• ELIXHER
• On February 26, 2014

By L’llerét Jazelle Ailith

For a while, I had been seeing commercials on Bravo about a new reality series to hit our screens entitled Blood, Sweat and Heels. It was advertised as a show centered on Black businesswomen who are fighting to make a name for themselves in New York City. The three-minute trailer was filled with empowering snippets—the ladies toasting to sisterhood and walking from the busy streets to the boardroom in their fierce ensembles. So, of course, you could imagine how excited I was when the show first aired. It was no surprise it shattered records and became the network’s highest-rated premiere ever with 2.5 million total viewers. Now, I’m not one to really involve myself with respectability politics because I feel that all women should have the freedom to express themselves however they please. But the series does not show the successes of Black women in corporate America nor does it want to.

From the get-go, the producers edited the scenes to create this intellectual divide between the women. You have Demetria Lucas, a successful blogger, journalist, and author, who is very headstrong and feminist. Then you have Daisy Lewellyn, a style expert and TV personality, who has pretty much allowed patriarchy to brainwash her into thinking that the inferior roles of women are just natural. Melyssa Ford, a former “video vixen” and rookie real estate agent, has her past career constantly demonized. Model manager Mica Hughes is portrayed as a loudmouth with a drinking problem. Geneva Thomas, a pop culture journalist, and Brie Bythewood, a real estate developer and philanthropist, also join the cast—and catfights.

Drama quickly ensues. Just one episode in, Demetria blogs about the ladies’ differences in opinion and from there on, the show’s formula starts to look like every other reality series—reinforcing the notion that women can’t co-exist without cattiness. But this isn’t “reality” and it doesn’t necessarily make for “good TV.” It’s overdone and I’m over it.

I was probably expecting too much from a network that thrives off drama-fueled series. The Real Housewives franchise, Married to Medicine, and Shahs of Sunset are prime examples. But it’s insulting to set up a show like it uplifts Black women when, in fact, it tears us down. You can clearly see the division between the sisters—the free-spirited, “rowdy” women (deemed “The Louds”) and then the sophisticated, bourgeois, “greater than thou” ladies (called “The Prouds”). In episode four, Mica joins Demetria, Geneva and Brie for a getaway in the Hamptons. An intoxicated Mica stumbles across a perfectly manicured lawn and gets greeted with a cold shoulder from the gang. Oh, the shade and side-eyes. Their careers immediately take a backseat to the gossip and drunken brawls.

What is this show teaching young Black women? That in order to truly be successful, you have to be a mean girl and shun women who hold different values? That exercising agency over our bodies better be accompanied by shame if we want to be taken seriously? No, thank you.

I don’t have a problem with a little drama. But can networks get a little more creative? Don’t advertise a show to make it seem like we’re finally going to be represented in a different light and then feed us the same tired fodder. I’m not here for it.

L’lerrét Jazelle Ailith is a 20-year-old queer woman of trans* experience. She attends Xavier University of Louisiana and is majoring in Biology with a minor in Women’s Studies. Hailing from Baltimore, Maryland, L’lerrét has grown to appreciate the importance of fostering community and now dedicates herself to movements that eliminate barriers for marginalized people.