8156: Lack Of Black Reality TV…?

From Newsweek…

Where Are the Realistic Black Characters on TV?

By Allison Samuels

I thought Obama’s historic election would change the landscape of our entertainment, too—but it hasn’t yet.

When a new J. J. Abrams show featuring two African-American leads was announced earlier this year, I was gleefully overtaken by the implications it could have. Honestly, when’s the last time you’ve seen a prime-time network drama with two black people not only happily in love, but equipped with bilingual skills and a passport? Try never. Throw in the fact that Abrams was also the mastermind behind the megahit Lost, and you have the makings of a bona fide hit. Magazine ads and television commercials leading up to the show’s premiere in October promised fast car chases, exotic international locales, and steamy love scenes. I had my PJs, comfy seat, and bowl of popcorn all ready for a regular Wednesday night escape. Unfortunately, I was in the minority. The show premiered to lukewarm numbers—fewer than 6 million viewers—and never caught on with black or white audiences. Last week NBC canceled Undercovers after just one month on the air.

On Web sites such as Entertainment Weekly’s and Bossip theories ran amok as to why a flashy drama from a veteran producer sank before it could reach deep water. Some pointed to lack of star power, while a few fans complained of weak writing. Sure, all those things can cause any show’s early demise, but I’m not convinced those very fixable creative flaws explain the show’s short life span; ratings were low from the very first episode. I think it’s possible that a slightly more obvious, disturbing reason could be behind Undercovers’ failure, and it’s pretty familiar: race. Prime-time audiences just weren’t ready for “super-negros” on the small screen. And that’s exactly what Undercovers was: a show about black people doing very “unblack” things. Before anyone gets upset, let me explain. “Super-negro” was a term my family often used while watching old Sidney Poitier movies back in the day. In Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (our favorite), Poitier portrays a black doctor in love with a white, wealthy young socialite during the ’60s. Pretty early in the film, you begin to realize that Poitier’s character is not just any black doctor (an accomplishment in itself for most people then, and now); he’s a black doctor with degrees from several Ivy League universities, an internationally known scholar behind cures of dozens of diseases in Africa and elsewhere. Overkill. But Poitier portraying a “regular negro” was simply not good enough during those times, so the “super-negro” was born. The same could be said of his character from In the Heat of the Night, a Philadelphia cop with highly decorated awards.

Fast-forward 40 years, and it’s plain to see that Hollywood still hasn’t figured out a way to move beyond that absurd premise. It still can’t just fit us in. Yes, we often appear as sidekicks or backup characters in an array of popular shows in prime time, but rarely do we carry a show as the star or let the viewers come home with us. One exception is Jada Pinkett Smith’s turn as a no-nonsense nurse on the TNT show Hawthorne. Wonder why? It might have something to do with the fact that it’s a show that she and her husband, Will Smith, created and executive produce. Otherwise, it appears that the powers that be in Tinseltown feel quite comfortable relegating us to reinforcing every negative stereotype known to humanity in low-grade, embarrassing reality shows like Flavor of Love and Basketball Wives. So exactly how does the television audience (black, white, or other) make the gigantic leap from those constant images of foolery to a show like Undercovers? It doesn’t.

Not since the The Cosby Show has prime time successfully delivered a show featuring African-Americans leading normal, regular, everyday lives. That show was groundbreaking because it featured us as mothers, daughters, fathers, and sons. Can you name another show like that on the air right now? Not unless you count Tyler Perry’s TBS comedies—but it’s never been an issue for mainstream audiences to laugh at us. The same thing is true of the Chris Rock series Everyone Loves Chris, which enjoyed some success but is no longer on the air, or the cartoon The Cleveland Show. The brilliance of The Cosby Show was that while funny, it also changed the cultural landscape. It presented African-Americans in an entirely different and new context. It moved beyond the stereotypes of the inner city, jail cells, and basketball courts to present a more well-rounded look at who we are.

Somehow, I foolishly thought the election of the first African-American president would foster more interest in those types of African-American stories. Whatever anyone thinks of President Obama today, he and his wife Michelle’s story of true love, family, and achievement is a fascinating tale with a very unexpected and ongoing twist. I was sure their example alone would inspire networks, producers, and writers to burst at the seams with ideas for shows depicting typical African-American couples and families. I was wrong. Unfortunately, NBC miscalculated as well. They expected the prime-time audience to accept African-Americans in extraordinary roles like Undercovers before really having had much of a chance to see us as ordinary people first.

7537: More On Mayer.

From Newsweek…

John Mayer Is Not Alone
The worst part of his deplorable Playboy interview? He’s just saying what others are thinking.

By Allison Samuels | Newsweek Web Exclusive

I think I can honestly say I speak for a large sector of African-American women when I admit that I’ve never given singer John Mayer more than a half a second of thought over the years. Sure, I can vaguely remember thumbing through some tabloid magazines that detailed his romances with various Hollywood starlets and the drama that came with that, but really, who cares? I sure didn’t. On some level I did appreciate him performing at Michael Jackson’s memorial last year, signaling the diversity of the King of Pop’s influence. But as soon as he left the stage that day, he pretty much left my mind.

But it seems I really should have been paying more attention to Mayer and his very telling thoughts. If I had, I’d have been more familiar with his propensity for immature, salacious banter and outrageous antics. If I had, I’d have known that somewhere along the line, Mayer imagined he’d received an invitation-only entry into the African-American inner circle. You know that invitation that allows you to say anything that comes to your mind about black people without fear that Jesse Jackson or Rev. Al Sharpton will be picketing outside your door the next day.

So imagine my surprise last week when Mayer’s controversial Playboy magazine interview hit the airwaves and newspapers. The 32-year-old singer decided to freely let loose his thoughts on blacks, the “hood” and African-American women. He also felt free enough to use the N-word like he’d been saying it to make a point all his life.

His entire interview left me seething, but his comments about African-American woman sent me through the roof. For those who aren’t familiar with Mayer’s incendiary quotes, just know he essentially said that he wasn’t interested in black women—because his male sex organ was like David Duke (a former Klan member). He causally mentioned one or two black actresses that he thought were OK, and that actress Kerry Washington was “hot,” but would probably break his heart like a “white girl.” He made a few other comments regarding Washington that were so degrading and offensive I won’t even try to paraphrase them. And for record, his references to Jessica Simpson were insulting and degrading to all women as well.

I can only assume what Mayer meant by “like a white girl” was that Kerry Washington is the only black woman that even comes close to being on a white woman’s level of desirability.

Wow! Really, John?

Imagine if you will: America’s sweetheart Beyoncé doing a major interview where she explained that her interest in men leaned more toward the Malcolm X way of thinking and that Brad Pitt or George Clooney couldn’t make the cut if they tried.

Mainstream America would be so angry and appalled with Beyoncé and her 16 Grammys that she’d have to take serious cover for years. Only a very teary-eyed Oprah interview and months in some kind of racial rehab would even begin to allow her a moment back on the national and international scene. (Though rumor has it that talk-show queen Oprah was so upset by Mayer’s interview that she’s made it clear he won’t be sitting on her couch anytime soon.)

Sadly, even though an initial public outrage had Mayer apologizing via his Twitter account and found him crying on stage during an apology, my guess is Mayer will suffer little for his comments. And the reason is very simple. He clearly said out loud what a large majority of mainstream men in power feel in private. I’m referring to those invisible men in the corner offices with the influence and power to put women in movies, on magazine covers, and television shows. The ones who decide what beauty looks like, how much it weighs, and what age it should be. The ones who, just like John Mayer, have deemed black women as just not good enough.

Sure, Beyoncé gets her due attention as does Rihanna, but one has only to look at the most recent Vanity Fair magazine cover to see what a lot of America really thinks of the combination of beauty and brown skin. There isn’t a darker hue to be found, not even in the fold. Earlier this year, pictures altered to fuse first lady Michelle Obama’s face with an ape flooded the Internet, while actor Scott Baio posted on picture of the first lady with a frown on her face and a caption asking if this was what President Obama had to wake up to every morning.

All of this has left me to wonder: Is it open season on black women? Are we in a time where openly disrespecting and insulting women of color is OK and without consequence?

Yes, there will be those who will rightly point to rap music and its demeaning lyrics and videos depicting black women—all made primarily by black men. Without doubt this has been a heated topic discussed for years by black women’s groups and leaders with little resolve. But one fact remains: most black men end up loving and marrying black women, so the words, while hurtful and offensive, don’t ultimately match their actions.

Unfortunately, Mayer’s do. He and his peers’ lack of interest in African-American women doesn’t just impact us on date night, it impacts important decisions about how we are viewed all over the world. And it determines whether those sightings are balanced and diverse.

In the end, I have no idea if Mayer is the racist some have suggested, but I do know the power of words and how painful ones aren’t easily retracted. Here’s hoping that the next time Mayer sees Kerry Washington, she rips him apart—just like a black girl.

7338: Colorblind Anger.

From Newsweek…

Hell Hath No Fury Like a Swedish Ex-Model
Elin Nordegren Woods and the myth of the angry black woman.

By Allison Samuels | Newsweek Web Exclusive

With just one swing of a golf club, Tiger Woods’s wife, Elin, has shattered, or at least cracked, the stereotype of the angry and uncontrollable black woman. I, along with what I suspect to be countless other black women, would like to thank her. Not that I condone violence against anyone, but for far too many years black men—particularly successful, high-profile ones—have pointed to the unpredictable temperament of black women as one of the many reasons they so frequently choose to marry outside the race. A couple of weeks ago Elin Nordegren Woods showed them that the rage of a woman scorned knows no color.

Constant images of black females with their hands on their hips, eyes rolling and tongues lashing out at their partners (and anyone else in their way), are the norm on television shows, in movies, and even on 60-second television commercials. So prevalent is the notion of the angry black female that our current first lady was caricatured on the cover of The New Yorker with a menacing look and a black-power fist in the air. Needless to say, the idea of this type of in-your-face, over-the-top behavior from a woman is less than desirable to men of any color, but particularly African-American men—men who say they have enough to deal with from mainstream society and don’t need more hassles from their better halves.

I can’t count the conversations I’ve had over the years with men of color who were quick to offer detailed examples of black women on the rampage due to some injustice caused to them in a relationship. These women’s actions, according to the men, were totally unacceptable no matter the offense or the pain inflicted. And, of course, just one or two incidents were enough to convince these men that all black women were the same and that white women, by contrast, were uniformly docile.

But now Elin Woods has put a very big hole in that already flawed theory. Though we may never know what exactly happened that fateful night in the Woods household, we do know the superstar golfer had been quite unfaithful to his wife and that she, like most women, was none too pleased about it. In fact, the golfer reportedly told a friend shortly after the incident that his wife had gone “ghetto” on him. An interesting comment coming from someone who probably hasn’t been anywhere near a ghetto, and another example of how prevalent the idea of black women as aggressors has become, even when the alleged attacker is a Swedish blonde. But Elin Woods had been humiliated and hurt by someone she loved and trusted. Those feelings don’t always allow for calm, planned reactions, no matter how fair your skin or your sex.

The fact that we all have similar basic human emotions never seems to be taken into consideration by some African-American men when they list their reasons for looking outside their community for romance. (For the record, I’m all for interracial partnership as long as it’s based on love, and not on some ill-conceived, made-up notion that skin color always denotes personality, attitude, and disposition.)

It’s been far too easy for these men to use the emotional excuse to dismiss black women as potential partners, and it’s time for it to stop. We live in a society where beauty is narrowly defined by European features—meaning long flowing hair, fair skin, and a lean figure. Black men, like everyone else, are constantly showered with those images and no doubt grow to believe that beauty is in essence the opposite of what they themselves look like. In a world that can easily make people of color feel less-than, having what mainstream society considers “the best of the best” on your arm goes a long way toward making men of color feel worthy.

I get that. I don’t like it, but I get it. And I’d appreciate and respect the decision more if men were a little more honest about their reasons. Elin Woods may have turned out to be just as volatile as the stereotyped black woman that black men say they want to avoid, but she’s also a blonde. If that’s what men really want, why not just say it, and stop blaming black women for the breakdown of black-male/black-female relationships?

In the end, I do feel sorry for Tiger Woods, his wife, and his two children. No one should have to publicly deal with all the unpleasant details of their marriage being plastered on the front page every day. But among the many lessons to be learned here is an obvious and simple one that I hope men of color won’t soon forget: you can’t always judge a book by its cover. If you do, don’t be surprised when that book one day comes at you with a 9-iron.

6706: Michelle Obama—Chief Diversity Officer.

From Newsweek.com…

Michelle Hits Her Stride
The first lady’s diverse approach to diversity.

By Allison Samuels

There have been plenty of un-veiling ceremonies for new statues at the U.S. Capitol. But when Michelle Obama peeled the cover off the bronze bust of abolitionist Sojourner Truth last week, the moment was heavy with symbolism. Truth is the first African-American woman to be honored with a statue in the Capitol. In a way no first lady before her ever could have done, Obama connected the dots between herself and the black feminist pioneer. “Now many young boys and girls like my own daughters will come to Emancipation Hall and see the face of a woman who looks like them,” she told the gathering. “I hope that Sojourner Truth would be proud to see me, a descendant of slaves, serving as the first lady of the United States of America.”

It was just the kind of scene I’d been hoping for when Barack Obama won the presidency last fall. I knew that Michelle Obama was already changing the way we see ourselves as African-American women. But I also hoped she would begin to knock down ugly stereotypes and educate people about American black culture. What’s remarkable now—just over that much-hyped 100-day mark—is how quickly and decisively Michelle has taken on the issues that matter most to us.

From the start, Michelle never shied away from being an African-American role model. “I think it’s clear that Michelle Obama is very comfortable in her own skin,” says Debbie Walsh, director of the Center of American Women in Politics at Rutgers University. “She’s not sending a message that I’m the first lady who just happens to be African-American. She’s saying I’m an African-American first lady. There is a difference, and she’s not afraid to show that.”

One place that difference is already showing up: the White House guest list. When Michelle held a daylong program for Women’s History Month in March, white celebs Sheryl Crow and Fran Drescher were among the invited “role models.” But “I would say that 80 percent of the women role models were African-American,” says Debra Lee, chairman and CEO of BET Holdings, who was asked to speak. “And that was just amazing to be a part of because these women are just not given that type of recognition enough.”

While black stars like WNBA champ Lisa Leslie and singer Alicia Keys fanned out to talk to students at D.C. schools, Michelle herself headed to Anacostia High School, one of the city’s most troubled. Michelle shared her own modest background and described the ridicule she faced from neighborhood kids for “acting white” when she got good grades. “To have her sit right before us like that and seem so real and sincere was like a movie or something,” says La Tisha Butler, 17. “We were all tripping because she said getting good grades wasn’t acting white … I could tell she really cared about us. It wasn’t just some speech.”

Later that night, more than 150 girls—also mostly minorities—were invited back to dinner at the White House, where they were paired up with women like actress Debbie Allen, black female astronaut Mae Jemison and Rutgers University basketball coach Vivian Stringer. “I can only imagine as a young black girl what that would have meant to me to see and hear all those women tell me I could be what I wanted,” says Stringer, who juggled coaching games in the NCAA playoffs to attend.

There are few photo-ops that show the first lady with anything but a diverse group. “Mrs. Obama’s agenda has always been to include everyone and make sure the White House is open to all people,” says Katie McCormick Lelyveld, Michelle’s press secretary. “We make a point at each event to make sure you see all types of faces of people with different types of stories. It’s exactly the same thing she did on the campaign trail.”

Friends say that Michelle’s own self-confidence and comfort in navigating between different cultures has made it easy for her to implement her own agenda now. “She’s her own woman with her own ideas, and that wasn’t going to change just because she got into the White House,” said one friend who asked not to be identified discussing private details about the Obamas. “She knows she’s the first role model black women have seen at this level and she knows the incredible opportunity she has to uplift them.”

Obama’s outreach to her own community has also meant granting interviews to publications that don’t normally rate a seat in the White House briefing room. In her cover story with Black Hair, Michelle described her morning routine of getting the girls ready for school. (The magazine also featured styling tips from Michelle’s hairdresser.) This month, Michelle and her mother, Marian Robinson, are on the cover of Essence; inside, they speak about raising confident and successful children in the black community. And this is her second Essence cover since January. “Our audience is fascinated by this woman and her family,” said Angela Burt-Murray, editor of Essence. And she is gracious enough to share that with us. She knows what she means to our community.”

You might think all this focus on African-Americans might be a turnoff to the nonblack part of the nation. But so far Michelle’s approval ratings match or even surpass her husband’s. Last month, she hit 72 percent in a Gallup poll. “Who could have seen this coming after the New Yorker cover and all the other negative press she received last year,” says Walsh.

Part of Michelle’s appeal may stem from her diverse approach to diversity. She turned the White House fountains green for St. Patrick’s Day and, along with the president, hosted the White House’s first-ever Passover seder. “She did exactly the same thing when she was an executive in Chicago—put a group of different people together and allowed voices to be heard that hadn’t been before,” said Mellody Hobson, president of Ariel Capital and who has known the Obamas for more than 10 years. “That’s who she is—it’s a natural thing for her to do.”

Michelle’s agenda is playing out in subtler ways, too. The first lady has made a point of wearing a variety of lesser-known, minority designers—a habit that has infuriated some established designers. But model Naomi Campbell thinks the first lady’s clothes are meant to send a distinct message to designers who rarely hire black models. “Why would she concern herself with mainstream designers who don’t even put their clothes on women who look like her in ads or fashion shows?” Campbell asks.

There will continue to be endless opportunities for Mrs. Obama to make a difference in the African-American community over the next four years. And endless opportunities for critics to assess her impact. But for many African-American women like me—who still stop in awe when we see her face on magazine covers—just knowing Michelle Obama is comfortable in her own skin is a pretty good start.

6187: Bringing New Meanings To First Lady.

Via Newsweek, Allison Samuels presents a provocative perspective on future First Lady Michelle Obama…

What Michelle Means to Us

We’ve never had a First Lady quite like Michelle Obama. How she’ll change the world’s image of African-American women—and the way we see ourselves.

By Allison Samuels

At a recent Sunday brunch after church, my “sista friends” and I sat on the patio of a Los Angeles restaurant gabbing about the election of Barack Obama. Sure, we were caught up in the history of the moment. Most of us never thought we’d see an African-American president. But as a group of six black women in our 30s and 40s, we were equally excited by who is coming along with Obama to the White House—his wife, Michelle, and their two young daughters. We all praised—OK, maybe even envied—Michelle’s double Ivy League pedigree, her style, her cool but friendly demeanor. And yet we’re all aware of how much we have riding on her. At 44, Michelle Obama will be the youngest First Lady since Jacqueline Kennedy. And many are expecting her to usher in a similarly glamorous era in Washington. (“Bamelot,” as some are already calling it.) But Michelle’s influence could go far beyond the superficial. When her husband raises his hand to take the oath of office, Michelle will become the world’s most visible African-American woman. The new First Lady will have the chance to knock down ugly stereotypes about black women and educate the world about American black culture more generally. But perhaps more important—even apart from what her husband can do—Michelle has the power to change the way African-Americans see ourselves, our lives and our possibilities.

It’s an amazing opportunity—and a huge responsibility. “I think she’s always going to be classy, because she knows she’s not just representing herself,” said my friend Gertrude Justin, 40, a nurse from Houston. “She knows she’s fighting stereotypes of black people that have been around for decades and that her every move will be watched. I’m sure she’s been just as insulted by the lack of true depictions of African-American women as any other black woman.” Michelle will be a daily reminder that we’re not all hotheaded, foaming-at-the-mouth drug addicts, always ready with a quick one-liner and a roll of the eyes.

Like many African-American women I know, Michelle has had a lot of practice at the delicate tap dance of getting along in the mainstream white world. During all those years in boardrooms and a topnotch law firm—not to mention the exclusive clubs of Princeton and Harvard Law School—she’s had to learn to blend in. Now she’ll have to go even further in convincing two very different constituencies—African-Americans and everyone else—that they can trust her as their First Lady. And she’ll have to do it all while remaining true to her authentic self.

Michelle has already shown she understands how universal her appeal must be. Early on in the primaries, after she was labeled too forward and too loud, Michelle demonstrated self-restraint and discipline by dialing back. She stopped making harmless jokes about Obama’s morning breath and other breaches of hygiene. Her remark about being “proud of my country” for the first time was another rare misstep. But she quickly learned to play the adoring and uncontroversial wife, talking up her husband on shows like “The View.”

She showed she could calibrate her remarks for predominantly black audiences too, opening up a bit more about what Obama’s election would mean for them—and what it would also mean for her, referring to herself as “the little black girl from the South Side of Chicago.” Yet when The New Yorker caricatured the Obamas in July doing a “terrorist fist bump” in the Oval Office, the image stung. It was Michelle who came across as the domineering one—the angry black woman. She toned it down and took to wearing pearls and reassuring J.Crew cardigans.

Will that softer side win out now that she’s headed to the East Wing? When I met Michelle earlier this year for an interview in Atlanta, I was taken by her warmth and eagerness to chat about everything—fashion designers she’d like to wear, her girls’ taste in clothes, even dogs. (On a follow-up phone call, she greeted me with “Hey, girlfriend,” like she was a long-lost sorority sister.) There was no pretense—no second-guessing her next word or move the way she seemed to do after the campaign became a mudfest.

I personally hope that she will let more of that true, colorful personality seep through. There are some good hints she might. Her daring election-night red-speckled dress, designed by Narciso Rodriguez, was hardly a cautious choice. It wasn’t altogether flattering, but it showed that Michelle is searching for her own style. Other clues come from her winning, if still demure, performance during the recent “60 Minutes” interview. Looking chic and relaxed—and genuinely affectionate with her husband—she poked fun at the president-elect’s professed affinity for doing the dishes and told him she wouldn’t accompany him on a walk on a cold Chicago day.

That easy warmth between the Obamas as a couple was another thing that my girlfriends and I fixated on at our brunch. Nearly 50 percent of all African-American women are single. And, “The Cosby Show” aside, there are still woefully few public examples of solid, stable black marriages. What can this handsome first couple do for the future of the black family, we wondered? “I want my son to see first-hand what two people can do when they work together and respect each other,” said Janese Sinclair, an executive assistant and 34-year-old single mother of a 12-year-old son. “His father and I divorced when he was 2—so he never had the chance to see the way a relationship works. Many of his friends have single moms too, so the Obamas are going to teach us that love and happiness is not just for others but us too. It’s easy to forget when you look at TV or movies.”

Making her young daughters, Malia and Sasha, her top priority is heartfelt, but it could also help Michelle broaden her appeal. Taking lessons from the Carters and the Clintons—Amy was 9 and Chelsea was 12 when their fathers took office—Michelle is creating a protective cordon around the girls. What parent can’t relate to wanting to shield young children from the glare of the national spotlight?

But Michelle’s declaration that she plans to be the “Mom in Chief” has already ignited a minor flare-up in the ongoing white mommy wars between stay-at-home mothers and working women. (Don’t all moms put their kids first, even if they’re working? Is such an accomplished woman going to be content with Mom in Chief?) Still, most African-American women I know are thrilled she’s in a position to make that choice. The average African-American family can’t survive without two incomes—the poverty level among black families hovers above 30 percent, according to 2006 U.S. Census figures. And for single moms, that can mean working two jobs, leaving precious little time with the children. Michelle has already survived the working-mom juggling act, getting her law degree and working in government and administration before leaving during Obama’s campaign.

I’m hoping the whole Mom in Chief role will leave plenty of room for Michelle to tackle significant, meaty issues even if she’s not clamoring for a West Wing office. That’s a tricky balancing act for any First Lady—think Hillary Clinton and health-care reform. Most follow the path of Laura Bush in choosing non controversial interests like literacy. So far, Michelle has listed popular causes—military families and the struggles of working parents—that are hard to find fault with. But she’ll have another dimension to worry about: if she focuses on the black community—helping urban schools, say—will her interests be viewed as too parochial? And while every First Lady—and plenty of professional women—walk the line between being confident and seeming like a bitch, African-American women are especially wary that being called “strong” is just another word for “angry.”

Appearance could be another minefield for Michelle. First Ladies are always scrutinized—how else did Hillary end up in those black pant-suits? Though Michelle has shown a penchant for sleek hair and form-fitting dresses, her style is still evolving and wide-ranging. She’s gone from $148 off-the-rack outfits to Dolce & Gabbana. When she showed up for her first tour of the White House wearing a striking red dress, she indicated she’s willing to be daring. But will she retreat if critics slam her for bad hair days or talk too intimately about her shape?

She has one advantage over many of her predecessors—she’s got the lean, tall build of an athlete. That could have serious implications far beyond the style pages. A self-proclaimed fitness junkie who works out every morning, Michelle could actually encourage women of color to take better care of themselves. African-American women face alarmingly high rates of high blood pressure and obesity. And like everyone else, we have plenty of excuses for being sedentary, including the always-present fear of messing up our carefully done hair. “I look at her and think, I have two kids and she has two kids,” said my friend Tamara Rhodes, a 37-year-old public-safety officer in Long Beach, Calif. “If she can find time in the day to do her thing to look good—why can’t I? She looks good and in a way that I can see myself looking—not a size zero—but really healthy.”

As my brunch friends and I continued talking about Michelle, our conversation wandered into one area we seldom discuss, even among our families and closest confidantes. Michelle is not only African-American, but brown. Real brown. In an era when beauty is often defined on television, in magazines and in movies as fair or white skin, long straight hair and keen features, Michelle looks nothing like the supermodels who rule the catwalks or the porcelain-faced actresses who hawk must-have cosmetics. Yet now she’s going to grace the March cover of Vogue magazine—the ultimate affirmation of beauty.

Who and what is beautiful has long been a source of pain, anger and frustration in the African-American community. In too many cases, beauty for black women (and even black men) has meant fair skin, “good hair” and dainty facial features. Over the years, African-American icons like Lena Horne, Dorothy Dandridge, Halle Berry and Beyoncé—while beautiful and talented—haven’t exactly represented the diversity of complexions and features of most black women in this country.

That limited scope has had a profound effect on the self-esteem of many African-American women, including me. “When I see Michelle Obama on the cover of magazines and on TV shows, I think, Wow, look at her and her brown skin,” said Charisse Hollands, a 30-year-old mail carrier from Inglewood, Calif., with flawless ebony skin. “And I don’t mean any disrespect to my sisters who aren’t dark brown, but gee, it’s nice to see a brown girl get some attention and be called beautiful by the world. That just doesn’t happen a lot, and our little girls need to see that—my little girl needs to see it.”

In Africa, skin-lightening creams are all the rage even though the chemical they contain, hydroquinone, has been shown to cause harm in high doses. Visit any beauty-supply shop in an American inner city and you’ll find an entire aisle dedicated to less-potent forms of these products. “It’s a truth that’s long been with us,” says comic and television host Whoopi Goldberg, who came to fame with a one-woman stage show featuring her longing for straight blond hair and blue eyes. “In society and in the black community, the lighter you are and the more European your features, the more you are desired. Now many of us want to deny that’s true or say it’s changed, but it hasn’t. The darker you are makes you less than ideal. Plain and simple. And that messes with your mind something awful.”

If you’re an actress, it can also keep you from appearing in a hip-hop video or getting the juiciest movie role. But it affects regular girls and women too. On a recent episode of the nationally syndicated “Tom Joyner Morning Show,” the host asked listeners if the president-elect’s choice of a wife and her look had in any way influenced their vote. The answer was a resounding yes, followed by comments like “She’s a regular sister,” and “I love the fact that she looks like the woman next door or like my cousin or niece.”

Michelle has accomplished so much even before moving into the White House. Imagine what she can do if she decides to tackle substantive problems—perhaps even just a single one she’s mused about, like helping the local Washington, D.C., community. Now that’s the kind of influence that could reach far beyond my friends at the brunch table.

5704: Generation Rap.

From the latest issue of Newsweek, Allison Samuels presents a concise, insightful and thoughtful take on Jesse Jackson and Barack Obama.