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Don’t pity Tommy Wiseau for not getting a word in at the Golden Globes, both him and Franco are celebrated for nothing more than being overconfident assholes.

By Nicole Froio Once you’re awake, you can’t ever truly enjoy a movie again. That’s the conclusion I got to watching James Franco’s “The Disaster Artist”, a comedy about the production of the worst film ever made turned cult classic “The Room”. Franco, who won a Golden Globe for Best Actor in a Musical and Comedy, set out to tell the bizarre story of Tommy Wiseau, a quirky-looking, strange-acting man whose dream was to be a Hollywood actor, and his quest to write and film his ‘masterpiece’. However, given the continuous revelations of sexual assault and harassment in the last four months and the practices of abuse of power that seem to be pervasive in Hollywood, Franco’s “The Disaster Artist” shows how white male privilege is uplifted in society—even if the ‘artist’ in question is essentially a failure.  The fact that Franco’s movie is billed as a comedy shows how he thinks white male privilege and the abuse that often comes with it is a huge joke. Franco himself was caught trying to pick up a minor in 2014, and is now being accused of taking advantage of actress Sarah Tither-Kaplan. No wonder he made a movie that essentially celebrates white male incompetence and abuse. When Wiseau and his friend Greg Sestero move to LA to try their luck in Hollywood, it is obvious that they are both painfully, objectively untalented. While Sestero can rely on his good looks and youth, Wiseau’s frighteningly pale skin, long greasy black hair and creepy demeanor puts him in an extreme disadvantage when auditioning for parts. His Eastern European accent would perhaps be forgiven if it wasn’t for his insistence that he is 100% American and from New Orleans. From the very moment anyone meets Wiseau, it’s evident that something is off; yet, his strange behavior is forgiven as quirky and eccentric by Sestero.
Related: THE GOLDEN AGE OF TV DOESN’T BEGIN OR END WITH WHITE MEN

4:44 is a raw look into Jay-Z’s mind. He offers explanations and apologies for years of toxic behavior.

Last week, Jay-Z's 13th studio album, "4:44" was released. It's the response that folks had been waiting for ever since Beyoncé's visual album, "Lemonade" dropped last year. The album chronicled the experiences of a woman betrayed by her lover and ultimately fighting through the sorrow to mend the relationship and move forward with a stronger bond. Of course, everyone began speculating whether or not Bey was alluding to her relationship with Jay.  I knew "4:44" had to be juicy because the number 4 is very significant in Jay and Bey’s lives–they were both born on the fourth day of their birth months and they were married on April 4th. Bey was most vulnerable on her 4th solo studio album, so Jay is following the theme. It’s also mad creepy that he woke up at 4:44 am to write the title track. [caption id="attachment_46839" align="aligncenter" width="400"] Jay-Z's 13th studio album, 4:44.[/caption] Jay Z’s "4:44" is a similar yet less masterfully executed attempt at relating to his fanbase and revealing his alter egos and vulnerability. He tries to outline the dissociation of Jay-Z and Hov with Shawn Carter, as evidenced by the leading track "Kill Jay-Z" and his seventh track "Bam". While Beyoncé’s introspective journey through love and identity lasted a little over an hour, Jay’s was nearly half that, deliberately coming in at around 35 minutes. The brevity could very well represent the toxic relationship that Black men have to masculinity–where even their most vulnerable moments occur in eclipses. In 35 minutes, Jay reveals and apologizes for decades of mental and emotional abuse that he put his wife through, mostly articulated in the title track "4:44". Seeing that they’ve been going at this love game since 2001/2002, he admits “took me too long for this song. I don’t deserve you”. He describes living and growing up in the projects and his progression to the over $800 million net worth that he boasts today. This album arguably encompasses four themes: introspection/apologies; industry commentary; personal growth & development and Black wealth (both individual and generational).
Related: DO IT LOOK LIKE I WAS LEFT OFF BAD AND BOUJEE?

The power of Janet Mock rests in her accessibility and relatability.

Goddesses must bless Amazon’s algorithms because in late spring 2014 Janet Mock’s bounteous afro halo was featured in a little thumbnail picture of related interests thanks to my previous purchases. In her first book, "Redefining Realness," I gained a mentor who ushered me into the early days of my transition in the nascent dawn of my recovery from addiction. I desperately needed the guidance. In addition to hormonal direction, it was the anecdotes which chimed with my personal experiences and illuminated the path I was on with familiarity. [caption id="attachment_46780" align="aligncenter" width="263"] Redefining Realness: My Path to Womanhood, Identity, Love & So Much More By Janet Mock[/caption] A fountain of veracity and authenticity – Mock spoke truth to power in a way that brought sunshine into my life – the snap of her intellect and an almighty wit was matched by the snatched image on her book cover. A vision in skin tight coral, Janet is the strong feminist trans goddess promising me with the assuredness of Olivia Pope, the determination of Maxine Waters and tenacity of Tina Knowles that it will all get much better– and soon. In her newest book, "Surpassing Certainty," Janet Mock claims her throne as the trans advocate and ultimate possibility model for trans women of color the world over. Her second memoir is a work of life writing dripping in sex positivity and a testament to sex worker inclusive feminism. The gaze of the uninitiated reader is averted from the usual topics of a medical and social transition. Instead, the trans-ness of the author was woven together like a tapestry of her life as a whole. [caption id="attachment_46779" align="aligncenter" width="265"] Surpassing Certainty: What My Twenties Taught Me By Janet Mock[/caption] Enshrined in the uniqueness of her story, are precise and revealing descriptions of the hot messiness of adult emotional life fueled and defined by love. The epic nature of her first love for her husband Troy, is complimented by a pursuit for meaning across state lines. There are many characters who help our heroine along the way into a popping media career peppered with pop-culture and seasoned with the sadness of too-late realizations. We are schooled as to how to escape the weighty burdens of unconscious privilege, pretty privilege, good hair privilege, cis-passing privilege. Janet Mock just owns the deck that she was dealt and it makes her more likeable. Her self-awareness promises that our own honesty can liberate us too.
Related: A LOVE LETTER TO SERENA WILLIAMS

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