It’s funny that dudes mythologize Ayesha Curry when she’s already married.
I thought women were supposed to be the ones that wanted what they couldn’t have.
However, until Cardi B gets married – which, from what she says, could be very soon – she’s still single and so is Amber Rose.
So if I had to chose between Cardi B and Amber Rose, I wouldn’t even hafta pause to consider.
I’m not the biggest Amber Rose fan.
And it’s not because she’s white or because she’s a former stripper – not that the combination helps – or even realistically because she’s become a vocal proponent of amorality without a sense of humor.
The seriousness of the politicizing of her pro-slut agenda is a fucking drag.
Nobody wants to deal with an angry slut.
And I was actually offended when she shushed both Tyrese and Reverend Run who were arguing – weakly, admittedly – that the way a woman dresses affects the way she’s dealt with when she encounters men.
I would have stood up and applauded if one of them had said, “Baby, from what inarguably moral or accomplishment-based plateau do you presume this great authority?”
But the audience would have been booed and the veracity of that kinda statement would have been ignored and all women would have come to Amber’s defense despite the fact that the bullshit hustle she uses could only work for a white girl and that a Black girl trying to follow down the Amber Rose career path to fame would be greeted with the same momentary astonishment then blanket indifference as Montana Fishburne who thought that doing porn would make her into the new Kim Kardashian.
Meanwhile, Cardi B on the other hand is a joy to behold.
A self-made star that’s altogether clever, intelligent, quick with her wit and sharp with her tongue, you get the sense that though Cardi B was every bit the stripper that Amber Rose once was, Cardi used it (appropriately) as a stepping stone and kept her eyes on the prize.
Consider this tweet:
Remember what Maya Angeloue used to be and she in Nikkas text books
— Cardi B (@iamcardib) April 2, 2016
And while sure, us literary types know full well that Maya Angelou used to be a sex worker, who would have thought that a former stripper would know?
Does Amber Rose know?
Does Amber Rose even know who Maya Angelou is? I mean, Maya Angelou didn’t rap.
If you don’t live in New York you lucky that you didn’t hafta listen one morning as I did as Rosenberg from the “Ebro on the Morning” morning show, after hearing that Amber Rose was dating some NBA player, said, in all seriousness, that he’d be disappointed if the guy that she was dating wasn’t a high-tier NBA star.
Imagine my mortification.
What the fuck on earth has Amber Rose done that warrants some high-caliber NBA nigga’s attention?
She should be happy with anybody who could put her in a hooptie and help her with the laundry.
That’s that white shit at it’s worst.
If Rosenberg thought Amber had so much to offer, why didn’t her sic her on Leonardo DiCaprio?
But no, only a Black star is supposed to consider himself “lucky” to get with a divorced white single mom who’s biggest claim to fame is who she’s dated.