(Photo: Goodloe/PictureGroup)

Hollywood doesn’t have a lot of categories for the on-screen image of Black actresses—no matter whether the role is sister, best friend, confidante or housekeeper, the image is usually de-sexed Mammy or oversexed va-va-voom lady. Recently, things have gotten a little better, with Black women allowed to look more normal on screen, less like they’re about to join a convent or a whorehouse. But poor Viola Davis may get a lot of well-deserved accolades for her roles, but she often gets the sad sack of the wardrobe and wig department. Which explains why heads keep turning (and blogs keep being written) every time we see a sexier, more modern side of The Help star. First, there was her LA Times Magazine photo shoot, where the world gasped appreciatively at her natural hair and high fashion styling.

Now there is her red carpet look from last week’s NAACP Image Awards. The nominee, and eventual NAACP Image award winner, pulled out all the stops in an orange Herve L. Leroux gown. You may have missed that the dress had a halter cut or that she accessorized it with a Judith Lieber clutch, since the main stars were her breasts, out for the night to enjoy the Hollywood pageantry. “I picked [the dress] because of the color. I didn’t realize my ta-tas would be so prevalent,” the 46-year-old Oscar nominee told Us Weekly. “I just pushed them up. I felt as long as they weren’t hanging down to my knees I’m doing pretty good.”

Simple requirements, stunning look, a win-win for Davis. But how will she top that at the Oscars (maybe with a nod to Prince in cheek-less chaps)?

(Photo: CBS)

Actually, Lil Wayne loves both F-words. The one that gets little kids mouths washed out with soap and the other one, Fashion. Like the French and the runway models, Weezy likes to get expressive with his style. Consider the Grammys: Drake put on a tux, LL donned a tux and a bevy of black hats, Adele wore not one but two black dresses, Katy Perry put  a smurf on her head, Rihanna wore a couple of rolls of tape to keep her boobies in place while Gaga wore a lace gag. But Wayne pshawed such desperate ploys at dress up and he showed up at the show in a yellow t-shirt. Such comfort! Such ease! But lest you think he forgot this was music’s biggest night, Wayne showed that he cares by proving that the devil is in the details. Forget tuxedo fittings, he showed his flair with his accessorizing. A wee red skateboard was Wayne’s date of the night. When it was time for a standing ovation, Wayne stood tall and proud with what looks to be a  miniature toy but was in fact a tricked out iPhone case.

Used to be a time that a man who paid such attention to the covering for his phone would be called a nerd. Used to be a time when clutching your phone as your musical peers performed and won awards would be considered rude. And used to be a time that if a grown man adored a tiny skateboard he couldn’t expect to be considered a great musical mind.  But let Lil’ Wayne be a lesson to us all, because such times are over and his little red skateboard isn’t going anywhere.

(Photo: Courtesy beyonceonline.com)

This week Beyoncé put Baby Blue Ivy down for a long nap, put on a fancy red dress and bejeweled heels, stepped outside of her Tribeca residence and went and gave the world what it has been waiting for since she announced she was pregnant: a peek at how a Beyoncé Knowles Carter looks one month after giving birth.The furor that erupted after seeing that she looks draw-droppingly unbelievable (when, of course, everyone likes to imply that brand new moms should look dumpy, pudgy and worn out) was such big news that you would have thought she did something more than sit at her husband’s club and attend a party. You would have thought she gave birth in that dress, then smoothed her hair and continued with the night like nothing major had happened.

But for all the fawning and praise, Beyoncé didn’t make everyone’s Best Of list this week. When TheGrio.com reported on a new L’Oreal ad with the star, it drew attention to a problem many had noticed. In the ad, which is for foundation, Beyonce says, “There’s a story behind my skin. It’s a mosaic of all the faces before it. My only make-up? True Match.” OK, fine…until we find out that this story behind her skin is that she is  “African-American, Native American” and “French.” OK…sure…technically. Like almost all African-Americans, it is a safe guess that she is not 100% anything. Actually, like all Americans or people from places whose histories were transformed by the transatlantic slave trade, that is a safe bet. Yet, somehow, in a similar ad for Jennifer Lopez, she is “100% Puerto Rican,” as though white colonists and Africans forced into slavery had nothing to do with that island’s history.

This is not the first time Beyoncé’s skin has come under question. During the promotional ads and packaging for her last album, 4, she looked more like Columbian Shakira than African-American Beyonce. Magazine covers and beauty advertisements are no stranger to lightening her skin, and chances are it will happen again, no matter how many bloggers, consumers and other outraged people complain. Because as we know, whether she’s having a baby or attending a party, there is nothing Beyoncé can do that the world doesn’t feel entitled to talk about, dissect, applaud or lambast.

(Photo: Courtesy Elle Magazine)

The French have a charming/irksome habit (depending on your view of the French) in taking English words and chi-chi’ing them up. Le Big Mac. Super cool, but pronounced “zooo-pair kewl.” If this latest news got it’s own supercool francophiled lingo, it would be le screw up. It takes a certain je ne said quoi (see, we do it too!) to set out to write a fashion story praising the First Lady and wind up with an open letter being published in a national newspaper that is telling you to get a clue and stop being ignorant.

Here’s what led to the brouhaha: On January 13, French Elle published a story which said that this is a new fashion day for Black people, whose wardrobes had normally veered towards “thug,” thanks to First Lady Michelle Obama. It continues by saying that “chic has at last become a plausible option for a community that previously knew only streetwear.” At last. Now, as you take off your hoodie, gold fronts and size xxxxxxl jeans that you wear to the office everyday, rest assured that said editors were called out for such foolishness in a letter writen two weeks later and printed in Le Monde.

A group that included prominent Black French cultural folk such as supermodel Noémie Lenoir and the Cahiers du Cinéma critic Vincent Malausa wrote an open letter that not only condemned the original article, but French Elle’s overall coverage of Black women. Says the letter, titled “A quand une femme noire en couverture de “Elle” (translation: when will a black woman be on the cover of Elle?) “Elle magazine informs us that in fashion, in 2012, “the ‘black-geoisie’ has finally integrated white codes” of dress.”

The letter goes on to insist that the editors of the magazine “venutre out of the glass-enclosed headquarters” and see how the black people of France dress and engage in life.

American media watchdog website Jezebel, in response to the letter, investigated how many Black women are indeed on the cover of the weekly mag. “Out of the magazine’s 52 2011 issues, I could find only two covers that featured women who aren’t white,” says Jezebel writer Jenna Sauers. “One was the winner of a modeling contest, and the other was the French actress Leïla Behkti, who is of Algerian descent.”

Le sigh. More than the season for cobalt or skirts of a certain length, it seems to be the season of European editors going out of their way to be racist (smile, Dutch magazine Jackie). Fashion has always been a world of elitism, ostracism and haughtiness. So to be surprised at these latest shenanigans would be to forget decades of heinous offenses done in the name of haute couture. Yet just because it’s a longstanding tradition doesn’t make it one that needs to be continued unchecked. To usurp another Frenchism, vive la revolution!

(Photo: Courtesy Vanity Fair Magazine)

This almost doesn’t seem worth the effort it will take to write or read this post. After all, nothing new has happened: Vanity Fair has released their annual Hollywood issue, with its three-fold cover showing starlets slinking around in various positions. And, like nearly every year, they have decided not to put a woman of color on the part of the picture that is on the front of the mag. To see that Black people exist (barely) in Hollywood, you’ll need to turn the page, unfold the pic and feast your eyes on Pariah’s Adepero Oduye and a more-light-skinned-than-usual Paula Patton, sporting a Princess Leia-inspired hairdo.

But before you do that, take a gander at the cover again. Who, you may be wondering, are those women deemed worthy enough of the most coveted spots? There is Mara Rooney, who did a deservedly critically-lauded job as Lisbeth Salander in Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, a film that was crushed at the box office by Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol (starring, of course, Paula Patton). There’s also Jennifer Lawrence, Mia Wasikowska and Jessica Chastain. While Chastain was in The Help, last year’s most controversial hit, and Rooney was in one of the most hyped releases of 2011, there doesn’t seem to be any simple reason for why a brown or Black lady couldn’t put on her silky dress and smile from the front of the issue. Lest we use the r-word to explain Vanity Fair’s decision, in which case the reason for the cover’s whiteout becomes crystal clear.

(Photo: Maxim)

For anyone who came of age around the time of Purple Rain, you’ve been dealt a disservice. Children of the early 70s, regardless of the fact that Apollonia and co pranced around frigid Minneapolis in lace corsets and panties, covered only by stockings and perhaps a cape, does not mean that this is standard dress for anyone who is not a Can Can Girl. It is only in the world of Prince where beats are funky, men prefer ruffles and the ladies love lingerie.

Seems the editors of this month’s GQ and Maxim.com were raised on a healthy appetite of Prince’s panties-as-outerwear fantasies. How else to explain GQ putting an uncomfortable-looking Michelle Williams in bra and underwear on the cover of the February issue next to the question “Who knew she had this body?” Their sexism would have been more excusable had she not seemed so sad and out of sorts, like a girl whose security blanket was snatched away. Clothes, please, her face seems to say.

Evelyn Lozado, another barely dressed pinup celeb (or perhaps “celeb” is more accurate in her case), has no such look for Maxim.com. Bring it on, her face seems to say in shot after shot of her in the kind of get-up that would leave Prince doing a high kick. Silk, satin, lace, garters, bandeaus and f*ck-me pumps compete for attention with her abs that are as chiseled as a Ken dolls. But her belly isn’t her favorite body part. Says Lozado in the Q&A, she loves her breasts best. Why? “They’re pretty.”

Let’s end with a warning to all the impressionable tweens and teens who stumble upon Lozado’s photo shoot: though there may be a suggestive smile on her face and a come hither look in her eyes, this is not how women dress in real life! Never let anyone with a camera (or anyone named Prince who is outfitted like a Harlequin doll or frilly pirate) convince you that the short track to stardom means showing your La Perlas to the public. Remember, pants are everyone’s best friend.

Walking past a newsstand can be a sad march through homogeny. The women: thin, long-haired (often blonde or blonde-highlighted, regardless of race), dipped in jewels and runway fashions that a stylist spent hours borrowing from showrooms. Everyone looks the same (same designers, same hair extensions, same size 2 Photoshop job), leading to the assumption that to be a great singer, actress or entertainer, you should also fit into an aesthetic mold that everyone else has managed to squeeze into. It’s not about individuality but a conformity stricter than ones pushed in high schools and cliques of teen girls.

To remember that talent didn’t used to be measured by waistline or access to couture clothes, check out the Ebony Magazine Tumblr. It’s almost guaranteed that you’ll experience a giddiness that goes way deeper than a nostalgic walk down memory lane. Yes, it is nice to see Bill Cosby making funny faces in silly sweaters; and, yes, Billy Dee Williams hybrid Jheri Curl/Afro is something to behold. But the magical moments are the covers with Sister Sledge (that’s their hair! They have on striped sweaters and corduroy and no one is giving a sexy, see-my-butt pose!) and Grace Jones with her muscles and ferocious sensuality on display or, best of all, Aretha Franklin in a velvet dress with a lot of geometric shapes, her hair covered in a green headwrap. She doesn’t look like she spent 2 weeks in the gym before the shoot and she could easily have on something from her own closet. She looks happy and at ease and it is a reminder that in today’s musical landscape, we might not even have an Aretha, unless she was willing to commit to a Jenny Craig program and let us cheer her on for every pound lost.

Here’s to the talent we can nurture when we allow artists with otherworldy talent to look like real people.

(Photo: Jason Merritt/Getty Images)

Though it lacked the dramatic aplomb of Tyra smacking her butt cheek while shouting “Kiss my fat ass!!,” Christina Aguilera’s point was made and made well when she told reporters that: “”I’ve been on all spectrums. I’ve been in this [business] for a long time. I came out on the scene when I was 17 years old. You can never be too much of anything. You can never be too perfect, too thin, too curvy, voluptuous, this, that. I’ve been on all sides of the spectrum as far as any female in this business…I’ve been no stranger to being very comfortable in my own skin…”

The singer, whose weight has gone up recently—much to the enjoyment of critics and Kelly Osborne who have had no shortage of scathing comments to make—continued by saying that women are “definitely under a microscope and under massive scrutiny…As long as I’m happy in my own skin, that’s all I need. I’m happy with where I’m at. I have a boyfriend that loves my body. I love my body. My son is healthy and happy. That’s all that matters.”

Coincidentally, one of the only other pop stars to take such a public stand about their weight is joining Aguilera this season as a judge on The Voice. Kelly Clarkson, since winning American Idol, has often been on the receiving end of some of our cultural hate for women who aren’t skinny. Instead of exercising herself into oblivion or joining a national diet chain as celeb spokesperson, she has kept on doing what she does—showing up, singing, sometimes thin, sometimes with more curves. Some people have loved it and others not so much. Her appearance this weekend on SNL prompted Questlove to tweet, “whites on Clarkson: “overweight”; blacks on Clarkson: “….psssh Yo Son!” #snl”  Not too long after, she replied, “@questlove I love you! Thank you ”

So, instead of ending on snark, let’s wrap it up with some new year optimism—unapologetic declarations from former size 2-women and random tweets sent in the middle of the night are just an indication of what’s to come, meaning more acceptance and less hate for the bodies of women, famous, non-famous and especially the ones reflecting back from us in a mirror.

(Photo: Jim Rogash/Getty Images)

Any woman whose 2012 Wish List included “run around a court with my breasts out as others cheer me on” should be thanking Dennis Rodman right now. Because one of the NBA’s most morally questionable stars has kicked off a new side project: coaching a topless female basketball team.

In this day of corporate sponsorship of sports, Rodman’s team is being launched in conjunction with New York City’s Headquarters Gentleman’s Club, a place he says he has been a customer at for three decades (meaning 50-year-old Rodman first learned how to make it rain as an underage 20-year-old).

Though Rodman has been a trailblazer in many ways both on and off the court, he did not come up with this idea. That “honor” goes to former Atlanta Hawk Spud Webb, who launched his own team with strip club Rick’s Cabaret in order to cheer up mopey NBA fans during the lockout.

“I don’t know too many men that don’t like a good-looking woman running up and down around the court,” Rodman told Page Six. He also doesn’t seem to know that the sports bra industry has thrived for one basic reason: women don’t enjoy running and jumping without support. The jiggle that he’s hoping will bring legions of spectators could be the reason next week’s tryouts are poorly attended.

What topless basketball hopefuls should know: Rodman isn’t interested in you if you’re under 5-foot-10. And, he says, “you don’t have to have too much experience, just know how to throw the ball into the hole.”

The best part for spectators is that not only do they get to satisfy their urge to see sports, but they get a mini strip show, as well. Players, says Rodman, will “come out in a T-shirt or a tank top, but when the game starts, they’ll go topless.”

Good to know he’s keeping it classy all the way.