Lynae Vanee Bogues Sheds Light on Often Overlooked Black History in Her IGTV Series Parking Lot Pimpin’
Educator, advocate, and alum Lynae Vanee Bogues on her Instagram TV Series Parking Lot Pimpin’
Alum Lynae Vanee Bogues strings together facts in a way that keeps people’s attention and is entertaining. “It’s so much more important to weave a narrative, because that’s how you get people to understand new things.” Photo courtesy of Lynae Vanee Bogues
Shedding Light on Often Overlooked Black History
Educator, advocate, and alum Lynae Vanee Bogues on her Instagram TV series Parking Lot Pimpin’
A young Black woman, hair and outfit styled impeccably, sits in an empty parking lot. Teacup in hand, she weaves a story about a current event and puts the event into historical context—a context that is somehow always rooted in racism, sexism, and discrimination.
That is what you’ll find when you tune in every Friday to Lynae Vanee Bogues’ Instagram TV show, Parking Lot Pimpin’. Each week, Bogues (GRS’18) posts a short video usually centered on a topic that’s affecting the Black community, and proceeds to pull you—along with hundreds of thousands of Instagram followers—into what feels like poetry in motion. In her sure-footed, rapid-fire monologues, she’s covered topics like the history and significance of Juneteenth, modern-day slavery, and the Senate hearings on Supreme Court nominee Ketanji Brown Jackson.
“You know what’s so important about Ketanji Brown Jackson’s nomination?” Bogues asks in a recent video. “It’s that her life’s work shows that she is equipped to keep the interest of the general public close to her chest…. I don’t think y’all understand the level of violence that takes place when these white men, supported by the testimonies of white women, verbally assault Black women in an attempt to disenfranchise and debase them. And, quite frankly, it’s the type of violence I don’t want to see displayed on TV anymore.”
Bogues brings a poetic insight into a history that is often breezed over in school curriculums, such as peonage debt and how it was used to extend the use of Black labor plantations past the 13th Amendment. Her themes are especially relevant at a time when it’s still debated when and how Black history should be taught in schools.
Her lyrical sentiments aim to inspire, enlighten, and motivate. As a result, she’s amassed a large following in a short amount of time. Two years ago, Bogues had 2,000 Instagram followers. Today, she has over a half million, and averages more than 200,000 views per week. She is an NAACP Image Award nominee, has been profiled in Bustle and Revolt TV, and was featured as “The Last Word” for Jon Stewart’s Apple TV+ show, The Problem with Jon Stewart.
Who is the woman behind the series? Bogues developed an affinity for poetry at an early age, publishing a poetry book in elementary school with her class. After earning a degree at Spelman College and a master’s in African American studies at BU, she returned to Atlanta and began teaching high school history. She left amid the pandemic lockdown and decided to transform her poetry from a hobby into a way to share, teach, and educate on the Black roots and history of current events. Her show is now a full-time job.
“It was just really a leap of faith that just ended up being the right fit,” she says. “Everything fell into place.” The show has led to sponsorship deals, speaking engagements, and even acting gigs.
Recently, Bogues spoke with Bostonia about her journey to grow the Parking Lot Pimpin’ series and its impact on and off social media.
This interview has been edited and condensed for space and clarity.
Q&A
with Lynae Vanee Bogues (GRS’18)
Bostonia: Some people would call you a social media influencer, while others might call you an activist and speaker of sorts. What do you identify with?
Bogues: I would say I’m an advocate. There’s a connotation that comes with the word activist. Some people are on the front lines of things at all times—organizing and putting their feet to the ground and grassroots movements. So, I don’t know that I would consider myself an activist in that way.
I do believe there’s activism in my message. There’s activism in my teaching and my education. I feel like I’m always gonna be an educator at heart. But communication is crucial to help people understand what’s going on and put it in explainable words. To help give more vocabulary to the, “Well, I just know it’s racist,” because many people feel that way. They don’t have an opportunity to express themselves until it’s a blowup. While they may know the signs and have the triggers, talking it out and tracing its steps aren’t always accessible for everybody because of how distracting everyday life can be.
So, I consider myself an educator, a translator. And I am grateful for the wherewithal to go to school for things I’m passionate about, because that also helps me be more knowledgeable talking about these things in terms of application to the everyday.
Bostonia: What was your experience like at BU?
Bogues: I definitely felt like I needed to leave Georgia and experience something different—a different type of culture. Just to enrich my experience, because I’ve been around nothing but majority Black people throughout my entire academic career. I wanted to see what it would feel like to discuss and study these things about my culture with people on the outside looking in, while I was in that same position. Because there’s so much that Black people still do not know about Black history. I’d say it was the best decision I could have made. I had perspective-changing and altering experiences there.
At BU, I was the only grad student in the African American Studies program. So, I would spend a lot of time with the undergraduate students getting an African American studies minor. One day, we were joking around, and I said, in response to something someone said to me, “Well, you win some, you lose some, but you live to fight another day.” I could tell by the room that nobody knew what I was talking about. That line is from Friday, one of those quintessential films that you just know as a Black person. I didn’t judge them for never watching the movie. I invited them all to my house, made them tacos, and had a movie night. We had a great time. I felt that was a great example of how there are certain things Black Americans have had to at least witness just to have regular conversations daily.
At BU, it was my first time leaving the fold and experiencing and holding space with Northern Black [folks]. [Black people] are not a monolith, and there are just so many different perspectives that inform our culture and increase my appreciation.
Bostonia: Why did you decide to go into teaching? How did the transition from high school teacher to an advocate, educator, and influencer happen?
Bogues: So, after BU, I went home and had no clue what I was going to do with this master’s in African American studies. I didn’t really want to teach, but I was open to making an after-school program focused specifically on Black studies for high school students. I thought it was important to teach this to high school kids, because this is our last chance to give them a balanced perspective of the world before they make decisions about how they’re going to enter the world, whether they want to go to HBCU [historically Black colleges and universities] or are even aware of what HBCU life is like at all.
In the beginning, I went to my old high school and asked if they had any type of grants available to make a program like this work. They didn’t, but they had a history teacher opening and would give me some Black studies classes. I took it, and it just really helped me. Though it wouldn’t be long-term, I knew that working with high school students would show me whether I had it or didn’t, because they’re not going to hold anything back.
I was doing great and was comfortable where I was. But quarantine really showed me a mirror—I didn’t want to be doing this. The beginning of quarantine was not teacher-friendly; many of us felt limited in our possibilities. I couldn’t physically engage with my class to be creative with them. [Before COVID] I wasn’t just teaching; I was a play director, dance choreographer, volleyball coach. I couldn’t do any of those things, especially working with juniors and seniors who don’t want to be on Zoom, aren’t turning their cameras on or asking questions. So, I quit. The students understood that I wasn’t going to be able to serve them the way they needed because my heart wasn’t in it. It wasn’t a comfortable shift at all; there was so much uncertainty—and it’s even tough now.
So, I consider myself an educator, a translator. And I am grateful for the wherewithal to go to school for things I’m passionate about, because that also helps me be more knowledgeable talking about these things in terms of application to the everyday.
Bostonia: Why did you start the Parking Lot Pimpin’ series? Where did the name come from?
The first video came right after I did the Juneteenth march in 2020. It was a day when many people got out, despite the pandemic, to support this movement, because that summer followed the murders of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor. I just remember seeing so many people there and so many faces, Black and otherwise. I never thought something like that could happen. I saw nothing but miles and miles of people in support.
Just seeing that, it was such a moment for me and God: “They’re ready for you now.” I’d always had this information and actually even tried to do a similar series when I was at BU called “60 Seconds of Blackness,” where I posted a shorter, simpler version of the Parking Lot Pimpin’ series to my stories for Black History Month.
So, this time it was just me having to figure out how I wanted to do it. I came up with Parking Lot Pimpin’ in like two seconds while trying to figure out a name. I figured, “This is in my parking lot. What’s a phrase I know that has ‘parking lot’ in it?” And that was that.
Bostonia: What’s your method for choosing what to speak on every week? How do you single one out as the focus every Friday?
I go with the topic that I feel is most pertinent. That can be subjective. First, I like to think about what’s affecting my community most; what we’re discussing most on Twitter. Then I consider, “How can I tie this to a learning moment? How can I make this educational? What has happened in history that’s influenced this thing?” I just make sure it’s something that I can support with peer-reviewed information. I also make sure the sources are things people can access. Not everybody has access to alumni journals, for example. That’s really it: “What is bothering my community the most and what I can teach from it?”
Bostonia: Did you know the style and vibe you wanted to portray from the beginning?
I did not have a sketch [beforehand]. I just decided that I didn’t want to do it in my house, because I wanted it to be different. People do videos in front of their desks or by their bed all the time. And so I wanted you to at least stop and ask, “Well, why is she in her parking lot?” So, I just took my chair and side table out there. And it just worked.
When I do my research, I also write a script. For me, it’s not about being able to just rip off provocative statements. It’s about stringing together the facts in a way that just keeps people’s attention and is entertaining, making sure that it’s truthful, and making sure that I’m not providing misinformation. It’s so much more important to weave a narrative, because that’s how you get people to understand new things.
At one point, I wrote a script that mentioned tea and thought, “Oh, it would be cute if I sip something out of a little teacup,” and I just kept the teacup because it went so well. It just became so intimately tied to my brand. Because that’s what I’m doing—I’m uncovering things. When you “spill tea,” you’re uncovering hidden secrets, and that’s what I am doing.
For me, it’s not about being able to just rip off provocative statements. It’s about stringing together the facts in a way that just keeps people’s attention and is entertaining…It’s so much more important to weave a narrative, because that’s how you get people to understand new things.
Bostonia: What are your goals with your Instagram videos?
I think a lot of prejudice and discrimination have prevailed due to ignorance and a purposeful limitation of different topics in schools. This limits racist interactions and racist policies to people that use the N-word with a hard “R,” or people who are violent and stuck in the ’60s and tend not to interact with Black people. But it’s just so much more than that.
My goal was to peel back the layer, peel back the veil—to pick up where he [W. E. B. Du Bois] left off on that, and insert myself in a line of influential Black leaders. It wasn’t really my intention to become influential, but to do the work was most important. That hasn’t changed. The quality of the content, outfits, hair—all of that has improved, but my goal hasn’t changed.
Bostonia: Why do you think your message resonates with so many people, and why is that so important?
I think one of the main reasons people resonate with my content so much is because of another big goal: removing the gatekeeping that seems to be so ever-present in academia. You have to get behind four walls of an institution to learn this type of information, which is also a part of the problem.
Speaking to people in a language they can understand is another reason Black people are listening. This is why I’m so big on making sure I keep the same energy of the amount of knowledge I am spreading with the amount of attitude I use. And not just attitude, but how I talk in my everyday life. I’m just making sure I talk to people how they’d talk to anyone.
Bostonia: Can you speak on the types of responses and feedback you get from your series? Is it mainly positive?
I’ve gotten backlash when I’ve talked about things that aren’t popular or from people who aren’t interested in progress in certain areas and want things to continue being swept under the rug. For example, when I’ve spoken up about the sexual assault of Black women by Black men, or when I talked about the lack of inclusivity in the homes and intimate spaces of Black families with queer family members. Those were the first times I encountered backlash on the internet and people using their ideas to make personal attacks against me. That was emotional, and I had to develop the standard for that.
But the only [other] time that I got backlash—and it made me consider the responsibility on my platform—was when I spoke on the situation in Palestine. That is a very layered topic that needs so much more context. And even with the two weeks of research [I couldn’t give it that context]. While I don’t take back what I said, I understood that it hurt Jewish people, and they’ve had different upbringings and teachings about that subject. So, it just really made me understand that some things aren’t just black and white, and people will get hurt.
You can’t make everybody happy, but I try to make sure that I don’t make generally offensive statements. My train of thought was, “If I’m always thinking about the most marginalized [people], I can’t possibly mess up.” But that’s not always the case.
Bostonia: What’s next for you? I’ve seen you’re getting a few more acting roles and have spoken about how it’s a long-standing dream that you thought was unreachable until your series took off. Are you looking to lean into these new acting opportunities as much as possible?
The biggest thing at the moment is expanding the Parking Lot series and incorporating more voices and perspectives into the brand that I’ve created so far to make it that much more effective.
I’m also moving toward a career in acting and entertainment. I would like to bring [the knowledge I gained] from my degrees, general experiences, and experiences as a poet to the screen. So many people see themselves in the message of Parking Lot Pimpin’. And that’s how I know this is my ministry. When you think about the word “ministry,” it’s truly just using your gifts to do the work of the spiritual. I’m literally helping people say their testimonies, helping people be delivered from things that they didn’t have the vocabulary to discuss or talk to their partners about.
I can engage them and support them in ways that I wasn’t before, because I see things with new eyes. When I first started out, and when I was traveling here and there to do events at schools, without fail, an older Black woman will be a fan and tell me that she’s so grateful for my platform, because I’m saying the thing she was never allowed to say. It’s about making the people who need to feel seen, feel seen. Oppression is about who you can hide under the table and tell a story about. I feel like my job is to help them beautifully tell their own stories.
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