At this point, the dab — a dance that originated in Atlanta hip-hop culture — has been thoroughly co-opted by white people. Even KKK members dab at this point. But black people's one saving grace has been that Carolina Panthers quarterback Cam Newton uses the dab as his celebratory dance. When it's in Cam's hands, the dab is beautiful, untouched by the cruel grip of white appropriation. Well, at least until now: The Internet is a dangerous place, and there's always some white woman publishing her weird sex dreams as "novels" -- the most famous of which is E.L. James with her Fifty Shades of Grey series that ultimately inspired Rita Ora to learn French. The latest offender in this genre is Caroline Blue (surely an unimaginative nom de plume), with her Mandingo fantasy Dabbin' With Cam: A Cam Newton Erotic Romance. When this novella first dropped exclusively on Amazon Kindle like a Lil' Kim album on PayPal, its presence spread like wildfire on the Internet. But would anyone actually read it?
Well, I like trash, so of course I did.
The weirdest thing about Dabbin' With Cam, aside from it not having been run through spell-check before it was published, is the cover. Who is this stock-photo black man on the cover that looks nothing like Cam Newton? I get that they couldn't use his image, but yo, this Yung Carl Weathers brother is not Cam Newton. I'm pretty sure Caroline Blue just googled "black man with white woman" on Thinkstock to make her cover.
Instead of a bookish young waif like Anastasia Steele or Bella from Twilight, Caroline (same as the author's pen name, because thinking of names is hard) is a businesswoman. She works for some type of tax company, which was affected by the recession yet somehow still has 159,000 employees. Most of those employees enter a raffle to attend THE BIG GAME (you can't legally refer to the Super Bowl as the Super Bowl), but Caroline neglects to because she's worried about getting a big promotion. Luckily for her, she has a best friend named Emily who's so obsessed with Cam Newton that she enters Caroline in the raffle instead of herself.
For the record, none of these celebs are ever mentioned when Caroline gets to the game. Why pause for those details when you need to get down to the business of stroking Cam Newton's goal post? Before kickoff, however, Caroline chills out in her hotel room like so:
Sis, I'm not sure you can actually light candles in hotel rooms. Is that allowed? Maybe at the Days Inn, but probably not at this expensive-ass hotel where they don't want some hick burning down the whole place.
Caroline eventually goes to the game, where she's surprised that the rich men she works with talk about "distinguished" subjects. She's very much obsessed with being "distinguished." So obsessed, in fact, that she gets drunk on champagne and wanders into the stands, only to lose her ticket and get denied reentry to the private box. After she's turned away, Caroline tussles with some security guards who try to eject her from the game. Lucky for her, a football sails into the stands and she CATCHES IT. Because she remembers how her dad used to opt out of staying at work late to teach her how to play football. To further drive this home, Caroline calls her father and she starts crying about catching a goddamn football at the Super Bowl and thanks him for raising her. Never mind how this woman managed to catch a football in a huge-ass stadium at the SUPER BOWL.
Caroline becomes a minor celebrity — the Panthers were losing and this white woman catching a football suddenly inspires the team to come back and defeat the Denver Broncos. Panthers PR takes photos with her and she gets invited to chill in the locker room, where she gets to see football players hanging around in the nude.
This leads to the best section of the book, where Caroline describes how the bodies of naked black men make her feel:
All those hung black dudes just milling about and fulfilling her fantasies like she's in 12 Years a Sex Slave. But she only wants one man to shake his wares on the auction block for her. Cam. Newton. Luckily, he invites her to play with him in a Jacuzzi out back, where absolutely no one else is for some reason. At this point, Caroline Blue uses every football term she Googled before writing this so she can make even worse sex puns than an episode of Two and a Half Men.
And then, of course, they fuck in the Jacuzzi.
SHE FOUND OUT WHY CAM IS REALLY REFERRED TO AS THE "MAN OF STEEL." MY GOD. He also bends her over and bangs her "tight end," because of course she had to work that wordplay into this book. Once they finish having sex, though, there's only one thing left for her to do. They have to … dab. Cam Newton wins the Super Bowl and he decides what he wants more than anything in the world is to invite this woman to a Jacuzzi, have anal sex with her, then dab with her.
The dab is officially dead. It was already slowly choking, running out of oxygen every time another white person did it in a Vine, or a TV commercial, or on a local news channel, but this is the real funeral. It's over. Cam cannot dab ever again. We can't allow it.
When she gets back home, Caroline gets a promotion because she caught a football on TV, because that's just how corporate America works! Her friend Emily congratulates her and they dab to their hearts' content, giggling and laughing, and wasn't it so funny that one time you had sex with a black guy but now you can go back to your normal life and never interact with anyone but white people again?