‘Diarra From Detroit,’ The Urban Cinderella Mystery That We Never Knew We Needed

 

Diarra From Detroit ad promotion. 

With the news of many Black and brown led series being cancelled left and right this past year, BET provides much needed relief by officially renewing Diarra Kilpatrick’s fantastic namesake Diarra From Detroit for a second season! The talented creator behind the Emmy nominated web series American Koko brings a unique modern-day spin on Cinderella. Instead of the poor servant girl losing her glass slipper, a young divorcee experiences a wondrous, soul-searing date with a beautiful man, only to later find the missing man’s Jordan. 

Diarra (Diarra Kilpatrick) holds the first clue number one on her personal case— her potential boo’s shoe. DP: Matt Edwards.

The top notch cast is led by writer/showrunner Kilpatrick as Diarra— a too-caring schoolteacher starting over post divorce, Bryan Terrell Clark as the cool-cucumber teacher Mr. Tea, DomiNique Perry (an Insecure favorite) as Aja, the born again virtuous woman putting her salon business above unholy distractions, Claudia Logan as Moni, the feisty school bus driver, married to auto shop owner— Roman who has dangerous secrets of his own (played by Bechir Sylvain). Other characters include Shannon Wallace as the mysterious Chris, Jon Chaffin as Danger, a cooking criminal in therapy, Morris Chestnut as the sexy lawyer ex-husband Swa, and Phylicia Rashad as the almost unrecognizable potty mouthed, heroine Vonda (took a while to realize it was her— possibly Chris’s mother). 

Diarra braids a student’s hair between periods and apparently teaches Black Women’s History— the sweet necessary representation. DP: Matt Edwards.

Diarra speaks on being unable to afford therapy. It’s already bad enough that certain Black women can’t cry into the shower whilst being afraid to get their hair wet. DP: Matt Edwards.

Diarra (Diarra Kilpatrick) will eventually receive intriguing details on Chris (Shannon Wallace), including how he might feel about her— a woman he just met. DP: Matt Edwards. 

In a coldest winter ever tale that would make Sistah Soujah quake in her poetic boots, the frigid Detroit, Michigan presents the perfect backdrop for eight episodes of nonstop mayhem, romance, and adventure. Fashionable, slick Diarra From Detroit explores a delicious cross between Abbott Elementary and the short-lived Women’s Murder Club with an extra blackness oomph. Frantic twist and turns balance between hitting the heartstrings hard, enticing us with a unique love story worth fighting for, and keeping the audience on their toes. The sharp, edgy writing takes us on up and down roller coasters, Diarra bringing her sometimes unwilling friends along on wildly intense thrill rides that might kill them. Our Cinderella man wasn’t scrubbing floors and talking to mice. He was building a collective trail that Diarra follows, her actions mirroring the desperate Prince Charming searching for the right feet that fit.  

Diarra combines her teacher smarts with clever sleuthing until she figures it out. 

Of course, she always needs backup.

Dana Scully skeptic Aja (DomiNique Perry) (also Swa’s cousin) stands by Diarra’s seemingly deluded side as any compassionate friend would. Aja’s a real solid pal. DP: Matt Edwards.

Moni (Claudia Logan) helps Diarra (Diarra Kilpatrick) for the reward money— as the large sum could get her husband out of a pricy gang affiliation. At the same time, Moni likes reconnecting with her old friend and vice versa. Diarra tells Moni deeper concerns she can’t express with Mr. Tea and Aja. DP: Matt Edwards. 

Although they first remet as Danger (Jon Chaffin) was robbing Diarra’s mother’s house, Danger became a real reliable shoulder to lean on— fresh silver dollar pancakes and all. DP: Matt Edwards. 

Diarra (Diarra Kilpatrick) deserved “peace before the storms” with Aja (DomiNique Perry), Mr. Tea (Bryan Terrell Clark), and Moni (Claudia Logan). DP: Matt Edwards.

Camaraderie is the strongest component to the series, a steady well-crafted foundation. The characters’ relationships with Diarra and each other are believably portrayed. Sarcastic, unapologetic Mr. Tea often tries to steer Diarra off the crazy ledge yet his genuine affection for Aja shows a sibling protective vibe. Moni, the ex school chum who taught Diarra how to cuss, courageously steps up to sidekick, ready for every messy situation. Moni may also harbor small jealousy towards Aja—  the privileged business owner who only wants to ensure that Diarra’s mental health (and financial stability) are in order. Eventually, Aja and Moni might become closer as evidenced in the foursome’s sweet pool game, a kinship reminiscent of how in Girlfriends Toni Childs and Maya Wilkes warmed up from their earlier frostiness. And Danger— let’s just say he delivers things to Diarra that the others cannot (more on that later). 

Outside of her challenging, low paying job, Diarra’s friendships with Mr. Tea, Moni, Aja, and Danger grant her the chance to be vulnerable and open. Their nonjudgmental ears listen to her investigate whether she’s enduring temporary insanity over Chris or using this “rookie detective” activity as a means of escaping the required emotional steps to recover from a breakup. Mr. Tea, Moni, Aja, and Danger are always willing to come with her, to let her not experience uncertainties alone. 

Yet, Diarra begins witnessing menacing violence all around her and internalizes her anguish. 

Diarra (Diarra Kilpatrick) and Swa (Morris Chestnut) during the good times. DP: Matt Edwards.

Diarra risked so much to be with Chris (Shannon Wallace)… DP: Matt Edwards.

Yet Danger put his allegiance in the line for Diarra even whilst knowing her heart’s opposing direction. DP: Matt Edwards.

Diarra may have a healing friend circle, the men orbiting her planet provide the heat. To a woman who considers her dimples as marital assets, the handsome men flock: Swa, the rich, successful ex husband, Danger, the traumatized gang member in virtual therapy, and Chris, the mysterious soon-to-be boo. Diarra happens to have spellbinding charisma with all three. The fire still sizzles between Diarra and Swa, angered exes flirting up a storm. Steady sparks shoot as Diarra lets Danger in and out— massaging her body in the night or filling her belly up with homemade pancakes or chili made from scratch. With Chris, whom Diarra affectionately nicknames Ambien, she feels a spiritual and physical connection, often fantasizing intimate conversations. Each man has secrets that could make or break her, secrets that could jeopardize her whole world. 

Diarra and Aja posing with the man that Aja won’t keep. They’ll likely delete this photograph. DP: Matt Edwards.

Now Diarra Kilpatrick, a Gracie winner and Independent Spirit Award nominee for this new series, continues creating phenomenal work behind-the-scenes and lighting up the screen— writing, producing, and acting her buns off. She’s a dynamic force right alongside the Michaela Coels, the Issa Raes, the Quinta Brunsons of the world— planting and watering fruitful television and streaming seeds for Black womanhood domination. There should always be room for more creativity, especially compelling portraits that explore our diverse facets, the ways we grow and mature, the ways we love and yearn— no one ever paints the same exact picture. 

In the first season’s last episode, The House on Blaine, Diarra’s cryptic voiceover implies that her and her friends won’t make it. Writers, please protect everybody at all costs. DP: Matt Edwards.

As for the exciting return of Diarra From Detroit, we have a few questions. Will there be a happily (or messily) ever after despite the wild outcome? Is the Cinderella Chris truly bound to be Diarra’s Prince Charming— what of his mother and his past? Will Mr. Tea stay with the fine emcee who can cook among other good things? Danger won’t be the sole man needing therapy— how will Roman cope with self-defense murder? He can’t hide that from Moni (hopefully). Morris Chestnut is not the only brother aging gracefully either— what will Harry Lennix bring to Aja’s plate now that she’s made the exclusive list? Can BET put the series on DVD and blu ray for future binge-watch parties with our friends and family sans relying on buffering WiFi? 

Until the second season airs, there’s always the joys of hitting the restart: laughing, crying, screaming, and gasping at the entertaining tactics of brave Diarra and her braver posse (and enemies) again. 

'The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl' Kept It Real

The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl logo.

Nothing seems more relatable than the classic The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl, a two-season web series of 25 must-watch episodes. J (who shares my nickname) has been one of the most iconic characters ever invented, especially for nerdy Black girls looking for quirky images of themselves. 

The first episode was an instantaneous "you get me," like when love hits a person in a full, cataclysmic force.  After a breakup from a long-time boyfriend, J cuts off her hair, her ex comes back, and doesn't see her as desirable anymore. It brushes on most men's long hair fetishes, equating hair with femininity. The Black community is further problematic. When Black women break free of relaxers and pressings, glorying in their natural hair, Black men weren't necessarily on board at first. For darker skinned women, historically seen as closest to masculinity, wearing cropped hair was foolishly viewed as a great evil. J doesn't let the ex's opinion hurt. Her short hair is a defiant statement that never changes as the series progresses along. In addition to her deep brown skin and beautiful short natural, J represents the average Black woman, our bodies, our interactions with the world around us. Such a golden, honest reflection.

J (Issa Rae) often found herself in wacky tough spots, but her TWA and earrings were always on point.

Unfortunately, J has to deal with an awful work environment. Hanna, her boss is an inappropriate culture vulture, Nina is a particularly nasty bully, Germy Patty holds snotty tissues like safety blankets, Darius's whisper voice is irritating, and lovesick A follows J around, not taking the politest of rejection hints. J finds endearing highlights in her best friend CeCe and adorable, seemingly unrequited crush on Fred, the new guy. With CeCe, J has found a great companion, a gal just as awkward as her. In fact, their hallway interactions were delightfully humorous and a spot on testament of office discomfort. 

J (Issa Rae) smiles often, even in situations that don't call for smiling.

J's other office favorite-- the kind, supportive Sir-Smiles-A-Lot, Fred, then begins a big triangle. She has much in common with anger management counselor White Jay, whom she met at Fred's birthday party. Fred realizes much too late that he likes her. She ultimately has to decide between the two, leading to a sweetly surprising season one finale. If including A and the lesbian receptionist in the whirligig of J's love life, J was quite the catch. 

The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl dishes out a fully thought out curriculum in a smart, refreshing way. It daringly brings up all the things we ever thought about, going over: proper car behavior (if it's someone you don't like or regrettably slept with), dance party etiquette, dating, job interviews, boyfriend's terrible friends, and all those finicky situations in between. Yet displayed through the eyes of a girl that looks so much like us. She doesn't have it quite together. And that is okay. Her rap flows are legendary and her killer internal dialogue is the stuff laughter is made of. 

J (Issa Rae) is every young woman whoever feels out of place-- whether it be at a public function or where we are in our lives (financially, emotionally, physically).

While network TV has room to catch up to Black women in leadership roles and cable is slowly becoming a space, the web series remains the most solid place to find us. The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl inspired a longing for other great Black women characters in this short digital format. American Koko's Agent Koko, Sam Bailey's You're So Talented, and Hermione and the Quarter Life Crisis's Black Hermione showcase Black women in all faucets of individuality. 

Issa Rae has taken over HBO with award-winning Insecure and is currently in Little (which reunited Rae and Tracy Y. Oliver-- The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl's Nina and the web series producer/writer). Up next, Rae stars in The Lovebirds with Kumail Nanjiani and Stella Meghie's The Photograph. Insecure's fourth season has been pushed to 2020.

Issa, the bonafide star on the left. The Misadventures of Black Girl cast: Fred (Madison Shockley III), Jesus (Michael Ruesga), J (Issa Rae), White Jay (Lyman Johnson), Jerry the Temp (Ricky Woznichak), CeCe (Sujata Day), and Denise (Devin Danielle Walker).

Every time the desire to binge The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl comes on, the temptation cannot be denied. Stories are funnier, wittier. Above all, the world of J will never stop resonating.

'American Koko' Is Pro Black Pleasure That is Not Guilty

American Koko is available on ABC Go Digital. 

A brave web series (with co-producer Viola Davis conducting impressive voice over duties) has been delivered to us. Are we worthy of its juicy contents?

I loved every minute of binging on satirical, candid, and edgy American Koko. Led by dynamic Akosua Millard codenamed Koko, Los Angeles based Everyone is a Little Racist (E.A.R.) Agency has a small diverse staff looking to combat the race problem. Akosua is the former client turned imperfect ringleader, optimistic Lucky brings heart, genius Baldwin offers intellect and a sophisticatedly crafted "racist" machine meter, and Miles, often using black colloquialism, displays common sense in midst of his inherited white privilege.

In the opening, a sleekly dressed Akosua in powder blue trench coat and brown ankle boots, races to a parked car, carrying a large black purse. She gets inside and explains to an Asian mother that her adopted black daughter has 4C hair. That black purse contains conditioners, shampoos, a detangle comb and more-- all organic. Yes, this downright hilarious scene shares the scope of "crimes" that the struggling, nearly financially bereft E.A.R. Agency takes on.

Their first season main case involves Mr. Wallace, a white high school drama teacher. He has written a musical based on the life of Harriet Tubman. He has only one black student in his class, a testy Anita Benita, but it’s the Latino girl who has the perfect voice. Koko believes, that no matter how bad the singing, the girl has every right to play Harriet. After all, she is a real-life historical figure. Some of the gang disagree, which of course, is a freaking atrocity in the making.

Meet the E.A.R. Agents: Baldwin Bledsoe (Cedric Sanders), Lucky Ling (Elaine Kao), Akosua "Koko" Millard (Diarra Kilpatrick), and Miles Gold (Miles Orion Feldsott).

“She wore a headwrap," shoots Anita, "like she was going to bed—all the time."

That perception hits home.

My friends and I wear headscarves often. It unnerves people, especially fellow black Americans. A co-worker continuously stated that I looked like a runaway slave. I told her to stop, but the utterance continued coming out snarling, like a snapping dog refusing to keep its ferocious jaws shut. Vile criticism is a manifested mental conditioning that makes us feel ashamed of country history, allowing that shame, which shouldn’t be ours to bear, to seep into our consciousness, our moral fibers, our definition of beauty. It doesn’t matter if the headscarf has fascinating colors or rich patterns, it still symbolizes ugliness.

Generations are growing up like Anita, wanting to be more than the slave, failing to realize that Tubman is not only beautiful, but important to remember for her brave heroism. The agency made it a priority to get her to understand.

After the play, which was well done, the mom’s mouthed “thank you” made first season grand.

Mr. Wonderful (Nyambi Nyambi) is not so wonderful after all. 

Akosua’s hot and steamy relationship with Mr. Wonderful, had her heavily equating him to be the John (or Nelson Davis) to her Harriet. She is obsessed with all things African—her apartment is an homage to art, pattern, design, the works. She wears bold scarves and dresses and drops quotes from Love Jones. In complete opposition, private schooled Mr. Wonderful dated white women, doesn't know much black history/popular culture, and frequently says “awesome” (Akosua’s most hated word). In fact, one of their earlier mishaps is when Akosua suggests a Saturday night documentary on Jack Johnson. Mr. Wonderful believes it is on Jack Johnson the musician and Akosua means the boxing legend inspiration to Muhammed Ali and Joe Frasier. Like Akosua’s ardor for diaspora, she grasps hard at this relationship, wanting it to be epitome of black power romance. The tough sell is an overzealous clutch with red flags. Despite growing up in the same country, they operate on completely opposing spectrums.

Mr. Wonderful, who isn't even with Akosua because he wants her, ends his diabolical breakup rant to Akosua with, "you're not African!"

Ah, but she is. We all are descendants of Africa. Diluted with American culture yes, but in our DNA in our physical inheritances, in our souls, in our "residual trauma,"  exists an undeniable truth.

She may have grown up in Detroit, but Mr. Wonderful doesn’t understand Akosua. Maybe he wants her to be more like his previous white girlfriends. Akosua wants him to be proud of his black heritage. She mentally pairs the relationship end to that of Delonte West’s death, the lynching of the past equating to bullets of the present.

Tamika (Zainob Johnson), Grace (Simone Missick aka Misty Knight from Luke Cage and The Defenders), and Koko (Diarra Kilpatrick).

In season two, the gang's latest case--representing West's murderer John Williamson-- is a real doozy. Even though I rooted and hollered for Akosua smashing the living daylights out of Williamson's car, her anger spiraled out of control and created a bad look for the agency. Sadly, they need the evil blood money despite killing moral ethics of what they represent. Also, Akosua is not "cured and must return to “Angry Black Women” support group therapy to calm down compulsive rage. These beautiful black sisters are directed by properly named Grace, a spirited leader who urges the women to soothe and release their inner frustrations to other kinds of frenzied passion.

Enter Kwam. He is the writer of the famous Angry Asian Blog. Akosua meets him at a horrible poetry gathering and the two exchange awkward flirtation in front of the occupied restroom. They go on dates including reenacting Risky Business (complete with Akosua wearing the Tom Cruise white shirt), but Akosua is hiding a huge secret from him. Her real fear of destroying this new, refreshing relationship is understandable. At the same time, they both respect each other's work, especially in regards to combating racism and race myths. She is desperate to expose the murderer as racist. At the same time, Kwam believing that she is a fraud, is on a path of destroying and discrediting her.....

What a cliffhanger, right?

Still, interesting that an Angry Asian can be considered laudable and worthy of respect while "Angry Black Woman" is thought to be an ugly, demeaning stereotype that we have to let go of. Black women aren't allowed to be upset no matter the situation.

Diarra Kilpatrick with American Koko producers Viola Davis and Julius Tennon.

Thanks to the utterly captivating performance by show creator Diarra Kilpatrick, Akosua's savvy, unfiltered, bold character is believable, a statement for the black woman who ever feels intimidated, out of place. Akosua doesn’t censor herself for no audience. In cowrie shelled Havana twists, sleek outfits that highlight cocoa butter smooth skin, and “take no mess” attitude, she is the essence of cool. She doesn’t mute herself around her colleagues or white best friend.

American Koko isn't only ridiculing society with characters unknowingly walking around dead black bodies lying on street corners and bathroom stalls. This is a grueling representation of where we are right now.