Bring on the HATE!

Shame, shame, shame. As a journalist, I have emerged the ultimate sacrificial lamb and BECAME my own story. This, my friends, is the blessing and curse that I thrashed about the night before I was to turn in my application tape to be on this blasted reality series. Fucking MTV. They are my creator and my destroyer.

Do you want to know what it's like to be caricaturized? I'm not talking about sitting at Pier 39 with a charcoal artist, self-conscious about what features they will inevitably exaggerate in their comical presentation of YOU.

I'm talking about the reactionary judgement of ignorant people who - by their own lack of confidences - feel obliged to speak with such authority about a "type" of person they've never seen.

Here's what sticks out:

1.) I'm ASIAN. Chinese. Indescript. Asian women are supposed to act subservient. I do not. Asians can easily assimilate. I blatantly choose the opposite. In fact, I reject the label " Asian." Even Asian-American, a hyphenated term birthed during the Ethnic Studies Strike of '68-69 at my alma mater, San Francisco State University, is a term I wear with apprehension, except when used as an example of solidarity between those that fought to be recognized for their heritage in higher education. I am PINAY. A Filipina woman. I am not an "Asian with a Latino Accent", I am a member of a colonized indigenous people that is fighting to take back their own identity. Any variation between your description and mine will, as shared by my comrade JR the Minister of Information for the P.O.C.C., "draw a distinct line between myself and the enemy." If you consider me anything other than PINAY, you are drawing the boundaries of your own lack of cultural criticism. Or you're just a white-supremacist.

2. MY GOLD TEETH. Oh, the provocateur strikes again. Before you ask me why, ask yourself these questions: 1.) what demographic do you consider to wear these obnoxious accessories? 2.) What stigmas are associated with those that wear gold teeth? 3.) What is your mental image of a "successful individual" and how does that play into your assumptions of how success "looks"? 4.) Is your comfort level based on your exposure (or lack thereof) to this cultural aesthetic?

In laymen's terms, what the fuck does my grill have to do with anything? It's a conversation piece, yes, and well intended. But it is also my filter. Whoever doesn't understand its significance, or my very deliberate ownership of this accoutrement ain't someone I really need to trip off of anyway.

3. THE MOST USELESS EMOTION OF ALL: JEALOUSY. I smell it, bitches, and it ain't pretty. I'ma be real: most of these bloggers out there are compensating for their insignificance. And I will address you directly: be a real gangster and throw your set up. Put the name that your mama gave you next to your post. Be accountable for your opinion. We all know who the fuck you are: mousy audition-rejects that suffer from inferiority complexes. Wannabe-journalists that use their delusional excuse for important conversation as a reason for me not deserving this opportunity.

And for the person who claimed to be my "college editor", you must have been one scared motherfucker (and probably only edited two of my stories in my academic career). You probably sat next to me in prerequisite journalism for two straight semesters and wouldn't dare utter a word of contest in my presence, but so lavishly spewed such a purported role in "unleashing me into the world of journalism." How benevolent of you, especially since SFSU's Journalism Department is a joke and you probably cater to the elitism that seperates the real journalists, like myself and Russell Morse, with "college editors" like you who will only gain notoriety off their own hate (and my shine.) You better wish that I don't find out who the fuck you are. Hatin-ass, racist-ass, bitch-ass, cracka-ass, lyin-ass, salty-ass mothafucka.

4. MY GENDER. It is no coincidence that the most highly-criticized characters are myself and my homegirl Krystal Simpson. Why? Because we are the attractive women in the cast who, by MTV standards, could never be picked for their intellectual contribution to music journalism. Nevermind that at such young ages, we have independently become editors of our respective publications. That doesn't matter. We obviously MUST be giving blow-jobs to Jann Wenner (who by the way, is GAY). That must be it.

They have called us every name in the book: bitch, coke-whore, slut, tramp, you name it. But hey, ladies, in this patriarchal society with ever-growing restriction on women's rights, aren't we used to being treated like second-class citizens? So this, also to myself, was no surprise.

The double-standard: alive and kickin' in 2007! Consider the progress of our movement! Entirely no evidence of promiscuity, and already the whispers of suspicion. This is something that women will continue to face in their climb to professional recognition. I am not afraid of this challenge. It is interesting, however, that this question of sexuality is only brought up to the women in the show.


And to all the perverted internet douchebags who jack off to Krys and Krish's gorgeous likeness, hold your breath for the episode where we finally give up the goodies to get the story. Please. You'll do us all a favor.

(That goes to you too, Bol. Remind me to throw a glass of expensive wine in your face when you finally meet me. I think I'll be doing womankind a small, but necessary, justice. Keep making references to my sexuality and I'll make it my personal obligation to put you on a much-needed diet and eat off your plate. And you know my clips in XXL come up when you google me, so it's not a far-fetched promise)


Krishtine de Leon
Krishtine de Leon
Krishtine de Leon
Krishtine de Leon.


Love me. Hate me. GOOGLE me. But guarantee, you'll be tuning in every Sunday at 10pm to see what the fuck I do next.