Reality TV producer Mona Scott-Young introduced the world to the real-life people you love to hate. But the woman behind Love & Hip Hop tells BuzzFeed News why she’s not to blame for the so-called negative portrayal of black people on reality television.
Jenny Chang, BuzzFeed
At about 8 p.m. on Monday every week, Twitter goes off the rails.
We've become mind-numbingly obsessed with a weekly dose of reality TV served on VH1 that's heavily peppered with salty language, baby mama drama, and, well, mama drama via the Love & Hip-Hop franchise.
We love to hate it — emphasis on love, emphasis on hate.
And there's one woman we can hold responsible: Mona Scott-Young.
"People are watching it not just for the train-wreck factor of it all, which we all admit exists and I don't think any one of those guys wouldn't look at some of the things they've done on the show and go, Oh, shit. That was crazy. But I think also there's a relatability factor," Scott-Young told BuzzFeed News. "There are certain things that we might not do in open forum, we would do in private, but we watch those shows, we watch these people who are brave enough to do it in an open forum, on television and we go, Oh, shit! I don't agree with what she did, but I get it. I get her. I recognize her. And I think we're being a little bit dishonest with ourselves about that sometimes."
If you know anything about Scott-Young's story, it's natural how she landed here. The former hip-hop manager — who co-founded Violator Management in the '90s with the late Chris Lighty — oversaw the careers of top talent, including LL Cool J, 50 Cent, and Missy Elliot. The things she saw happening backstage, off the road, and in the studio, would make for one hell of a documentary, she surmised. The women, the tough-as-nails mama's boy rappers, and the street tales that never quite made it on wax could garner an audience that no one had tapped into just yet.
Her lightbulb moment kicked off a second career when she started her film production company, Monami Entertainment. Together with TV producer Jim Ackerman, she created the Love & Hip-Hop franchise. The first season dropped in 2011, and introduced us to the behind-the-scenes antics of rappers and the women who love them. But mostly, the women.
And life as we know it hasn't been the same.
Love & Hip Hop: New York has produced four successful spin-offs — Love & Hip Hop: Atlanta, Chrissy & Mr. Jones, The Gossip Game, Love & Hip Hop: Hollywood — and there's another one on the way, K. Michelle: My Life. The shows are hits, even though they have very little to do with the music itself. And love? Not even close. Yet, they continually break network records. The Atlanta Season 3 premiere in May, for example, grabbed 5.6 million viewers.
Audiences are tuning in for the love-gone-wrong storylines, the messy romantic entanglements, and the career relevancy narratives. There are also fights. Not only are the women scrapping with one another, but there was one moment, during the third season of Atlanta, where viewers were to assume a male cast member hit a female cast member. Though cameras cut out, there was a later scene that alluded to what may have been assault. There are unplanned pregnancies. In the first season of Atlanta, producer Stevie J's secret stripper girlfriend, Joseline Hernandez, was expecting a baby, but she terminated the pregnancy an episode later. And there are off-camera Twitter beefs that include, but are not limited to, full body nude photos, private, explicit direct messages, and profanity-laden tell-offs. And then there are the arrests. The brawls. The miscarriages. The subtitles. The subtext. The infidelity. The side chicks. The secret marriages. The fake marriages. The break-ups. The makes-ups. The sex tape. (Oh, the sex tape.)
You can't write this kind of drama.
Erica Dixon and Lil' Scrappy, Atlanta
VH1
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