The more clips of “Baddies and Joseline’s Cabaret” that I’ve seen on my feed lately, the more I question what we call entertainment now. Upon first glance, it is another platform showcasing Black reality TV. Both shows are produced by the Zeus Network, a subscription-based streaming service created by social media influencers, with all content exclusively on ZeusNetwork.com and the Zeus app. But when you actually watch it, it is pretty evident what the true intent is: get a bunch of Black women in high-stress environments, add alcohol and conflict, turn the cameras on and wait for things to explode.
I get that drama sells, but at what cost?
There is something truly unsettling about watching so many women—often coming from disadvantaged backgrounds—chasing their dream of getting a big break, with hopes of becoming the next Natalie Nunn or Josline Hernandez. They show up at auditions ready to prove why they deserve a spot, not realizing that the network is way more interested in exploiting their pain than uplifting their potential.
What saddens me the most is that Zeus Network is in a media landscape where positive portrayals of Black women are still rare. We don’t have the luxury of being overrepresented or even represented fairly at all. Every time we appear on the screen, it matters. But instead of showcasing the complexity and beauty of who we are, Zeus has opted to continue to pushing lazy stereotypes, turning us into carriers of anger, violence and drama.
This is not entertainment, it’s a disservice to Black culture.
Sure, people will say that they are adults who chose to be on the shows. I agree that adults are capable of making their own choices, but when the main door to a better life comes with this much degradation and embarrassment, it says much more about the system and platform than those who are navigating it. Black women shouldn’t have to sacrifice their dignity for a moment in the spotlight.
This isn’t a call to cancel Zeus or to shame those who watch it, but there is nothing wrong with me wanting more for my people. Wanting content that reflects and respects us should not be seen as asking for too much. It is not about me being above drama—best believe I love to stir the pot—but it is more so about recognizing when the laughs end and the entertainment starts getting sold back to us as a culture.
We have gotten so used to the chaos we forget to question: why is it always us at the center of it? Why is it that Black women are expected to display their rage and pain for a check, and why is it still so normalized? There is a difference between reality TV and degradation. Zeus doesn’t just blur the line; they stomp right over it.
The kind of representation that Zeus pushes is reckless and shallow. It does not tell the truth about who we are. It plays into what they think people want to see. Just because we are being seen does not mean we are being respected. Do not confuse visibility with value.
Where are the stories about Black women building relationships, laughing and living without conflict? Where are the shows displaying our creativity, our softness and our joy? My problem isn’t that Zeus is toxic, it’s that it is one of the few platforms that center Blackness, and it is choosing to showcase chaos instead of complexity.
The truth is that the media shapes perception. So, when those clips go viral of Black women drunk, fighting and breaking each other down, it doesn’t just stay on the screen. It bleeds into how we are treated in real life—in schools, in workplaces, in relationships. It becomes much easier to stereotype, dismiss and dehumanize us.
This is more than TV and it is not just for fun. It reinforces a cycle that many of us are actively trying to break—a cycle that tells young Black girls their only worth is just to entertain, not to lead, create or just exist in peace.
We deserve the ability to be seen in full. We are multifaceted. Yes, we are messy, dramatic, funny and loud. But we also are soft, loving, brilliant and beautiful. And while Zeus continues to feed the algorithm, it is starving the culture. I’m not asking for perfection. I’m asking for balance. For care. For consideration. And if that makes me “too sensitive because it’s just for entertainment,” then so be it—I’d rather be sensitive than silent.
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