Ally_Kat
04-22-2004, 10:41 AM
Only the Gorgeous and Smart Need Apply
By SHERRI DAY Published: April 21, 2004
http://graphics7.nytimes.com/images/2004/04/21/nyregion/21harl.jpg
Part of Thomas Lopez-Pierre's job as managing partner of the Harlem Club is reviewing applications for membership
http://graphics7.nytimes.com/images/dropcap/t.gifhomas Lopez-Pierre was looking for just the right men for the Harlem Club, a private social club for African-Americans and Latinos that he was forming in Manhattan.
For $5,000, mid-career professional men could become charter members; $2,500 would make them general members. But this club did not want just any moneyed men. Rap stars, Hollywood glitterati and professional athletes - what Mr. Lopez-Pierre labels the "ghetto-fabulous crowd" - would not be welcome.
Women could join the Harlem Club, too. But only as associate members. And they had to be 35 or younger, unmarried, childless, college educated and willing to submit a head-to-toe photograph, to prevent unattractive women from making the cut.
And to ensure that there would be a steady stream of fresh pretties at the club, Mr. Lopez-Pierre planned to rotate 20 percent of the associate members, who pay no dues, every three months. The goal, he said, was to present members with undeniable marriage material.
"When people think of the Harlem Club, I want them to think beautiful, intelligent, highly successful women of color," said Mr. Lopez-Pierre, the public face for the club's 15 charter members, men who do not want their identities known for fear of public backlash.
The club has not held a single event yet. And while Mr. Lopez-Pierre - who is 35, married and the publisher of Regine, a small magazine for black and Latino professionals - has helped run an online dating service, he has never tackled anything like this before.
But since the beginning of the year, when Mr. Lopez-Pierre began an e-mail campaign directed toward members of the black bourgeois, the Harlem Club has been at the center of a controversy. Some critics have called it elitist. Others say it is little more than a brothel for the business class.
On a recent afternoon, Mr. Lopez-Pierre was reviewing applications for all potential members. A photograph of a woman wearing a coquettish grin and a cropped shirt received a positive assessment.
"She's got a great stomach," he said. His praise was more effusive for a bikini-clad woman: "She's our No. 1 associate member."
Reaction to the club has been particularly visceral, critics said, because its membership requirements highlight a controversy in the black community, the swelling number of single black women. According to federal Census data, only 29.2 percent of black women are married and living with spouses, compared with 54.3 percent of white women.
Jeffrey R. Gardere, a psychologist who is the host of a radio talk show about black relationships in the New York metropolitan area, said the Harlem Club could help college-educated black women meet men with compatible backgrounds. But he questions the likelihood of serious love connections.
"It almost sets up a meat-market situation for these men who are allegedly powerful and allegedly have all these degrees to come in and look at these women as potential sex partners and potential mates," said Dr. Gardere, author of "Love Prescription: Ending the War Between Black Men and Women." "I also think that the club may be snubbing a whole lot of people who may not have college degrees who may be brilliant."
So far 200 young women, among them doctors, lawyers, accountants, investment bankers and models, have applied for associate membership, Mr. Lopez-Pierre said. He has deleted the e-mail applications of overweight women.
Tiffani Webb, 28, a licensed psychologist who lives in Brooklyn Heights, said she joined the club because she was tired of spending her evenings with other single black professional women who, like her, have not found Mr. Right. She points to a study by the Community Service Society that found that nearly half of working-age black men in New York City are jobless.
"What are your chances of going to a normal, regular environment and meeting someone who could be compatible with you professionally?" she said. "It's hard if you want an African-American man."
It is women like Dr. Webb, Mr. Lopez-Pierre said, that the Harlem Club was formed to rescue. A group of Mr. Lopez-Pierre's single friends decided to form the club in December after attending a holiday party where 50 men were competing for the attention of the 10 most attractive women in the room.
The men dreamed of a club that would routinely have more beautiful women than male suitors, Mr. Lopez-Pierre said. But they worried that it might not sit well with the public, so they asked Mr. Lopez-Pierre to run the club and conceal their identities. (Mr. Lopez-Pierre would say only that the club's original 10 members are ages 34 to 42 and include doctors, lawyers and investment bankers. )
So Mr. Lopez-Pierre e-mailed 10,000 of his own contacts and, through the magic of forwarded messages, sparked a discussion on an Internet mailing list of black Ivy League graduates in January. Since then, his name has been a constant presence around water coolers and e-mail groups. His comments about the club have been fodder for talk radio, newspapers and BET Nightly News. His views on women who oppose the club's age restrictions, for example: "A lot of these women are in their early 40's, and their good-looking days are over," he said. "They're career women."
Some people have applauded Mr. Lopez-Pierre's efforts, including, he said, 100 men who have expressed interest in becoming general members. But Mr. Lopez-Pierre admits that intense negative feedback has caused the club's charter members to backpedal on some of the initial membership requirements for women. Earlier this month, he agreed to allow women with children to apply for associate membership. He also said that women who did not meet the physical requirements could pay and become general members.
"We have compromised," Mr. Lopez-Pierre said. "Women who want to be equals can pay. If they prefer a more traditional role, we have the associate membership level."
Black women who oppose the club are, unwittingly, among Mr. Lopez-Pierre's biggest advertising vehicles. In their fury, he said, they publicize the club by sending his e-mail postings and the club's Web address, harlemclub.com, to their friends, who pass the message along.
Debra Dickerson, the author of "The End of Blackness," a discussion of racism and stereotypes, said Mr. Lopez-Pierre was profiting from the misery of others. "There is a real problem in the state of black love, but it is not to be solved by putting women on the beauty pageant auction block," said Ms. Dickerson, who says she is an educated black woman who has never had luck with black men. "I'd have more respect for him if he would just admit that that he was an entrepreneur looking for a heartless way to make money. But it's not just capitalist, it's misogynist and sexist."
Michael Eric Dyson, a humanities professor at the University of Pennsylvania and the author of "Why I Love Black Women," said the club's rules for associate members send a narrow message.
"We jam up young people in hip-hop for the specious viewpoints we have about appropriate relationships," he said. "This might just be the so-called high-class version of choosing the right woman. That, to me, is problematic."
Although the club sprang from the minds of men, much of the opposition on the Internet has come from men. Gregory E. Johnson, a 46-year-old married man who works for a computer company in Nashville, posted a message on EventLinks.com accusing the club of promoting classism. "It sounds to me like he was mostly looking for people who were doctors and lawyers," Mr. Johnson said. "It just seems strange to me that a black person or a Hispanic person in this country would exclude people within their own race, when we're already excluded with things from the white race."
While Mr. Lopez-Pierre is monitoring the buzz, he is also fretting over the logistics of the club's inaugural event, a cocktail party scheduled for July. The club expects to sign a lease on a space on Madison Avenue in Murray Hill, and he plans to hire an architect and an interior designer to transform a drab 2,500-square-foot office suite into a lounge.
And, of course, he continues to sift through applicants' photographs.
"I didn't marry my wife because she was a kind, sensitive woman," he said. "I married her because she is a complete package. I married her because she takes her butt to the gym, and she keeps it tight for me. I want it all, and I got it all. There are men who want the same."
By SHERRI DAY Published: April 21, 2004
http://graphics7.nytimes.com/images/2004/04/21/nyregion/21harl.jpg
Part of Thomas Lopez-Pierre's job as managing partner of the Harlem Club is reviewing applications for membership
http://graphics7.nytimes.com/images/dropcap/t.gifhomas Lopez-Pierre was looking for just the right men for the Harlem Club, a private social club for African-Americans and Latinos that he was forming in Manhattan.
For $5,000, mid-career professional men could become charter members; $2,500 would make them general members. But this club did not want just any moneyed men. Rap stars, Hollywood glitterati and professional athletes - what Mr. Lopez-Pierre labels the "ghetto-fabulous crowd" - would not be welcome.
Women could join the Harlem Club, too. But only as associate members. And they had to be 35 or younger, unmarried, childless, college educated and willing to submit a head-to-toe photograph, to prevent unattractive women from making the cut.
And to ensure that there would be a steady stream of fresh pretties at the club, Mr. Lopez-Pierre planned to rotate 20 percent of the associate members, who pay no dues, every three months. The goal, he said, was to present members with undeniable marriage material.
"When people think of the Harlem Club, I want them to think beautiful, intelligent, highly successful women of color," said Mr. Lopez-Pierre, the public face for the club's 15 charter members, men who do not want their identities known for fear of public backlash.
The club has not held a single event yet. And while Mr. Lopez-Pierre - who is 35, married and the publisher of Regine, a small magazine for black and Latino professionals - has helped run an online dating service, he has never tackled anything like this before.
But since the beginning of the year, when Mr. Lopez-Pierre began an e-mail campaign directed toward members of the black bourgeois, the Harlem Club has been at the center of a controversy. Some critics have called it elitist. Others say it is little more than a brothel for the business class.
On a recent afternoon, Mr. Lopez-Pierre was reviewing applications for all potential members. A photograph of a woman wearing a coquettish grin and a cropped shirt received a positive assessment.
"She's got a great stomach," he said. His praise was more effusive for a bikini-clad woman: "She's our No. 1 associate member."
Reaction to the club has been particularly visceral, critics said, because its membership requirements highlight a controversy in the black community, the swelling number of single black women. According to federal Census data, only 29.2 percent of black women are married and living with spouses, compared with 54.3 percent of white women.
Jeffrey R. Gardere, a psychologist who is the host of a radio talk show about black relationships in the New York metropolitan area, said the Harlem Club could help college-educated black women meet men with compatible backgrounds. But he questions the likelihood of serious love connections.
"It almost sets up a meat-market situation for these men who are allegedly powerful and allegedly have all these degrees to come in and look at these women as potential sex partners and potential mates," said Dr. Gardere, author of "Love Prescription: Ending the War Between Black Men and Women." "I also think that the club may be snubbing a whole lot of people who may not have college degrees who may be brilliant."
So far 200 young women, among them doctors, lawyers, accountants, investment bankers and models, have applied for associate membership, Mr. Lopez-Pierre said. He has deleted the e-mail applications of overweight women.
Tiffani Webb, 28, a licensed psychologist who lives in Brooklyn Heights, said she joined the club because she was tired of spending her evenings with other single black professional women who, like her, have not found Mr. Right. She points to a study by the Community Service Society that found that nearly half of working-age black men in New York City are jobless.
"What are your chances of going to a normal, regular environment and meeting someone who could be compatible with you professionally?" she said. "It's hard if you want an African-American man."
It is women like Dr. Webb, Mr. Lopez-Pierre said, that the Harlem Club was formed to rescue. A group of Mr. Lopez-Pierre's single friends decided to form the club in December after attending a holiday party where 50 men were competing for the attention of the 10 most attractive women in the room.
The men dreamed of a club that would routinely have more beautiful women than male suitors, Mr. Lopez-Pierre said. But they worried that it might not sit well with the public, so they asked Mr. Lopez-Pierre to run the club and conceal their identities. (Mr. Lopez-Pierre would say only that the club's original 10 members are ages 34 to 42 and include doctors, lawyers and investment bankers. )
So Mr. Lopez-Pierre e-mailed 10,000 of his own contacts and, through the magic of forwarded messages, sparked a discussion on an Internet mailing list of black Ivy League graduates in January. Since then, his name has been a constant presence around water coolers and e-mail groups. His comments about the club have been fodder for talk radio, newspapers and BET Nightly News. His views on women who oppose the club's age restrictions, for example: "A lot of these women are in their early 40's, and their good-looking days are over," he said. "They're career women."
Some people have applauded Mr. Lopez-Pierre's efforts, including, he said, 100 men who have expressed interest in becoming general members. But Mr. Lopez-Pierre admits that intense negative feedback has caused the club's charter members to backpedal on some of the initial membership requirements for women. Earlier this month, he agreed to allow women with children to apply for associate membership. He also said that women who did not meet the physical requirements could pay and become general members.
"We have compromised," Mr. Lopez-Pierre said. "Women who want to be equals can pay. If they prefer a more traditional role, we have the associate membership level."
Black women who oppose the club are, unwittingly, among Mr. Lopez-Pierre's biggest advertising vehicles. In their fury, he said, they publicize the club by sending his e-mail postings and the club's Web address, harlemclub.com, to their friends, who pass the message along.
Debra Dickerson, the author of "The End of Blackness," a discussion of racism and stereotypes, said Mr. Lopez-Pierre was profiting from the misery of others. "There is a real problem in the state of black love, but it is not to be solved by putting women on the beauty pageant auction block," said Ms. Dickerson, who says she is an educated black woman who has never had luck with black men. "I'd have more respect for him if he would just admit that that he was an entrepreneur looking for a heartless way to make money. But it's not just capitalist, it's misogynist and sexist."
Michael Eric Dyson, a humanities professor at the University of Pennsylvania and the author of "Why I Love Black Women," said the club's rules for associate members send a narrow message.
"We jam up young people in hip-hop for the specious viewpoints we have about appropriate relationships," he said. "This might just be the so-called high-class version of choosing the right woman. That, to me, is problematic."
Although the club sprang from the minds of men, much of the opposition on the Internet has come from men. Gregory E. Johnson, a 46-year-old married man who works for a computer company in Nashville, posted a message on EventLinks.com accusing the club of promoting classism. "It sounds to me like he was mostly looking for people who were doctors and lawyers," Mr. Johnson said. "It just seems strange to me that a black person or a Hispanic person in this country would exclude people within their own race, when we're already excluded with things from the white race."
While Mr. Lopez-Pierre is monitoring the buzz, he is also fretting over the logistics of the club's inaugural event, a cocktail party scheduled for July. The club expects to sign a lease on a space on Madison Avenue in Murray Hill, and he plans to hire an architect and an interior designer to transform a drab 2,500-square-foot office suite into a lounge.
And, of course, he continues to sift through applicants' photographs.
"I didn't marry my wife because she was a kind, sensitive woman," he said. "I married her because she is a complete package. I married her because she takes her butt to the gym, and she keeps it tight for me. I want it all, and I got it all. There are men who want the same."