Late last month, Bravo aired a half-hour preview of its forthcoming "The Real Housewives of Atlanta," and with clinical precision, it lived down to expectations. Here, again, will be a group of women, many married to wealthy men, cataloging their possessions and their beefs for the cameras, largely because they lack the good sense not to.
But the opening monologue, voiced by all of the featured women, highlighted what will set this show apart from its New York and California predecessors: "Atlanta is a mecca for wealthy African Americans. Nowhere else is there an elite society of African Americans going to galas, fashion shows, and living in luxury gated communities. Atlanta is the black Hollywood."
Certainly the wealthy black communities of New York, Chicago, Los Angeles and other cities around the country are breathing collective sighs of relief that Bravo has chosen to train its cameras elsewhere. Most of the Atlanta "Housewives" are African American, making for the largest collection of black wealth any reality show has yet displayed, even if the opening monologue does describe it as "new money."
And in what feels like an almost deliberate redistribution of reality programming face time, "Housewives" is but one of a spate of current reality programs focusing on wealthy African Americans. In addition to the "Housewives," whose show likely will debut properly later this year, there's the second season of BET's "Baldwin Hills," a docusoap in the mold of "The Hills" filmed around the well-to-do Los Angeles neighborhood. Additionally, there are shows revolving around celebrities and their broods -- MTV's "Run's House," TV Land's "Family Foreman," VH1's "Luke's Parental Advisory" -- as well as would-be celebs looking for an in: MTV's "Buzzin' " and VH1's "New York Goes to Hollywood."
Throw into the mix the competition shows focusing on strivers -- namely, VH1's "I Want to Work for Diddy" and MTV's "From G's to Gents," both of which have significant numbers of black participants -- and what it all adds up to is the largest public conversation about class in the African American community ever facilitated by television.
What that conversation often is not, though, is complicated or controversial or fraught. By and large, these are polite, tightly framed representations, as if the weight of polyvalent images were too burdensome.
