'The celebrity trap'

If you asked 10 Black boys who they look up to, what answers would you get? A hip-hop star? An actor? An athlete? Perhaps. Or would you get the name of someone who actually knows their name, like their father, their teacher, their Boy Scout leader or their neighbor?

It's undoubtedly fashionable for athletes and other well-known folks to say that they are not role models. And while some would disagree, they get no argument from me. I, for one, totally agree with them. Having a good jump shot doesn't mean I should want to be like you. Being able to hit a ball doesn't make a person qualified to give me advice on my life. Being able to rhyme a few sentences into a microphone or say a few lines into a camera doesn't mean you have anything to say that I necessarily want to hear.

Instead of looking to role models who are present in their everyday lives, too many of our young choose to emulate the rich and famous, not realizing that many times--most times--they play by different rules than the rest of us. Their fame can many times get them out of their troubles. Their money can buy them material items and human fondness that the average person can only dream of possessing.

So the rose-colored glasses that they wear many times taint the advice that celebrities give. How can a celebrity know what it's like to struggle to make ends meet?

Sure some of them have been there, and many of them pride themselves on "keeping it real" and "representing" the normal lifestyle that they once knew. But many are so far removed from, and out of touch with, those "normal" problems, that--whether they realize it or not--they are the last people who should be giving advice. Give me a few million dollars, and I can guarantee you that I won't be able to relate to you or your pedestrian problems.

Not only do our youth fall into what I call the "celebrity trap," but many adults in Black America also mistakenly look to the rich and famous to tell us how to live our lives. We drive the kind of cars that they drive, even though we can't afford to; we live in the kind of houses that they live in, even though we can't afford to; we buy the kind of clothes that they wear, even though we can't afford to. All so that we can look and feel like the celebrities we worship.

It starts early, many times as soon as a baby leaves the womb, is cleaned up and dressed in a designer onesie and name-brand booties. By the time we're in our 20s, we're getting a five-year loan to buy a set of spinner rims for our car, and a 60-year mortgage to buy a "mini-mansion."

It's no secret that many in Black America want to live like the rich and famous, and the marketers on Madison Avenue--and the celebrities pushing their products--love it. When per capita income is compared to spending levels, African-Americans are the largest consumers--and the smallest savers--in the world. We live our lives striving to be rich, but end up only being 'hood rich.

The more of us who stop listening to, and trying to be like, the celebrity types, the better off we will be. That old-school way of living your life will get you nowhere, except in a load of debt, if not a load of trouble.

To the ballers, I say, "Keep shooting that rock." To the actors, I say, "Keep reading those lines." To the singers, I say, "Keep in tune." I, for one, won't get mad at you when you say that you're no role model. Give me somebody like me, give me somebody I can relate to, give me a Brother who I can approach. That's the Brother I want to listen to, look up to and be like.

I'm just "keeping it real."

COPYRIGHT 2006 Johnson Publishing Co.
COPYRIGHT 2008 Gale, Cengage Learning