Full Article Text
SPEAKS
SIRTET STITRI
Art really imitates life
for TheWire's Felicia
"Snoop" Pearson.IN THE MIDST OF
THE FIFTH AND
FINAL SEASON OF
TIjE WIRE, FELICIA..SNOOP'' PEARSON
TALKS ABOUT LIFE
ON SET, DEALING
DRUGS, DATING "MISS
FINE"...OH' AND THAT
MURDER RAP
.t ,,, t ,,,'
BY MICHAEL
GIUTZ
HBO'S COP DRAMA TheWirehas qut-
etly evolved since 2OO2 from being one
ofthe best shows on TV to being one of
the best shows of all time. At the heart of
the series about life in gritty Baltimore
are vivid, wonderfully matter-of-fact gay
characters, especially Detective Kima
Greggs (Sonja Sohn), who's just one of
the boys-staying out late, drinking, and
coming home to a personal life just as
messy and screwed up as those of her
coworkers-and Omar Little (Michael
K. Williams), one of the greatest bad
guys ever, as an openly gay gangster who
strikes fear into anyone, cop or thug,
who crosses his path.
But to lesbian actress Felicia "Snoop"
Pearson, The Wire is more than just a
footnote in gay television history-it's
life-changing.
Growing up rough on the streets of
Baltimore, Pearson-whose character
"Snoop" was named after her-was
working as a drug dealer when Wire
actor Michael K. Williams spotted her
in a club and introduced her to the team
behind the show.
"That was something from God,"
says the 27-year-old about meeting
Williams. In her memoir, Grace After
Midnight, P earson recounts that fateful
encounter as weli as her tumultuous
life with a crack-addict mother, being
lesbian in the hood, going to prison for
killing a woman, and finding grace in jail
after feeling the presence of a mentor-
drug dealer who had just been killed.
Pearson now plays a colorful small
role as a soldier for drug lord Marlo
Stanfield (the quietly lethal Jamie Hec-
tor). "She's a killer, and they done taught
her," says Pearson. "They taught her
verywell."
Pearson's character kicked off sea-
son 4 by going to a Home Depot-type
hardware store and buying the biggest,
baddest nail gun in the place, handing
a roll of money to the employee who
helped her find it and telling him to
keep the change. (That nail gun would
play a murderous role in the season)
This year, true to type, Pearson early on
is seen waiting in a car to get the drop
on some people who need to die. When
a prot6g6 sitting in the backseat talks
about driving by and spraying the crowd
with bullets, Pearson rolls her eyes dis-
missively and growls in her distinctive
mellow voice, "In B-more we just point
and shoot." And then she shoots a guy in
the head as he's running away.
As a little kid, Pearson knew she liked
girls; she fell for Smurfette on the popular
cartoon show ?he Smurf. If Pearson
hadn't been so tough (she'd punch ->
Februarv26,2008 THE ADVocATE 49
anyboywho dissed her and always
hungwith the guys), that might have
been a problem. "Everybody I came into
encounter with was very understand-
ing," says Pearson. "Everything about
me, they just got to accept it. I think
it's wrong for people to judge people
because oftheir sexuality. It's just sex.
Sex don't make a person. It's their heart
and everything around them that makes
a person."
One of her mentors had insisted the
young Felicia was just confused. When
she was 12 years old he set her up with a
woman Pearson calls "Miss Fine," who
was probably age 19 or 20. He figured
Pearson wouldn't actually enjoy it. He
was wrong.
"I liked it," she says. "I went back
over there."
NE OF THE IRONIES of
Grace After Midnrght is that
Pearson was constantly be-
ing guided away from a life
of crime by the drug dealers
and hardened criminals who employed
her. The man she calls "Uncle" gave
Snoop her nickname (after Snoopy from
"Peanuts," because he thought she looked
"sweet but sad'). She was good at school
but even better at the streets, studying ev-
ery car, every cop, every customer, always
paying attention. Her biological mother
was a crack addict who rarely tried to con-
tact Pearson. (The second time Pearson
met her, at about age 4, her mother forced
her to strip offthe Sunday dress she was
wearing so she could pawn it for drug
money) Loving elderly parents eventually
adopted Pearson, but they couldn t keep
her offthe streets.
A month before Pearson turned 15,
she was walking down the street when
a fight caught her eye. She joined the
crowd watching and one of the people
involved-Pearson says she had never
seen her before-grabbed an aluminum
baseball bat and zeroed in on Pearson.
Pearson says she screamed at the woman
to stop but couldn't break away because
ofthe crowd, so she showed her gun.
When the woman kept coming, Pearson
says, she was certain she'd be dead unless
she acted first. She shot and killed the
woman, then went into hiding. Pearson
50 THEADVoCATT Februarv26.20O8ultimatelywas arrested and cut a deal for
second-degree murder; she'd get paroled
at age 2O due to good behavior and ac-
cumulated work credit.
Prison was not the lesbian paradise
you might imagine. As always, Pearson
watched everything carefully; she saw
that if you got into a relationship with
an inmate, ultimately it might go sour or
they'd just get ticked off at seeing some-
one else eyeing you. Best to keep your
head down. So Pearson became intimate
with one of the guards (she says they
kissed but never had sex while she was in
jail), which helped keep her sane. A side
business making dildos for other inmates
helped keep her flush.
Exactlyhow do you manufacture a
dildo on the inside?
"Oh, man," says Pearson, laughing.
"Sanitary napkins, duct tape, and an Ace
bandage. Yeah, and a latex glove on it
over the top; that's like the condom." She
made about 50 of them, which made for
a pretty good income. "Especially when
you're incarcerated," she says.
When she got out, she discovered her
corrections-offi cer lover was a jealous
one who couldn't bear the thought of
Pearson out in the world among other
women, even though Pearson was faith-
ful. "She was like, 'I ain't gonna lie. It was
different because you was locked up,'"
Pearson says. "'You couldn't go nowhere,
and ifyou messed with a female, I would
know about it. But once you came out-
side? And you [who's] not an ugly person,
and your sex good?"'
Pearson had done her time, but that
didn't stop her from returningto life on
the streets. She was still dealingwhen
TheWire came calling and remarkably,
she kept dealing even after she began
acting on the show That is, until one of
the show's creative forces got wind of it.
"Ed Burns [a writer and co-executive
producer on the show] told me to stop,"
says Pearspn. "You know he was an ex-
detective fin Baltimore]? He has friends
on the police force, I guess, or whatever.
He came to me one day and said, 'You're
very talented. Why don't you take this
opportunity that God has given you?'
I did it. As soon as he told me to stop, I
stopped. That was season 3."
Pearson says she's not tempted by
the easy money (and steady work) ofdealing, though the writers strike is
makingher stir crazy. She's work-
ing now on turning her memoir into a
feature film in which she'd play herself,
l-tlKe t'mlnem n Nlue-
"I want the big screen," says Pearson.
"Something like Antw one F isher." But
unlike the real-life Fisher, she notes, "I
don't go to the Navy-I go to The Wire.
Can't nobody play me but me."
That it all startedwithTheWire
seems fitting. " On The Wlre they give you
reality," says Pearson. "Theyjust put it
out there. They do something other writ-
ers need to do. Everything on the show is
national. It's not just Baltimore. A lot of
little kids are gettingteased. A lot oflittle
kids are selling drugs."
And a lot ofgay people are notjust
white males living in New York. "Oh, you
can't shake that," says Pearson. "I hope
I broke the mold for my gay people. Just
let'em know; you don't have to hide it.
People are gonna accept it or they gonna
reject it. So what?"
And now that she's recognized every-
where by fans of the series, is the single
Pearson finding new love?
"Hold on, hold on. I like bourgie
[bourgeois] women," she laughs. "I don't
not like ghetto women, because I'm
ghetto myself. I need someone to tame
me, to say'Don't do that.' I like bourgie-
not realbourgie, like somebody step on
her feet and she ready to cry-but I just
Iike a woman who got her own job...per-
sonality...looks nice...got all her teeth."
As Pearson dissolves into giggles, Sweet
But Sad sounds happier every minute. *o
-
o
SIRTET STITRI
Art really imitates life
for TheWire's Felicia
"Snoop" Pearson.IN THE MIDST OF
THE FIFTH AND
FINAL SEASON OF
TIjE WIRE, FELICIA..SNOOP'' PEARSON
TALKS ABOUT LIFE
ON SET, DEALING
DRUGS, DATING "MISS
FINE"...OH' AND THAT
MURDER RAP
.t ,,, t ,,,'
BY MICHAEL
GIUTZ
HBO'S COP DRAMA TheWirehas qut-
etly evolved since 2OO2 from being one
ofthe best shows on TV to being one of
the best shows of all time. At the heart of
the series about life in gritty Baltimore
are vivid, wonderfully matter-of-fact gay
characters, especially Detective Kima
Greggs (Sonja Sohn), who's just one of
the boys-staying out late, drinking, and
coming home to a personal life just as
messy and screwed up as those of her
coworkers-and Omar Little (Michael
K. Williams), one of the greatest bad
guys ever, as an openly gay gangster who
strikes fear into anyone, cop or thug,
who crosses his path.
But to lesbian actress Felicia "Snoop"
Pearson, The Wire is more than just a
footnote in gay television history-it's
life-changing.
Growing up rough on the streets of
Baltimore, Pearson-whose character
"Snoop" was named after her-was
working as a drug dealer when Wire
actor Michael K. Williams spotted her
in a club and introduced her to the team
behind the show.
"That was something from God,"
says the 27-year-old about meeting
Williams. In her memoir, Grace After
Midnight, P earson recounts that fateful
encounter as weli as her tumultuous
life with a crack-addict mother, being
lesbian in the hood, going to prison for
killing a woman, and finding grace in jail
after feeling the presence of a mentor-
drug dealer who had just been killed.
Pearson now plays a colorful small
role as a soldier for drug lord Marlo
Stanfield (the quietly lethal Jamie Hec-
tor). "She's a killer, and they done taught
her," says Pearson. "They taught her
verywell."
Pearson's character kicked off sea-
son 4 by going to a Home Depot-type
hardware store and buying the biggest,
baddest nail gun in the place, handing
a roll of money to the employee who
helped her find it and telling him to
keep the change. (That nail gun would
play a murderous role in the season)
This year, true to type, Pearson early on
is seen waiting in a car to get the drop
on some people who need to die. When
a prot6g6 sitting in the backseat talks
about driving by and spraying the crowd
with bullets, Pearson rolls her eyes dis-
missively and growls in her distinctive
mellow voice, "In B-more we just point
and shoot." And then she shoots a guy in
the head as he's running away.
As a little kid, Pearson knew she liked
girls; she fell for Smurfette on the popular
cartoon show ?he Smurf. If Pearson
hadn't been so tough (she'd punch ->
Februarv26,2008 THE ADVocATE 49
anyboywho dissed her and always
hungwith the guys), that might have
been a problem. "Everybody I came into
encounter with was very understand-
ing," says Pearson. "Everything about
me, they just got to accept it. I think
it's wrong for people to judge people
because oftheir sexuality. It's just sex.
Sex don't make a person. It's their heart
and everything around them that makes
a person."
One of her mentors had insisted the
young Felicia was just confused. When
she was 12 years old he set her up with a
woman Pearson calls "Miss Fine," who
was probably age 19 or 20. He figured
Pearson wouldn't actually enjoy it. He
was wrong.
"I liked it," she says. "I went back
over there."
NE OF THE IRONIES of
Grace After Midnrght is that
Pearson was constantly be-
ing guided away from a life
of crime by the drug dealers
and hardened criminals who employed
her. The man she calls "Uncle" gave
Snoop her nickname (after Snoopy from
"Peanuts," because he thought she looked
"sweet but sad'). She was good at school
but even better at the streets, studying ev-
ery car, every cop, every customer, always
paying attention. Her biological mother
was a crack addict who rarely tried to con-
tact Pearson. (The second time Pearson
met her, at about age 4, her mother forced
her to strip offthe Sunday dress she was
wearing so she could pawn it for drug
money) Loving elderly parents eventually
adopted Pearson, but they couldn t keep
her offthe streets.
A month before Pearson turned 15,
she was walking down the street when
a fight caught her eye. She joined the
crowd watching and one of the people
involved-Pearson says she had never
seen her before-grabbed an aluminum
baseball bat and zeroed in on Pearson.
Pearson says she screamed at the woman
to stop but couldn't break away because
ofthe crowd, so she showed her gun.
When the woman kept coming, Pearson
says, she was certain she'd be dead unless
she acted first. She shot and killed the
woman, then went into hiding. Pearson
50 THEADVoCATT Februarv26.20O8ultimatelywas arrested and cut a deal for
second-degree murder; she'd get paroled
at age 2O due to good behavior and ac-
cumulated work credit.
Prison was not the lesbian paradise
you might imagine. As always, Pearson
watched everything carefully; she saw
that if you got into a relationship with
an inmate, ultimately it might go sour or
they'd just get ticked off at seeing some-
one else eyeing you. Best to keep your
head down. So Pearson became intimate
with one of the guards (she says they
kissed but never had sex while she was in
jail), which helped keep her sane. A side
business making dildos for other inmates
helped keep her flush.
Exactlyhow do you manufacture a
dildo on the inside?
"Oh, man," says Pearson, laughing.
"Sanitary napkins, duct tape, and an Ace
bandage. Yeah, and a latex glove on it
over the top; that's like the condom." She
made about 50 of them, which made for
a pretty good income. "Especially when
you're incarcerated," she says.
When she got out, she discovered her
corrections-offi cer lover was a jealous
one who couldn't bear the thought of
Pearson out in the world among other
women, even though Pearson was faith-
ful. "She was like, 'I ain't gonna lie. It was
different because you was locked up,'"
Pearson says. "'You couldn't go nowhere,
and ifyou messed with a female, I would
know about it. But once you came out-
side? And you [who's] not an ugly person,
and your sex good?"'
Pearson had done her time, but that
didn't stop her from returningto life on
the streets. She was still dealingwhen
TheWire came calling and remarkably,
she kept dealing even after she began
acting on the show That is, until one of
the show's creative forces got wind of it.
"Ed Burns [a writer and co-executive
producer on the show] told me to stop,"
says Pearspn. "You know he was an ex-
detective fin Baltimore]? He has friends
on the police force, I guess, or whatever.
He came to me one day and said, 'You're
very talented. Why don't you take this
opportunity that God has given you?'
I did it. As soon as he told me to stop, I
stopped. That was season 3."
Pearson says she's not tempted by
the easy money (and steady work) ofdealing, though the writers strike is
makingher stir crazy. She's work-
ing now on turning her memoir into a
feature film in which she'd play herself,
l-tlKe t'mlnem n Nlue-
"I want the big screen," says Pearson.
"Something like Antw one F isher." But
unlike the real-life Fisher, she notes, "I
don't go to the Navy-I go to The Wire.
Can't nobody play me but me."
That it all startedwithTheWire
seems fitting. " On The Wlre they give you
reality," says Pearson. "Theyjust put it
out there. They do something other writ-
ers need to do. Everything on the show is
national. It's not just Baltimore. A lot of
little kids are gettingteased. A lot oflittle
kids are selling drugs."
And a lot ofgay people are notjust
white males living in New York. "Oh, you
can't shake that," says Pearson. "I hope
I broke the mold for my gay people. Just
let'em know; you don't have to hide it.
People are gonna accept it or they gonna
reject it. So what?"
And now that she's recognized every-
where by fans of the series, is the single
Pearson finding new love?
"Hold on, hold on. I like bourgie
[bourgeois] women," she laughs. "I don't
not like ghetto women, because I'm
ghetto myself. I need someone to tame
me, to say'Don't do that.' I like bourgie-
not realbourgie, like somebody step on
her feet and she ready to cry-but I just
Iike a woman who got her own job...per-
sonality...looks nice...got all her teeth."
As Pearson dissolves into giggles, Sweet
But Sad sounds happier every minute. *o
-
o