And even when I didn’t always agree with their mission statement, I always cheered on the staff, a collection of bright and intelligent men and women. And not because I wrote for the magazine. The news threw me off in a way that made it impossible for me to address it here. If it was true, the last thing he needed was me blowing up his cell phone like the rest of the world. I couldn’t bring myself to call Jermaine. My boy Anslem had written something like: so I guess the sky really is falling. The email I got last week that KING magazine was folding knocked me on my ass. (Though I’m still pissed at the typo in the title. There were horror stories, (two words: Kirk Kerkorian), tips on taxes and navigating the family court system. (Sigh.) My favorite story was The Baby Daddy Handbook, a collection of celebrity interviews, random factoids and trivia surrounding the life of the modern-day baby daddy. Told you that would be my last one Mekhi!) I wrote a crazy story about a certain celeb that shall remain nameless that was so scorching and scandalous, we ended up not being able to run it. Mekhi rolled his eyes and passed me one of his Newports. Five years ago, I hung out on the steps of a Harlem brownstone with Mekhi Phifer and talked fashion for a story in their Tag section. I did some good work under Jermaine’s direction and made some great memories. And even though I’ve often wished I had a brown paper bag to slip it in when I bought it, I was usually proud of what they were putting out over there. So my connection to KING has remained strong since its inception. And when Jermaine left The Source, he went to KING, eventually becoming editor-in-chief of the magazine when Datwon was named editorial director.
When I left The Source, Jermaine took my spot, (and took care of The Biggie Belt). They were working together at And Jermaine became my go-to writer when I needed to assign a story quickly. The editor-in-chief was someone I knew when I didn’t know anyone. No matter, I always checked for the magazine. But they’ll be thinking about her:īut if I take my clothes off, I'll have to put my lollipop down. They will still love us when we’re old and gray and fat.
On the planet of Mars, where they live, we are often reduced to boobs and butts. We women are touchy-feely and emotional, (cue Wendy Williams’ soft and pink music). Hell, I made my peace with men a long time ago. I don’t care about your they-objectify-women opinions. I don’t care what your feelings are about the magazine. Came up with an idea for a magazine at a time when everyone was running away from print and flying to the Internets. The next time I spoke to Datwon, the preview issue of KING was making the rounds.ĭude was twenty-something years old. I remember walking back to The Source after lunch and thinking to myself, that boy’s got some big dreams. It felt like the equivalent of me pitching a black women’s magazine directly to Clarence Smith and Susan Taylor. Why on earth would Harris launch a magazine pitched by a fellow twenty-something writer with just a few more years of experience than I had? But honestly, I didn’t think he had a chance. “Oh,” I said, “and lots of tits and ass, too.”ĭatwon told me he was pitching the concept to Harris Publications, which published XXL. Something that would be irreverent, smart and witty. Datwon told me about his plans to start a magazine, from scratch. And every once in a while, we’d break bread to catch up and talk shop. We had a friendly rivalry since I was at The Source and he’d recently left XXL to work for. Ten years ago, I had lunch with Datwon Thomas, a fellow editor. So the thing is, KING magazine was always more than just a place where I wrote stuff.
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