Your Instagram feed has enough street style posts, brunch pics and carefully curated blogger ads, but does it have enough male models and six packs? From bloggers to DJs to models, actors and rappers, these are the hottest men with the best Insta game. Ridiculously good-looking both with and without his shirt good news: he's often without his shirt. For when you can't ogle over him on the big screen, Jordan documents his every day life—from hitting the gym to getting dapper for a night out—on his Instagram. Follow at: michaelbjordan. You can practically hear Ryan Gosling's "hey girl" as the backdrop to every photo on Garafola's feed. Follow at: chrisgarafola. Follow at: broderickhunter. Follow at: seanopry Telle is a regular on the runway and in fashion campaigns, but he looks just as good in the candid videos on his Instagram.
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As a woman of color, I went through the whole transformation from school-dress-code feminism to big-picture-intersectional feminism in an inordinately short amount of time. If there was one lesson to be learned from my formative years as a baby feminist, it is this: be weary of the white boys. Like typhoid Mary or your ex who gave you chlamydia, it starts with nearly undetectable symptoms. You have higher standards when it comes to your fellow men in color—those who you empathize with more than white guys. Is it the sex? Is it akin to a status symbol? One glaringly obvious part of my condition lies in my above-the-stars requirements for non-white guys. When I was sitting in the middle of my college campus, I could overhear this group of boys talking. Among them was a white guy, and he had said maybe intelligent things within the conversation and each time I made a note of it. Had the other non-white guys said anything intelligent?
My older sister has been calling me an Uncle Tom my entire life. Which means I, from an early age, began arming myself with language; and that I, from an early age, began crafting ways to double down on my right to desire white men. We were sitting in her car in December, parked in a lot that had once belonged to Little Rock's University Mall. But by the time I came of age, hip-hop had gifted explicit, outspoken materialism almost exclusively to black youth. To us, white folks dressed shabbily. The mall, therefore, was ours: It was the place where kids bought Jordans at the sneaker store — before and after Michael Jordan said nothing about the stickups we dodged to keep them. Perhaps she feared that being so cavalier with white people would someday bring me harm, that they would recognize my zealous gaze as leering and want to punish me for objectifying them.