everywhere knew that she was the light. We are the blueprint.
For more information on Mahogany L. Browne, her work, and her future projects, visit her website or follow her on IG @mobrowne.
Featured image by Anthony Artis
