She came…
The Afroed glories of Pam Grier found no better vehicle than Foxy Brown, the grungy blaxploitation classic that had its star slinging impatient sass, pounding the pavement (and faces) and rewriting the rules for an entire genre.
She saw…
Not someone you want on your bad side, this avenging angel shoots people point-blank (they all had it coming), burns up squealing sex-slave dealers and unmans one nasty drug lord, presenting his genitals to his girlfriend.
She conquered
“I got my black belt in barstools!” says Foxy after she wastes a way-too-proud karate champ with—you guessed it—a handy piece of furniture. (The only thing we break in bars is the bank.)