Page 1 / 2 / 3 - Home
There are no debutantes in Flav's posse of Flavettes, obviously. These women say they are looking for love, but each exhibits unlovable qualities. Each wants us to believe that only she can show Flav true love, yet it's clear that the definition of love has been blurred by the prospect of fame.
This group has sold their self-worth — what little they have —to Hollywood. And they all knew exactly what they were getting into when they sent tapes of themselves to VH1. A few of them even came to Flavor of Love from the reality dating show The 5th Wheel.
Each contestant could have refused her “role” by saying, “No, thank you. I'm not willing to humiliate myself in front of millions of people. I respect my body, race, gender and sexuality. I also have a family, and if I appeared on this show it would embarrass them. A lot.”
But not one of them did. They've reaped what they've sown. Does that mean I should pity them?
There's probably a “right” answer to that question, but all I can think of is the obvious one: If they want my pity, they'll have to show me the X-rays of their brain tumors. I can't muster compassion for desperate, spiteful, gold-digging, actress/model wannabes on parade for a horny has-been.
Besides, at least two Flavettes are violent, and others, as evidenced in a scene where one “bisexual” contestant sprawls out on a table so that a few other “bisexuals” can lick her thighs, are sexual imbeciles.
For the record, I haven't forgotten that it's my job to call out television programs for inaccurate portrayals of members of the LGBT community. But there's nothing accurate about this show.
If I were to get upset at the “bisexuals” for licking their roommates instead of the man they're supposed to be falling in love with, I'd be buying into the notions that (a) they really are bisexuals and (b) the show actually has redeeming social value.
Sorry. I can't do that.
There are reality programs and stars that have provoked me enough that I've raced to my gay high horse in an attempt to save the world from itself, but Flavor of Love won't be added to that list. It's not trying to be accurate; it's trying to be outrageous, and in my mind it succeeds.
And on that note, a disclaimer: I did not contact VH1 to ask, “How much of the show is real, how much is scripted, and how much of what is said and done by the cast was ‘suggested' by producers?” because it doesn't matter. In my mind, there is not a huge divide between a real fool and a brilliant woman who agrees to act like a fool-who-isn't-acting. Flavor of Love is not Survivor — it's a game of twits, not wits.
When, on separate occasions in one episode, two women present Flav with large, homemade clocks, and then express with exaggerated outpourings of emotion and devotion how much thought they put into their gifts, I didn't wonder if the show was scripted. I thought it was hilarious.
I thought, Tina Fey must be jealous! No Saturday Night Live spoof, no skit that could come from her creative mind would be more entertaining than what VH1 has cooked up.
Does that make me a bad person?
If it does, I suppose I can take some comfort in knowing I'm not alone. Society has always laughed at women and men who behave like idiots — intentionally or not. Long before reality programming, and long before Johnny Knoxville (the testicle-abusing host of MTV's Jackass) took stupidity to new level, there was Allen Funt and his Candid Camera.
Funt was no saint; he set people up for laughs. His lens didn't bring us the type and scale of idiocy and humiliation we witness today, but only the times have changed — people haven't. Escapism under the guise of reality was, is, and always will be a popular pastime.
Flavor of Love is, in my mind, the epitome of escapism. It doesn't just further blur the line between reality programming and reality; it obliterates it. It is to decorous human behavior what a freak show is to Shakespeare in the Park. Yet some people will still believe that its cast members are accurate representations of women, African Americans, bisexuals and even ex-rappers, and therefore harmful.
Shame on them for attaching social value to this ridiculous show and for thinking society is too inept to know the difference between reality and performance. Or is it shame on me for laughing?
Kim Ficera is the author of Sex, Lies and Stereotypes: An Unconventional Life Uncensored. Her bi-weekly column Don't Quote Me is dedicated to all the folks in and out of Hollywood who talk without thinking or who don't know when to stop talking. Email her at kim@kimficera.com.
Page 1 / 2 / 3 - Home
