By Odeisel
Family is probably the most difficult thing that we deal with on this earth. Our friends we choose, and should things go wrong we have a choice to continue or disassociate. Family is different. With them, you have to play the hand you are dealt.
There was a time, before the Michael Jackson juggernaut, that our musical talent was relegated to late night television. We had a few sitcoms and shows, and pudding powered Cosby stood firm in the struggle to present black faces on television of the non-coon variety, but as far as then burgeoning MTV, were personas non grata.
Outside of music, by the time the 80s rolled around, there weren’t many Black shows either. We had Tootie’s roller skating in Miss Garrett’s kitchen, Phil Drummond patronizing Willis and Arnold, and Webster running through grandfather clocks. But there was no main vehicle to carry our culture to our homes.
Although it wasn’t on free TV, BET was our home; our family. You always assume that family has your best interest at heart. You never think to stop and wonder if your mom doesn’t really know the answer when she’s helping you with your homework. You would like to think that your father really does know best, and that what they give to you is for your own good. The older you get, you figure out that your mom hasn’t had a math class in years, and your dad isn’t as worldly as you believed. But they’re family.
BET wasn’t perfect, and they didn’t have 24 hour programming, but they were the little station that could. They were your cousin Denise trying to get into college; busting her ass in school, with an afterschool job, determined to make it in this world. They had shows like Teen Summit, to nourish the children, and Ed Gordon/Tavis Smiley-helmed Nightly News to show us what was going on in Black America in a way that your local news just couldn’t. They weren’t perfect but they were family. You play the hand you’re dealt.
We supported cousin Denise through the many phases of her life. When she dropped out of school (cancelled Teen Summit) we remained by her side. When she lost her job (cancelled Nightly News) we held her down like school lunch. We even supported her when she had a baby and started stripping to support herself (BET Uncut). No matter what she did, we had her back because blood is thicker than water.
Last night, Denise did something that may not be able to be supported or forgiven. When our shining King died Thursday, with an impending awards show, in the City of the Angels, BET was given the opportunity of a lifetime. Michael Jackson’s death and the subsequent publicity that followed, particularly an alley-oop from Don Lemon and CNN to lead into the show, gave unprecedented attention worldwide to the BET Awards, and a chance to show what true “Black Star Power” was all albout. To say that they squandered that prospect is an understatement of the highest order.
Their red carpet (or black carpet as it were) was significantly outclassed by CNN, in particular, the aforementioned Lemon, who, despite a bizarre interview with Joe Jackson, managed to snag all the significant A-List stars, and ask genuinely interesting questions. Terrence and Rocsi, hosts of BET’s long-running show 106 & Park were by comparison, Denise’s children running wild in the supermarket with no supervision; nothing of any substance, a few wardrobe changes, and misplaced enthusiasm. The performers themselves, afforded with the opportunity on, for many, the biggest stage of their lives, flopped horrendously.
The broadcast itself was Denise in the corner smoking crack while her child is in the living room with a diaper full of “shit” (one from Eddie Levert in a true Boondocksian “n***a moment” and one from a song that inadequate censors didn’t catch. The show had no rhythm, it ran over time by 45 minutes, and held us all hostage waiting for the payoff; waiting for the event that would make us sweep everything else under the rug and say not only good bye to the King, but to find something good to say about Denise, who is obviously falling apart.
There was no consistency to the show, with many performances either subpar or seeming out of place. There was profanity, performances of questionable content for a primetime heavy event, the ridiculous awarding without even mentioning nominees, a babbling Don Cornelius, an outlandish ode to Baby Boy, and a Beyonce remix of “Ave Maria.” You can’t make this stuff up. We won’t expound on the Sheneneh/Wanda action movie extravaganza.
When family is hurting or out of control, we intervene. Anything that would snap them back to the road of self respect. Bob Johnson is long gone, content to try running airlines and too busy screwing up the Charlotte Bobcats. They weren’t perfect before but at least they had some video soul. The beast that is Viacom, while placing quality Hip-Hop and urban programming on VH-1 (formerly the channel who promised to play absolutely NO Hip-Hop) and its Nickelodeon juggernaut, (I won’t count MTV because they’re a sinking ship as well quality-wise), seem either unwilling or unable to stop the bleeding at BET. They made the call to cut off the womb (Teen Summit) and the head (Tavis Smiley).
Perhaps it’s time for some new blood? Perhaps BET can rise from what was a colossal failure for both themselves as a credible entity and for us as a family represented by her. We have our things we like to laugh at, and there are things that the urban community “gets” that perhaps others don’t jive with, but trotting out their two impending reality shows (I won’t even name them. You already know), and promising a payoff to the incessantly long and weak show, in addition to increasingly juvenile programming, particularly impending ghetto game show “Pay It Off” may be just unsalvageable offenses.
Maybe it’s time to accept that Denise doesn’t want to change. Maybe she is who she is, and we are no longer family but enablers to her tired act. Perhaps it’s time to look elsewhere. Expecting Viacom to accurately depict our way is probably foolish in itself. It’s time to move. It’s time for some tough love. Perhaps when we won’t let her in for Thanksgiving dinner, or we don’t send cards for Christmas because we’re over at cousin TV One’s House (who had a very good program on the Lost Supreme, Florence Ballard), she’ll get the message and straighten up her act. For now we stand amazed at the hubris and denial that is going on at BET with talk of “historic nights” and “great performances.” Perhaps BET should take Mr. Jacksons advice and start with the person in the mirror.
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