I watched the viral video of Candace Payne a.k.a., Chewbacca Mom — as she played around with the mask of her destiny.
It was somewhat captivating — it didn’t make me laugh out loud nor did it evoke the need to pass it around for the viewing pleasure of other participants.
Maybe I was already jaded by the fact that she was on the cusp of being the newly anointed social media star.
Her life was going to change overnight because she couldn’t resist donning the likeness of one of the most underrated stars of the Star Wars franchise.
I’m actually flabbergasted that the woman who remarkably has an action figure that looks like the cross-pollination of freak and freakier — is actually more beloved than the character I grew up to love.
Han Solo’s ride or die partner-in-crime always seemed so adorably furry and gigantic. His mannerisms echoed his devotion to his irresistible owner and the signature growl made me yearn for the opportunity to hug him senseless.
He was and is a badass warrior and deserves respect!
And now we have “Chewbacca Mom” which back in 1977 would’ve sounded absolutely ludicrous but this is 2016!
Yep! We are embodying a time that accommodates the nonsensical — and anything or anybody that activates the chip on our shoulders that immediately propels us to the stratosphere of viraldom.
As soon as Payne — became the sensation that most of you work too hard to amass — her reception into the world of recognition overheated and simmered with unbelievable tenacity.
Morning and Late Night talk shows offered top rates to have her presence confirmed. She was shuffled into the town square of tech giants and Hollywood heavyweights.
Not only was she the belle of the baseball field, courtesy of The Tampa Bay Rays — but she got to share the same space with the legendary Stan Lee.
What the fuck?!
And now thanks to Hasbro’s predictable need to cash in — Chewbacca Mom is now an action figure.
To say the item of choice is creepy will give it too much credit. It’s the stuff nightmares are made of and I’m pretty sure my exercised imagination couldn’t have curated anything remotely unsettling.
My Chewie can’t be regulated to a weird ass version of himself that would scare him shitless — no matter how the galactic stars try to dim his view.
The toy resembles an experimental Wookie that underwent reconstructive surgery with dire consequences.
But, what do I know?
Candace Payne is now a permanent part of the Galaxy — far, far away.
And the only thing I can do to bring y’all back to earth is to highlight the forgotten member of the Royal family who needs her props.
Her name is Peaches Monroee a.k.a., Queen Peach. On June 21st, 2014 a word that I’ve seen used to the max on Instagram and Snapchat and occasionally on Facebook and Twitter was funkalized from “sleek” to “fleek.”
Yes, Peaches posted the video that unleashed the standard way that we now express how perfect we are with rhythmic gusto.
It became an instant hit and clearly surpassed all the renderings of a viral epidemic that eventually gets logged in and passed over for the latest bolt of lightening.
Here’s the thing — as long as selfies continue to be the dominant method in which we announce our privileged status — anything “on fleek” will continue to be the preferred identifier.
I consider Candace Payne in all her pampered propaganda to be “on fleek” — but in a stagey way.
But what I can’t fathom is how a black girl with nothing to lose and everything to gain — who managed to create a word that caught on faster than a furious thunderbolt — still hasn’t been adequately feted for her contribution.
I mean — shit, what does it take to prove your prowess for originality — especially when it evolves into a religion that every self-absorbed celebrity — subscribes to without fail.
Where are the bells and whistles for the author of the expression that has become the mandate to justify all things dope.
Ironically — she recently tweeted the second year anniversary of her brilliant discovery the same day that Chewbacca Mom’s list of accomplishments, included Hasbro’s latest ploy.
All I could imagine was perhaps, if maybe Peaches was thinner, lighter, with wavy hair cascading down her alert boobs — she would’ve somehow made the grade.
Maybe her country twang kept her silent but dang! That was the only way to polish out the rustiness of a word that needed to shine for the purpose of entitled bait who can’t wait to be “fleeked” the fuck out!
What if she’d been invited to Twitter’s headquarters for a meet and greet? Would she be commanding the attention of the fashion and beauty industry because of her ability to illustrate the wand of perfection?
She could’ve easily been a spokesperson for a global brand.
The possibilities would’ve and should’ve been endless considering…
Candace Payne isn’t a supermodel or even a few steps away from that — but she’s white.
You fell in love and bequeathed her with an astronomical number of views that translated to college scholarships for her kids — and the honor of being included as a cast member of one of the most lauded sagas of all time.
That’s great for Candace but what about Peaches?
This shouldn’t be reduced to the economics of black or white but it’s hard not to correlate the differences — in order to analyze how they manifest divisive results for each of the candidates.
“Fleek” is a word and “Chewbacca Mom” is a fad that will undoubtedly run out of steam.
You do the math.