Why I Can’t Stop Defending Azealia Banks
Everyone is nuts these days. Or maybe it’s just me. I think I’ve totally lost it. Nothing makes any sense. I finally get a job, and I hate it more than the roach that managed to hide inside my luggage — after I packed away from the Airbnb.
I am being tormented with my past which isn’t so healthy when you consider what that entails. Every tweet highlights the desperation of editors trying to meet the “sexual assault” quota.
Those consequences almost propelled me to mix my early morning coffee with a dash of vodka.
I didn’t. I opted for the clear black version with nothing in it.
My nightly routine is seeped in aggregating trashy talk and quotes from sinister personalities and the crippled elite.
They are also immersed in the madness that is fueled by our maddening need to throw each other over the rails as we dive head first into a national crisis.
So, as luck would have it — I am thankfully distracted by my favorite person. She is young, head strung, and fiercely adamant in her delivery.
She is talented beyond words and reminds me of Kanye West before he became Kanye West Kardashian Jenner.
Azealia Banks will never be anyone’s bitch because she navigates that role best on her own.
She is once again in the news. It’s ugly. It’s confusing and even somewhat amusing. Every time she trends, we know it’s not thanks to her well-received album that is crushing the internet. It definitely isn’t the announcement of an ambitious project that will surely uplift her persona and bestow her with the respect and adulation she deserves.
It’s always another reason for people to hate her more while I’m even more protective and loyal.
This time, the Harlem-bred rapper is caught in the web of gross indecency — that was reaped from an occasion that was supposed to be anything but controversial.
Actor Russell Crowe who definitely knows a thing or two about troublemakers and troublemaking was apparently hosting a well-furnished dinner party in L.A.
Wu Tang Clan’s RZA was a guest, and he brought along Banks as his plus one. Word has it that he just recently signed her to his label, and was undoubtedly trying to serve as her self-appointed guru.
Well, things didn’t go as planned.
Actually all hell broke loose as the young woman who was going to vote for Trump but suddenly decided not to — found herself carried out against her will by the host of the night.
What transpired is the classic — he said, she said scenario. Banks claims she was pummeled out of her designated spot and tossed away like a disgraced leper.
Crowe hasn’t publicly addressed the dilemma but sources claim that he was well within his rights to discard his guest — based on her code of misconduct that kept escalating with no filter.
Banks did post her account of events on Facebook but promptly deleted it. The avalanche of criticism descended with expected venom. The 25-year-old isn’t known for her laid-back demeanor or measured decorum.
Her past transgressions will always be her undoing and in the eyes of those paying attention — Azealia Banks is a scam artist who will never be trusted enough to assume the characteristics of a victim under duress.
She swears that she was assaulted by Russell Crowe. Her testimony sounds disturbing and vile and if its true — she absolutely should file charges. Here is her deleted post below:
“To recap my night, I went to a party at Russell crowe’s suite, at which he called me a [racial slur], choked me, threw me out and spat at me. Last night was one of the hardest nights of sleep I’ve had in a long time. The men in the room allowed it to happen. I feel terrible today,” she wrote in one post, then continued in another. “Just feel so low and mishandled and alone and … depressed right now. I wish I had someone to beat him up for me.”
This story is developing. Banks filed an “incident report” so there is every reason to believe that sooner or later — we will be updated accordingly.
In the meantime, it is hard for me not to feel empathy for the troubled rapper even though my feelings may be displaced.
I was admittedly comforted — even excited by the prospect that she was once again having a very bad day. It’s not that I enjoy to see her suffer, it’s really the chance to confront her vulnerability as my own.
Her anger is righteous. Her pain is my opportunity to see her though it as if I am healing the physical betrayals and mental onslaught of the girl within me — who never allowed the seduction of the dark side to infect her.
I don’t know if Banks was indeed assaulted. It is so easy not to believe that she was based on how much she has divulged of herself through social media and the media at large.
Nobody wants to consider that she could’ve been attacked because her “big-mouth” and even larger ego — have made her infamously vilified.
Azealia Banks is batshit crazy and I love for her it.
Maybe, I am possessed by her artistic command, or perhaps I see her as a wild child who hasn’t done anything outside the realm of celebrity fantasies.
She’s no saint but she’s not necessarily a sinner. She’s not meek in her stylistic pursuits — and her desire to be heard and understood is embarrassingly challenging — but, also charmingly definable.
Being the ultimate bad girl has its price and as a woman of color with a luggage of woes that are still crying out for my attention — I am acutely drawn to the ones who refuse to be haunted by such weight.
They just go nuts in full view and terrorize the ones who do it in private.