Lately I have been sitting with the feeling of giving my all and getting very little back.

Not just in relationships. In friendships. In work. In the way I show up for people and communities. I keep noticing how often I am the one who shows up early, stays late, checks in, holds space, follows through, and cares deeply. And somehow I still end up feeling overlooked or taken for granted.

Over time, that kind of imbalance starts to weigh on you. Not in a loud or dramatic way, but quietly. It makes you pause and wonder if you are doing too much or expecting something people are simply not capable of giving.

The more I sit with it, the clearer it becomes. My effort is not the issue. My care is not a weakness. My consistency and emotional honesty are not flaws. They only feel that way when they are poured into spaces that do not know how to value them.

I am learning the difference between being too much and being in the wrong place. I do not need to shrink or harden myself to protect my peace. I just need to be more mindful about where my energy goes.

I’ve been quiet here, and it wasn’t because I had some grand plan to disappear and return refreshed. The truth is simpler: I didn’t want to force anything I wasn’t sure about, and I was tired. Mentally, emotionally, creatively.

There is so much pressure to always be on, always producing, always showing up with something to say. But forcing it never feels good, not on the page and not in life. I didn’t want to give you half assed words just to say I posted. So I let myself step back.

Being away reminded me that silence has its own kind of rhythm. Sometimes the most honest thing you can do is admit you don’t have the energy to push through. And that’s where I was. Tired, sorting through my own head, trying to honor my energy instead of ignoring it.

Now that I’m easing back in, I don’t want to act like the pause didn’t happen. It did, and maybe I needed it. Maybe this space is meant to hold both the days when I’m full of fire and the ones where I’m too worn out to light a match.

I’m back, slowly. Writing again without forcing it. I just wanted to be honest about why I’ve been MIA and thank you for still being here.

What’s Next

In the weeks ahead I’ll be sharing more essays, reflections, and pieces that feel real to me in the moment. Nothing forced, nothing rushed. Just the kind of writing that comes when I let myself breathe.

The other day I decided to rewatch Aaron Hall’s “I Miss You” music video. I don’t know what possessed me. Maybe I was feeling nostalgic. Maybe I was just scrolling too deep. Either way, I pressed play and immediately remembered why this video haunted me as a child. But watching it now, as a grown woman who’s experienced real loss and understands emotional weight in a different way, it hit like a truck. A slow one.

What I thought would be a sad but harmless little R&B throwback turned into a full on emotional ambush. We’re talking grief, death, childbirth complications, Black and white flashbacks, nursery scenes, church pews, and a level of dramatic crying I wasn’t prepared for before noon. The video felt like a short film with no resolution, just sorrow sitting heavy on your chest.

And that’s when I realized: music videos are not just accessories to the music. They are archives of emotion. They’re visual essays. They’re cinematic love letters, cultural documents, grief capsules, and sometimes just chaotic brilliance wrapped in slow motion.

So here’s the update:

Yes, Art on Wax will absolutely continue to feature album covers alongside music videos. Because these visuals shaped the way we remember songs. They helped build the aesthetic language of entire eras. They gave us stories to hold onto when the lyrics alone couldn’t do it. And as I build this archive of thought, memory, and reflection through TBP, I want to honor all the forms Black expression takes. Especially the ones that don’t get enough credit for their emotional impact.

I’ll be writing about the ones that made us cry, the ones that made us feel seen, the ones that were too ridiculous to take seriously, and the ones that live in our heads even when we try to forget them. Some will be deep dives. Some will be funny. Some might just be me spiraling in real time.

If you’ve ever seen a video and thought, “This is too much, but also exactly what I needed,” then you’re in the right place. Thanks for continuing to read, feel, and process with me.

And yes. I still haven’t recovered from “I Miss You.”
But at least now I’m making it content.

“You have to tell people who you are.”

Tyler said that in the Ask It Anyway interview, and I haven’t been able to shake it.

That one sentence cracked something open for me. Because honestly? I’ve spent so much of my creative life waiting for people to get it. Waiting to be discovered without saying too much. Creating quietly. Hiding behind aesthetics. Posting, deleting. Making things I love, then convincing myself no one would care. That I should wait until it’s perfect. That I’m not ready. That maybe I’m just doing too much.

But what Tyler said reminded me: if you don’t tell people who you are, they’ll either make it up or overlook you. Either way, you disappear.

And when you’re creative and scared, disappearing starts to feel safe.

let me say that again….

There’s so much vulnerability in making something. Not just the thing itself, but the audacity it takes to say, this came from me. To say, I made this and I want you to see it. That’s terrifying. Especially when you’re used to being overlooked, talked over, or never quite chosen. When you're used to not being the favorite. Not being understood. You start to internalize that your work doesn’t need to be loud. That maybe it’s better to just keep it to yourself.

But what if that’s the lie? What if the fear isn’t protecting me anymore, just stalling me?

That interview wasn’t even Tyler at his loudest, but it felt like the most honest. He didn’t overshare. He didn’t perform. He just showed up fully, with intention. And in doing that, he told us exactly who he is.

That’s the level I’m trying to be on. Not just creating for me, but creating so there’s no confusion. Creating so when someone stumbles on my work, they feel me in it. They know what I stand for. They know the voice. They see the vision.

I’ve spent too much time afraid of being misunderstood and not enough time being loud about who I am. That stops now.

So yeah. Tyler reminded me that you don’t just create to be seen. You create to be known.

And that requires nerve.

Until next time,

Stay bold, stay brilliant, and remember, as Jay-Z says, You could be anywhere in the world, but you're here with me. I appreciate that!

-Shadé

Before we had words like “alt Black girl” or saw curated TikTok aesthetics praising punk and grunge, there was Fefe Dobson posted up against a blue wall, red bra straps showing, chain belt hanging low, and a don’t mess with me look that said everything loud and clear: I’m not here to fit in. I’m here to set it off.

Her 2003 self-titled debut was more than an album; it was a disruption. In a sea of bubblegum pop princesses and R&B packaging, Fefe showed up with chipped nail polish, big feelings, and a sound that leaned unapologetically into guitars and chaos. She was everything the industry didn’t know how to handle: a Black girl with edge, angst, and autonomy. And for many of us who didn’t know where we belonged, that cover felt like a mirror, finally, someone who looked like me but didn’t shrink to be palatable.

She wasn’t “Black girl magic,” she was Black girl messy, loud, tender, and true. And we needed that. The music didn’t ask to be understood. It asked to be felt. Tracks like “Take Me Away” and “Everything” bled with yearning, rage, and the ache of wanting more. This wasn’t polished pop, this was diary scribbles turned anthems.

Looking back, this cover wasn’t just a moment, it was a statement. A timestamp for the misfits. For the Black girls who weren’t trying to be pop stars, they just wanted to scream in peace. Fefe wasn’t a phase. She was a foundation. She cracked the surface so others could come through later, softer, louder, freer.

Fefe Dobson made space before the culture knew we needed it. And for that, this album cover deserves to be framed like the sacred relic it is.

There’s something especially irritating about watching Tyrese Haliburton hit a choke sign while Reggie Miller just happens to be commentating on game one of the eastern conference finals. It feels like history folding in on itself in the most disrespectful way.

Maybe it’s not just about Haliburton. Maybe it’s the ghost of Reggie still haunting the Garden, headset and mic on, witnessing a new generation mimic his exact brand of smugness. Different era, same energy. And as a Knicks fan, that cuts deep.

Don’t get me wrong, I love watching Black players succeed. But watching Haliburton, another young Black man, mirror that gesture against my Knicks feels personal.

This isn’t just sports. This is memory. This is pride. This is culture.

So no, I don’t care that it’s “just a game.” Because for Knicks fans, especially Black ones, it’s never just a game. It’s watching our home be turned into a stage for somebody else’s highlight reel.

Respectfully, TYRESE HALIBURTON IS A CORNBALL!

Knicks in 5!

Let's talk about the Doobie wrap…one of those hair rituals that have been in Black and Latinx circles for years. It is more than just getting smooth hair after a blowout; it is a feeling.

At first, the Doobie wrap was this underground trick for keeping hair straightened without frying it every day with heat. The early 2000s became a time when, with raised heads, women had become ready to step out of homes, still in their wraps…making a statement, like, "Yeah, I'm running in this wrap because I'm taking care of my hair, and I'm not about to hide that." Somehow, what was earlier kept private or reserved as some behind-the-scenes routine became a style moment; we took something that should have been under wraps…literally…and made it into a statement. Pins, clips, scarves…you name it, we styled it.

The word "Doobie" is believed to derive from "tubi," the Spanish term for wrapping hair in a circular pattern1. This method became very popular in Black and Latinx communities, mostly in urban areas, where it was passed down through the generations.

But forreal the Doobie wrap ain't just practical; it's a symbol of our resourcefulness. It's about working with what we've got and still looking fly. It's also about community if you know, you know. It's a tradition passed down, a nod to the women before us who knew how to keep their hair looking flawless in a world that wasn't always made for us.

The wrap was more than just a means of managing my hair it was about preserving the feeling of self-care and being polished.

I remember when it was taboo to wear your doobie out in public

The Doobie wrap, to me, is way more than just a hair technique; it's part of our story. It is about self-care in a manner that is peculiarly ours. There is something magical about unwrapping your hair and seeing it fall just right. It's a ritual that binds us to our mothers, grandmothers, and all the generations of women that came before us. They knew how to care for and protect what was theirs in a world that wasn't always handing them what they wanted.

And then, of course, there's the confidence. It's as if walking out with your Doobie wrap still in place says, "I know my worth, and I'm not afraid to show it." It's a look that speaks volumes without saying a word a blend of practicality, pride, and an unapologetic sense of self. We took something meant to be private and made it public, flipping the script on what beauty and self-care look like.

So the next time you see a Doobie wrap whether in the confines of a home, on the streets, or even on the red carpet remember, it's not just a hairstyle. Instead, it is a legacy. It is a cultural touchstone. It is that bold declaration that says we define beauty on our terms. The Doobie wrap is a statement on resilience, creativity, and owning power in being ourselves.

That is why the Doobie wrap is not just a style; it's a statement of culture. It screams of all that make us unique, from our roots to our crowns.

I remember watching Love is Blind Season 6, and that scene after Clay said no to AD at the altar hit me harder than I expected.

AD was crying, and through tears, she said:
“I’m just never enough.”

WHEW. I FELT THAT.

Not like, I watched it and thought, “That’s sad.”
But, like, it echoed through my chest and touched on my insecurity.

Lately, I’ve been sitting with that heavy, quiet statement:

“I’m just never enough.”

Not just in love.

In everything.

In love, I give and get silence back.

I stay patient, give space, and try not to be too much, but somehow, I still feel like too little.

Like my softness is only welcome when it’s convenient.

The best parts of me are easy to use but never enough to keep.

And it doesn’t stop there.

In work?

I’m overlooked and passed over.

I show up, apply, and try to build something out of nothing, but I still feel like I’m behind. Like everyone else, I got the manual for success, and I’m just out here winging it, waiting for someone to see me. Pick me. Pay me.

In purpose?

Even that’s cloudy now.

I started The BLK PRSPCTV to create a space where Black creativity, Black feelings, and Black beings could exist without apology.

But some days, even that feels shaky.

Like, who am I to hold space when I’m this lost?

When I’m doubting if I’m even worth the space I take up?

This isn’t some dramatic breakdown.

It’s just honesty. The kind that creeps in on a Thursday morning when nobody texts back and all your plans feel stuck when you’re scrolling job boards and past due dreams. When you realize you’ve given so much and still feel invisible.

But some days, I don’t want a motivational quote. I want answers. I want to rest. I want relief.

Because right now?

I feel like I’m trying so hard to be okay. To be “better.”

To be enough for a world that keeps telling me I’m not.

The BLK PRSPCTV was never about perfection.

This is me, showing up in the middle of the mess.

This piece isn’t wrapped in a bow. There’s no clean ending, just a pause.

The BLK PRSPCTV isn’t about having it all figured out. It’s about reflecting out loud, creating space for honesty, and reminding each other we’re not as alone as we feel.

Thanks for being here with me during the questions.

Lately, I’ve felt this urge to put my thoughts down. Maybe to make sense of them, maybe just to honor them. I turned 38 a few weeks ago, and something about this moment feels important. I can’t quite explain it. It’s not some big milestone, but it's more like I’m stepping into something new. Something that deserves to be remembered.

Virgil Abloh understood that feeling. He moved through the world like a collector of moments. Scribbled notes, rough sketches, screenshots, and receipts were all part of something bigger. He found beauty in unfinished ideas, in fragments that felt random at first but ended up telling a story. He didn’t just design clothes or sneakers. He built an archive of thoughts. A kind of living proof that creativity isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it’s quiet. Sometimes, it’s in the little things we decide to keep.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot. What I keep, what I forget, what only makes sense when I look back later. Virgil treated ideas like artifacts, like time capsules. He understood that creativity isn’t just about what you make. It’s about how you care for the process. How you protect even the tiniest spark of a thought because you never know what it might grow into.

In a world that worships polished outcomes, Virgil reminded us that the process matters just as much. His Off-White designs, with their quotation marks and zip ties, were like little nudges saying, “This isn’t finished. And that’s okay.” His notebooks, filled with half-formed thoughts and messy margins, showed us that inspiration doesn’t always show up in big, dramatic ways. Sometimes, it’s hiding in the chaos. Sometimes, it’s in the mess we overlook.

And I can’t help but wonder. How many ideas have I let go too soon? How many times did I brush off a passing thought because it felt incomplete? How many things did I promise myself I’d remember… and didn’t? Virgil made space for the unfinished. He believed that every idea, no matter how small or fractured, was worth revisiting. Nothing is ever really wasted if you give it time to evolve.

His work was a love letter to the in-between. He didn’t rush to tie things up with a neat bow. He embraced the draft, the prototype, the version that wasn’t quite there yet. That’s where the magic lived. In the tension between “not yet” and “almost.”

I’m learning to move that way, too. To stop waiting for everything to feel perfect before I start. To hold onto the ideas that don’t make sense yet. To let thoughts linger. Some of them are meant to be rediscovered later when I’m ready to see them differently.

Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to documenting this moment in my life. Not because I know what it means but because I want to remember that it happened. I want to treat it like something worth archiving.

Virgil had a way of noticing what most people ignored. Street signs, construction materials, and the way a font played with space. He reminded us that design isn’t just about what we create. It’s about what we see. That’s a lesson I want to carry forward. To pay better attention. I want to stop waiting for inspiration to arrive fully formed and instead recognize that it’s already around me, tucked inside the little things I’m drawn to keep.

Maybe that’s Virgil’s most significant legacy. Not just the fashion or the big-name collaborations but the mindset. The invitation to see more. To treat every fleeting idea like it matters. Because it might, one day.

Virgil once said, “Everything I do is for the 17-year-old version of myself.” I think that’s what this is, too. Writing things down. Remembering. Leaving a trail for the future version of me. A way to look back and say, “This is where I was. This is what I loved. This is what felt important, even if I didn’t know why yet.”

So here I am, putting it all down. Thought by thought. One moment at a time. Because one day, I’ll look back and see it for what it really was. A blueprint in the making.

And something tells me that’s exactly what Virgil would’ve wanted.

Until next time,

Stay bold, stay brilliant, and remember, as Jay-Z says, You could be anywhere in the world, but you're here with me. I appreciate that!

-Shadé

Toni Morrison gave us more than stories—she gave us wings. She knew that Blackness was boundless, that love could be both a shackle and a key, that history was something we carried in our bones and our names. Today, on her birthday, I return to Song of Solomon, the novel that taught me about freedom, about longing, about the way we search for ourselves in the echoes of those who came before us.

You wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down.

A simple line, yet it reads like scripture. How often do we hold onto the weight—ancestral burdens, misplaced love, the ache of not being seen? Morrison urged us to unlearn, to release, to trust that we were meant to soar. Milkman’s journey was ours, too—a lesson in knowing that liberation isn’t just about where you land, but how you take off.

Morrison’s gift was her knowing. She wrote for us, about us, with an intimacy that felt ancestral. She honored the everyday, the mystical, the mundane—because all of it was worthy of preservation. Her words were a home, a mirror, a map.

So today, I sit with her language like a prayer, letting it remind me that we are, as we have always been, capable of flight.

Happy Birthday, Toni Morrison 💙. You are missed.

“Hov on that new shit, ni**as like, ‘How come?’ / Ni**as want my old shit, buy my old album.” — JAY-Z

I woke up early on my born day, and the first thing I felt was gratitude. Another year, another chance to move with intention, to live on my own terms, to keep becoming.

This past year taught me a lot. Some lessons were soft reminders, and others felt like a slap to the face. But either way, I listened. I learned. And I let go. Growth means shedding old versions of myself—versions that worried too much about what people thought, that gave too much to the wrong places, that second-guessed her own power. That woman got me here, but she’s not coming with me into 38.

“Legacy, legacy, legacy, Black excellence, baby, you gon’ let ’em see.” — JAY-Z

My father’s absence still lingers, especially today. His voice, his presence, the way he always made my birthday feel like something to celebrate. Losing him has made me even more intentional about the legacy I carry—his, mine, the one I am actively shaping every day. Blackness is legacy. It’s preservation, remembrance, and choosing to honor those who came before me by living fully, by standing firm in who I am.

“People will love you and support you when it’s beneficial.” — Nicki Minaj (but let’s be real, it fits)

I’ve learned that time is my most valuable currency, and I will not let people waste it. I will not pour into spaces that take and take but never give.

People will smile in your face and still move funny behind your back. Don’t let people fool you. Sometimes the ones you think you’re cool with are just wolves in sheep’s clothing. And I’ve made peace with that. The mask always slips eventually.

“I’m in the zone like the 4th quarter / Back in the zone like I’m war-ready.” — Nas

So, as I step into 38, I’m walking lighter. I’m moving with clarity. I’m choosing me—not in the performative, self-care-as-aesthetic way, but in the real, I-will-not-betray-myself way.

Here’s to another year of standing firm, protecting my peace, and preserving a legacy that will outlive me.

"Sometimes, I feel discriminated against, but it does not make me angry. It merely astonishes me. How can any deny themselves the pleasure of my company? It’s beyond me." - Zora Neale Hurston.

I’ve been watching Seeking Mavis Beacon, a documentary about the mysterious history of the woman behind the famous typing software. It got me thinking about something I’ve never put into words—the quiet power of seeing yourself in the everyday. not in the grand, history-making moments, but in the small things, the random things, the things you don’t even realize are shaping you.

For me, it wasn’t always the obvious places. Of course, I had my favorite Black sitcoms, my favorite R&B stars, my favorite athletes. But I’m talking about the subtle moments, the ones that don’t seem significant at the time, like the Burger King Kids Club back in the day. There was a whole cast of kids in that little animated crew, but I always gravitated toward the Black boy with the high-top fade. His name? Jaws (His name is derived from his older characterization, in which he was said to be the Super Official Burger King Quality Taste Tester, as well as an expert on food, specifically the food served at Burger King).1 He wasn’t the leader. He wasn’t the main character. But he was there, and that was enough. That was something.

We don’t always realize how much we are shaped by the presence—or absence—of ourselves in the things we consume. It’s in the commercials we watch, the voices we hear on the radio, the illustrations in school textbooks, even the packaging of products we see every day. It’s why, as a kid, I’d get excited when a doll actually had brown skin that wasn’t an afterthought. Or why I’d instinctively hold onto a certain cereal box a little longer if there was a Black kid on the front. Also why at my big age of 37 why I still remember the Just for me jingle.. “I want style body and shine… a look that’s totally all mine..”

These moments may seem small, but they plant something in you. A seed of belonging. A sense that you exist in the world, not just in your home or neighborhood, but everywhere.

The flip side is just as true. When you don’t see yourself—when your existence is either erased, tokenized, or overlooked—you learn to adjust. You learn to make do with the options given. Maybe you latch onto the character who kinda looks like you, even if they weren’t written with you in mind. Maybe you rewrite the narrative in your head, inserting yourself into spaces that don’t acknowledge you. Blackness has always been in these spaces, but too often, it’s pushed to the background, muted, or repackaged under a different name.

That’s what stood out to me while watching Seeking Mavis Beacon. The real woman, Renée L’Espérance, was Haitian-born, but the software stripped her name, her voice, and her story. She was there, yet invisible. A presence without full recognition. And that’s what happens to so many Black figures—both real and fictional—who quietly shaped the culture but never got their due.

That’s why representation matters. Not just in the big, obvious ways, but in the everyday. In the cartoons, in the mascots, in the stock photos, in the smallest corners of culture where Blackness has always existed, even if it’s been overlooked. Because we are always seeking ourselves—whether we realize it or not.

And when we find ourselves, it changes everything.

Also one time for the film poster!!! its so well designed! The graphic design nerd in me is salavating!

Until next time,

Stay bold, stay brilliant, and remember, as Jay-Z says, You could be anywhere in the world, but you're here with me. I appreciate that!

-Shadé

Whew, we made it to February! And if you’ve been rocking with me since last year, you already know the vibes—first, we got spooky with my BLACK Horror movie list, then we got festive with the BLACK Holiday classics, and now? Now, it’s time to turn the Blackness all the way up.

Black History Month is here, and while every month is Black History Month in this house, February is when we really put some extra seasoning on it. So, I’ve compiled 28 essential films—one for each day of the month—because you will respect Black cinema. There are historical dramas, biopics, cultural staples, and, of course, films that remind you why Auntie Viola, Uncle Denzel, and Cousin Angela Bassett deserve all the things.

So grab your snacks (extra hot sauce on deck), dim the lights, and let’s get into these must-watch Black films. Because if you’re not watching at least one of these this month… what are you even doing?

Please remember that this is MY LIST. If you disagree with MY LIST, feel free to make your own.

Black History Month Essential Films

Civil Rights & Black Resistance

1. Malcolm X (1992) – Spike Lee’s masterpiece on the life of Malcolm X, starring Denzel Washington.

2. Selma (2014) – Chronicles the Selma-to-Montgomery marches led by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

3. The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman (1974) – A fictionalized account of a 110-year-old former slave’s life.

4. The Butler (2013) – Loosely based on the life of a Black butler who served in the White House for decades.

5. Judas and the Black Messiah (2021) – The story of Fred Hampton and the betrayal that led to his assassination.

6. Mississippi Burning (1988) – Fictionalized account of the murder of civil rights activists in Mississippi.

7. The Long Walk Home (1990) – Set during the Montgomery Bus Boycott, starring Whoopi Goldberg and Sissy Spacek.

   

Historical Biopics & True Stories

8. 12 Years a Slave (2013) – The harrowing true story of Solomon Northup, a free man kidnapped into slavery.

9. Harriet (2019) – Biopic on Harriet Tubman’s escape from slavery and her role in the Underground Railroad.

10. Marshall (2017) – Follows a young Thurgood Marshall as he takes on an early case.

11. One Night in Miami (2020) – A fictionalized meeting of Malcolm X, Muhammad Ali, Sam Cooke, and Jim Brown.

12. Ali (2001) – Will Smith as the legendary boxer Muhammad Ali.

13. Hidden Figures (2016) – The true story of Black women mathematicians at NASA.

Slavery & Reconstruction Era

14. Glory (1989) – The story of the first Black regiment in the Civil War.

15. The Birth of a Nation (2016) – About Nat Turner’s 1831 slave rebellion.

16. Roots (1977) – The groundbreaking miniseries tracing Alex Haley’s family history.

17. Beloved (1998) – Based on Toni Morrison’s novel about a formerly enslaved woman haunted by her past.

Black Excellence & Cultural Icons

18. Ray (2004) – The life story of Ray Charles, starring Jamie Foxx.

19. What's Love Got to Do with It (1993) – The turbulent life of Tina Turner.

20. Dreamgirls (2006) – Inspired by The Supremes and the rise of Motown.

21. Bessie (2015) – Queen Latifah as the legendary blues singer Bessie Smith.

Afrofuturism & Black Imagination

22. Black Panther (2018 & 2022) – A cultural phenomenon and celebration of Black excellence.

23. The Woman King (2022) – Inspired by the real-life all-women warriors of Dahomey.

Classic & Contemporary Black Stories

24. Do the Right Thing (1989) – A powerful look at race relations in Brooklyn.

25. Eve’s Bayou (1997) – A coming-of-age story steeped in Southern Black mysticism.

26. The Color Purple (1985) – A gripping tale of Black womanhood and resilience.

27. Boyz n the Hood (1991) – A seminal film about growing up Black in South Central L.A.

28. New Jack City (1991) – Rock-a-bye baby. This is bigger than Nino Brown!

Honorable Mentions: Black Comedy Classics
Because sometimes, the best way to celebrate Black history is through joy, laughter, and pure foolishness. Here are some Black comedy essentials that deserve their flowers:

1. Trading Places (1983) – Eddie Murphy and Dan Aykroyd prove that switching lives is all fun and games… until it isn’t.

2. Friday (1995) – A cultural staple that gave us Bye, Felicia and the most legendary porch convo ever.

3. Harlem Nights (1989) – Eddie Murphy, Richard Pryor, and Redd Foxx in one film? Comedy royalty.

4. House Party 1 (1990) – A film that singlehandedly made you want to throw a house party and learn Kid ‘n Play’s dance routine.

5. Boomerang (1992) – Marcus, darling, this one is for the sophisticated comedy lovers.

6. Hollywood Shuffle (1987) – Robert Townsend’s hilarious and sharp critique of Hollywood’s treatment of Black actors.

7. I'm Gonna Git You Sucka (1988) – A parody of Blaxploitation movies that is straight-up comedy gold.

8. CB4 (1993) – Chris Rock’s hilarious mockumentary about a fake gangster rap group.

9. Pootie Tang (2001) – The most ridiculous yet oddly brilliant comedy you’ll ever see. Sa da tay!

   ---

   Honorable Honorable Mention: Black Movie that had me ugly crying.

   

   Cooley High (1975) – If you know, you know. That ending?? I wasn’t okay.

Final Thoughts:

There you have it—28 days of Black excellence on film, plus 10 honorable mentions to keep the celebration going. Whether you’re diving into history, laughing at our comedic legends, or straight-up ugly crying (because Cooley High broke all of us), these films are essential to understanding and appreciating Black storytelling.

Again, this is MY list—so if you don’t see your favorite, feel free to make your own! But in the meantime, let's give these movies their flowers, because Black cinema is unmatched, timeless, and forever influential.

Now go forth, watch, rewatch, and most importantly—respect Black cinema. 🎬✊🏾

Few hip-hop covers hit as hard as Nas’ Illmatic. The sepia-toned image of a young Nasir Jones layered over the Queensbridge skyline is more than a cool photo—it’s a story in itself. It captures that mix of childhood innocence and the rawness of growing up in the city.

The Boy and the Bridge

In the center is young Nas, his face calm but serious, like he’s already seen the world but hasn’t let it break him. His eyes hold a mix of hope and grit, a reflection of what it’s like to dream big while living in the projects. Behind him, Queensbridge isn’t just a backdrop—it’s a co-star in the story. The buildings are a reminder of where he’s from, shaping him but not defining him.

Sepia-Toned Memories

The sepia tone feels like flipping through an old family photo album. It gives the cover a timeless vibe, as if it’s not just about one moment but a whole legacy. The cover even mirrors the sound of the album—full of jazz, soul, and nostalgia—connecting the past to the present in a way only Nas can.

Typography That Speaks Volumes

The text is simple: Illmatic in bold letters with "Nas" quietly sitting at the top. It’s not flashy, but it doesn’t need to be. The image speaks for itself. That’s the same confidence Nas brings to the album. He doesn’t have to shout—his words do the work.

A Legacy Beyond the Cover

As someone from the Bronx, I’ll admit I’ve always rooted for my borough. But even I have to give Illmatic its due. It’s not just a Queensbridge story—it’s a hip-hop classic that breaks down walls. Tracks like “Life’s a Bitch” and “The World Is Yours” hit deep, telling stories of struggle and ambition that anyone can relate to.

The rivalry between the Bronx and Queensbridge has always been part of hip-hop’s DNA, with classics like KRS-One’s “The Bridge Is Over” laying the groundwork for the tension. But Nas flipped the script. Illmatic didn’t just claim a seat at the table for Queens—it built a legacy that united fans from every borough.

The Album Cover is Art

Almost thirty years later, the Illmatic cover is still iconic. It reminds us of the album’s themes: staying true to your roots, pushing through challenges, and owning your story. By putting a young Nas front and center with Queensbridge behind him, the cover shows how hip-hop’s power comes from its authenticity.

Illmatic isn’t just an album—it’s a cultural moment. Its cover is a snapshot of a young artist ready to change the game, proving that a picture really can say a thousand words.

Until next time,

Stay bold, stay brilliant, and remember, as Jay-Z says, You could be anywhere in the world, but you're here with me. I appreciate that!

-Shadé

Okay, let’s get one thing straight: Stacey Dash’s character Dionne in Clueless was that girl. I’m not just talking about the fashion (which was, of course, top tier). I’m talking about the attitude, the confidence, and, yes, the iconic one-liners that gave us all life. In a movie that’s filled with fashion-forward, social-status-obsessed teenagers, Dionne stood out….not just because of her fabulous outfits but because she was unapologetically herself. Dionne was a character who was unbothered, and that energy is something we could all use a little more of.

Now, let’s talk facts because Clueless has plenty of them. Did you know that Stacey Dash was actually 26 years old when she played the high schooler, Dionne? 26! But honestly, with the way she brought that character to life, it was hard to tell. She had the vibe of someone who was just too cool for school, and it made sense. Dionne was that person who could give you a life lesson while still being effortlessly chic, and Stacey Dash pulled it off flawlessly.

But let’s not forget she wasn’t just an iconic character in the movie. Dash reprised the role for the Clueless TV series, and let me tell you, it slapped just as much as the original. Yes, it wasn’t the same as the film, but it still had that 90s charm and classic Dionne sass. Seeing her as Dionne again was like slipping into your favorite comfy sweater…it felt right. If you haven't watched the series, do yourself a favor and catch a couple of episodes on YouTube because it was just as good, if not better, in some ways.

Then we have the very interesting case of Paul Rudd, who played Josh, Cher’s stepbrother. Let’s talk about Josh for a second. We all know that Paul Rudd is practically immortal because the man still looks like he’s in his 30s (but we’ll save that for another post). What I’m wondering is why nobody questioned the relationship between Cher and Josh. Cher was 16, right? So, here’s the thing..why was no one blinking an eye at that? This isn’t a "sibling" relationship by blood, but it’s still family, right? Still...that “relationship” dynamic was pretty weird when you think about it. It was 90s Beverly Hills, so maybe it was all just a little more lax? Or maybe we were all too wrapped up in the fashion and teen drama to stop and wonder whether that was a healthy boundary.

But no matter what, let’s be honest: the movie wouldn't be the same without these characters. Cher and Dionne together were the power duo of the 90s..Cher with her fashion-forward, somewhat cluelessness and Dionne with her effortlessly cool demeanor and tough love. They complemented each other perfectly. Dionne, especially, was ahead of her time when it came to serving up confidence and style and keeping it real. She was the friend who told it like it was, who could pull off plaid like no one else, and made sure you knew your worth ..whether you were dealing with a problematic ex or trying to find your place in high school social hierarchies.

But Clueless wasn’t just about the fashion or the drama…it was a reflection of a particular moment in time, one where teen movies ruled the world, and every single detail, from Dionne’s little Chanel hats to the way the girls would glide through the halls of Beverly Hills High, mattered. Clueless gave us one of the most memorable portrayals of friendship, loyalty, and self-assurance in a world where everyone was trying to figure out who they were.

So, in the end, while we may have had questions about the relationships in Clueless (looking at you, Josh, and Cher), one thing is for sure: Dionne, in all her fabulous glory, was a cultural moment we could never let go of. She was our dream best friend; she was the blueprint for stylish Black characters in teen films, and she showed us that it’s possible to be both fabulous and fierce at the same time.

Until next time,

Stay bold, stay brilliant, and remember, as Jay-Z says, You could be anywhere in the world, but you're here with me. I appreciate that!

-Shadé

Aaron Pierre, that’s Mufasa.. rawr! Aaron Pierre, that’s Mufasa….

Welcome back to Creative Cravings on THE BLK PRSPCTV, your monthly feast for the mind, heart, and spirit! Yes, I know it’s been a while (let’s call it an unplanned creative hiatus), but sometimes the best ideas need space to breathe. And trust me, I’ve been craving this connection just as much as you have.

So here we are, on the second Thursday (sorry I am late) of the month, picking up right where we left off—diving into the brilliance, beauty, and boldness shaping Black culture. Let’s jump in!

Today in BLK History: January 9, 1967

On this day, Julian Bond was sworn into the Georgia House of Representatives after a long and hard-fought battle. Though elected in 1965, his seat was initially denied because of his vocal opposition to the Vietnam War. But Bond wasn’t backing down. The U.S. Supreme Court ruled in his favor, stating that Georgia had violated his First Amendment rights, and he was finally allowed to take his place in the legislature.

This moment was more than a legal victory—it was a testament to the power of activism and the importance of standing firm for what you believe in. Bond’s fight paved the way for more excellent political representation and a louder voice for those advocating for justice. His legacy as a civil rights leader and politician would go on to inspire generations.

Exhibition to Explore: "Imagining Black Diasporas: 21st-Century Art and Poetics"

Open Date: December 15, 2024

End Date: August 3, 2025

Location: Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA)

"Imagining Black Diasporas: 21st-Century Art and Poetics" brings together 60 artists from Africa, Europe, and the Americas, exploring the rich tapestry of Black diasporic identities through contemporary art. The exhibition delves into themes of migration, cultural exchange, and the complexities of identity in the modern world. Visitors can experience a diverse array of mediums, including painting, sculpture, photography, and multimedia installations, each offering a unique perspective on the Black experience. This exhibition not only showcases the vibrancy of Black artistic expression but also invites reflection on the shared histories and futures of the global Black community.

For more information, visit LACMA's official page: LACMA

Cultural Gems to Savor (Nov-Dec 2024)

• Ayo Edebiri's Golden Globes Grills: At the 2025 Golden Globes, Ayo Edebiri made a striking appearance with custom silver grills crafted by Vanessa Leon, known as @mentalgardens. These grills paid homage to Black American heritage, reflecting the cultural significance of grills in hip-hop and Southern communities. Teen Vogue

• Ghana's Citizenship Initiative: Ghana has been attracting members of the African diaspora by offering citizenship through its "Year of the Return" and "Beyond the Return" initiatives, commemorating 400 years since the first African slaves arrived in Virginia. In November, Ghana granted citizenship to 524 diaspora members, predominantly Black Americans, encouraging them to invest and integrate into the local community.

  AP News

• NeNe Leakes' Potential Return to RHOA: Cynthia Erivo has expressed her admiration for "Real Housewives of Atlanta" alum NeNe Leakes and urged Bravo to bring Leakes back to the franchise. Leakes, a founding member of RHOA, left the show in 2020 and has shown interest in returning, stating it would be for the fans. People

  

• Aaron Pierre's Viral Dance on 'The Jennifer Hudson Show': Aaron Pierre's spirited dance during the spirit tunnel segment on The Jennifer Hudson Show went viral, showcasing his infectious energy and charm. This moment has been widely shared, highlighting his dynamic presence both on and off the screen. Also, y’all were being unruly on Instagram because the show’s Instagram page disabled comments. LMAO

  People

• Black Culture's Embrace of Stanley Cups: The Stanley brand has become a cultural phenomenon within the Black community, with viral moments such as a young Black girl's emotional reaction to receiving a pink Stanley cup as a Christmas gift. This trend reflects the broader influence of Black culture on consumer products and fashion. Rolling Out

• Queen Tahj's Super Bowl LIX Art: New Orleans artist Tahj "Queen Tahj" Williams has made history as the first-ever artist to handcraft both the Super Bowl logo and theme art for Super Bowl LIX. Her designs bring the vibrant culture of New Orleans to life, blending her Black Masking heritage with the electric energy of the Super Bowl.

  The Source

  

• Colman Domingo's Fashion Excellence: Actor Colman Domingo continued his impressive fashion streak at the 2025 Golden Globes, where he was nominated for Best Performance by a Male Actor in a Motion Picture - Drama for his role in 'Sing Sing'’ He walked the red carpet in a custom Valentino ensemble, accessorized with Valentino Garavani and Boucheron pieces, showcasing his sophisticated and daring style.

  People

• Historic Milestone in College Football Coaching: In the upcoming College Football Playoff semifinal, Penn State's James Franklin and Notre Dame's Marcus Freeman will face off, marking a historic moment as one of them will become the first Black head coach to compete in a national championship game at the sport's top level. This milestone highlights the increasing representation of Black coaches in major college football.

  The Wall Street Journal

Spotlight: The Resurgence of Black-Owned Bookstores

There's something magical happening right now—a movement that’s more than just a trend. We’re witnessing a revival of Black-owned bookstores, and they’re coming back stronger than ever. These spaces are far more than just places to pick up a book; they’re cultural hubs, heartbeats of the community, and sanctuaries where Black voices, stories, and history are not just celebrated but elevated.

Take a trip to MahoganyBooks in D.C., Semicolon Bookstore in Chicago, or right here in the Bronx at The Lit. Bar—these aren’t just stores; they’re experiences. They’re where the power of Black authors shines bright, where the next generation of storytellers finds a stage, and where every book is a bridge to deeper conversations about our culture, our struggles, and our triumphs.

Supporting these bookstores is more than just a purchase—it’s a statement. It’s a commitment to preserving our legacies and ensuring our stories continue to thrive. These bookstores are reclaiming space and rewriting the narrative, one page at a time. So, if you haven’t visited one lately, let this be your sign to show love, drop by, and experience the power of a Black-owned bookstore for yourself.

What’s Been on My Mind?

Two words: Creative Rest. I’ve been reflecting on how necessary it is to pause, regroup, and allow ourselves to breathe—especially in a world that thrives on urgency. Sometimes, the best ideas bloom after we’ve taken a moment to step back. So, if you’ve been feeling the pressure to produce nonstop, let this be your reminder: Your creativity deserves care, too.

Thank you for sticking with me, even when the posts are few and far between. I appreciate your patience and your hunger for more. As Jay-Z said, "Difficult takes a day, impossible takes a week." Or, in my case, a few months—but who's counting?

Until next time...

Stay bold, stay brilliant, and remember: when you crave creativity, THE BLK PRSPCTV is the place to satisfy your soul.

With love and reinvention,
Shadé

Album covers aren’t just about catching the eye—they’re about making a statement, carving out space in history. They’re art, culture, and defiance pressed into wax. One of the most visually striking examples is Beyoncé’s B’Day (2006) and B’Day Deluxe Edition (2007).

The Queen Reclaims the Throne

The visuals for B’Day didn’t just reflect Beyoncé’s status as a global icon—they embodied the essence of Black excellence. Drenched in vibrant hues, adorned with luxurious textures, and exuding regality, her imagery was unapologetic. Beyoncé wasn’t just the focal point; she was a force, reminding us that women, particularly Black women, have always been at the heart of cultural revolutions.

The B’Day Deluxe Edition brought a level of intention to every shot. Beyoncé used visuals to celebrate femininity, strength, and joy—while dismantling stereotypes. Her stance? Bold. Her gaze? Unwavering. Each frame felt like a love letter to the diaspora, rich with symbolism and pride.

A Cinematic Nod to Black Womanhood

From the iconic scenes of "Upgrade U" with Jay-Z to the playful confidence of "Freakum Dress," Beyoncé reminded us of the layers of Black womanhood: the playful, the powerful, and the unapologetically sensual. It wasn’t just music—it was a visual manifesto, a reclaiming of narratives that had long been stripped of nuance.

When we look at Beyoncé’s work in the context of hip-hop and R&B album covers, there’s an undeniable evolution. It connects to the audacity of Janet Jackson’s Control (1986), where a Black woman claimed her independence and artistic identity with power and grace. These visuals are not just a celebration; they’re a declaration that Black women’s stories are essential, layered, and infinitely dynamic.

Christmas 2024: A Texas Homecoming

Beyoncé’s B’Day visuals also echo the joy and pride she brings to her roots. The announcement of Beyoncé’s Christmas 2024 performances in Texas feels like a homecoming that ties back to her unwavering connection to her identity. Just as B’Day celebrated her artistry, her embrace of her Southern roots reminds us of the importance of grounding ourselves in where we come from while continuing to break boundaries.

This pride in heritage resonates deeply with me, inspiring me to amplify my own West Indian roots. Just as Beyoncé weaves her country upbringing into her artistry, I find strength in celebrating the legacy of my culture. It’s a reminder that identity and pride are powerful tools for storytelling and connection.

Women Are the Blueprint

Just as Janet’s Control paved the way for a new era of artistic expression, Beyoncé’s B’Day visuals continued that legacy, reminding us that women are and have always been the foundation of culture. The B’Day Deluxe Edition isn’t just an album—it’s an anthem, a mood board for Black excellence, and a timeless statement of power.

Let’s Not Forget: The Legacy Lives On

These album visuals, whether from Beyoncé, Janet Jackson, or countless other trailblazing women, tell stories of bold women reclaiming space. They’re not afterthoughts—they’re architects. They’ve built, shaped, and pushed the culture forward, piece by piece.

So when we talk about hip-hop and R&B’s most iconic visuals, let’s not just remember the aesthetics. Let’s remember the audacity. The vision. The women who made us stop, stare, and think. Women who remind us that the culture isn’t just something they participate in—they are the culture.

Until next time,

Stay bold, stay brilliant, and remember, as Jay-Z says, You could be anywhere in the world, but you're here with me. I appreciate that!

-Shadé

This year has been a transformative journey for The BLK PRSPCTV. Since July 2024, when I launched the Art on Wax series, I’ve poured my heart into curating, reflecting, and sharing stories that matter to me—and, I hope, to you. As the year comes to a close, I want to celebrate the moments, milestones, and posts that defined 2024.

📈 Subscriber Growth

• Total Subscribers (as of December 2024): 329

• Key Growth Milestone: In October, my subscriber count crossed 299, marking a significant moment in this journey.

• Top Subscriber Sources:

• Substack App: 218 (67%)

• Other Substack Network: 95 (29%)

• New Accounts Created: 5 (2%)

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Watching this community grow has been incredibly fulfilling. Whether you joined through Substack or found The BLK PRSPCTV another way, I’m so glad you’re here.

🌟 My Top Posts (July–December 2024)

1. “The Unmatched Boldness of Lil’ Kim’s Hard Core Era”

• Published: July 5, 2024

• Engagement: This was the most liked post of the year!

• Writing about Lil’ Kim’s unapologetic artistry and her impact on music and fashion was a joy. Seeing how much it resonated with you reminded me why I do this.

• Top Comment: “Lil’ Kim walked so everyone else could run. This was such a great read!” – Comment by @KrisWillows

2. “31 Days of Black Holiday Movies to Keep You Cozy”

• Published: November 30, 2024

• This post combined my love for Black cinema with the warmth of the holiday season. Your feedback made it clear that these films mean as much to you as they do to me.

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3. “Solange’s A Seat at the Table: A Visual Masterpiece”

• Published: June 28, 2024

• Solange’s artistry has always inspired me. Breaking down her visual storytelling was a labor of love, and I’m so glad it connected with so many of you.

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4. “Shotguns and Stances: The Legacy of Ice-T’s Power Move”

• Published: November 26, 2024

• Engagement: This was the most commented post of the year!

• Reflecting on Ice-T’s legacy and the power of resilience in Black culture brought so much depth to the conversation.

• Top Comment: “This piece on Ice-T perfectly captures his influence. Thank you for shining a light on his journey and the strength of Black women.” – Comment by @MarissaAKin

5. “Basquiat’s Legacy in NYC Museums”

• Published: August 10, 2024

• A tribute to Basquiat’s lasting impact on the art world, exploring his representation in major institutions and his role in shaping contemporary art.

Most Memorable Discussions: Album Art and Legacy

One of my favorite moments this year was being featured on Siima's podcast, where we had an in-depth conversation about the power of album covers, particularly Toni Braxton’s iconic self-titled debut album.

The conversation explored the visuals that defined an era, with Toni's album cover standing as a timeless example of elegance, boldness, and Black femininity in its purest form. Her cover was more than just an image—it was a statement.

This dialogue highlighted the ways art and visuals contribute to music’s legacy and how they shape our connection to artists and their stories.

Listen to the episode on Spotify:
🎙️ Shadé Freeland with Siima

Toni’s debut album continues to inspire not only for its music but also for how its visual presentation elevated her artistry. It's conversations like these that remind us why we celebrate Black art in all its forms.

🔥 Key Themes Explored

1. The Art on Wax Series:

• Launched in July 2024, this series tackled themes of authenticity, vulnerability, and creativity.

• Standout entries like “Cranes in the Sky” and “A Letter to the Little Me Who Needed More” explored mindfulness, healing, and introspection.

2. Black Icons and Storytelling:

• Posts like “The Unmatched Boldness of Lil’ Kim” and “Solange’s A Seat at the Table” celebrated the cultural and artistic contributions of Black creatives.

3. Cinematic Reflections:

• With posts like “31 Days of Black Holiday Movies” and “31 Days of Black Horror”, I highlighted the diversity and richness of Black cinema.

4. Artistic Legacy:

• Pieces like “Basquiat’s Legacy in NYC Museums” demonstrated my commitment to preserving and honoring Black art.

📊 Engagement Metrics

• Total Posts (July–December): 58

• Most Commented & Liked Post: “The Unmatched Boldness of Lil’ Kim’s Hard Core Era”

🗣️ Community Love

• “This piece on Solange perfectly captures her brilliance. Thank you for highlighting her!” – Comment by @JeanetteMoore

• “Your Art on Wax series has been my favorite this year. It’s raw, honest, and so needed.” – Comment by @RochelleBanks

• “Lil’ Kim walked so everyone else could run. This was such a great read!” – Comment by @KrisWillows

💡 Looking Ahead to 2025

With a foundation built on authenticity and creativity, 2025 is poised to be even greater:

• Expanded Storytelling: I’m planning to dive deeper into multimedia formats and collaborations.

• Continued Growth: Building on the momentum of the Art on Wax series, I hope to bring you even more personal reflections and cultural explorations.

• Celebrating More Black Icons: I’ll continue to highlight the figures shaping our culture.

Thank you for being part of this journey! What were your favorite posts or moments from 2024? Let’s keep building this incredible community together in 2025.

Seeing the love and success of my 31 Days Black Horror Movies list, I had to follow it up with something just as festive for the holiday season! These Black-led Christmas movies offer everything from heartfelt family moments to laugh-out-loud comedies. Whether you’re into musicals, romance, or feel-good vibes, this list has something for everyone. Let’s dive in:

1. This Christmas (2007)

2. The Best Man Holiday (2013)

3. Almost Christmas (2016)

4. Jingle Jangle: A Christmas Journey (2020)

5. A Madea Christmas (2013)

6. Last Holiday (2006)

7. The Perfect Holiday (2007)

8. Holiday Rush (2019)

9. A Diva’s Christmas Carol (2000)

10. Black Nativity (2013)

11. The Preacher’s Wife (1996)

12. A Christmas Blessing (2013)

13. Miss Me This Christmas (2017)

14. You Can’t Fight Christmas (2017)

15. Merry Liddle Christmas (2019)

16. The Christmas Pact (2018)

17. Christmas Belles (2019)

18. A Royal Family Christmas (2015)

19. Throwback Holiday (2018)

20. Marry Me for Christmas (2013)

21. The Holiday Calendar (2018)

22. Dear Santa, I Need a Date (2019)

23. Wrapped Up in Christmas (2017)

24. Style Me For Christmas (2024)

25. Every Day Is Christmas (2018)

26. One Fine Christmas (2019)

27. The Christmas Swap (2016)

28. No Time Like Christmas (2019)

29. Christmas in Compton (2012)

30. Angels in the Snow (2015)

31. A New York Christmas Wedding (2020)

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🎁 Honorable Mentions

• Something from Tiffany’s (2022)

• Friday After Next (2002) <= THIS IS A CHRISTMAS MOVIE!!

• Meet Me Next Christmas (2024)

• Holiday Heart (2000)

• The Black Candle: A Kwanzaa Celebration (2008)

• Kirk Franklin’s A Gospel Christmas (2021)

• Let It Shine (2012)

• Carole’s Christmas (2019)

• Christmas Déjà Vu (2021)

• Under the Christmas Tree (2021)

This lineup covers everything from comedies and musicals to heartwarming dramas, giving you plenty of variety for the whole month!

Hip-hop visuals aren’t just decoration—they’re statements, moments that can stop you in your tracks and make you think. Ice-T’s Power album cover (1988) is one of those moments.

Darlene Ortiz: Redefining Power

Darlene Ortiz, gracing the cover of Ice-T's Power in 1988, wasn’t just a model in a photoshoot—she was a statement. Holding a shotgun with an unapologetic gaze, her presence exuded a raw, unfiltered confidence that challenged norms and redefined roles for women in hip-hop imagery.

Far from being relegated to the background, Ortiz stood as an equal, embodying the grit and power the album represented. Her pose wasn’t just revolutionary for its time; it became iconic, reflecting a shift where women demanded to be seen, heard, and respected in spaces dominated by male narratives. Ortiz didn’t just hold her own—she helped set a new standard.

Darlene wasn’t just striking a pose; she was flipping the script. At a time when women in hip-hop visuals were often sidelined, she redefined what it meant to be present, visible, and unapologetically bold in a hyper-masculine space.

Kendrick’s Homage: A Bridge Between Eras

Fast-forward to Kendrick Lamar’s Squabble Up video, and you can feel the echo of Power. The green walls, the stances, the intentionality in every detail—it’s not just a nod to Ice-T, it’s Kendrick doing what he always does: reaching back to carry the past into the present.

But what really hit me was how Squabble Up also feels like a callback to The Roots’ The Next Movement video. (Sidebar: this is my absolute favorite Roots song, so I’m biased.) That same clean, stripped-down energy. The way the space feels alive, amplifying everything without needing to overdo it. Both videos have this understated power—like every detail was chosen for a reason, and you feel it.

In Squabble Up, Kendrick manages to connect two iconic moments in hip-hop visual storytelling, tying together Ice-T’s bold declaration and The Roots’ effortless cool. He doesn’t just imitate; he reimagines, creating a conversation across decades. It’s a reminder that the legacy of hip-hop isn’t static—it’s fluid, continuously evolving while honoring its roots (ha!! lightbulb moment!!). And through Kendrick’s lens, these moments feel less like distant history and more like threads in the same tapestry, showing how the energy of Power and The Next Movement lives on.

The Culture is Women

And at the heart of it all, there’s Darlene. What she did on the Power cover wasn’t just iconic for the time—it still holds weight today. She wasn’t just holding a gun; she was holding space, claiming it for women in a genre that often treated them as afterthoughts. Kendrick’s homage pulls that energy into 2024, reminding us that women have always been essential to hip-hop’s story.

Purchase Darlene Ortiz’s Book

From Darlene to The Next Movement to Kendrick, these visuals aren’t just connected—they’re part of the same conversation. Hip-hop keeps evolving, but the legacy stays intact. And with every new chapter, it’s worth asking: are we giving the women who built the culture the respect they deserve?

Because let’s be real—women aren’t just supporting the culture. They are the culture.

Until next time,

Stay bold, stay brilliant, and remember, as Jay-Z says, You could be anywhere in the world, but you're here with me. I appreciate that!

-Shadé