The necklines of her gowns hung riskily low. Like, prudish audible gasp low. Too quick of an arm flourish would’ve placed Joyce Bryant at the middle of a scandal. Possibly she knew that. She shook her curves and sang her tunes, her even-toned, tawny body at all times threatening to spill out of her dress.
Over 35 years before Mary J. Blige wailed Black girls’ blues in a blonde coif, Bryant’s platinum hair gleamed as she trilled for packed crowds. Her eyes were naturally low, and he or she stared on the camera (with its tongue little doubt unfurled) like she knew exactly what she wanted from you. She used her airy upper register to the touch on subjects too...
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