W.A.G.s to Riches, the latest Netflix reality series to follow the wives and girlfriends of top athletes and rappers, checked all the boxes of a quintessential reality show: juicy gossip, shady reads, lover’s quarrels, beautiful yet cunning opinionated women, and the accomplished men who support them. On the surface, this show had the juice, but as I kept watching, I noticed that the plot was littered with contradictions and racial insensitivity.
Throughout the show, its queen bee, real estate broker and founder of Allure Realty LLC, Sharelle Rosado, preaches to the other women the importance of a good reputation, especially if you want to be successful. We’ve all heard this concept before, but this idea becomes problematic when Rosado weaponizes fellow cast member Lastonia “Stoni” Leviston’s sex tape against her. Leviston, the mother of rapper Rick Ross’ first child, is initially shunned by the group due to a sex tape scandal from over 10 years ago.
The discussion around Leviston’s sex tape was hard to watch. During a sit down with fellow cast member Alexis Stoudemire, ex-wife to former NBA star and Olympian Amar’e Stoudemire, Leviston explains that a former partner released a video of them having sex without her consent as revenge porn after they broke up. During the time Rick Ross and 50 Cent were feuding, Leviston’s ex allegedly sent the video to the Get Rich or Die Tryin’ rapper, to which he then posted the video to his website.
In one of the show’s early scenes, Rosado admits that she can’t see herself hanging out with Leviston because of the sex tape and accuses her of being an escort. Leviston vehemently denies the escort claims, but Rosado holding revenge porn over her cast mate’s head feels gross. Not only are Black women disproportionately at risk for being victims of sex crimes, but we are less likely to expose our abusers. Leviston took legal action and won, getting justice for the crime against her. Instead, the show takes a vulnerable and sensitive topic and uses it to berate. She is made to look weak and has to constantly defend herself over something that was out of her control. It’s a wonder that she completed the season after how poorly she was treated.
And if the topic of reputation is such a big deal, one can only wonder how Chad “Ochocinco” Johnson landed a supporting role. Rosado, who was engaged to the athlete at the time, parades her relationship with him as if it’s a prize or privilege. While the premise of the series is for the women to show off their relationships with athletes and entertainers, as well as their careers, the then couple’s engagement looked less than ideal. It’s hard to forget the bloody images that went viral after the retired football player headbutted his then-fiance Evelyn Lozada (also a star in VH1’s Basketball Wives) in 2012 — he was cut from the Miami Dolphins as a result.
Johnson’s character was on full display when he and Rosado sat down for dinner with their attorneys to discuss a prenup. When Rosado’s lawyer presents the idea of an infidelity clause, including a $500,000 penalty in the event that Johnson cheats, he becomes visibly upset and says, “This makes no sense,” following up with, “This basically tells me she’s not ready to get married.” The funniest part was that the clause has some basis considering Johnson has been accused of infidelity by other partners, including Rosado. At the time of my writing this piece, he has fathered eight children out of wedlock with multiple women. Did Rosado not take this into consideration when evaluating his reputation, or does his fame exempt him?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for women living a soft life, there is nothing that Black women deserve more. However, when you spend your time defending and fighting for a man who isn’t fighting for you to the point where it becomes toxic, it’s time to pull the plug. That’s also when your good girlfriends nudge you and encourage you to seek change. Unfortunately, Maranda “Mjae” Johnson, the youngest of the group who shares children with troubled rapper Kodak Black, was left to fend for herself. Although the rapper never makes an appearance on the show, he consumes the young mother’s storyline as she grapples with their relationship due to his constant cheating. The rapper also has an active drug problem and has been charged with several counts of assault and even kidnapping. The Florida emcee more recently was seen laid out in the street eating chicken, presumably on drugs.
During the season, Johnson has her own run-in with the law after she gets into an altercation with the mother of the rapper’s other children. Sadly, during a confessional interview, Johnson admits that if she were to ever go to jail, it would be for assault. This is the moment of the show I would expect her to enter counseling or for the cast to stage an intervention to help her leave that dangerous environment. From what we viewers are able to see, the show lacked the sense of sisterhood that you would typically see in a cast of women. Ultimately, Johnson is left to fend for herself despite her cries for help.
Nothing about this series shocked me more than seeing Julieanna “YesJulz” Goddard appear on my screen. The social media influencer has a history of disrespecting the Black community and targeting Black women. However, when the former Kanye West employee—publicly fired in 2024 for violating her NDA—was caught on camera attacking a Black woman, and it aired, I knew this series had reached a new low.
In episode three, while dining at a restaurant with the cast, Goddard is asked to join a table with Leviston, her best friend Gary, Johnson, and a friend to the show Kenea Danair. Prior to Goddard joining the table, Danair led a discussion, rightfully raising concern about Julz’s racist reputation. When Goddard sits down, Johnson and Gary tell her that Danair is calling her a racist. Gary stands in solidarity with Goddard, saying something to the tune of, I’m Black, and Goddard loves me, insinuating despite the mounting evidence against her, there is no way this woman who came on the show rocking cornrows showed any signs of intolerance. Danair stands 10 toes down and confronts the influencer about the comments she has made about Black women. Goddard immediately becomes defensive and asks Danair, a Black woman, what she does for her own culture – as if to compare and insinuate that she (Goddard) does more. Explicits are exchanged, Goddard hits Danair, and the two go to blows.
The harsh reality is that women like Goddard will continue to thrive because there will always be a group of enablers cheering them on. Throughout the show, in confessionals and conversations, this crew openly acknowledges the accusations against Goddard but chooses to ignore them simply because they haven’t witnessed them firsthand. This mindset is dangerous—it allows opportunists to keep exploiting the very community they benefit from. When we fail to protect our spaces collectively, we empower these shapeshifters, giving them the tools to divide us further. Are these women so desperate for white validation that they’re willing to let someone like Goddard sit at their table and feast at their expense?
This show is anything but easy to stomach. I appreciate complex characters and layered storytelling, but there’s a fine line between nuanced drama and reckless exploitation. When deeply sensitive issues like abuse and racism are reduced to shock value and spectacle—especially during Black History Month—it’s not just irresponsible; it’s harmful. At some point, we have to ask: Who is this narrative really serving? And more importantly, at whose expense? If it’s at the expense of Black people, that’s when a reality TV lover like me has no problem changing the channel. We’ve been through too much, and we deserve much better.