I sat for three hours with Rev. Al Sharpton during his radio show the other day. Although being on the air with the reverend is always interesting, I believe some of the best conversations happen during the commercial breaks. One such conversation involved Tyler Perry films and his public lashing by 'Boondock's creator Aaron McGruder. I am not at liberty to share things that were discussed off the air, but we did hit the issue on his radio show, and I thought it would be worth a second discussion.

I am always impressed with McGruder's work, which tends to be incredibly funny, bold and creative. In fact, I would say that 'The Boondocks' cartoon can be "funny as hayell," with that kind of Richard Pryor, slap-ya-mama, tell your friends kind of laughter that is all too rare in modern comedy.

McGruder is the black Bill Maher, presenting intelligent and cutting-edge social commentary that surely makes the establishment squeal. When Sharpton and I discussed McGruder's latest bomb on Tyler Perry, neither of us were sure what to think. On one hand, McGruder's freedom of speech must be respected. On the other hand, you have to wonder when and if he has gone too far.


In this particular episode, McGruder yanks Perry out of the closet in a parody of him that describes the powerful director-producer as a gay, tyrannical filmmaker who enjoys sexually harassing the men on his staff. The portrayal was hardly flattering, and it was even more astonishing due to the fact that both Perry and McGruder are employed by the same network. I'm sure some were stunned to see this kind of black-on-black crime in the midst of a multibillion-dollar media empire; Aaron McGruder might describe this fight as a "n*gga moment."

The broader question to be considered here is that of Perry and his work. Do his films, which possess a somewhat predictable recipe involving the church, black women, a man in a dress and muscle-bound men with sweaty bodies represent the good, the bad or the ugly of the African American community? Some, like Spike Lee, have gone hard on Perry, saying that he presents the kind of minstrel show that racists in America are always willing to pay money to see.

I don't agree with Spike Lee, and I am actually quite proud of Perry's achievements. On one hand, we can argue that Perry's films are an exciting view into the life of a man who started with nothing and ended up with everything. He's hugged up with Oprah in every other picture, and he even built a studio in Atlanta that employs hundreds of African American actors, writers, producers, sound engineers, etc. For that, he should be applauded.

On the other hand, some might say that Perry is a man who has intelligently analyzed all of the really stupid things about being black in America. In spite of the fact that his films share many high quality lessons after the show is over, most of us are somewhat disturbed by yet another image of a cross-dressing black man next to other black people who seem all too willing to dance for a piece of chicken. The Buffoonery Clause of Southern life is one that would be difficult for a strong Northern filmmaker like Lee to accept, since his unapologetic style contrasts quite directly with the subtle smile-in-your-face methods used for the survival of Southern blacks since slavery.

When it's all said and done, McGruder has the right to portray Perry as he wishes. The attack, however, is poor in spirit, primarily because Perry has become successful by attacking almost no one. It's not as if Perry is a gangster rapper telling men to have sex with every girl in the world, or an athlete who squanders his wealth and tells kids to smoke weed every day (through example). He simply makes simple-minded comedies that center on black culture, providing lessons on morality and family at the end. There's nothing in the world wrong with that.

Dr. Boyce Watkins is the founder of the Your Black World Coalition and a Scholarship in Action resident of the Institute for Black Public Policy. To have Dr. Boyce's commentary delivered to your e-mail, please click here.