Dear K. Michelle,

I’ve been rocking with you since your first mixtape, What’s The 901? I still regularly listen to “B**ch Out Of Me” featuring Three Six Mafia & Project Pat. Those are the kind of songs morning jigs are made of. I also adore your debut album, Rebellious Soul – so much so that I’m providing the iTunes, Amazon, Target and Best Buy purchase links to anyone reading this article—buy it, y'all. That album, along with two seasons of Love & Hip Hop: Atlanta, has me pretty much teetering towards stan status. I don’t know if you name your most ardent fans, but if so, please never, ever tell me what that name is. That crap is corny and late, though feel free to lump me with that group all the same.

In my head, you are millennial Millie Jackson and I love just about everything about you.

I’ll admit that at some point, though, you did almost lose me as a fan. Like, you don’t throw candles at people or slap them with flowers. If you’re going to fight someone, fight them. But, you know, don't fight them, because violence is never the answer. Give peace a chance and all that.

To be fair, you seem to be aware of this when you spoke about losing out endorsement deals over your that aggressive behavior, telling Power 105.1’s “The Breakfast Club” that, “I can curse you out real good, but I don’t have to lay hands on you.”

That’s the spirit!

I want to make sure that in your newfound pursuit of happiness, you don’t lose what makes you so special. Although I’ve spent many times getting my praise on at the altar of Mary J. Blige, we all know that once she became "fine-fine-fine-fine-fine, woo" her music went to the left, to the left. Likewise, Keyshia Cole refused to allow her misery music marinate while in cruise control – rushing towards Happy Mary status before anyone (including herself) believed it.

You’re not at that point yet, but you will get there in due time. Someone is going to drive you to that location, tell you to be sweet and sing something more pop. Once the driver takes you to that destination, jump out of the car and roll to safety. Don’t repeat their mistakes. There's a reason Keyshia Cole is back to cursing us out in song.

Now, I want you to be in a good place  — the kind where you can sit comfortably and not worry that you’re sabotaging your career. However, I still want you to read for filth and for blood. You were blessed with the gift of shade, so I hope you burned the receipt ‘cause that’s not a gift you should ever return.

That's just like me needing to realize I wake up every day with the sun tilted to the side. We are who we are, sis. I don’t want Nice K. Michelle. I want K. Michelle, the Shade Queen.

For example, your ode to Karlie Redd, "Karlie, you know you ain't s*it. One a*s cheek deflated, how the hell you gon sit?" was hilarious.

You can’t hear me, but I’m singing DeBarge’s “Stay” to you right now.

I don’t blame you for not wanting to associate with anyone, much less fight with anyone on Love and Hip Hop: New York. That show is the street meat to Love and Hip Hop: Atlanta’s spicy chicken breast, so I can’t fault you for feeling better than. But again, don’t go all fake deep retweet on us.


Just remember the shade is often mightier than the sword and that’ll you be okay because brown liquor-drinking, fish frying, soul music-loving Negroes like me are here for you.

Love you. Mean it.

Michael Arceneaux is the author of the “The Weekly Read,” where tough love is served with just a touch of shade. Tweet him at @youngsinick.