MILEY, PLEASE STOP.

Dear Miley,

Your performance Sunday night resembled an SNL parody of what you might look like attempting to appropriate “Black culture.” It was so outlandish, so puzzling, so RIDICULOUS — that I can’t believe it actually happened. But your ratchet performance also left me feeling frustrated — annoyed by the fact that 1.) This is what you think “Black” is, and 2.) You think going “Black” will take you from Disney geek to grown-up pop star chic.

No ma’am.

That honey smoked H.A.M. you served up on Sunday evening was not Black. Black is not a dance. Black is not a piece of clothing or accessory. Black is not an act.

Black is who I am.

I don’t wake up in the morning and go, “Oh, let me put my Black-man suit on,” and then proceed to adorn myself with a grill and several gold chains. I can’t take off the burdens, perils and injustices that come with being Black any more than you can put them on. So stop trying. Because every time you play dress up in your ratchet gear and start square dancing square twerking, you not only highlight how much of a child you still are, you also show the world exactly what you think “Black” is: Dirty, wild and ignorant. You, essentially, co-sign these stereotypes. And those are stereotypes we don’t need any help perpetuating. So don’t do us any favors, k?

You want to let the world know that you’re all grown up? Just show us — but not with your square twerking  and pasty buttcheeks — with your music. And yo, yo, yo homegirl, since you’re diggin’ the sistas so much, I’ll let one of the baddest show you how to make a bold statement of independence and maturity — with your clothes on, your dignity intact and ratchet Black stereotypes un-appropriated. Go ahead — take a look. There’s a whole skit in the beginning you can bite off of and everything. I’m sure Janet won’t mind — Britney has already swagger-jacked drawn inspiration from much of her earlier work.

Love,

Brannon