Oh, how the mighty have fallen! Once upon a time, Love & Hip Hop was a gritty, emotional platform where aspiring artists fought to make their mark. It gave us stars like Cardi B, who turned her reality TV stint into a ticket to global superstardom with charisma, humor, and—let’s not forget—actual talent. Fast forward to today, and the Miami iteration of the series is essentially a free-for-all of manufactured drama, questionable talent, and lace front wigs that would make even a mannequin cringe. Leading this circus is Florence El Luche, who somehow managed to stumble onto our screens with enough insecurity, controversy, and bad decisions to make her the headline we didn’t ask for.
Let’s talk about Florence—self-proclaimed artist, skin-bleaching cream salesperson, and now the face of everything that’s wrong with the show. When the Miami spin-off started, hopes weren’t exactly high, but Florence somehow managed to lower the bar even further. She represents everything the franchise has devolved into: zero talent, maximum mess. Her music career, if you can even call it that, is propped up by Auto-Tune and the pity of those too polite to tell her the truth.
Florence’s most infamous moment? Her unapologetically colorist comments about Amara La Negra. Let’s unpack this trainwreck. Amara, a Dominican woman who’s spent her career fighting anti-Black stereotypes in an industry that glorifies Eurocentric beauty standards, was targeted by Florence, a Haitian woman—a nationality that prides itself on being the first Black Republic. It’s a tragic irony: two women from nations grappling with identity politics clashing over deep-rooted insecurities. But Florence’s lack of awareness takes the cake. Instead of uplifting her heritage, she chose to embarrass it on a global platform.
And the skin-bleaching creams? That’s the icing on this toxic cake. Florence is out here selling self-hate in a bottle while claiming to be a role model. It’s one thing to grapple with your own insecurities; it’s another to package and sell them to young, impressionable women. Haiti’s cultural pride deserves better representation than someone peddling products that scream, “Your skin isn’t good enough.”
What makes this all worse is Mona Scott-Young’s role in this mess. As the executive producer and a Haitian woman herself, Mona had the power to elevate stories from her culture. Instead, she handed the mic to Florence, who’s done nothing but make Haitians look foolish. Mona has turned Love & Hip Hop from a showcase of raw talent into a reality-TV dumpster fire that thrives on humiliating its cast. Florence is just the latest pawn in her game, and the fact that she’s a Haitian woman representing the first Black republic is salt in the wound.
But let’s not forget Florence’s moment of entrepreneurial genius: selling bleaching cream while claiming to empower women. If hypocrisy were a sport, Florence would have a gold medal. Imagine telling young women to embrace themselves while simultaneously profiting off their insecurities. It’s like opening a gym and serving donuts at the front desk.
So, where does Florence go from here? If her music career doesn’t pan out—and let’s be honest, it won’t—she should look into joining House of Villains. That’s the kind of reality show built for people like her: unapologetically messy, shamelessly self-serving, and willing to say or do anything for a paycheck.
In conclusion, Love & Hip Hop: Miami has become the graveyard of reality TV. Once a place where stars were born, it’s now where talent goes to die. Florence El Luche is just the latest example of how far the show has fallen. And Mona Scott-Young? She’s still counting her checks while the rest of us cringe. As for Florence, maybe it’s time to put down the mic and pick up a mirror—not for bleaching cream, but for some self-reflection.
