Vigorously, I shake my Magic 8-Ball. It is the same kind Stacie J. used on the first episode of “The Apprentice.”
I whisper: “Could a black woman ever win ‘The Apprentice’ “?
I shake again and marvel at the words that materialize through the bluish fluid: “No, look at Omarosa and Stacie J. Two seasons. Two crazy black women.”
With a shriek, I drop the foreshadowing object to the floor.
I ask because, much like a number of my friends and associates, I’m wondering where Donald Trump found Omarosa Manigault-Stallworth and her seeming descendant, the addle-brained Stacie J. Is this the best the show can find to represent the African-American woman? Seeking answers, I go to the true experts, the bloggers.
On www.theapprenticeblog.com, blogger “Max Smith” writes that Stacie J. never had a chance: “Was it racism? Sure, in today’s most subtle and, at the same time, blatant form. Those of you who haven’t experienced racism will find it hard to accept. It doesn’t make it any less so.”
Though I could see Max’s point, I sought the counsel of Northwestern University professor of sociology Bernard Beck. This guru of popular culture took it a step further, questioning the producers’ motives.
“When you saw Omarosa last season as this sneaky, back-stabbing person, it was unusual, but unfortunately played up to the stereotypes that some hold of black women,” Beck explained. “But to see two incidents of seemingly crazy black women, you have to wonder: Whose reality is this?”
So it’s possible that producers may cast the token African-American woman with an eye for those who are bossy, blustery, or manipulative, or in Stacie’s case, witches with the ability to conjure the future.
But this philosophy doesn’t seem to extend to the male contestants like last year’s runner-up, Kwame Jackson, or current player Kevin. Both are normal guys with a good attitude and a seeming disinterest in magic.
Doug Harris, managing director of the Kaleidoscope Group, a Chicago-based diversity consulting firm, believes that Stacie J. could have been targeted, even before her erratic behavior.
“Some contestants seized the leadership role and were admired,” Harris observed. “When Stacie tried to pep up the team or hire temporary staff for a task, she was treated like an outsider and a ‘weirdo’ who wasn’t keeping up with the group.”
Harris acknowledges that Stacie’s behavior was odd but emphasizes that nobody knows what went on before or after the incident.
“They edit these things to create a story,” Harris explained. “You also saw that these people weren’t as frightened of Stacie J. as they later claimed to be in the boardroom.”
That’s true. The sorority-style Apex team did come across as melodramatic and downright catty during the retelling of their “nightmarish” experience with Stacie.
In their semi-defense, Professor Beck surmises that Stacie’s teammates might have overreacted because of a tendency for whites to be intimidated by black women.
So was it a case of prejudice or a true fear of Stacie J.? One thing is clear: The production team behind The Donald needs to put some serious thought into their next Nubian queen.
For her part, Stacie J. (full name Stacie Jones Upchurch) has hired a PR guy to repair her tarnished image, according to a New York Daily News report.
I, too, will do my part to reverse the trend of African-American villainesses on reality television.
I humbly volunteer myself as the next brown-skinned businesswoman for next season’s “The Apprentice.”
One question before I start packing: Do you think it’ll be hard to get my Magic
8-Ball through security?
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ritaredeye@tribune.com
