Bringing a Touch of Reality to Women of Color on TV.
by Ashley Canino
“Blood, Sweat and Heels:” The title of this returning Bravo docu-drama evokes the hellishness of grueling pageantry, a tried and true reality television premise, crystalized in shows like “Toddlers and Tiaras,” and another Bravo franchise, “The Real Housewives.” We’re used to seeing girls and women of all ages posture for their on-screen friends, then admit their contempt for one another during green-screen confessionals. The reality television version of a woman is one concerned with appearances, self-righteousness and not much else. But “Blood, Sweat and Heels,” portrays contemporary womanhood through a different lens—one closer to reality than the facade that the television industry has built.
The show, which began its sophomore season this past Sunday, follows six women pursuing varied careers in New York City. This isn’t another set of “Housewives,” exactly. Though they reach the Bravo quota for an unlikely number of cocktail parties, “Heels'” leading ladies are building businesses and brands, without the financial security behind most Bravo-lebrities’ jewelry and handbag lines. They are ambitious and motivated as they tackle the varied challenges of establishing a viable writing career, breaking into the world of real estate and a host of other ventures. The cast does not shy away from discussion of real life social issues – typically taboo fare for the reality television lot. In the season one premiere, Daisy Lewellyn, a style journalist aiming for a recurring spot on daytime television, poses questions to a group of other professional women: “Do you think men are intimidated by dating a woman of power?” and “Do you feel strongly that a woman can rule the world?” These are questions that audiences are not used to mulling in the venue that brought us, “The Bachelor.” If these issues sound a little dry for the reality space, don’t worry. The show brings just enough of the drama that we have all come to secretly love.
But somehow, “Heels” manages to bring that element of conflict without demeaning its cast. The show effectively undermines reality television tropes for black women despite the industry’s penchant for degrading stereotypes. The majority of past and current reality shows featuring women of color (“Love and Hip Hop,” “Charm School,” “Bad Girls Club”) showcase displays of vapid rage, substance abuse and promiscuity. The landscape has tarnished the image of black women to the extent that, even when proposed as a celebration of professional success, some critics are arguing against any participation of black women in reality television. All six cast members of “Blood, Sweat and Heels,” are women of color who escape the dehumanizing power of life in a fish bowl and manage to be relatable people rather than caricatures. One of the cast members embodies this trajectory. Melyssa Ford was once known for her provocative appearances in music videos and features in men’s magazines like King and Maxim. Throughout this series she refers repeatedly to her quest to establish herself financially without relying on her body and changing her public image. In the Season 2 premiere, we found out that she has developed a satirical musical comedy drawing on her experiences of being objectified by men and vilified by other women. Ford’s storyline reads like something written for the very purpose of avenging the sordid image of the hypersexual black woman in entertainment. We can only wonder if Ford realizes what she has already achieved by overcoming the entrenched stereotypes of the television genre in which she participates.
Ford and the rest of the cast are also the answer to the unhealthy notion that wealth is the only humanizing factor for black woman in reality television. Women (and men) of all races are capable of exhibiting ugly behaviors whether rich or poor, and that range is splashed across multiple cable channels for everyone’s guilt-ridden enjoyment. “The Real Housewives of Atlanta” demonstrates season after season that wealth is not a magic filter of propriety for an exploited community. So does “Heels,” but in a positive way. For the most part, the featured women are responsible for their own financial security and refer frequently to income and bills in a way that Real Housewives of Beverly Hills would find most uncouth. Geneva Thomas, pop culture journalist and digital marketer, begins Season 2 in a new studio apartment near Wall Street. The 480-square-foot studio is a step down in size and a step up in rent from her old place in Harlem, and she willfully shares these details with the audience. “Heels” is evidence that television has the potential to portray black women fairly, regardless of the size of their bank accounts.
Promotions for, “Blood, Sweat and Heels’” second season have focused on implicit drama, with quick scenes cut between images of pumps ablaze. The “Hell on Heels,” campaign does not feature any of the heart from the show’s first season, but last night’s premiere was a promising sign that “Heels” will continue to push the boundaries of what makes enjoyable reality television. Even with bills to pay, careers to mold and stereotypes to defeat, the women of “Heels,” continue to put their best foot forward.
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Ashley Canino is a freelance writer and media researcher living in New York. You can find more of her work at AshleyCanino.com and follow her @AshleyCanino.
