Little Monsters. Barbs. Beliebers. What if all of these rival gangs got together wearing bandanas and dance-fought to “Beat It?”
My life would be complete, let me tell you.
Sure, it’s not the nicest to satirize people you don’t know. But it’s also not nice to post racially insensitive and homophobic comments on a girl’s photo just because her male friend decided to be Rihanna for Halloween.
Rihanna Navy. Little Monsters. Barbs. Beliebers. What you fail to realize is that people who will whole-heartedly attach their identity with a musician are either deeply disturbed or deeply lost.
But don’t worry, Bey-hives. You’re not completely crazy. The force is stroooong with this media machine. America cranks out pop culture zombies like Ruby Woo at a Mac factory.
Maybe it’s because I see so much ugliness in fame that I haven’t been glamoured by the musicians I admire.
The fact of the matter is beyond the Hermes bags and iconic hairstyles is a nomad living out of suitcases, being stalked by millions of people, Rihanna Navy included. This is a woman who, at any second, could have men hopping out of bushes and thrusting cameras in her face. This is a woman who’s battered face was on the cover of magazines all over the world? Could you imagine that?
I’m not Rihanna, but I would venture to guess that all she wants from her “Rihanna Navy” is for them to buy into her as an artist. Not to obsess over her as a person.
Ever seen the movie “Swim Fan?” Check yourself.