This is a followup to the last piece, so vagueness is necessary to protect the guilty and the innocent.
In addition to my own bad habits, I have situations that keep me from being great. Like my child, who often does her best to get me to pay attention to her while I am trying to write. Or those people who essentially stand around and watch as my life falls apart, then they criticize me either for not doing enough or doing too much. I call them the Saboteurs, which is a nice French way of calling folks assholes.
My daughter is not really a Saboteur, she is a toddler. A needy, tantrum-throwing, yet sweet and endearing child who is about to celebrate her second birthday. She is supposed to wreak havoc with my schedule by throwing a random fit when I try to get her to put on her shoes. Or when I ask her to stop kicking me. Or when I switch the channel from watching the same episode of Sesame Street that we just watched an hour earlier.
But the adults? Total assholes.
So this situation that has been stressing me since January involves a bunch of folks who would rather stand around and complain about things instead of actually doing anything. One person actually issued a threat, but to date, it was just more hot air blown into their balloon of complaints. But it hit its mark and I have the extra fifteen pounds to show for the toll all of that drama it took on me.
Because what else can you do when you are angry, bitter, depressed and hurt by a baseless allegation that was intended to bait you into the most unnecessary counter-productive conflict at the absolute worst time of your life? You stop taking care of yourself. And you start to look your age. And you eat your feelings because no one really wants to hear about how angry, bitter, depressed or hurt you feel.
Those feelings you are eating taste a lot like breakfast danishes, fried chicken, pizza, and Chinese take out that you wash down with soda.
And you do this alone because you are always alone. You sleep alone, wherever you fall asleep (usually on the sofa). You talk to your not-yet-two-year old daughter because no one else has time. Sometimes you talk to yourself because she is busy watching the same episode of Sesame Street over and over again. You wash, rinse and repeat the same pattern for weeks.
You notice that your clothes are fitting tighter and that you are eating a lot less salad. You look at your face and notice that the dark circles around your eyes never fade. You keep trying to do the right thing even though the Saboteurs don't care and will continue to point out the one or two tasks that they can do are beyond what anyone should expect from them.
Meanwhile, you worry whether your rambunctious not-yet-two year old is developing on schedule because there is no one around who can tell you anything supportive. You don't have other mothers in your circle (you do, but they have lives and don't seem to have time). So you stay up late to work on projects to help her grasp certain concepts. Like talking (because that language class you took last summer didn't seem to help). You try to expose her to various things, which takes you away from your other obligations, so you feel guilty.
You always feel guilty, so you eat. And you drink. And stop trying to go to dance class. And you stop attending meetings. And you realize that you have to step down or step away or decline projects because of the drama in your life. And your anger becomes resentment and your bitterness becomes poison and your depression deepens. And then you worry too much that you aren't doing enough, so you compensate by running errands. Which means you are always in motion doing for everybody else.
You are taking some time to write about it because that is the only way to release any pressure. It is an emotional exercise, but necessary. Still solitary and often futile. But it offers some peace at times. Because none of the Saboteurs read anything you write.
Friday, March 31, 2017
Thursday, March 30, 2017
Better Intentions
I have been at this precise place so many times--regret that I didn't live up to the expectations I set for myself. Disappointment that I am always seemingly starting over from the same place, beginning again at the beginning.
This year is already a wash.
I had plans. I had intentions. I had goals. Yet here I am, with nothing to show for any of those lofty hopes and dreams. I am standing in the same sad spot and always for the same reason: My inability to put my needs above those of the members of my family.
Which family member? It never really matters. With the addition of a child, it would seem that I have an acceptable reason for never accomplishing much of anything, except that isn't the case. My daughter inspires my need to actually push myself to be more than just another frustrated, reluctant housewife turned obscure, undiscovered blogger. And as she has grown from sweet baby to this unruly, insane Toddlersaurus, I should have endless material from her daily antics. According to my blog journal (the notebook I carry to jot down blogging ideas) I could perpetually write about busy black motherhood and possibly *finally* garner a following.
Yes, I have a blog journal. It was part of the elaborate plan that has yet to materialize thanks to that other unyielding demand that I am always trying to manage. That other familial obligation that I am trying desperately not to resent, because that would be selfish. And we all know that whenever I focus any attention to myself, for whatever reason...
Yet, this did not begin with the choice to focus on myself insomuch as it feels like it began with the intention to do so. My intention to devote more time to writing and live vlogging and starting a podcast and a few other projects...all on the back burner because at the beginning of the year, a new chapter began in my long-running family drama. Which has left me bitter and angry and depressed. And eating all the time. Or sleeping. Or intentionally missing certain social engagements. Or doing drastic shit like chopping off my hair and dyeing it different colors including platinum blonde. Or not sleeping.
(I actually plan to write about this situation in a more direct form, but now I need to vent without identifying or defaming anyone.)
So here I am. Angry. Bitter. Depressed. Hurt. And feeling all of the guilt that was intended for me to feel because somehow, I am the only person who has any responsibility...
For the record, in the interest of trying to move beyond the anger, bitterness, depression, hurt, and guilt I have been willing to continue to make the uncomfortable choices. To be the person in the line of fire. To be Atticus Finch and do those unpleasant jobs that no one else wants. And it hasn't meant anything. I am still standing in the same fucking spot.
So, I am going to write anyway to try to work through all of my feelings. I've decided that this situation is less about my better intentions than it is about adjusting my expectations. I will simply write to let go of things and maybe that will help.
This year is already a wash.
I had plans. I had intentions. I had goals. Yet here I am, with nothing to show for any of those lofty hopes and dreams. I am standing in the same sad spot and always for the same reason: My inability to put my needs above those of the members of my family.
Which family member? It never really matters. With the addition of a child, it would seem that I have an acceptable reason for never accomplishing much of anything, except that isn't the case. My daughter inspires my need to actually push myself to be more than just another frustrated, reluctant housewife turned obscure, undiscovered blogger. And as she has grown from sweet baby to this unruly, insane Toddlersaurus, I should have endless material from her daily antics. According to my blog journal (the notebook I carry to jot down blogging ideas) I could perpetually write about busy black motherhood and possibly *finally* garner a following.
Yes, I have a blog journal. It was part of the elaborate plan that has yet to materialize thanks to that other unyielding demand that I am always trying to manage. That other familial obligation that I am trying desperately not to resent, because that would be selfish. And we all know that whenever I focus any attention to myself, for whatever reason...
Yet, this did not begin with the choice to focus on myself insomuch as it feels like it began with the intention to do so. My intention to devote more time to writing and live vlogging and starting a podcast and a few other projects...all on the back burner because at the beginning of the year, a new chapter began in my long-running family drama. Which has left me bitter and angry and depressed. And eating all the time. Or sleeping. Or intentionally missing certain social engagements. Or doing drastic shit like chopping off my hair and dyeing it different colors including platinum blonde. Or not sleeping.
(I actually plan to write about this situation in a more direct form, but now I need to vent without identifying or defaming anyone.)
So here I am. Angry. Bitter. Depressed. Hurt. And feeling all of the guilt that was intended for me to feel because somehow, I am the only person who has any responsibility...
For the record, in the interest of trying to move beyond the anger, bitterness, depression, hurt, and guilt I have been willing to continue to make the uncomfortable choices. To be the person in the line of fire. To be Atticus Finch and do those unpleasant jobs that no one else wants. And it hasn't meant anything. I am still standing in the same fucking spot.
So, I am going to write anyway to try to work through all of my feelings. I've decided that this situation is less about my better intentions than it is about adjusting my expectations. I will simply write to let go of things and maybe that will help.
Monday, March 06, 2017
Oscars So Black?
Every year I offer my take on the Academy Awards, and this year was
just WOW! As the title implies, this might have been the blackest Oscar
ceremony yet, and yes, I am using the word black to describe how much
of a complete 180-degree turn this year was after two straight years of
being so white. Here is my (belated) top ten list of great Oscar
moments:
1. Jimmy Kimmel: Hands down, one of the funniest hosts of the ceremony in many years. I know how much people love Billy Crystal, Whoopie Goldberg, Ellen DeGeneris, and Steve Martin and I love them all as well. But given how entertaining this new crop of late night talent is, we should never have to sit through another boring four-hour Oscar telecast ever again...
2. Mahershala Ali: Well, I expected this, so my hope is that his moment and enormous talent will not end up wasted like so many other best supporting actors, especially those of color. Hollywood tends to get it right when it comes to this category, with rarely any controversy or undeserved accolades, but then there is the dilemma of how best to showcase that talent beyond that particular film. Here's to hoping for better opportunities for non A-listers who consistently perform on A-list level.
3. The Documentary Film Category: This caught me completely by surprise. I was familiar with a couple of the films that had been nominated, but it did not register that four of the five had African American directors. Perhaps this recognition will offer more opportunities for directing bigger studio projects, which brings me to the significance of...
4. Moonlight: I saw this film on a whim one afternoon and I am so glad that I did. I knew about the film from the heavy promotion it received locally, especially on public radio and ironically, on Facebook. I left the film believing it to be somewhat over-hyped because of its subtlety, but I never felt that it was undeserving of the critical attention it received. Then as the momentum built towards awards season, I watched several interviews with the stars, the screenwriter and the director which offered me the chance to reconsider whether I had missed something. I had. I had completely missed how Moonlight was one of the few films about African American life that was not placed in a historical framework. It was not one of the typical important films, just a really good one that told a story that allowed audiences to discover its merit.
I know that there are various conspiracy theories about the evening's cliffhanger regarding the best picture announcement. I am not all that concerned that Faye Dunaway got it wrong (on purpose or accidentally on purpose)...nor do I feel all that bad about the "lost" moment for the Moonlight cast and crew to bask in the glory of the win. For me, all that matters is that this year a black director got to take home the statuette, and every time that happens, it makes the odds so much more favorable for the next black (brown, Asian, female, gay, etc.) director.
Finally, the Moonlight adapted screenplay win is also very important for future projects. As much as I enjoy historical pieces, it is equally necessary for there to be a variety of options for black directors when it comes to the types of films they get to contribute. If we only hand out statues for so called "important" films that only present black life through struggle and triumph, then we never really move beyond the two-dimensional limits that bring only certain films to wider audiences. I am happy to see a film like Hidden Figures in the mix, but I also want more opportunities to see other films like...
5. Fences: And I will count myself in the minority by arguing that it would have been way too black if Denzel had won (not that I would have objected)...but it is more fitting that Viola Davis finally won for best supporting actress, even if we all know it was a cheat. Denzel probably won't get another Oscar any time soon, but perhaps he can get out-streep Meryl and get nominated for everything he touches, even perhaps earning an Emmy nod for marrying that couple during that bit from the ceremony.
Seriously, I am glad that August Wilson's work will finally be more accessible to audiences beyond the theatre. It is fitting for Viola Davis to finally win an Oscar for Fences since she is one of the many actresses who have brought Wilson's work to life. Denzel now has a stronger platform from which he can help launch some up and coming or undiscovered talent, which is ultimately more important than winning an Academy Award this year.
6. Lin-Manuel Miranda: He is my boo...and as much as I LOVE the Hamilton soundtrack, his song "How Far I'll Go" for Moana sounded a lot like every other song on the Hamilton soundtrack. He is a tremendous talent, though, so he can be forgiven for relying on what works best for him (since it seems to work well for everyone else in the music categories). I am looking forward to watching his career continue to explode.
7. Foreign Language Film: That moment was absolutely the most defiant act of the night! Too bad I never bother to see the foreign language films...of course now, I might have to make an effort. By boycotting the ceremony, Iranian director Asghar Farhadi made the blackest statement ever since Chris Rock's opening monologue last year. Given the injunction against the travel ban, Farhadi could have gotten a visa to come. But it is obvious from his statement that he was far more interested in highlighting how the travel ban had far-reaching implications for various types of visitors to the States. And if protest against injustice is not the epitome of blackness, then I don't know what else is.
8. Emma Stone and Casey Affleck: The two major awardees who aren't hardly black...starring in films that weren't hardly black...but they deserve an honorable mention for being the minorities this year. Congratulations!
9. Gary from Chicago: I mean, yeah. On the tour bus with his boo of 20 years. Grabbing Mahershala's Oscar during a selfie. Getting married by Denzel. Becoming a Twitter sensation and a FB meme. Then being dragged for being a returning citizen. Yep.
10. Halle Barry's Afro: I am absolutely in the minority, but I LOVED her hair! And I think all of the criticism of her choice is a reflection of our need to be more open to unconventional expressions of beauty. On the one hand, we argue that natural hair is mainstream and beautiful, but then we spend half the night dissing Halle for wearing a big fluffy Afro! In the very year that the Oscars were this black, someone needed to rock a fro and why not Halle?
And those are just my initial thoughts on this year's ceremony. I have a little more to offer, so stay tuned.
1. Jimmy Kimmel: Hands down, one of the funniest hosts of the ceremony in many years. I know how much people love Billy Crystal, Whoopie Goldberg, Ellen DeGeneris, and Steve Martin and I love them all as well. But given how entertaining this new crop of late night talent is, we should never have to sit through another boring four-hour Oscar telecast ever again...
2. Mahershala Ali: Well, I expected this, so my hope is that his moment and enormous talent will not end up wasted like so many other best supporting actors, especially those of color. Hollywood tends to get it right when it comes to this category, with rarely any controversy or undeserved accolades, but then there is the dilemma of how best to showcase that talent beyond that particular film. Here's to hoping for better opportunities for non A-listers who consistently perform on A-list level.
3. The Documentary Film Category: This caught me completely by surprise. I was familiar with a couple of the films that had been nominated, but it did not register that four of the five had African American directors. Perhaps this recognition will offer more opportunities for directing bigger studio projects, which brings me to the significance of...
4. Moonlight: I saw this film on a whim one afternoon and I am so glad that I did. I knew about the film from the heavy promotion it received locally, especially on public radio and ironically, on Facebook. I left the film believing it to be somewhat over-hyped because of its subtlety, but I never felt that it was undeserving of the critical attention it received. Then as the momentum built towards awards season, I watched several interviews with the stars, the screenwriter and the director which offered me the chance to reconsider whether I had missed something. I had. I had completely missed how Moonlight was one of the few films about African American life that was not placed in a historical framework. It was not one of the typical important films, just a really good one that told a story that allowed audiences to discover its merit.
I know that there are various conspiracy theories about the evening's cliffhanger regarding the best picture announcement. I am not all that concerned that Faye Dunaway got it wrong (on purpose or accidentally on purpose)...nor do I feel all that bad about the "lost" moment for the Moonlight cast and crew to bask in the glory of the win. For me, all that matters is that this year a black director got to take home the statuette, and every time that happens, it makes the odds so much more favorable for the next black (brown, Asian, female, gay, etc.) director.
Finally, the Moonlight adapted screenplay win is also very important for future projects. As much as I enjoy historical pieces, it is equally necessary for there to be a variety of options for black directors when it comes to the types of films they get to contribute. If we only hand out statues for so called "important" films that only present black life through struggle and triumph, then we never really move beyond the two-dimensional limits that bring only certain films to wider audiences. I am happy to see a film like Hidden Figures in the mix, but I also want more opportunities to see other films like...
5. Fences: And I will count myself in the minority by arguing that it would have been way too black if Denzel had won (not that I would have objected)...but it is more fitting that Viola Davis finally won for best supporting actress, even if we all know it was a cheat. Denzel probably won't get another Oscar any time soon, but perhaps he can get out-streep Meryl and get nominated for everything he touches, even perhaps earning an Emmy nod for marrying that couple during that bit from the ceremony.
Seriously, I am glad that August Wilson's work will finally be more accessible to audiences beyond the theatre. It is fitting for Viola Davis to finally win an Oscar for Fences since she is one of the many actresses who have brought Wilson's work to life. Denzel now has a stronger platform from which he can help launch some up and coming or undiscovered talent, which is ultimately more important than winning an Academy Award this year.
6. Lin-Manuel Miranda: He is my boo...and as much as I LOVE the Hamilton soundtrack, his song "How Far I'll Go" for Moana sounded a lot like every other song on the Hamilton soundtrack. He is a tremendous talent, though, so he can be forgiven for relying on what works best for him (since it seems to work well for everyone else in the music categories). I am looking forward to watching his career continue to explode.
7. Foreign Language Film: That moment was absolutely the most defiant act of the night! Too bad I never bother to see the foreign language films...of course now, I might have to make an effort. By boycotting the ceremony, Iranian director Asghar Farhadi made the blackest statement ever since Chris Rock's opening monologue last year. Given the injunction against the travel ban, Farhadi could have gotten a visa to come. But it is obvious from his statement that he was far more interested in highlighting how the travel ban had far-reaching implications for various types of visitors to the States. And if protest against injustice is not the epitome of blackness, then I don't know what else is.
8. Emma Stone and Casey Affleck: The two major awardees who aren't hardly black...starring in films that weren't hardly black...but they deserve an honorable mention for being the minorities this year. Congratulations!
9. Gary from Chicago: I mean, yeah. On the tour bus with his boo of 20 years. Grabbing Mahershala's Oscar during a selfie. Getting married by Denzel. Becoming a Twitter sensation and a FB meme. Then being dragged for being a returning citizen. Yep.
10. Halle Barry's Afro: I am absolutely in the minority, but I LOVED her hair! And I think all of the criticism of her choice is a reflection of our need to be more open to unconventional expressions of beauty. On the one hand, we argue that natural hair is mainstream and beautiful, but then we spend half the night dissing Halle for wearing a big fluffy Afro! In the very year that the Oscars were this black, someone needed to rock a fro and why not Halle?
And those are just my initial thoughts on this year's ceremony. I have a little more to offer, so stay tuned.
Monday, February 20, 2017
Depression for Dummies
Depression is real. Depression is not just in my head.
NO, I CANNOT JUST GET OVER IT.
Happiness may be a choice. Depressed people try to choose happiness. But something makes that choice seem impossible in any number of circumstances. It would help tremendously if people understood that. I can be happy in a moment. I have moments of joy. But I can still suffer from depression in those moments.
One analogy I can think of is getting dressed during the winter. I can put on layers of clothing to keep warm, but if any skin gets exposed, I can still get cold. With depression, I can participate in a joyful celebration but if something goes wrong, it can ruin the experience for me. (And not necessarily the entire experience, just that specific aspect.) Most people would argue "Everything else went great, why can't you just get over it?" Because that is how depression works--I just can't get over it.
I just had yet another very futile "conversation" with the husband wherein his understanding of my issues boils down to his fundamental misunderstanding and, as far as I am concerned, his unwillingness to try.
I understand that it is hard to invest the emotional capital in someone who suffers with chronic depression. It is much easier to just walk away and leave them alone. I know because get left alone all the time. I am not suggesting that loving someone with depression is futile. It just means that you have to find a way to love that person to reassure them that no matter what, everything will be alright. I know that my family prefers to keep me at arm's length because it is easier for them. I just wish someone would make the effort to love me through my depression instead of in spite of it.
I didn't intend to spend this much effort on this topic, but I really needed to vent. I am going through another debilitating episode that has kept me pretty much confined to the house for the past month. I have gone out, but only as necessary. I have been trying...I bought some new lipstick and drastically cut my hair. I also admitted that I am going through something to others, which is rare because I never talk about my issues with others. I stopped short of telling people that I was depressed, but I was honest that I am dealing with a lot of drama that has left me anxious, frustrated and emotionally exhausted. People are a little more encouraging when you can offer specific terms to describe your feelings.
Just know that telling me to feel better is counter-productive. Telling me to pray is not offering a solution. Neither is expressing frustration that your efforts aren't helping (because my depression is not about you, it is about me). It would help if you stopped to listen, really listen without always trying to offer a fix. It is nice of you to pray for me, but how about inviting me to pray with you? If I cannot express exactly what is wrong, there might be any number of reasons why, but getting annoyed and giving up on me will only hasten a shutdown.
If any of this sounds familiar because you recognize yourself or someone else you know, I hope this gives you a primer on depression (not a clinical one, but a personal one). Maybe it will help you to become a better friend to someone who cannot always muster up the energy to be bothered with life beyond a self-contained bubble. I want to get through this, but I need help.
Thursday, February 02, 2017
Going to Meet the Whizard
I have been saving this tirade for weeks, but given the President's little breakfast, little get-together yesterday to launch Black History Month...it's time. Not that I expected any sort of grand gesture that would make up for his offensive and patronizing outreach to "the blacks" (because I honestly think his March breakfast for Women's History Month will really good), but some of y'all have had this coming for a while. This list is not in any particular order and I will address each offender individually. If you got left off this time, no worries because we've got four years of tomfoolery ahead:
1. Steve Harvey: My daughter freaking loves the Family Feud, so do you know how hard it is to find a tolerable alternative program for her to watch in the evenings when we need to do anything other than have her run around in circles??? But it's all good because she will learn to love Jeopardy.
But let me go straight to the heart of the matter--you did not go to the Tower because President Obama asked you to. Admit that you went there to ensure your hosting job on the next Miss Universe Pageant. Admit that you went there because he offered you a deal to license your name to substitute his on those cheap suits he sells at Macy's. Admit that you went up there because you had a temporary loss of sanity, but please do not tell us that you were acting as some kind of hood consigliere to #45 for the African American community. We know better.
2. Dr. Ben Carson: The only chance you have at ever becoming President is to be the guy that gets sent to the bunker during the State of the Union. Which we all know, you will be that guy for every SOTU address, but the kicker is that the rest of us will be dead so no one will care.
3. Pastor Darrell Scott: Bruh, who are you? Like for real, who ARE YOU?
Because are we supposed to believe that a bunch of Chicago gang bangers called you to offer props to the new Prez, and then said that they would stop the violence out of respect for him? Are you sure that wasn't a prank call? Because the utter foolishness of that offer is so apparent that I'm wondering whether you just thought of it on the spot as some sort of fancy gold-plated Black History Month present that you, some random preacher from OHIO, could deliver.
4. Tina Campbell: Girl, I get it. You are a Christian, and you want to be loving and forgiving, and you realize that your sister has moved on, so you need to carve out your own identity. We already know that you are batsh!t cray cray, that you forgave that Mitch of a manager, and you've got other issues, so we are just going to lay your name on the altar and keep it moving.
5. Kanye West: I keep thinking that your visit was really some kind of weird six degrees of separation mission of reality show insanity because you are married to Kim, whose mother Kris was married to Bruce/Caitlyn, who wanted to dance with the Trumpet at his Inauguration. So Kris set this up, you are being held against your will, and that was really a Kanye-bot that was sent to the Tower.
6. MLK the 3rd: I can't even begin to unpack this one. But again, I am hardly surprised that you allowed yourself to be used for a photo opp on the national holiday set aside to celebrate your father. Or that you allowed yourself to be used as a mouthpiece to explain away the nonsense of the Trumpet's twitter tirade against John Lewis. Or that you are still looking for ways to be taken seriously as a legitimate civil rights leader.
7. My Spelman Sister: So as the folks were being introduced around the table yesterday, I tuned out what was being said because it was clear that everyone in the room had some kind of active role in supporting the campaign. And honestly, I could care less about any of you, but someone told me that one of those eager faces belonged to one of my Spelman sisters. Thus, I have no words for you, just this picture:
8. Chrisette Michelle: I don't know you well enough to judge...but dammit, what were you thinking? Trust, you are not the first nor will you be the last black entertainer to be paraded in front of an audience for the benefit of some wealthy white folks who don't care a whit about you, your issues or what you thought you came to represent (ask Sammy Davis Jr., about that when you get to heaven). But dang girl, you don't even have the good sense not to act surprised that Spike Lee dissed you! And if you notice, Wynton Marsalis' corny ass piped down when he saw what happened to you. Lay low for a few years and come back when you get a clue.
9. Jim Brown, et. al: This was not that much of a surprise. In fact, because I believe your invitation, along with the invite to Ray Lewis, Floyd Mayweather, Don King and every other black athletic figure with issues were just fan calls, I can't be mad at you. I had written you off a long time ago for your toxic behavior towards women so as far as I am concerned, birds of a feather flock together.
10. Talladega College Marching Band: Don't think I forgot about that Inauguration parade performance. I didn't watch, and I suspect a lot of folks who normally would have been beaming with pride about the fact that their babies got to come to DC to march weren't watching either. Nah, scrap that, they watched and we are secretly proud because you are just a bunch of kids. Some of you can't vote, and among you that did vote, well, you have the right to exercise that choice however you choose. However, like the Rockettes whose jobs were at stake, members of a college marching band don't always get to take a stand.
So this criticism is not aimed at the band or the students, but at the alumni and the Administration of your institution. HBCU alumni talk big but don't have much to show for our cyber activism if our schools have to strike Faustian deals in order to raise money. And I don't know anything about your President, Dr. Billy Hawkins (no relation :), but I got issues with him going on FOX with his hat in hand knowing what would be the likely outcome of his appeal...which turned out to be more than $500,000.
But I know the high stakes of being a college president these days, especially at an HBCU, so here is where I put my money on the table and declare that I plan to donate to Talladega. This is NOT a reward, but a challenge. I expect y'all to graduate and to go on to do great things, but I also demand that you set an example by regularly contributing to your institution so this never happens again.
11. Omarosa: Don't worry...I'm saving all my ire for her to be published in a piece over at the Busy Black Woman blog.
1. Steve Harvey: My daughter freaking loves the Family Feud, so do you know how hard it is to find a tolerable alternative program for her to watch in the evenings when we need to do anything other than have her run around in circles??? But it's all good because she will learn to love Jeopardy.
But let me go straight to the heart of the matter--you did not go to the Tower because President Obama asked you to. Admit that you went there to ensure your hosting job on the next Miss Universe Pageant. Admit that you went there because he offered you a deal to license your name to substitute his on those cheap suits he sells at Macy's. Admit that you went up there because you had a temporary loss of sanity, but please do not tell us that you were acting as some kind of hood consigliere to #45 for the African American community. We know better.
2. Dr. Ben Carson: The only chance you have at ever becoming President is to be the guy that gets sent to the bunker during the State of the Union. Which we all know, you will be that guy for every SOTU address, but the kicker is that the rest of us will be dead so no one will care.
3. Pastor Darrell Scott: Bruh, who are you? Like for real, who ARE YOU?
Because are we supposed to believe that a bunch of Chicago gang bangers called you to offer props to the new Prez, and then said that they would stop the violence out of respect for him? Are you sure that wasn't a prank call? Because the utter foolishness of that offer is so apparent that I'm wondering whether you just thought of it on the spot as some sort of fancy gold-plated Black History Month present that you, some random preacher from OHIO, could deliver.
4. Tina Campbell: Girl, I get it. You are a Christian, and you want to be loving and forgiving, and you realize that your sister has moved on, so you need to carve out your own identity. We already know that you are batsh!t cray cray, that you forgave that Mitch of a manager, and you've got other issues, so we are just going to lay your name on the altar and keep it moving.
5. Kanye West: I keep thinking that your visit was really some kind of weird six degrees of separation mission of reality show insanity because you are married to Kim, whose mother Kris was married to Bruce/Caitlyn, who wanted to dance with the Trumpet at his Inauguration. So Kris set this up, you are being held against your will, and that was really a Kanye-bot that was sent to the Tower.
6. MLK the 3rd: I can't even begin to unpack this one. But again, I am hardly surprised that you allowed yourself to be used for a photo opp on the national holiday set aside to celebrate your father. Or that you allowed yourself to be used as a mouthpiece to explain away the nonsense of the Trumpet's twitter tirade against John Lewis. Or that you are still looking for ways to be taken seriously as a legitimate civil rights leader.
7. My Spelman Sister: So as the folks were being introduced around the table yesterday, I tuned out what was being said because it was clear that everyone in the room had some kind of active role in supporting the campaign. And honestly, I could care less about any of you, but someone told me that one of those eager faces belonged to one of my Spelman sisters. Thus, I have no words for you, just this picture:
8. Chrisette Michelle: I don't know you well enough to judge...but dammit, what were you thinking? Trust, you are not the first nor will you be the last black entertainer to be paraded in front of an audience for the benefit of some wealthy white folks who don't care a whit about you, your issues or what you thought you came to represent (ask Sammy Davis Jr., about that when you get to heaven). But dang girl, you don't even have the good sense not to act surprised that Spike Lee dissed you! And if you notice, Wynton Marsalis' corny ass piped down when he saw what happened to you. Lay low for a few years and come back when you get a clue.
9. Jim Brown, et. al: This was not that much of a surprise. In fact, because I believe your invitation, along with the invite to Ray Lewis, Floyd Mayweather, Don King and every other black athletic figure with issues were just fan calls, I can't be mad at you. I had written you off a long time ago for your toxic behavior towards women so as far as I am concerned, birds of a feather flock together.
10. Talladega College Marching Band: Don't think I forgot about that Inauguration parade performance. I didn't watch, and I suspect a lot of folks who normally would have been beaming with pride about the fact that their babies got to come to DC to march weren't watching either. Nah, scrap that, they watched and we are secretly proud because you are just a bunch of kids. Some of you can't vote, and among you that did vote, well, you have the right to exercise that choice however you choose. However, like the Rockettes whose jobs were at stake, members of a college marching band don't always get to take a stand.
So this criticism is not aimed at the band or the students, but at the alumni and the Administration of your institution. HBCU alumni talk big but don't have much to show for our cyber activism if our schools have to strike Faustian deals in order to raise money. And I don't know anything about your President, Dr. Billy Hawkins (no relation :), but I got issues with him going on FOX with his hat in hand knowing what would be the likely outcome of his appeal...which turned out to be more than $500,000.
But I know the high stakes of being a college president these days, especially at an HBCU, so here is where I put my money on the table and declare that I plan to donate to Talladega. This is NOT a reward, but a challenge. I expect y'all to graduate and to go on to do great things, but I also demand that you set an example by regularly contributing to your institution so this never happens again.
11. Omarosa: Don't worry...I'm saving all my ire for her to be published in a piece over at the Busy Black Woman blog.
Tuesday, January 31, 2017
Alternative Perspectives from the Twilight Zone
This is a cross-posting from the BBW Blog. I started writing it here, decided to publish it there, and then came back to tweak it a little more over here.
The Hub grew up watching the Twilight Zone, so every major holiday weekend when one of the cable stations runs a marathon, he half-watches every hour or so in order to guess the episode within the first few minutes. I begin with this seemingly random pop culture anecdote because life since the Trumpacalyspe has felt at times like one of those bizarre Twilight Zone episodes. For instance, there is the one when someone with a golden chip on her shoulder blasts a Hollywood icon for being too elitist...
Which is otherwise known as that time when Meghan McCain criticized Meryl Streep's Golden Globe speech. (I am a couple of weeks late, but I'm feeling a bit inspired by the Women's March to revisit this matter, especially since the Trumpet also made a point of lambasting celebrity activism).
The first irony, of course, is that Meghan McCain is herself an elite. She is the daughter of a U.S. Senator who happened to run for President. Twice. I'm not really sure what she does for a living, what she ever did for a living, but I know it currently involves working at FOX News. But even if she doesn't have any other real job, she is still the daughter of a U.S. Senator who ran for President, twice. Meryl Streep, on the other hand, is just the hardest working actress in showbiz (but let's not get it twisted as we all know that Streep is quite privileged herself, but go with me on this for a bit.)
I honestly would have overlooked this as white noise, but this weekend's juxtaposition of truth to alternative facts made me wonder. Why does an actor's statement at an awards show that only certain coastal elites bother to watch, and that would not have gotten much attention except for the fact that she took aim and fired a perfect shot at the then-President Elect without calling him out by name, matter to the conservative "activist" daughter of a U.S. Senator who ran for President, twice? Gee...
So my best guess is that as Meghan's Dad is still wondering why he is not vacationing with his lovely wife like the guy who beat him eight years ago, or painting lovely portraits like the guy who beat him 16 years ago, the family needs to find creative ways to stand up to the Trumpet. That guy who took the birther ball that McCain failed to deflate during his candidacy in 2008 and ran with it. The Trumpet. That guy who got endorsed by Sister Sarah, that chick McCain unfortunately tapped to be his running mate in 2008. The Trumpet. That guy who suggested that McCain was not much of an American war hero since he got captured and tortured. That guy.
So Miss Meghan seized the opportunity of the Golden Globes, the most self-congratulatory of the entertainment award season, to take a predictable swipe at Hollywood elitism and then quickly deny culpability since she and her family did not vote for That guy. That while she feels our pain, it is our "snowflake liberal" high-mindedness that enables folks like Meryl to dare speak out against him. I mean, what is she anyway, just some well-known blond with an opinion...
Perhaps it is the irony of Meghan's waning relevance as the conservative millennial who speaks for the little guy. Well, now that job now belongs to Lady Ivanka, but she still has a job at FOX, right? Oh wait, FOX just decided that Stacy Dash was redundant, so maybe they will be going in a different direction now that Rupert Murdoch is gone and the network is imploding. Can they fire the daughter of a U.S. Senator who ran for President twice?
Meghan, as the daughter of a U.S. Senator who ran for President twice, you could have used the opportunity to say a lot more about how Hollywood can facilitate building bridges to middle America without throwing bricks. How Hollywood has a responsibility to present diversity of opinion in such a way that demonstrates mutual respect rather than fomenting disunion. Instead, you emulated the Trumpet and deflected. If we really are on the same side in opposing the divisiveness that helped to elect him, then why perpetuate the narrative that certain Americans are somehow more authentically "American" than others?
What got the Trumpet elected was the unwillingness of men like your father, who ran for President twice, to do more than just not attend Trumpelthinskin's convention, not actively campaign for him, or maybe not vote for him. I remember how your father, who ran for President twice, politely corrected a woman at one of his rallies when she accused then-candidate Obama of not being an American. So having stood up and shown that type of character when it did not serve his interests back in 2008, it would have been just as courageous for your father to have denounced birtherism from the beginning. If he had, he could have saved us all from this American Horror Show.
Sorry Meghan, you do not get to blame liberals for the election of a reality TV star to the most important job on the planet. You do not get to tweet out nonsense and then assume that because you are the daughter of a U.S. Senator who ran for President twice, you bear no culpability. And it is not Meryl Streep's fault that your party got hijacked by its extreme fringe, nominated a demagogue, and is now stuck with him. Hollywood elites don't fan the flames of discord by embracing and promoting a narrow and opportunistic definition of patriotism. Tinseltown is far from perfect (having been shamed into making more efforts at diversity by a hashtag), but at least they try. The Hollywood version of America that Streep celebrated in her speech was an ideal, but it is far more reflective of what we are supposed to represent.
The Hub grew up watching the Twilight Zone, so every major holiday weekend when one of the cable stations runs a marathon, he half-watches every hour or so in order to guess the episode within the first few minutes. I begin with this seemingly random pop culture anecdote because life since the Trumpacalyspe has felt at times like one of those bizarre Twilight Zone episodes. For instance, there is the one when someone with a golden chip on her shoulder blasts a Hollywood icon for being too elitist...
Which is otherwise known as that time when Meghan McCain criticized Meryl Streep's Golden Globe speech. (I am a couple of weeks late, but I'm feeling a bit inspired by the Women's March to revisit this matter, especially since the Trumpet also made a point of lambasting celebrity activism).
The first irony, of course, is that Meghan McCain is herself an elite. She is the daughter of a U.S. Senator who happened to run for President. Twice. I'm not really sure what she does for a living, what she ever did for a living, but I know it currently involves working at FOX News. But even if she doesn't have any other real job, she is still the daughter of a U.S. Senator who ran for President, twice. Meryl Streep, on the other hand, is just the hardest working actress in showbiz (but let's not get it twisted as we all know that Streep is quite privileged herself, but go with me on this for a bit.)
I honestly would have overlooked this as white noise, but this weekend's juxtaposition of truth to alternative facts made me wonder. Why does an actor's statement at an awards show that only certain coastal elites bother to watch, and that would not have gotten much attention except for the fact that she took aim and fired a perfect shot at the then-President Elect without calling him out by name, matter to the conservative "activist" daughter of a U.S. Senator who ran for President, twice? Gee...
So my best guess is that as Meghan's Dad is still wondering why he is not vacationing with his lovely wife like the guy who beat him eight years ago, or painting lovely portraits like the guy who beat him 16 years ago, the family needs to find creative ways to stand up to the Trumpet. That guy who took the birther ball that McCain failed to deflate during his candidacy in 2008 and ran with it. The Trumpet. That guy who got endorsed by Sister Sarah, that chick McCain unfortunately tapped to be his running mate in 2008. The Trumpet. That guy who suggested that McCain was not much of an American war hero since he got captured and tortured. That guy.
So Miss Meghan seized the opportunity of the Golden Globes, the most self-congratulatory of the entertainment award season, to take a predictable swipe at Hollywood elitism and then quickly deny culpability since she and her family did not vote for That guy. That while she feels our pain, it is our "snowflake liberal" high-mindedness that enables folks like Meryl to dare speak out against him. I mean, what is she anyway, just some well-known blond with an opinion...
Perhaps it is the irony of Meghan's waning relevance as the conservative millennial who speaks for the little guy. Well, now that job now belongs to Lady Ivanka, but she still has a job at FOX, right? Oh wait, FOX just decided that Stacy Dash was redundant, so maybe they will be going in a different direction now that Rupert Murdoch is gone and the network is imploding. Can they fire the daughter of a U.S. Senator who ran for President twice?
Meghan, as the daughter of a U.S. Senator who ran for President twice, you could have used the opportunity to say a lot more about how Hollywood can facilitate building bridges to middle America without throwing bricks. How Hollywood has a responsibility to present diversity of opinion in such a way that demonstrates mutual respect rather than fomenting disunion. Instead, you emulated the Trumpet and deflected. If we really are on the same side in opposing the divisiveness that helped to elect him, then why perpetuate the narrative that certain Americans are somehow more authentically "American" than others?
What got the Trumpet elected was the unwillingness of men like your father, who ran for President twice, to do more than just not attend Trumpelthinskin's convention, not actively campaign for him, or maybe not vote for him. I remember how your father, who ran for President twice, politely corrected a woman at one of his rallies when she accused then-candidate Obama of not being an American. So having stood up and shown that type of character when it did not serve his interests back in 2008, it would have been just as courageous for your father to have denounced birtherism from the beginning. If he had, he could have saved us all from this American Horror Show.
Sorry Meghan, you do not get to blame liberals for the election of a reality TV star to the most important job on the planet. You do not get to tweet out nonsense and then assume that because you are the daughter of a U.S. Senator who ran for President twice, you bear no culpability. And it is not Meryl Streep's fault that your party got hijacked by its extreme fringe, nominated a demagogue, and is now stuck with him. Hollywood elites don't fan the flames of discord by embracing and promoting a narrow and opportunistic definition of patriotism. Tinseltown is far from perfect (having been shamed into making more efforts at diversity by a hashtag), but at least they try. The Hollywood version of America that Streep celebrated in her speech was an ideal, but it is far more reflective of what we are supposed to represent.
Week One
I have been inspired to write a lot lately. I have been posting a lot
to the BBW blog, and this piece started there, but I am posting it here
as I try to figure out a few things about my direction these next few
years.
I feel like I am just spinning my wheels here--both on this blogging effort and at life. I wonder about life generally because the older I get, things just seem to get more complex. There is a lot of shit swirling around me and I feel utterly powerless in its midst. There is a lot of change going on in the world and you already know how I feel about much of that nonsense and fuckery (yeah, I am back to cursing). And as writing is my refuge in times like these, I am placing a lot of pressure on myself to increase my output even though it is not entirely clear that it matters...
So let me address that issue first. I started blogging more than 10 years ago just to have a means of expressing myself, but I have been writing like this for years. Before it was called blogging, I wrote pieces in a spiral bound notebook with a black Bic ballpoint pen. When I wrote out some of my thoughts on the computer, I called it computer journaling.
When I began this effort, my intention was to be discovered as a writer. I had written a few things that had generated some interest, and after having two jobs where I wrote to convey the positions of others, I thought I was ready for the next level. I think back in 2005 when this blog began, I had hoped that I would end up writing a column for some online ezine or maybe I would have written a book or two by now.
Well, I am still at it, writing in obscurity. I am a decent writer, but not a very good promoter of my writing. In fact, I am not good at all when it comes to self-promotion or taking credit for things. I am like those artists that only focuses on making art, but needs lots of help managing everything else in their lives because the art becomes all-consuming. Or perhaps I am a writer afraid of both success and failure because I have found failure is way too easy. It takes the same amount of effort as trying to achieve success; however, success requires more sustained effort. Failure can happen any number of times but success seems to be a one-time shot.You get plenty of opportunities to make the shot, but you only get that one chance to make that shot.
After blogging all these years, I believe that I want more, but I am afraid of what more means. Does it mean that I need to dedicate real time to writing and not just make the most of stolen moments? Does it mean that I need to prioritize my craft above the needs of everyone else, and at what cost?
Which is where I question how well I am doing at life beyond my writing. This month has already been a bitch and whenever I think things have calmed down, shit happens. Like yesterday, I was working on this piece when I got a call that fucked the rest of my day, my night and is still causing me agitation. So when I contemplate whether I should become one of those people whose every waking moment is spent honing her craft, it is never a realistic thought. Or in other words, I could never truly tell the rest of the world to go fuck off while I write since a good deal of what fuels my need to write is the shit that happens to me!
My most honest writing comes from the constant questioning and self-doubt: have I been a good enough daughter, am I a decent mother, how can I be a better wife, why don't I feel like I am enough? Why do I take so much to heart? Why do I keep getting in my own way? Who am I to think that my dreams are realistic? Would I have been better off if I had just been content to be a mediocre lawyer? What made me think I had what it took to be any kind of lawyer in the first place (remember how you nearly failed out of law school)? Why don't you just give up and admit that you are a failure?
Because even if I am unexceptional, mediocre, average or just ok, I am not a failure.
So I will continue. The world may never discover me, or it might. I will continue to write when I need to express how the world affects me. I will write when I have a lot to say but no one available to hear any of it. I write to leave a record of my opinions, my thoughts, my anxieties and also my hopes and dreams. I write because I am a writer.
I feel like I am just spinning my wheels here--both on this blogging effort and at life. I wonder about life generally because the older I get, things just seem to get more complex. There is a lot of shit swirling around me and I feel utterly powerless in its midst. There is a lot of change going on in the world and you already know how I feel about much of that nonsense and fuckery (yeah, I am back to cursing). And as writing is my refuge in times like these, I am placing a lot of pressure on myself to increase my output even though it is not entirely clear that it matters...
So let me address that issue first. I started blogging more than 10 years ago just to have a means of expressing myself, but I have been writing like this for years. Before it was called blogging, I wrote pieces in a spiral bound notebook with a black Bic ballpoint pen. When I wrote out some of my thoughts on the computer, I called it computer journaling.
When I began this effort, my intention was to be discovered as a writer. I had written a few things that had generated some interest, and after having two jobs where I wrote to convey the positions of others, I thought I was ready for the next level. I think back in 2005 when this blog began, I had hoped that I would end up writing a column for some online ezine or maybe I would have written a book or two by now.
Well, I am still at it, writing in obscurity. I am a decent writer, but not a very good promoter of my writing. In fact, I am not good at all when it comes to self-promotion or taking credit for things. I am like those artists that only focuses on making art, but needs lots of help managing everything else in their lives because the art becomes all-consuming. Or perhaps I am a writer afraid of both success and failure because I have found failure is way too easy. It takes the same amount of effort as trying to achieve success; however, success requires more sustained effort. Failure can happen any number of times but success seems to be a one-time shot.You get plenty of opportunities to make the shot, but you only get that one chance to make that shot.
After blogging all these years, I believe that I want more, but I am afraid of what more means. Does it mean that I need to dedicate real time to writing and not just make the most of stolen moments? Does it mean that I need to prioritize my craft above the needs of everyone else, and at what cost?
Which is where I question how well I am doing at life beyond my writing. This month has already been a bitch and whenever I think things have calmed down, shit happens. Like yesterday, I was working on this piece when I got a call that fucked the rest of my day, my night and is still causing me agitation. So when I contemplate whether I should become one of those people whose every waking moment is spent honing her craft, it is never a realistic thought. Or in other words, I could never truly tell the rest of the world to go fuck off while I write since a good deal of what fuels my need to write is the shit that happens to me!
My most honest writing comes from the constant questioning and self-doubt: have I been a good enough daughter, am I a decent mother, how can I be a better wife, why don't I feel like I am enough? Why do I take so much to heart? Why do I keep getting in my own way? Who am I to think that my dreams are realistic? Would I have been better off if I had just been content to be a mediocre lawyer? What made me think I had what it took to be any kind of lawyer in the first place (remember how you nearly failed out of law school)? Why don't you just give up and admit that you are a failure?
Because even if I am unexceptional, mediocre, average or just ok, I am not a failure.
So I will continue. The world may never discover me, or it might. I will continue to write when I need to express how the world affects me. I will write when I have a lot to say but no one available to hear any of it. I write to leave a record of my opinions, my thoughts, my anxieties and also my hopes and dreams. I write because I am a writer.
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