

Disclaimer: There are light spoilers ahead.
As the credits rolled on Queen & Slim, I remained confined to my $12.85 faux leather movie seat due to high anxiety, experiencing classic symptoms like a lump in my throat, a slight queasiness in my belly, and racing thoughts. Why am I feeling this way after watching a movie meant to entertain me? Scanning the room, many other moviegoers also remained for reasons unknown to me. After several deep breaths, I was calm enough to leave.
Walking to my car, I'd hear commentary from other moviegoers that were riddled with frustration, hurt, and pain. One woman could be heard saying how "we never make it out alive." Another man questioned his partner, "Why you make me see this?" His genuine concern was felt on a spiritual level. My question was simple, "Why does mainstream black 'entertainment' regurgitate black pain?"
Instantly, I became pissed with myself for listening to Issa Rae and "rooting for everybody black". No, I don't have an axe to grind against Lena Waithe or Melina Matsoukas, two amazing creators who've worked extremely hard to secure their positions in Hollywood. However, I was disappointed in their creating cliche black cinema using black trauma, triggers, fears, and pain as the backdrop to promote the depths of intimate and community black love.
For those who've seen the film, you're aware that Queen and Slim met online and decided to have their first date at a local restaurant. Although the dialogue between the pair was cheesy, I remained hopeful that we, black folk, and our love stories would be represented lovingly and wholeheartedly. Listen, I'm not naive, I'm aware all stories require conflict, yet I wasn't prepared for depths the creators would go to emphasize this point.
The next scene is where Waithe began reaching for the low-hanging fruit of stereotypes and cliches, and black trauma. While driving, Queen and Slim were pulled over by a white, racist cop due to the latter's erratic driving, while arguing over a cliche issue, his phone. Of note, when the red and blue cops sirens were visible, a collective gasp filled the theater because many of us knew from experience what was going to happen next.
Our bodies knew too.
The effects of traumatic experiences live in our bodies, even when the event is long over. #PTSD
During the stop, it was apparent Slim was listening when given the "this is what you do when interacting with cops" talk, as he exercised extreme caution when interacting with the police. Queen had the stereotypical role of an "aggressive black woman", who disregarded the rules of engagement when interacting with police, which was due presumably to her background as a lawyer. Her actions unnecessarily escalated an already dire situation. Subsequently, Queen was shot by the officer, grazed by his bullet. Slim was able to fend off and kill the cop, which started the traumatic journey of Queen and Slim.
Stop.
For many black men and women, including myself, the very sight of the police can trigger anxiety and depression due to historical and present-day representation. Historically, they were "slave-catchers" and night watch. In the 1960's, they sprayed our grandparents with water hoses. Within the last 20 years, they've murdered Sean Bell, Tamir Rice, and Atatiana Jefferson. At this very moment, they are occupying our neighborhoods and utilizing tactics like stop and frisk, exerting their authority at any given moment. Why, in our two hours away from reality, must we confront our societal truths?
The remainder of the film saw Queen and Slim's relationship developed as they navigated various unrealistic encounters. There's no denying the pair's chemistry, which could be felt in the film's intimate scenes, like dancing at the hole-in-the-wall club or during their musty sex scene; however, it's important to highlight that their foundation was built on a shared traumatic experience, which is often confused with healthy compatibility.
We saw two people, on the run for murder, have this brief yet intense relationship while promoting this ride or die mentality, an ideology promoted in our music and films for decades, but has yet to serve the black community well.
To the dismay of moviegoers, Queen and Slim met their demise in a Cleo-Without-A-Gun-Set-It-Off style shooting scene, where the police exercised extreme force, later described as justifiable by news outlets because the couple was "armed and dangerous".
When the black community learned of their deaths, the black Bonnie & Clyde were viewed as martyrs and were given the traditional posthumous black martyr package, which consisted of their images printed on t-shirts, worn by black boys playing basketball, and the creation of a mural on a dilapidated city wall. I'm assuming some teddy bears and flowers found their way onto the helicopter runway, as its symbolism is essential when discussing black grief.
In the days following me viewing the movie, I ponder how the film Queen & Slim could've best represented black folk without preying on our ills and fears in the process. The answer was simple: It couldn't. This was a story that didn't require telling because the majority are aware of the systematic racism that exists within our legal system. We've encountered racist police and have witnessed dysfunctional black relationships, both within our community and personal lives. Why must we constantly relive these harmful truths in our entertainment?
There were minimal redeeming qualities in the storyline, and imagery, in this movie that spoke to healthy black love, neither with a partner nor self, which is a unique responsibility of both Waithe and Matsoukas, given their respective platforms.
Our stories deserve to be told in the most creative, authentic, edifying, and uplifting fashion. Unfortunately, this wasn't it.
In interviews, Lena boasted about white hands not touching this story, yet it was immersed in the white supremacist patriarchal capitalistic stereotypes that continue to harm us. How can I argue against our portrayal through a "white lens", when it's the "black lens" that continues to fail us. Black entertainment cannot continue to be rooted in shared trauma and there be an expectation of support because "at least we got beautiful chocolate black folk on the screen". The longer we continue to subscribe to this unhealthy narrative, and not hold our folk to higher standards, we'll forever be emotionally crippled.
xoNecole is always looking for new voices and empowering stories to add to our platform. If you have an interesting story or personal essay that you'd love to share, we'd love to hear from you. Contact us at submissions@xonecole.com.
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Phillip J. Roundtree is a mental health advocating, TedxTalk giving, controversial writing, multiple grad-school student loans owing, unapologetic, yet empathic, melanated man, who boxes depression and anxiety daily. Check him out at @phil_quadefy on IG and www.quadefyllc.net.
Claudia Jordan, Demetria McKinney & Jill Marie Jones On 'Games Women Play' & Dating Over 40
What do you get when you mix unfiltered truths, high-stakes romance, and a few well-timed one-liners? You get Games Women Play—the sizzling new stage play by Je’Caryous Johnson that’s part relationship rollercoaster, part grown-woman group chat.
With a powerhouse cast that includes Claudia Jordan, Demetria McKinney, Jill Marie Jones, Carl Payne, Chico Bean, and Brian J. White, the play dives headfirst into the messy, hilarious, and heart-wrenching games people play for love, power, and peace of mind. And the women leading this story? They’re bringing their whole selves to the stage—and leaving nothing behind.
From Script to Spotlight
The road to Games Women Play started over 20 years ago—literally.
“This script was written 20 years ago,” Jill Marie Jones said with a smile. “It was originally called Men, Money & Gold Diggers, and I was in the film version. So when Je’Caryous called me to bring it to the stage, I was like, ‘Let’s go.’” Now reimagined for 2025, the play is updated with sharp dialogue and modern relationship dynamics that feel all too real.
Demetria McKinney, no stranger to Je’Caryous Johnson’s productions, jumped at the opportunity to join the cast once again. “This is my third time working with him,” she shared. “It was an opportunity to stretch. I’d never been directed by Carl Payne before, and the chance to work with talent I admire—Jill, Claudia, Chico—it was a no-brainer.”
Claudia Jordan joked that she originally saw the role as just another check. “I didn’t take it that seriously at first,” she admitted. “But this is my first full-on tour—and now I’ve got a whole new respect for how hard people work in theater. This ain’t easy.”
Modern Love, Stage Left
The play doesn’t hold back when it comes to the messier parts of love. One jaw-dropping moment comes when a live podcast proposal flips into a prenup bombshell—leaving the audience (and the characters) gasping.
Demetria broke it down with honesty. “People don’t ask the real questions when they date. Like, ‘Do you want kids? How do you feel about money?’ These convos aren’t happening, and then everyone’s confused. That moment in the play—it’s real. That happens all the time.”
Jill chimed in, noting how the play speaks to emotional disconnect. “We’re giving each other different tokens of love. Men might offer security and money. Women, we’re giving our hearts. But there’s a disconnect—and that’s where things fall apart.”
And then Claudia, of course, took it all the way there. “These men don’t even want to sign our prenups now!” she laughed. “They want to live the soft life, too. Wearing units, gloss, getting their brows done. We can’t have nothing! Y’all want to be like us? Then get a damn period and go through menopause.”
Dating Over 40: “You Better Come Correct”
When the conversation turned to real-life relationships, all three women lit up. Their experiences dating in their 40s and 50s have given them both clarity—and zero tolerance for games.
“I feel sexier than I’ve ever felt,” said Jill, who proudly turned 50 in January. “I say what I want. I mean what I say. I’m inside my woman, and I’m not apologizing for it.”
Demetria added that dating now comes with deeper self-awareness. “Anybody in my life is there because I want them there. I’ve worked hard to need nobody. But I’m open to love—as long as you keep doing what got me there in the first place.”
For Claudia, the bar is high—and the peace is priceless. “I’ve worked hard for my peace,” she said. “I’m not dating for food. I’m dating because I want to spend time with you. And honestly, if being with you isn’t better than being alone with my candles and fountains and cats? Then no thanks.”
Channeling Strength & Icon Status
Each actress brings something different to the play—but all of them deliver.
“I actually wish I could be messier on stage,” Claudia joked. “But I think about my grandmother—she was born in 1929, couldn’t even vote or buy a house without a man, and didn’t give a damn. She was fearless. That’s where my strength comes from.”
For Jill, the comparisons to her iconic Girlfriends character Toni Childs aren’t far off—but this role gave her a chance to dig deeper. “If you really understood Toni, you’d see how layered she was. And Paisley is the same—misunderstood, but strong. There’s more to her than people see at first glance.”
Demetria, who juggles singing and acting seamlessly, shared that live theater pushes her in a new way. “Every moment on stage counts. You can’t redo anything. It’s a different kind of love and discipline. You have to give the performance away—live, in the moment—and trust that it lands.”
Laughter, Lessons & Black Girl Gems
The show has plenty of laugh-out-loud moments—and the cast isn’t shy about who steals scenes.
“Chico Bean gets a lot of gasps and laughs,” Claudia said. “And Naomi Booker? Every scene she’s in—she’s hilarious.”
But the play isn’t just about humor. It leaves space for reflection—especially for Black women.
“I hope we get back to the foundation of love and communication,” said Demetria. “A lot of us are in protector mode. But that’s turned into survival mode. We’ve lost softness. We’ve lost connection.”
Claudia agreed. “We’re doing it all—but it’s not because we want to be strong all the time. It’s because we have to be. And I just want women to know: You can have peace, you can be soft. But stop bringing your old pain into new love. Don’t let past heartbreak build walls so high that the right person can’t climb over.”
Final Act: Pack the House
If there’s one thing this cast agrees on, it’s that this play isn’t just entertainment—it’s necessary.
“Atlanta is the Black entertainment hub,” Claudia said. “We need y’all to show up for this play. Support the arts. Support each other. Because when we pack the house, we make space for more stories like this.”
Games Women Play is more than a play—it’s a mirror. You’ll see yourself, your friends, your exes, and maybe even your next chapter. So get ready to laugh, reflect, and maybe even heal—because the games are on.
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It’s officially Miss Keri, Baby season again—and if you ask us, it’s been a long time coming. After 15 years away from the music scene, Keri Hilson has returned not only with a brand-new album, but also a captivating new role in Lifetime’s Fame—the latest installment in The Temptations film franchise.
Between the album We Need to Talk: Love and her leading role in Fame, this isn’t just a comeback—it’s a rebirth. The Grammy-nominated singer-songwriter turned actress is letting us into her world like never before, unpacking themes of vulnerability, healing, and inner strength with grace, grit, and raw artistry.
Now streaming on Lifetime, Fame follows two superstar sisters—played by Keri and singer/actress Keshia Chanté—as they navigate the cost of stardom, sibling rivalry, and the dark side of desire. The film also stars Romeo Miller, Ecstasia Sanders, Nathan Witte, and Sophie Carriere, and is executive produced by Derrick Williams and Adriane Hopper Williams of the Seven Deadly Sins franchise.
As for the music? We Need to Talk: Love is a three-part album (Love, Drama, Redemption) that tells the story of a woman who’s been through it—and has risen from the ashes. “It was time to speak for myself,” Keri says.
We sat down with Keri to talk about her return to music, her passion for acting, the emotional depth of Fame, and how she’s learning to care for herself amidst the chaos.
From R&B Queen to Drama Star: Keri Gets Into Character
“Even though she’s famous—as am I—it was really her humanity that I wanted to portray.”
Keri plays Cherish, one half of a superstar sibling duo who must confront their fractured relationship in the wake of a traumatic robbery. For Keri, the role was more than a character—it was a psychological study.
“I enjoy departures from reality. That’s why I love acting,” she shares. “Psychology is one of my favorite things in life. I became a writer because I’m an observer of human nature, emotion, and behavior. I think I did a good job showing her humanity.”
The Fame Isn’t Always Worth the Price
“Keep the main thing the main thing.”
Keri doesn’t sugarcoat the industry. When asked about what Fame reveals about the dark side of celebrity culture, her answer is clear:
“It’s a cautionary tale. It reminds you to keep your family close and not allow anything to come between them—especially in pursuit of success. Keep the main thing the main thing. For me, that’s family, love, spirituality, and values.”
Three Chapters, One Story: Love. Drama. Redemption.
“I’ve shed the fear. It was time to tell my own story.”
Released April 18th, We Need to Talk: Love is Keri’s first album in 15 years—and a deeply personal one at that. The three-part project (Love, Drama, Redemption) represents a timeline of healing and growth.
“I’m finally in a place where I’m able and willing to open up more,” she says. “For a while, I became really guarded—shell-shocked, even—after making mistakes in the public eye. Whether it’s all your fault or not, the scrutiny takes its toll. But now, I’ve shed that fear. It’s time to tell my story.”
Cooking, Walks, and Recalibrating in the Chaos
“I’m not doing the best job—but I’m doing what I can.”
Between eight-hour rehearsals, press runs, and music releases, Hilson admits she hasn’t quite figured out the balance yet—but she’s trying. For her, the key is carving out small rituals of normalcy.
“I enjoy cooking. That’s my sanctity,” she says. “I’ll go home, take my makeup off, put on my rehearsal clothes, and cook a meal. I take walks. I run. These little things help me feel like myself again.”
Art Imitates Life (and Album Tracklists)
“Cherish goes from Love… to Drama… to Redemption.”
Asked which album chapter her Fame character would fall into, Keri doesn’t hesitate. “She fits into all three,” she says. “You see her go from love, to drama, to redemption. That arc mirrors the journey of so many women who’ve had to navigate pain and find their way back to themselves.”
No Pressure, Just Art: Keri Wants You to Feel Something
“Just enjoy the art. That’s it.”
After all the time, patience, and healing, Keri isn’t asking for much. She just wants fans to press play—and feel something.
“I just want people to enjoy what they’re seeing and hearing. Enjoy me on screen. Enjoy me through their ears. People have waited, and I feel blessed by that. That helps me keep it all pure and simple.”
As Keri Hilson steps boldly back into the spotlight, it’s clear this era is all about alignment, artistry, and authenticity. With Fame airing on Lifetime and the first chapter of We Need to Talk: Love setting the tone, we’re more than excited to see what’s next.
As she continues to unfold the album’s next two chapters—Drama and Redemption—one thing’s for sure: this isn’t just a comeback. It’s a reintroduction. And we’ll be watching, listening, and cheering her on every step of the way.
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