All My Babies' Mamas....Really?

When I first saw a blurb about the new reality show “All My Babies’ Mamas,” I thought it was a social media prank. I put it on the back burner until my sister brought it again to my attention and was outraged.

If you don’t know what show I am talking about, count yourself lucky. “All My Babies’ Mamas” is set to premier on Oxygen and will chronicle the lives of Atlanta-based rapper Carlos “Shawty Lo” Walker (I didn’t know who he was either) and his -- count them -- 10 baby mamas and his 11 children. The stereotypical characterization of the mothers featured on the show is continued by giving them outrageous nicknames like "no drama baby mama," "wanna-be bourgie baby mama" and my personal favorite, "shady baby mama."

Oxygen is trying to sell the show as a “unique family” experience. The network’s senior vice president of development, Cori Abraham, was quoted as saying, “ ‘All My Babies’ Mamas’ will be filled with outrageous and authentic over-the-top moments that our young, diverse female audience can tweet and gossip about.”

Hey, it seems that Oxygen is using a programming model for women that’s similar to the one BET has used for the African-American community.

Reality TV has become part of the mainstream culture, but like the waves generated by a tsunami, its impact is more devastating in vulnerable communities. The show has already prompted at least one petition with the stated goal of making sure "this monstrosity never sees the light of day."

I will not debate the merit of “All My Babies’ Mamas.” As with car wrecks, we complain about the traffic jam but slow down as we get closer to view the gory mess with morbid curiosity.

Has it always been like this? No.

“The Cosby Show,” which was part of a move toward culturally progressive programming, recently celebrated its 20th anniversary. If you were lucky enough to grow up in that era, you also enjoyed shows like, “A Different World,” which explored college life on the campus of a historically black college; “Living Single,” a show celebrating the friendships of young urban black folks; and “In Living Color,” which brought back the model of successful sketch comedies such as “The Carol Burnett Show,” but with a distinct cultural perspective.

These shows were not only engaging and progressive, they were also highly successful with a large and loyal following.

So what happened?

I have written about how cheap it is to produce a reality TV show in relation to more traditional programming. If the networks can get similar ratings, which mean advertising dollars, they will go with the bottom dollar.

The real issue, however, is personal consumption. We have historically dined on filet mignon, so why do we now settle for marked-down ground chuck already turning brown?

I don’t care how pretty the paper you choose to wrap up road kill, it’s still going to stink. It is ridiculous to try and sell an obviously immature rapper’s concept of fatherhood and the equally questionable decisions of the unfortunate young women he has sired children with and then attempt to transform the situation into some kind of ghetto-fabulous-Brady-Bunch experience. This man should be sterilized and made to attend parenting classes, not given his own show that co-signs and supports his irresponsible behavior.

Maybe we as TV consumers need to be more proactive. Instead of petitioning against shows we don’t want to see, why not lobby for programs that are more affirming?

Exercising our power as consumers might prove to be a better long-term solution – one that hopefully would reduce shows like “All My Babies’ Mamas” to a “Jeopardy” trivia question: “I’ll take Culturally Toxic Programming for $300, Alex.”