Review: "Get On Up" (aka The James Brown Movie)

I went to see "Get On Up" on opening night. I usually avoid opening weekends unless I can catch a matinee or a non-"Black" theatre. (I love Black folk, but the stereotype about us talking during films is true. We're a call and response people.) But I worked on the social media promotions campaign, and should have seen a screening. I was traveling or working during all of them. I'm late. Womp. It was past time to catch up.

That said, "Get on Up" was well worth the wait and lives up to all the hype. Chadwick Boseman was INCREDIBLE. I hope he gets his just due come awards season, 'cause BAYBEEE, he DID that.

Funny story: my father was in town for the afternoon on Friday. I asked him if he planned to see the "James Brown movie" since for as long as I can remember, he's talked proudly about "Mr. Brown." He likes the music, but he is more impressed that Brown was a businessman who used his music money to become an entrepreneur. He didn't fall for the okey doke of so many artists of his generation that got famous, then went flat broke because of bum deals. (Brown's finances were messed up off taxes.)

So we're talking about the movie in the back of cab to drop him off at Penn Station. Dad interjects (hint, hint) that he's been dying to see the Motown Musical on Broadway. Then he says, "you know I knew him?"

Who's him? Berry Gordy? I guess that makes sense, since Dad used to live in Detroit at the height of the Motown era and was a DJ for a popular radio station.

But I ask for clarity. "Who? Berry Gordy?"

"I was around him but I didn't know him. I used to go to parties at his house," he explains nonchalantly, as if going to parties at Gordy's house is like going to grocery store.

So now I'm confused. "Who do you know then?" Because surely he's not talking about...

"James Brown. He was always around."

The "what?" look on my face was the same as the time he told me he used to play golf with Marvin Gaye. You have to understand, my dad as I know him, is a by-the-book corporate dude who focuses on politics. This guy had this whole other random life that I'm only getting snippets of now.

"Why haven't you ever told me about James Brown?"

He shrugs. "You never asked."

Yes, because it's entirely logical to think that your politico parent used to hobnob with iconic celebs.

Anyway.... "Get On Up" was awesome. If you haven't seen it, you must

Another random: as I was leaving a business meeting earlier, a British white guy, hears me and a friend discussing the film. He interjects. "I heard it wasn't so good."

Really? Because I've heard nothing but rave reviews from friends who saw screenings.

"Yeah," he adds. "The critics aren't loving it."

Meh. Somebody lied.  I've read the reviews, most critics agree that it's good. On Rotten Tomatoes, it as has a 75% approval rating.

Yeah, so, I took notes during the film because... I'm a blogger and that's what I do. My thoughts, mostly in chronological order:

**SPOILER ALERT** **SPOILER ALERT** **SPOILER ALERT** **SPOILER ALERT**

*James Brown in this green velour sweatsuit, ranting about who took a sh-- in his bathroom is hilarious. This scene is going down in epic Black movie history. BEST LINE: "you did right by yourself, ain't no other way to live."

*"Little Junior" is one of the most beautiful children I've ever seen. Face of an angel.

*Hold up, James Brown's dad is "Morgan" from Walking Dead. Lennie James is an accomplished actor, so I should probably describe him better, but that's how I know him. "Clear" is singlehandedly the best episode of WD.

*James Brown is the blackest Black man that ever lived. Seeing him in this white boy Christmas sweater is killing me. It was killing him too, apparently. "I'm in a honky hoedown," he tells Mr. Byrd (aka "Lafayette" from True Blood.) SIDENOTE: I hate that show now.

*The post-jail dinner table scene: I fell out when Gramps told him to "pass the beans before you get your bullshit all over them."

*JB convinced the members of the gospel group to conk their hair. When Mr. Byrd questions the move, Brown tells him: "your hair is rising up to The Lord." *cackle*

*Um, did Little Richard hit on James Brown?! I was waiting for him to try to kiss JB or glamour him. Sir Richard is still with us. Surely, they'll be commentary from his camp on his portrayal. In this role he is the walking embodiment of every Instagram meme titled "Lightskin [Men] Be Like..."

*I had NO idea Battle Royales were a real thing. There's an early scene in Ralph Ellison's "The Invisible Man" that describes one, but I thought that was artistic liscence. Color me MF shocked.

*JB's mother denied him to his face. LAWD!

*Is it me? I can't understand most of James Brown's lyrics. "Please, please, please" is the only song where I can make out all the words.

*Jill Scott looks f***ing amazing. And she is O-PEN!

*He beat the daylights out of her. JC!

*All hail Tika Sumptner. She's a baddie.

* Was JB the first Black entertainer to own a plane?

*I don't understand what's going on with the wife/ ex-wife. Did they get divorced? Based on what I know of JB, I'm pretty sure. But film is confusing here.

*I want a shirt like James Brown's dashiki in the "Black and Proud" recording. Had no idea those were kids chanting on the recording. We need another anthem like that-- or we should resurrect that one.

*Is that Black Thought in the band? (Answer: Yes.)

*"You can't make everybody happy and stay on top."-- James Brown *waves church fan*

*JB in this gold jumpsuit is killing me softly. This scene is where Boseman secured his awards. Nailed it!

*"I'm the show and the business." -- JB. *shakes tambourine* YASSSS to JB financing his own live album and reaping the lion's share of the profits. And also YASSSS to walking away from the "this is how it's always been done" conversation and coming up with his own way to make sure he got paid.

*JB was an egomaniac. You kinda have to be to think you can do what's never been done, and given his background, no wonder he had major personality flaws. But still... he pushed away a good friend. People like Mr. Byrd are hard to come by.

*Viola Davis has this 'Mom Who Abandons Kid" role down pat. It's like watching Antwone Fisher, but with actual dialogue from her. She's gotta get a few award nods for the Apollo scene. (EDIT: The Root points out that she also played this role in "Doubt".)

*My only critique of Boseman's otherwise spectacular performance is that he didn't have a full fledged meltdown after his Mom left. I wanted him to bring it like Don Cheadele in Hotel Rwanda with the ugly cry. That could be because he wasn't given the direction to. After watching the film, I KNOW he's entirely capable. No points deducted though.

*James Brown in these yellow rollers?! I'm dead.

*If a win come Oscar season wasn't secured in the gold jumpsuit scene, Boseman got it playing high JB. This is phenomenal acting.

*The denim suit and ascot? *closes casket*

*I'm in a completely full theatre. People clap when the film ends like we're at a Broadway show and Bosewick can hear it. I've only seen that happen at "The Butler" and "Dreamgirls". Maybe 5 people leave before the actual credits roll.

*Aloe Blac was in the movie? Where? (Answer: he's the band member who said "f--- you!" And bounced.)

What were your favorite scenes/lines from the movie?

6 Tips for Getting Ahead (Faster) in Your Career

Seven years ago, I was invited to a rooftop soirée, an industry- only event for women. It was a Who's Who of industry professionals. I knew their names and faces. They didn't know mine.

A friend and her friends were annoyed by the prevailing idea of women in "the industry." They were the types that went on speaking tours in high schools and colleges. One, the HNIC of an organization, would give her speil about working her way from intern to, well, HNIC, and when it was time for Q&A would be asked, "are you a groupie?"

It wasn't personal. It's that the young women only saw women in entertainment that looked like  them in two ways: groupie or video chick. Maybe rapper. That's it. They didn't know about all the behind the scenes women, the ones who make decisions and quietly run things, but don't get the shine like the people out front.

The women in attendance on the rooftop were once young girls who were interested in entertainment and they figured it out without the benefit of an organization. And  unless they wanted the doors they banged open to close behind them, it was time to start recruiting and helping. This, more or less, was how WEEN— the Women in Entertainment Empowerment Network— was born.

I was in the room because I knew somebody important-- a WEEN founder. I had written for magazines for years, but nothing groundbreaking. I was still trying to get on somebody's masthead. I was a book editor, editing romance novels at Harlequin, which sounds more glam than it is, if it sounds glam at all. I'd just started blogging on MySpace. People I didn't know had started reading and commenting, so I was expanding.

After the conversation and the name-picking (cause you know women have to vote on everything), it was time for mingling. I made a beeline for the editors. My bestie, Penelope (who doesn't work in entertainment), made a beeline for the bar. It was there she met the EIC of HoneyMag.com.

Penelope brought her over to me where I was sulking after being not so politely dismissed by an editor. "D, this is [HNIC]," Penelope began. "D's a great writer. She can write anything." That was her alley oop. She walked off, leaving me to dunk.

"What was the last thing you wrote?" the EIC asked.

"Um, I have a blog. On MySpace. I wrote about this date I went on and..." I explained, trying to sound confident, but nervous as hell.

"You write about dating?" she asked.

"Yeah. It's kind of like Sex in the City,  but like about me, a Black girl. In Brooklyn. It's starting to pick up traction. I think it might be great for Honey. I can send you the link," I said as I fished around in my purse for for a business card.

I was so busy looking for a card that I almost missed the good part.

"It sounds great. Send me your next post. We can run it on Honey."

Huh?

She started to repeat herself and I interrupted to be clear. "You want to run it on Honey?!"

She thrust her card out. "Yeah. Email me here when you have another post. We'll see how it goes."

Oh. Ok.

"And send me the name of your blog and a picture to go with it when you submit."

Oh. Um, Ok. I tell you this whole backstory for a reason. If I didn't have that friend,  I never would have been at that rooftop party. And if I was never at the rooftop party, I wouldn't have met the EIC at Honey. And if I hadn't met her, there might not have been A Belle in Brooklyn. I didn't even have a name for my blog when I met her. I was just writing because I had ideas in my head and my pitches weren't being accepted regularly. She was the one who made me focus.

And because there is A Belle in the Brooklyn, the blog, the book, potentially the scripted TV show, anytime WEEN calls and says, "hey, D, come speak to the girls at the WEEN Academy," I figure out time to go speak to the girls.

So that's what I did Tuesday (my third year speaking to them)  alongside my publicist and friend Christina Rice from Luxe Life Media.  About twenty young women packed themselves around her conference room table and we d told them our "how we did it" stories from Junior year of college on.

I'd tell you those in depth, but 1) this post is already long; and 2) I've told mine a million and one times on here. (If you want the most recent re-telling, it's here.)

So we tell our stories and to make sure the young women take something from it other than, "ok, story time", I ask each of them to tell me what they took away.

Here are the top 6 (with explanation):

1. Apply Yourself If you're moderately competent, you perform better than most of the people in your desired field. And you can coast by and maintain doing little to nothing. If you want to be the best at what you do, go after what you want. Don't wait for it come to you.

When I was a junior in college, I wrote a paper after I got home from the club. I just forgot about the thing. I stayed up all night and pounded it out. A couple weeks later, my professor reads this intro paragraph to the class, and I'm sitting there thinking, "if I could write like that, I'd be a writer." Turns out, it was my paper. I switched my major and actually decided to apply myself to writing because maybe of I tried, I could make something decent of myself.

2. Research Christina owned a clothing store when she was 22. She had some coin stacked from her job in promotions and events and felt like opening a store. So she got a bunch of books on how to do it, and voila. Just like that. At 23, she moved to a bigger space with 3-levels. Who does that? Christina.

Christina later decided she might want to be a publicist since she had a lot of connects. She read up on the job extensively, pitched herself accordingly and her first gig was the North American PR dIrector for a luxury French brand. Boom!

3. Build Relationships, then Build on Them Christina and I both got to where we are by building on what we've done previously. I'm a pretty good public speaker because my first job was giving presentations around New York City about how citizens should interact with the police. My first job as an editor was because two years prior I'd gone on an informational interview and made a good impression on a publisher. When I was ready to publish a book in 2010, I got fast-tracked because I worked in publishing from 2003-2007 and had contacts. See? building.

In Christina's case, she took those editorial contacts from the French brand with her to her next PR gig (see below).

4. Be Confident (and Graceful Under Fire) Christina was 20 minutes late for a big PR interview that a friend had recommended her for. She was meeting with the CEO. When she walked in, he told her he wouldn't hire her because she was late, but would hear her out. "Why should I hire  you?" he asked. Her answer? "Because I'm the best." She got the job.

5. Fill the Void Every lane is supersaturated. And yet, you still find yourself wondering, "why is there...?" Or "why doesn't anyone...?" That's where you come in. If you're wondering, lots of other people are too. Take the initiative and put them out of their misery.

I started my blog in 2007 because no one was saying what I wanted to hear. No one was telling the stories of growing through a quarter life crisis while Black (or any other color) that I wanted to watch/read. I complained and complained and finally someone said to me, "why don't you just write it then? I mean, you're a writer." So I started writing.

6. Go on Informational Interviews It's not a job interview. You're going to pick someone's brain about what they do, how they do it. AND who they think you should meet in your field that would be helpful. You'll get passed around the inner circle and someone will eventually have a job opening. Hopefully, they hire you. If not, you still have great connections at the top of your field. That will pay off in the long run. Bonus: Date (Actually) Nice Guys This isn't one that we discussed, but toward the end of the session, we were asked for closing thoughts, ie, all the things you wish someone had told you. As a dating coach, I had to weigh in with advice.

The guys you date can have a profound effect on your career. An unsupportive BF who doesn't get what you do or respect your work is a distraction you don't need. So is the guy who wants you to dim your light so his can shine brighter. What you want is a partner who sees the best in you and says "you can do it" when you're frustrated, and understands when you have to put in the extra hours. It's hard to find them, but they do exist. You'll get further and faster if you have a supportive partner, or you're single.

What advice would you give to young women 20-25?

I Interviewed Kerry Washington at BlogHer.. and it was Awesome!

I’ve noticed a pattern lately. When I write about some aspect of my life, I find myself “saying”, “I don’t usually get nervous, but…” I‘m antsy a lot these days. I wasn’t sure if it was some reaction to beginning to think of myself as a real adult (and the contrasting feeling of not feeling like one) after my most recent birthday or something else.

I sat and thought about it for awhile. It’s something else. I’m doing a lot of ish that I’ve never done before. Frankly, I’m out of my comfort zone. That’s good. I’m growing (not dying). But it also makes me well, nervous.

Sometime in early June, I was sitting in the Brooklyn coffee shop where I write everyday when I got an email from Allison Peters, Kerry Washington’s social media manager, asking that I give her a call. We met at SXSW in 2013. Allison introduced herself by saying she followed me on Twitter and was a fan of the blog. She was in Austin for a panel about “Scandal” and social media.

The e-mail sounded urgent. So I carried my iced coffee and my iPhone outside to lay on a bench and stare at the sky to contact her because this is how do business calls these days.

“Do you know your schedule for the end of July?” Allison asks once the pleasantries are out of the way.

There are a couple things on the table— Fashion Week in South Africa, NABJ in Boston, the Urban League conference in Cincinnati, a much-needed vacation to I-don’t-know-where, but-I–have-to-get-the-hell-out-of-here. But no contracts signed and no tickets bought yet.

“Nothing locked down. Why? What’s up?” I ask.

“Kerry is doing the keynote at BlogHer. Would you want to interview her?”

This is like asking, “When Jesus comes back, do you want to be in the 144?” Of course, I would want to interview Kerry Washington, but like as promo for her appearance at BlogHer? Or like at BlogHer? Eeek. I hadn’t planned on going this year.

“No, no,’ Allison explains. “Would you want to interview her on the main stage? A sit down interview with Kerry… for her keynote.”

Ohhhhhh!!!!! F**** yeah!!!!!!

What I say though is, “that sounds awesome. I’d love to make that happen.”

So she says the ladies from BlogHer will be in touch to set up the details, and if I could just send over my press kit and bio and she’ll take care of everything else.

We hang up and I call my manager and gush, “Ohmigod!!!!”, then call my publicist and do the exact same.

I lu-uh-uvvvv Kerry Washington, and I loved her in “I Think I Love My Wife” and “Last King of Scotland” and “Django”, but admittedly, I caught Kerry- fever, the Scandal equivalent of what I used to have for “Sex and the City” when she hit ABC prime time as the first black actress to lead a drama in my lifetime... which is f***ing crazy as I’m 35. Post- “Scandal” is when I started writing feel-good gushing articles about her like the one where I deemed her “The Queen of Repping Black Girls (with sense)”.

So the BlogHer ladies call, and the “details” are handled. Perfect.

And then what I just signed on for hits me, and I think, “OMG! What did I agree too?”

I’ve been a print/online journalist for 14 years now. I can interview anyone about anything if I have enough time to do the required research. And I always go hard researching because most people just read the press release and it annoys whoever you're interviewing. When you show up informed people will talk to you more and a whole lot longer than scheduled. That makes for a better interview and a better story.

The issue here is that I’m used to interviewing folks in more or less private—on the phone or a one-on-one sit down, often with a publicist nearby. The goal is always to have an interview that’s more like a conversation, again so people will get comfortable and tell you more, but if you miss an important query, you can always take a long pause (awkward silence) and circle back to get the information you need. The emphasis is on the information.

On stage (or TV), there’s less room for error. The flow has to be right, so does the pace. You’re trying to get information, but you also have to be entertaining. I mean, people are watching. I haven’t done an interview in front of a big audience—BlogHer is 3000— since 2011 at the Essence Music Festival (around 8000). I’m rusty.

I’ve done a fair amount of TV, but as of late, I’m the other side of the interview, answering instead of asking. I think about the content I want to share and how to present it, not what I want to gather and how. I’m on the easy side. All I have to do is answer. The interviewer controls the personality, the pace, and the program, or in the case of being on stage, the room. It’s not as simple as just throwing out questions.

So I spend the next few weeks in study mode, which means not only do I track down every major written story on Kerry Washington to find out the details of her backstory and what she’s been up to, I also watch all her major interviews. I want to know what she’s interested in and what makes her laugh and squirm. I overanalyze her personality to see how chatty she is to see how hard I have to work to get questions answered and make this a good interview. I’m also watching to see how the professionals – Ellen, Jimmy Kimmel, Queen Latifah, Oprah, etc.— pace their interviews and throw their questions so I can get it right, and potentially get Kerry to speak about her husband and daughter, which she’s notoriously private about. Getting an interviewee to open up about what they typically don’t is always the goal. Finally, I add her name to my Google alerts, so I’m up to date on all things Kerry.

I return from Panama on Wednesday. On Friday, I’m still exhausted, but BlogHer bound to San Jose for the big interview the next afternoon. I’m fueled on adrenaline.

Shortly after I get settled backstage on Saturday, in walks Kerry. It’s more than an hour ‘til showtime. Frankly, I wasn’t expecting her yet. Most major celebs will pop up at the absolute last minute. That, and right before they show up, there’s usually a sudden flurry of activity with people last-minute prepping to make sure everything is perfect for the celeb arrival. There’s none of that today.

Kerry just sort of appears with her publicist. She’s dressed Saturday casual in a cute pink top, jeans and sky-high black Loubs pumps. And she gives off the vibe of your best girlfriend, the one who you admire for her grace and always being (or seeming) effortlessly together. We hug “hello” and after greeting the organizers, she perches on the edge of the leather sofa and strikes up a convo with me. She knows about my trip to Panama, and asks if I’m doing Season Two of [The Show], which means she either reads my blog or follows me on Instagram. The person I’ve been studying has also been studying me. Go figure.

We talk a bit about how she’s juggling being a wife and mom. (I won’t give you deets because it wasn’t part of the interview, but I will say that though less guarded than she is in interviews, she’s still guarded. I am a journalist after all, and most celebs don’t trust us.)

There are two speakers set to go on before us. While the first is on stage, I use the downtime to go over my (long) outline. I thought we had an hour, we actually have 40 minutes, including a Q&A with the audience. I need to re-pace, cut out the clutter. I’ve got more than enough time, twenty minutes… or not.

One of the BlogHer organizers comes up to say they’re switching the pace. We’re up next. The second speaker (my blogger homie Luvvie Ajayi) will go after us now. We’ll take the stage as soon as the current speaker is up… in about 3 minutes.

Uh… ok.

The reaction to the interview was overwhelmingly positive. I felt good about it and I’m a hard critic on myself, so I’m going to go ahead and say I nailed it. I didn't get her to open up about her husband, but there were a couple cute moments where she heard a baby cry in the audience and started looking around. She joked about being a new mother and having an instinctual reaction.

UPDATE: Kerry Washington has spoken:

Here are the (edited) highlights of the interview (courtesy of BlogHer):

Demetria Lucas: Scandal returns on September 25. Can you tell us anything at all about season 4?

Kerry Washington: Well, I now know where the plane was going.  I wish I could tell you cause it's really good. The way the last season ended
 with Olivia Pope is kind of what you would do to a character you were writing off of the show. I was a little concerned but I am still on the show which is good.
 It is like a reset button has been pushed. Last season, I feel like Olivia stepped away from it all to try to take some control over her life. So the new season picks up here.

DL: How do you balance your privacy with social media?

Kerry: I think it's ever evolving. Sometimes I tweet about my parents because I can't resist. I do tweet about my dog but not my marriage or my kids. As an actor, I feel like it's harder to lose yourself in my work if you know too much about me. You may have to do a little more work as an audience member to dive into my relationship with my coworkers. I like to keep my life a mystery so you can enjoy the story more.

DL: I think it makes you more interesting. As an audience, we still do appreciate actors who hold a bit more back.

KW: The fact that I don't share it doesn't mean it's more interesting. It's a lie. I'm incredibly boring. [Laughs]

DL: How do you deal with some of the backlash about the image of a black woman in Scandal?

Kerry: I think my job as an actor is to embody humanity. I often felt a lot of fulfillment by taking a character that someone may have thought of as a stereotype and infusing that character with as much humanity as possible. As an actor, I'm given the honor of giving you an inside look into that person's life and their heart. Stories of a homeless woman or a drug addict, as an actor, I can force you to feel for them by letting you into their life, into their mind. I think every human being has value, I never think it's ok to think a character is worthless because of something they have done. Part of being a Black woman and being able to work, means I get to tell stories about people we don't always pay attention to.

DL: How do you deal with the negative comments on social media?

KW: I don't weigh myself because there's never a good answer on the scale. For me reading comments is the same way. It's brain clutter. But it is hard, in social media you feel like you're a community. People in social media can be very mean. Some of our cast members have struggled it a lot. Sometimes people come to social media to find a community, a sense of belonging, a place where they feel like they can empower themselves. Often that can be a positive place. Sometimes it's done in really negative ways by building community through judgment and criticism and a holier than thou attitude. I have to protect myself from that because it's sort of high school. As much as I want to be part of that community, I don’t look to the social media community to affirm my work.

DL: How do you choose your roles?

KW: My roles have been all over the place. Up until Scandal, I've had a really full and rich career. I prided myself on disappearing into the character. People don't tie one character into the other. Scandal has changed that, because there's no disappearing. I'm in people's houses at the same time every week. For me the way I choose my work is the material. It's all in the page and the writing. Wanting to work with the writing and the directing, and immense talent.

DL: The number one overwhelming question I got for you from social media is, does she get to keep the clothes?

KW: Um…No. We didn't want the fashion on the show to be fake, where very episode has new episodes. I wanted the clothes to be amazing because I felt like this kind of women would have a global aesthetic but I wanted her to have a real closet. Every single episode has an item you've seen before. Often, 2 or 3 reused items. So there's a very big Olivia Pope closet. People tell me all the time I want her clothes, and I say, “me too!” I wish I could afford her clothes.

DL: How do you find the balance with your family, the show, and promotional activities? Where do you find time?

KW: I'm exhausted. But I feel we can all relate to that. Women are all natural multi taskers and even if we're not, we figure it out. The mom part is new to me so I don't know yet what the balance is like. I go back to work on Monday. Up to this point, it's been really important for me to ask for help and say when I don't know and to be part of a community of women. It's been an amazing experience for me to have a woman like Shonda Rhimes and her partner Betsy Beers as my bosses. I benefit from having a woman boss in ways that are even hard for me to articulate. It is so tremendous to work for a woman. Every time we don't step into a leadership role, we are robbing somebody. I bring it up because Shonda has taught me a lot about balance. She's got 3 kids and 3 shows. She has tremendous power and she wields her power with grace and responsibility, I learn a lot from her. We'll see how it goes.

DL: Who are your mentors in this business?

KW: I have heroes, Cicely Tyson, Diahann Carroll, and Barbara Streisand. People who say that they don't fit [like] Jane Fonda, Shaunda Rhymes. The movie “9 to 5” resulted in the union for administrative assistants because it brought to light the need for union because of abuse in the workplace of women. So Jane Fonda is a real mentor
 of mine.

DL: Do you have a dream role?

KW: No, I don't have a dream role. My mentors are ones who haven't allowed age to stop them. So for me, I don't have a dream role because I feel like the bar keeps moving. Maybe I'm scared to have a dream role because I feel like I'll have to retire after that.

Full transcript: HERE

Right before the interview got started, I joked that we should have brought our phones to the stage to take a picture of the audience. Kerry’s PR brought hers to her and I suggested she take a crowd selfie, or er, “usie”? It turned out awesome.

Power Ep. 7: Jamie & Angela Have the Best Sex on TV

My flight from San Jose landed at 5:15AM yesterday morning. I got home to find out I was locked out. (Long story.) Finally got in at 7AM, laid down to actually sleep (because plane sleep sucks even though I finally bought a plane pillow, which helps immensely). And then when I couldn't sleep though I was bone tired, I watched Saturday night's episode of "Power", then slept til 5PM.  That's how much I like this show... though I realized I hate nearly all of the characters.

These are my thoughts on the most recent episode, in no particular order (and you'll only get it if you saw the episode):

*SPOILER ALERT* *SPOILER ALERT*  *SPOILER ALERT* *SPOILER ALERT* 

I HATE Lala's character (but love Lala). She's like the stereotype of the single friend who hasn't been in a relationship in forever. But she's ride or die for her girl, just like Tasha is ride or die for Ghost, and I respect that.

For some reason, I don't like Angie anymore. Can't put my finger on it. I think I was ok when she didn't know Jamie was married, but now that she knows and keeps the affair up, eh.... It's the "Olivia Pope" problem. At some point she just starts to seem overall stupid for, as MJB called it, "living in a dream." But Jamie be blowing her back out though... Whooo weeee!!!!!

I don't really like Tasha either, but she doesn't deserve to be cheated on even if her husband's outgrown her. And though limited in outlook, she does have  Ghost's best interest at heart. I felt real bad for her when she told her husband, "I won't embarrass you" when they showed up at Stern's house. Oh, and when the white lady asked to touch her hair after dinner, I cringed for her. That was especially weird as Tasha's hair is straight. I thought that only happened with braids and natural hair. Anyway, Tasha's an around-the-way, girl. That scene could have gone a whole lot different. She handled it better than I expected. (I give credit where it's due.) I also felt bad her when she saw Angie. They're worlds apart. She looked defeated in the car, and when she was standing in the mirror evaluating herself like, "why am I not good enough anymore?"

I... feel bad for Ghost. He's torn. Like "Stringer". Too good for one world, not good enough for the other. And struggling and lost. Just can't make a proper decision to save his life and so desperate to be understood and appreciated. If only his mistress could have a "Mary Jane" moment and tell the wife where she needs to step up. Sigh. Tasha would beat the sh-- out of Angie for trying that though. Womp. 

Stern's a muthaf***a. Exhibit A: "how do you get the Blacks and Latinos to show up night after night, and behave?" Ghost was mad that Tasha's stepped in to shut down Stern, and I get why, but she made the right call, even if she was doing it for the wrong reasons. She's obsessed with stunting this man's growth.

Elizabeth Rodriguez, the actress who plays "Poz", Angie's sister, is about to be typecast. She plays the exact same character on Orange is the New Black. Jamie Hector aka "Marlo" is also typecast as a drug dealer. He's so good at it though. Great, great actor.

Rolla's murder wasn't as bad as Wallace or Bodie, but it stung some. I think because the actor reminds me of Wiz Khalifa so much and I like Wiz. That and he makes me laugh, especially when he told ol' girl when she got back with his food, he was "gonna put this long nine on ya". There's some joke I'm missing in that 30 sec later, Ghost says something about 10 inches of snow. Honorable mention to that line about going to Miami to get "a got damn tan" and how he stays calling Tommy "Eminem". Bwahaha. 

I honestly don't care at all about Angela's investigation. I'm only remotely interested because of how this effects Angela and Jamie and what happens when one of them inevitably discovers what the other one really does for work. Somehow I don't see Angie being Tasha's kind of loyal: ride or die. If only this transfer for Detroit would go through. She's trying to keep the case, not knowing she's blocking her blessing. I'm also amazed that the details of what Angie does for a living never came up. I mean, I know she can't discuss the case, but "I'm a federal investigator" never came up?

My thoughts on Tommy haven't changed since the first episode: "Where they get this wild white boy from?" That said, I actually like him. All the man wants to do is his job. He's committed to Ghost and their business, minus the coke habit. He doesn't listen to Biggie: "never get high on your own supply."  I hate his awkward, clepto girlfriend (even before she stole Tasha's earrings).  For some reason, I think she's an undercover agent. Just a feeling.  Sane people run from people like Tommy, unless you grew up with him.

The lady hitta is gorgeous!

Fiddy's ol' devilish, messy self. He's an ass in life and in this role as "Kanan". I can't separate the two. LOL.  I laughed at the big reveal and his smile at the end.

Oh, and the driver? Sean ain't sh***.

I just realized that I strongly dislike or hate all of the characters, but I love this show.

Last thought: the snow throughout the episode was a nice touch. It's either a nod to the characters being in a whirlwind or some sort of "Winter is Coming" nod to GOT aka "the ish is about to hit the fan."

What did you think of Episode 7 of Power??

Ask FM UPDATE: "Bad BFF is Engaged to her Ex-Friend's Fiancé"

 

Dear Demetria:

I’m back! Remember me? Bad BFF? Well, quick update ... I am engaged to the ex of my ex-BFF. Crazy how things work out, right? I hope all women learn a lesson from this: Never, ever pass up true love. Loyalty is essential but has its limits. I’m glad I was brave enough to make that move. Not many women are. My ex-BFF can’t help me build a family at the end of the day. The situation may have not been ideal, but we both did what needed to be done. My loyalty lies with the man I was blessed with. The intent was not to be shady, but life isn’t black and white. —S.B.

I love receiving updates from people who have written in for advice and taken it. Usually readers want me to know that the solution I offered worked in their favor and they have moved on from a situation that wasn’t fulfilling and now feel better, or they have worked out an issue with their partner and are back on steady ground. That makes me happy.

This update does not.

I recall your story well. You wrote in seven months ago to say that you’d slept with your best friend’s man and you felt very “guilty” when he proposed to her. Her would-be husband was walking around as if nothing had happened and showed no remorse. She, your friend of 17 years, seemed happy, and you were wondering if you should tell her at all, or maybe wait until she’d been married a few years and then spill. I encouraged you to actually be the friend you hadn’t been previously and to confess sooner rather than later.

That was a hard ask, since you would lose your friend, but you wrote back in to say that you did it. And I was very proud of you. You made an extremely bad choice in betraying your friend, but you did what was best for her—and you—on the back end. We all make bad choices, and we can all recover from them and become better people. I hoped that you were on your way to being a better woman and friend. This update lets me know that isn’t happening yet.

Comedian Chris Rock isn’t a relationship guru, but he has many classic jokes (in the form of astute observations) about relationships. A popular one is when he speaks of people in relationships who show off their partners because they are happy. He says, “If a guy introduces his boy to his new girlfriend, when they walk away, his boy goes, ‘Aww, she’s nice. I have to get me a girl like that.’ If a woman introduces her new man to her girlfriend, when they walk away, her girlfriend goes, ‘I got to get him ... and I will slit that [woman’s] throat to do it.’”

Of course, that doesn’t apply to all women. Most women would not go after their friend’s man. But it does apply to some, and it does, unfortunately, apply here.

Your initial story and this update tell me that you have serious insecurity issues about your former best friend. You want to be her, and because you can’t be, you want to hurt her. Why else would you have sex with her fiance and then turn around months later and speak of marrying him?

Having her prize isn’t going to get you her life. And while you might feel that you’re winning and deluding yourself with romantic notions of fate and destiny, you are losing more than you know. The only person winning here is your former friend. She got rid of two untrustworthy people in one fell swoop. You’re dealing with her headache now.

This man to whom you’ve pledged your life, the one you call a “blessing”? He’s made that pledge before, to a woman he cheated on. And he walked around as if nothing was wrong and popped the question afterward as if everything was A-OK.

Read more on TheRoot.com

Read the original "Bad BFF" story here 

"Belle" featured on TheEveryGirl.com

I was honored to be interviewed by the lovely ladies over at The Every Girl back in June. They made me sound like I have it all together. They're kind.

The truth? On the morning the photographer showed up at my house, I overslept. I was up until the wee hours cleaning my apartment, ambitiously set the alarm for an ungodly hour to finish the rest in the morning and pull myself together for the photoshoot and didn't wake up to my alarm.

I woke up in a panic with 45 minutes to spare before photographer Erin Kestenbaum arrived at my house. Make-up? Check. Outfit? Check? Accessories? Check. Shoes? My publicist had to strap me in them. And the dust that shows up overnight on my all-black and dark brown wood furniture? Sigh. Check and check. Thank God, Erin didn't post those pics! LOL!

Someday, I'll be as "together" as I sound in this (really awesome ) interview.

The Every Girl asked for the blueprint on how I get things done, so I spilled all the details. Here are a few highlights from the Q&A (full interview HERE):

Take us on a brief synopsis of your (extensive and impressive) career path. I went to grad school for journalism because I wanted to be a magazine editor. I had difficulty landing a job at a publication that had an entry level salary I could live on. Frankly, I got paid more as a freelancer, so I became a freelance journalist and picked up a 9 to 5 in book publishing, initially for stability. I began editing romance novels, first for BET’s Arabesque line, and later at Harlequin. I loved it!

While I was at Harlequin, I launched my blog on MySpace. At a networking event, I pitched my blog idea—loosely, “the hilarious misadventures of a single woman dating in New York”— to the then-Editor-in-Chief of HoneyMag.com. She agreed to run it on her site and it was immediately successful. After “A Belle in Brooklyn” was up for a few months, an editor from Essence Magazine suggested I submit my resume for an open position for the role of “Relationship Editor.”

At Essence, I landed a monthly column in the magazine about dating and relationships. It was pretty popular. I was also still blogging and my site was doing really well. I knew from my book editing days that a wide-platform was a bonus in publishing, so I pitched a book idea based on my blog to Atria/Simon & Schuster. My first book, “A Belle in Brooklyn: The Go to Girl for Advice on Living Your Best Single Life," was published in 2011.

Since I write primarily about dating and relationships, people began asking me a lot of questions about those topics. I trained to become a life coach so I could help people more effectively and launched my coaching business, Coached By Belle. The demands of coaching, blogging, promoting the book and working a full-time job were overwhelming. I quit my job four months after my book was released and went into business for myself as a freelance journalist (again), full-time blogger, and life coach.

I’m currently putting the finishing touches on my second book, “Don’t Waste Your Pretty: The Go-to Guide for Making Smarter Decisions in Life & Love."

Your blog, A Belle in Brooklyn, was awarded Best Personal Blog at the 2010 Black Weblog Awards. What encouraged you to first start blogging? How has your blog impacted your career? What has been the most rewarding blogging experience? I began blogging because there wasn’t a woman of color in media I felt reflected me and my circle of friends. We are Black and smart, and middle-class, and fun and silly, and optimistic, and there are a lot of us, but in media we’re not shown often. Too often what you see in media is stereotypes of what people think Black women are. That was something I complained about a lot, and finally one of my friends just said, “You’re in media. Why don’t you do something about it?” So I did; I put my first blog post up on MySpace the next day.

My blog has been the cornerstone of my career. It helped me land my dream job as an editor and columnist at Essence magazine, which was a dream come true. It’s also the basis for my first book, I’m currently working on a scripted TV series based on my book, and I was plucked to appear on Bravo TV’s “Blood Sweat & Heels” because my blog garnered me the inescapable moniker “The Black Carrie Bradshaw."

The most rewarding experience is when women thank me for sharingour stories. I say “our” because there are a lot of women who, like me, felt they weren’t represented in the world, and I gave their lives a voice. Nothing tops that. As a freelance writer for The New York Times, People, and former editor and columnist at Essence magazine, do you have any advice on developing a signature editorial voice? Be yourself. So often, especially as new writers, we start out trying to imitate the people we read and whose work we adore. You are a poor imitation of someone else. You are an amazing original. Also, say what everyone is thinking, but no one is saying, even if that isn’t PC.

You’ve worked for well-known magazines and websites like XO Jane and The Grio. You're also a media personality, having appeared on The Today Show and The Anderson Cooper Show. Not to mention been a guest speaker at Harvard and Princeton! How were you able to create those work relationships? Two reasons: I consistently pitched great story ideas to websites and they pull big numbers. That’s how I became a regular contributor. Many of my stories went viral, or were at least widely read, and producers from various shows invited me on to share my POV. That, and I hired the best publicist I could afford to make sure those great stories got in front of the right producers.

The college speaking circuit came about in an interesting way. Many of my readers are college students. They are smart, ambitious young women who lead organizations at their schools. They invite me to come speak. Other than my two alma- maters, I’ve never pitched to speak at a college. I love speaking to students though, so maybe I should. Hmmm.

You currently star on Bravo's "Blood, Sweat, & Heels." How did this opportunity come about? Tell us about your role and what it’s like working in reality television. Bravo was looking to do a reality show similar to “Sex and the City”, but the missing Black women that SATC left out. So I’m told, the producers were looking for a “Carrie Bradshaw” type and literally googled “Black Carrie Bradshaw.” That just so happened to be the title of a Washington Post feature story that was done on me in 2010. So, voila!

I’m one of the “voices of reason” on the show. It was an, um, interesting experience, sometimes quite fun. Maybe I’ll write a book about it someday. The behind the scenes antics are better than anything aired.

What obstacles have you faced during your career, and how were you able to overcome them? Learning something new is always a challenge. From getting started as a blogger, becoming an editor, learning to speak in front of large audiences, to writing a book proposal, and becoming an entrepreneur, there’s always a steep learning curve involved. I got through all of that by asking for help from someone who had already done what I was trying to do. I don’t believe in struggling and making unnecessary, avoidable mistakes just to say I did it the hard way. I ask for help upfront and in a hurry. Someone always has an answer I don’t.

As an author, editor, blogger, life-coach, and reality television star, how do you achieve a work/life balance? The advice I give when clients ask is to remember that everything isn’t a four-alarm fire. Everything doesn’t need all of your attention all the time. Prioritize. What I actually do though? I work around the clock when nothing in my personal life is pressing so I’m ahead of the game when something comes up. I also say “no” a lot.

Best moment of your career so far? Becoming my own boss.

What advice would you give to your 23-year-old self? Keep going. I know you don’t think you’ll get there, but you will if you don’t give up. Oh, and enjoy the ride.

Read the full article: here 

A Belle in Panama: I Saw God in Myself

Remember a couple weeks ago when I saw “For Colored Girls…” as a play, for the first time? (If not, click here.) There was this moment in the “green room” (which was not green, just a conference room where the held the actresses/ hosts/experts, etc.) where 30-40 Black women needed to rehearse the closing song and in unison this entire room of Black grown women with these big, trained voices start wailing, “I saw God in myself” over and over and over.

Ok. So that’s what pops in my head when we—Me + Alex, Javier, and Dash (all American-born Panamanians who moved back to Panama)—pull up to Iglesia San Felipe, the Portobelo church where “El Cristo Negro” aka “El Nazareno” aka the Black Christ is housed 364 days a year. (On October 21, he’s carried around the town.) I’m nervous. And I’m not sure why. It’s like I’m going to meet someone and it’s a big deal, not like I’m going to see a statue.

The group I’m with has seen the statue before, several times. It’s not that they’re unimpressed, it’s that the novelty isn’t there anymore.  That and they’ve seen the annual celebration El Cristo Negro, which means they’ve watched people crawl to Black Christ while someone else poured hot wax on their back for penance. After that, just seeing the statue of Black Jesus behind a glass, no less, doesn’t have the same “umph!”

But me? Look it, Linda, listen, I didn’t know about Black Christ in Panama, or anywhere else in the world, for that matter (this isn’t the only one). And I did my research on Panama. I Googled ish, and I read travel blogs, and I bought a book about Panama and I brushed up on my Spanish (not enough), and I asked Panamanians where to go and what to do and nothing I read and no one I talked to mentioned Black Jesus.

A commenter on Instagram (@jenniferrosenyc) is actually the one who put me on when I started posting #abelleinpanama pics. She mentioned the statue and I was like, “Huh? WHAT?!” and looked it up and then totally –excuse the phrasing, but it sums up my thoughts so accurately— lost my entire sh—.  I was up until 2 AM reading up on Black Jesus. Then I re-arranged my whole trip to see it, or, er, them. There are two.

Lemme explain. My grandfather was a Pastor and his wife was the First Lady and the choir director and the organist. I spent every summer with them, these super religious people, until I was 12. They were the type of Old Christians that didn’t allow R&B played in their house—my grandmother confiscated by Babyface cassette because of the lyrics to “Whip Appeal”—  and didn’t allow women to wear pants to church, even for choir rehearsal.

On my grandmother’s bedroom wall, the ONLY picture hanging was of white Jesus—blonde-haired, blue eyed Jesus— in prayer. The Jesus? I got it because she was very religious. But White Jesus? It just never made sense to me. I mean, we’s Black. Shouldn’t our Jesus look like us?

And I didn’t know why I thought that until much, much later when I was taught to think critically and over analyze everything so you can catch other folks with the okey-doke, but not get caught yourself:  I read the “Autobiography of Malcolm X” when I was “too” young. That whole NOI bit about white folk being made in labs and their theft stuck with me (less so the lab part). The idea that criminal-minded Black men learned about a God in their image and had a come to Jesus, or er, Allah moment and turned their lives around enough to put on suits and bow ties to stand in the hot ass sun selling newspapers and bean pies meant there was something to the idea of a God who looked like you. I mean Malcolm X was a white-woman humping, borderline devil-pimp and look what he became after he was introduced to the idea of God in his own image? There’s something to it. It’s why every race of people—except Black folk—have it and promote it. When you see God in yourself, you act different. You act better. You think better of yourself. You don’t accept being treated as inferior.

I made that connection as a kid even if I couldn't articulate it well. But I did enough to convince my folks— the ones who bought the Malcolm X book and put it on the shelf, so it wasn’t really far-fetched— to buy one of those “Last Supper” paintings with Black Jesus as the host, and Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X, and Marcus Garvey as disciples and put it on the wall in the living room. But my mama still got up every Sunday and went to a church with a Black minister and an entirely Black congregation in an nearly all Black city that had Big White Jesus, arms out stretched and welcoming you at the entrance in the middle of the hood, ie, where Black people lived.   My Dad, raised in the church, didn’t “do” church anymore by then. “Well, Daddy doesn’t go” wasn’t ever a good enough excuse to get me out of going, but when I said, “I’m not going to a church with a white Jesus on the wall” my mother didn’t have a comeback and relented, so I slept in after that.

The Bible I grew up on describes Jesus with hair like wool and feet like brass and this must mean Jesus is Black, or the very least brown. This is my pet topic, has been for years. It pisses people off. Folks, Black folks, hit me back with, “I know, but…” and then talk about how Jesus’s color doesn’t matter. (A woman hit me with it yesterday when I started posting Black Jesus pics on Instagram). But it does matter. That’s why the reigning image of Jesus wherever white folks dominate the culture looks like them and not at all how He’s described in the Holy Bible.  You can’t recognize Jesus – and by default God and his mama—as Black, and then be A-OK with treating Black people like sh---while Christopher Columbus-ing all their labor/land/resources.

Black Jesus matters. And I thought for a really long time that maybe I was kinda off for making such a big deal about it. There's that, and maybe I’m not the right messenger.  Like, I know I talk about relationships and dating  a lot, and I’m on a reality TV show, an occupation which like no one I respect actually respects, and I occasionally write about utter drivel (that gets hits). I realize many people think I’m fluff.  And sometimes I am. But I’m also borderline Nas on “No Introduction”:

I just act like I'm civilized Really what's in my mind is organizing a billion Black motherf--uckers To take over JP and Morgan, Goldman and Sachs And teach the world facts and give Saudi they oil back

Anyway….

Black Jesus in Portebelo and the Black folk in Panama who have been acknowledging his awesomeness for 350+ years is the sign I’m not crazy, or some Black revolutionary without a real cause. El Cristo Negro is an affirmation of my sanity. And that's why I'm nervous. It's like you believe something your whole life and there's no proof (ie, faith), everyone you know says you're nuts for harping on it, and then one day you get validation. You're not the only one. I also feel relieved.

So I go in to the church and I walk up to the candles in front of Black Jesus, and look up. And then I walk around them, and walk right up to the bottom of the stairs. He’s at the top, and He’s looking out and I’m still looking up and I take a bunch of pictures from different angles because I know I’m putting this on Instagram and I want all the new follows who thought they were just going to look at the clothes and big hair of some random chick on reality TV who talks and curses and rolls her eyes at dumb sh-- “too much”, to actually get something out of paying attention to me, something that actually matters.  A God in their image matters.

In case you were wondering why I do it, reality TV is my "motherf--er."

Dash asks me if I want to take a picture with Jesus. It would require me to go up the steps and stand close to him, at the same level. I don’t want to.

It’s partly because… well, I’ve spent several days going in and out of Panamanian churches on my trek around Casco Viejo and I’ve noticed something. American and European depictions of Jesus make him look sad, but stoic, a level-head when everyone around him is losing theirs.   Jesus is nailed to the cross with a crown of thorns, but there’s no blood. And Jesus looks he’s accepting his fate, taking his crucifixion like a G. In Panama though? He looks tortured and miserable and suffering. There’s blood gushing down his face. And many of the Jesus—it’s plural like “deer” and “fish”, right?— I see are life-size. So not, 3 foot carved statue of Jesus where you can be like, "oh, a figurine of Jesus", but like  6-foot- plus Jesus who looks too-human, in pain, bloody and with weave/wig hair. He didn’t just die for our sins; He was cut down to the white meat and drawn-out tortured for us can’t act right, insufferable a--holes so we better be REALLY thankful for Him. So nah, I’m good on getting close to suffering, real-person looking Jesus who looks like he could reach out and smite someone.

There’s that and, I don’t want to be equal with Jesus, even in pictures. We’re not the same, not on the same level. Today, in this moment, despite being raised in the church, I feel like I just met Jesus for the first time. I actually feel connected to God. I like looking up. I like respecting something, someone bigger than myself. I've been walking around since I saw the statue feeling like Jesus walks with me, and it's not some guy who looks like someone I would like never hang out with (I don't have any white male friends); this Jesus actually looks like one my homeboys. No, really. I've joked for years that one of my best friends looks like "Black Jesus". I was on to something.

So yeah,  I ain’t setting foot in a Black church with a White Jesus again.

And I’m also not saying I’m completely changed person.

After we left Portobelo, we headed to Isla Grande, a little island, a five minute ride off the mainland. We convinced the “driver” of the boat to take us to the beach by the other Black Jesus. Yes there are two, because this group of Black folk in Colon apparently love themselves some God in their own image. The Other Jesus is crucified, strung up on a cross in the middle of the ocean. I went into the water and took a bunch of pictures of him while humming Marvin Sapp songs and sipping from a red cup.

I’m a work in progress.

A Belle in Panama: Isla Taboga

 

I got up early this AM (Friday) and took a ferry to Isla Taboga. I left too early to grab free breakfast at the hotel, so I found a hotel on the island that was still serving it. The plan was to head to the beach after and do nothing. Yes, I have to plan to go blank. And I ordered a veggie omelette

While I was waiting with my coffee and for my food, a sneak storm comes. I look up from my book when I hear a bang of thunder, and all the sudden the sky is dark, the water is choppy, and the wind is whipping everything around. The manager is running from door-window to door-window closing everything and just when he finishes, the sky opens up. It's rainy season.

So I sit and eat my breakfast and watch the show Mother Nature puts on. And then I go back to reading my book until the storm passes. 3.5 hours later, the sky has stopped leaking and I have finished "Who Asked You?", which was a GREAT read.

I sling on my backpack and go exploring in the direction of the beach. It looks like something out of "The Beach". Remember that movie where young Leonardo DiCaprio goes HAM? Exactly like that. It's beautiful and I have one of those I-Can't-Believe-This- Is-Life moments. I take a bunch of pics, then abruptly stop. I took a helicopter to the middle of the Grand Canyon once and the pilot, a woman, told us about this guy who’s “a regular”, who comes to the Canyon and never takes pics. He spends the visit taking the view all in, and when he forgets what it looks like with clarity, he comes back. I want to be like that guy. I want to enjoy the moment and I want to come back here (again and again) and bring friends so they can experience all this awesome.

I put my phone away and I walk to the water. It's bath water warm. And I just stand there looking and watching folks swim and leaves blow and what looks like a film being well, filmed and these guys digging holes big enough to be graves in the sand and then I just stare at the pretty houses in the hills.

I don't know how long I stand there. But when I've had my fill, I go find a restaurant with $3 red wine, and I sit at the table and read "Lucky" with Solange on the cover talking about how she stopped wearing prints and likes solids and color-blocking now and I realize this wardrobe change is the entire hook of the story. "Elevator-gate" doesn't even come up. Womp.

I fall asleep for part of the boat ride back to the mainland. And I hail a taxi and negotiate the rate with the driver. He offered $10, I haggled him down to $5. I should have paid no more than $4, but... My Spanish is getting better, I see.

When I get Wi-Fi again, there's a text from Alex. In summary, we're renting a car tomorrow to go see both Black Jesuses in Portobelo and Isle Grande.

I'd tell you more, but now I have to go find said rental car place and extend my stay at the hotel/find another room. My goal is to stay here at hotel Tantalo. I came back from my trip today to find a note and a sparkling VIP band on my bed. There's a "battle of the pianos" in the lobby tonight, the letter reads. They, hotel management, hopes I will come down to join the festivities. As an added incentive, all drinks are on the house if I wear the band.

Other thoughts:

I'm amazed how long  the battery in my phone lasts when I'm not on text, Twitter, Facebook + AskFM. Like I can go a whole entire day without re-charging. I'm usually dead after 3 hours. I'm notorious for asking anyone (including strangers), "do you have a charger?"

I've spent the last three days listening solely to alternately The Best if Dionne Warwick and The Best if Luther. They actually make the same songs to different music. No, really. Warwick recorded "House is Not A Home" before Luther. She was actually a huge influence on him as a musician. (With all my downtime doing nothing, I looked it up.)

Single dollar bills (and to a lesser fives are more precious than gold. Panama is big on exact change. Twenties, also the most common denomination dispensed by ATMs here, are the devil. People are like that's A meal can be $13. You whip out $20 and folks are like, "Oooh! Nooo." I got a drink the other day for $6, whipped out a $10. The barista was like "ooh. Mmmmm." (She finally broke it.) I gave a cab driver a $5 for a $4 ride. He looks at me like O_o. I wasn't getting out to get change, so I just gave him the $5. Hmmm. Maybe he knew that was going to happen. Anyway, I don’t understand how I’m supposed to get change if no one ever has any. Conundrum.

A Belle in Panama: The Art of Doing Nothing

You know what is my biggest issue being in Panama? Stopping me from me.

I keep looking for things to do to keep me busy: a walk here, a ferry there, a cab here, a look-see there, etc.

I set my alarm this morning for 6:30AM planning to head to Isle Taboga, a little island with a beach-- Panama City proper doesn't have one— about 60 minutes off the mainland. There’s only one ferry going and one returning, so I fancied myself to have a day trip of exploration and getting up at 6:30 AM on my second day of vacation. I’ve been in Panama City for 36 hours, and I’m already trying to run off when I need to just be still.

I forced myself to turn off my alarm and actually get some rest, especially since I was up til 4AM the “night” before. Folks told me Panamanian coffee was good, and it is. “They” didn’t say how strong it was, but now that I think about it, that could have been what they meant by “good”. Hmmm.

Anyway, I’ve made plans to do nothing today—or nothing major. I’m headed to Armador  Causeway later this afternoon to ride a bike and the plan park myself under a shady palm tree and put another dent in Terry McMillan’s “Who Asked You?”, which I’m really enjoying. That’s my plan for the entire day. Oh, and dinner. Somewhere fancy. Maybe Italian?

I don’t like to be still, but I NEED to be. Being in another country, especially one where I don’t speak the language well, has its challenges, to put it mildly. It's frustrating not to be able to communicate effectively and I get lost a lot. I didn’t realize how unrelaxed this was making me until I welled up with tears at the sight of a toothbrush.

In addition to draws, I left that at home too, so I spent all day Wednesdayy with dirty teeth. It’s not like I didn’t try to find a toothbrush, just no one knew what I was asking for and my wi-fi (pronounced here as “we- fee”) outside of they hotel was sketchy and I couldn’t look up the word, and… you get the drift. Anyway, after spending three hours at the mall alternately chilling, shopping, walking in circles and searching for a toothbrush, (ie, asking various shop girls if they knew where I could find one, ie, Me: “Emm…. Donde esta..." *makes brushing motion with hand *) I finally found a woman dressed for a store promotion in about the same outfit Rose wore to board the Titanic who spoke enough English to know “toothbrush.” This was right after I’d left the mall to walk aimlessly around it searching for anything that looked like a drugstore and came up empty. Defeated, I was headed back to the mall to catch a cab, spotted a Courtyard Marriott and popped in to ask the guy at reception in English if they sold toothbrushes. He in turn asks me, “did you try the mall?”

Anyway, chick dressed like Rose pointed me toward perhaps the fanciest drug store ever and there I found a plethora of toothbrushes on display and tears came like Lenny Williams in that “oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh” song, except he had a better reason.

I tried my luck to look for Black hair care products since I left my black gel at home too. (Yes, that black gel. The old school kind. What you know better that holds down black girl edges in humidity? Exactly.) That was just me being ridiculous though. No gel. Not even anything for silky haired folks. Plenty of perm boxes and products to maintain a keratin treatment though.  :-/

Random: my hair is going to look like Pure D sh—in 2 more days. I am solely hair- equipped with a bottle of oil lotion and a can of oil sheen. And rubber bands. Oh, and no Black girl brush. Don’t expect IG pics of me after Saturday.

I was out all day yesterday (Wednesday) so I showed up to a much-anticipated dinner with my favorite writer  (Alex Hardy) with edges that looked like a Black girl who’d been at play all day. He was kind enough not to notice, or better, not say anything. Bless him.

I was kinda nervous to meet him because so many people aren’t in person who they are online. He is. And that – and dinner at Black-owned Caribbean restaurant (the owner went to HU, ha!)— was awesome. We talked for two hours about life, and writer ish.

I planned to go for a walk when I got back to my hotel. Instead, I knocked out my second column for The Root so my editor wouldn’t be mad at me for missing deadlines. After this, I’m actually on vacation…. at least til Tuesday. Now to learn the art of doing nothing.

A Belle in Panama: The First 24.

It took me 12 hours to get to Panama. I'd planned for 8.

Actually it took me 6 days and 12 hours.

Let me explain.I was supposed to leave for Panama on July 10, the day after my birthday. I bailed on the latter half of my surprise party to get home early because I had a 6AM flight and had to finish the last bit of packing and you know, actually sleep.

So I did that. And I went to sleep intending to wake up at 3:45 and/ or 4 AM to head to the airport. But I woke up at 4:45 and there was no way I could make it to the airport in time to board my flight. So I call the airline to say "hey, I need a later flight" and the woman on the end of the line is like, "no, you need a flight". I don't understand the distinction until she explains that despite putting in all my credit card deets and pushing "purchase" my flight had only been reserved, not bought. So even if I woke up on time and made it to the airport on time, I wasn't going to Panama, at least not on the flight I thought I had booked.

So I tried to buy a ticket on the next flight, until she told me it was $1400 total. Um... I don't pay that to go to South Africa. The way I set my trip up, 5 days in the city, 5 at a resort, it made more sense to just wait, fly in Tuesday, go to the city first, then the resort and call life, well, life. And it was only $50 more than the ticket I paid for.

On Tuesday, I get a call at 3 AM that my flight is delayed by an hour. Great. And I mean that. I used the extra hour of sleep. The plane  leaves on time for the new time, but there's a layover in Miami that leaves an hour late, then sits on the runway for 90 minutes because of a storm, then, when finally arriving in Panama, sits at some obscure gate for 30 minutes because no buses are available to pick us up and take us to the main gate.

The woman sitting in the aisle seat across from me (a grandmother from Panama who is taking her two children and five grands to Panama for the first time) uses the down time to make small talk. " I watch you on 'that show'," she says. "Is it coming back for a second season?"

It is. Am I? Uhhhhhh....

But I made it here. And I'm not complaining at all because Panama is f***in awesome.

The drive from the airport was uneventful until I saw the Panama City skyline which looks like more like the pics I've seen of Dubai than Miami which I've actually seen several times and what everyone always compares Panama too.  What is does look like for certain is way better than the pics online.

So does my hotel. After a long mental back and forth where I couldn't figure out if I wanted to stay at the 5- star Trump (the views are sick) or a boutique (pool-less) hotel in the "cute" side of town (Casco Viejo), I choose cute. The cute place also happens to be a HUGE room and have a balcony, which was oddly not mentioned on the site. Weird.  In the morning, I'll pull a chair in my room out there so I have something to sit on while I write

Anyway, after I settle in, I grab dinner on a rooftop bar, then I go for what's supposed to be a brief walk. I recall my travel book (more on that later) saying the area isn't safe, so I avoid dark streets and stick to where large groups were crossing and well-lit areas. That logic took me by some really cute resties that I MUST eat at before I go and the waterfront with great views of the skyline and Casco Viejo.  I walked around for an hour-plus taking pics and taking in the views and sights.

Day 2

My Spanish sucks. I took 3-4 years of it in high school and you'd think that would make me fluent. Um, I can read it well enough, but speak or better, reinterpret into English what people speaking Spanish to me are saying quickly enough to actually converse? Not so much. This is especially problematic as I'm making a rather conscious decision not to do total tourist ish. I'm relying on hand signals and minimal words -"comida?" "mall?" "taxi?" - to get by, which is surprisingly effective. My Panamanian friend who told me everyone in Panama speaks English, lied.

I bought a guide book about Panama so I would know where to go. It's 120 pages. The writer recommends the same 10 places over and over and from what I can tell misses all the good ish. Get this: the place I was posting all those pics from on Wednesday? Casco Viejo? The book doesn't mention it more than to say it's an unsafe area, should be avoided at all costs, and it's a bunch of old rocks so it can be skipped? Um, really? One of the oldest churches in the Western Hemisphere is skippable? Later, a friend points out that it may be an old guide book. Casco Viejo didn't look this way just 2 years ago. That, and tour guides are made for middle-aged white people who walk around with Nikon cameras hanging from their necks. If you can manage to use just a lil bit of sense, he says, you'll be fine.

The upside of the book is the author kept saying over and over how cheap taxis are in Panama City. Like dirt cheap. So I leave my hotel, looking for one to go to the good mall because I forgot to pack draws. (I'm wearing swimsuit bottoms as undies. It was that or go commando on a humid, 85 degree day. Um... No.) Anyway, the first cab that stops charges $20 to go to the Mulitiplaza. I say, "no way." The next one that stops charges me.... $3.  Oh, and I do mean $3 as in US currency. Panama's official currency is the American dollar. Go figure.

The book saved me $17 already, which was the cost of the travel guide, so we'll call it even... almost.

The book also says to avoid a place called Colon. Literally, it says Colon is dangerous and there's nothing remotely that would be interesting to tourists. How about from what I can gather, Colon is the "black part" of the Panama. My (Black) friend who lives here described it as a "sleepy Black town" with pretty views. Colon is also the bus connection to get to Portobelo, which happens to have Nazareno of Portobelo aka the Black Christ, which I am all about and the book never once mentioned. Like, if I see NOTHING else this trip, I want to see a historical life- size statue of Black Jesus that Black folks in Panama have been praising for 354 years.

Apparently  once a year for the last THREE CENTURIES  there are folks who WALK  50+ miles from Panama City to Colon to honor Black Christ on October 21st. There are also folks who crawl the last mile as penance. We can't get even most American Black churches to put a Black Jesus on the wall in 2014, but there are Black Panamanians who  have been celebrating one since the 17th century and CRAWLING to get to him?!

I NEED to see this biblically accurate Jesus with skin like bronze and hair like lamb's wool for myself. And apparently there are TWO of them. Not one, but two!!! There's another Black Jesus in the water off Isla Grande nailed to the cross. Seeing both of these are God's plan for me.

But figuring out how to get to Portobelo SAFELY is tricky without, you know, speaking thorough Spanish or spending hundreds on a driver. But it might be worthwhile. Stay tuned. I WILL make this happen.

The Root: Did Pam Oliver’s Haters Help Push Her Aside?

Veteran journalist Pam Oliver has been a staple on the sidelines of the NFL for a very long time—20 years, in fact. But her role there, at least in the top position, has abruptly come to end. On Monday it was announced that Oliver, 53, had been essentially demoted, from the No. 1 team to No. 2, a seeming courtesy before Fox Sports removes her from the sidelines completely after the 2014 season.

“To go from the lead crew to no crew was a little shocking,” Oliver told Sport Illustrated’sSI.com, clearly being diplomatic. “I said I wanted to do a 20th year [on the sidelines]. I expressed to them that I was not done and had something to offer."

Oliver will be replaced by Erin Andrews, a 36-year-old blonde who is best-known as the woman who happened to interview the Seattle Seahawks’ excitable Richard Sherman, who went on a much-publicized (and blown-out-of-proportion) rant against San Francisco 49er Michael Crabtree just before the Seahawks headed to the Super Bowl (for a win). The exchange, which went viral on YouTube, made them both household names, even for those (like me) who don’t closely follow the sport.

“[The new position] is a dream come true,” Andrews told ABC News. “It’s exactly what I’ve wanted.”

Fox Sports President Eric Shanks explained the replacement as an attempt by the network to keep things “fresh.” Others, including Oliver, think it has more to do with ageism.

“I live in the real world, and I know that television tends to get younger and where women are concerned,” Oliver told SI.com. “Just turn on your TV. It’s everywhere.”

n case you think that’s just her being (rightfully) salty, others are backing up her (astute) assessment. In a blog post titled, “Women in Sports Media: Intelligence and Talent Lose Out—Yet Again,” former SI writer Jeff Pearlman noted, “Men can do these gigs forever. Nobody demotes Chris Berman or Phil Simms or Troy Aikman as they age. Nobody ever will.”

Bustle speculated about how much Oliver’s “expanded role” had to do with her age as well, concluding, “We can only speculate what Pam Oliver’s demotion to No. 2—and eventual departure from sideline reporting—means for middle-age women and women of color broadcast journalists in America. And from what we know so far, it sure doesn’t look that good.”

Welp.

But there may be another factor at play in Oliver’s “expanded role”—apparently the new PC term for “downsizing”—one that hasn’t been widely discussed: us. Fox has a history of bad behavior, so it’s easy to attack for being ageist and shallow (and possibly racist and misguided). But for all the folks screaming, “Poor Pam!” now, where were you—not me, because I defended Oliver—a few months ago when, before and after the Super Bowl, her appearance was making national news? Folks were very loud on social media about their disapproval of Oliver’s hair, and there was a widely circulated, mean meme that compared Oliver’s appearance to Star Wars’ Chewbacca.

Not that I ever like to let Fox off the hook for anything, but is it at all possible that the network heard the social media cries about Oliver and ran too far with it?

Read the rest on TheRoot.com 

The Root: Should I Snitch On A Cheating Friend?

Dear Demetria:

I have a friend who recently confessed to me that she slept with a mutual friend’s husband. The same mutual friend invited everyone over to her house, and my friend came, acting like everything was OK. I thought it was inappropriate for her to be there and didn't speak to her other than to say “Hi” and “Bye.”

I do not feel comfortable watching her smile in this woman's face, and I now question if she could or would do this to me. I don't want to judge her, but I just don't feel comfortable being around her right now. Should I tell or be quiet? —Anonymous

I have a feeling many readers are not going to like the gist of my answer, which is, essentially, be quiet and mind your business. It’s unfortunate that you’ve been drawn into this drama by being made privy to a big secret. I imagine that the friend who told you feels guilty about her actions and needed someone to talk to. She may even be hoping that you will do her dirty work for her by telling the wife what her husband and the “friend” are up to.

Don’t make it easy for her or put yourself in the middle of a battle that’s not yours to fight. This is for the wife, the husband and the alleged mistress to hash out whenever they get around to it. Surely you have enough to deal with on your own plate.

It’s clear that the friend isn’t ready to fess up, largely based on the fact that she hasn’t. What I don’t want from you, who have no proof of the affair, is to run to your friend to say, “Guess what!” and when the wife follows up with the mutual friend and her husband about what’s going on, they both adamantly deny the truth and blame you for being a messy or jealous friend. It’s their word against yours.

Without any proof, the wife is more than likely to go with the version of events that creates the least amount of upheaval in her life. That means you’re more likely to be cut from the circle of trust than the alleged mistress or the husband.

Another possible scenario here is that the mutual friend is jealous or has some issue with the wife or maybe bad blood with the husband, and she wants to upset their relationship. She may not have even had sex with the husband. You don’t really know what’s going on here, which is why I advise you to keep your mouth shut.

Maybe she did have or is having an affair with the husband. If you believe something is up and you must say something, pull aside your cheating friend and speak to her about your discomfort with what she’s told you and with being around her. Add that you don’t appreciate her involving you in this drama, and encourage her to end the affair and confess to the wife about what’s going on.

Read the rest on TheRoot.com 

The Root: Please Stop Asking Whether Women Can "Have It All"

Can women have it all? If you’re a working woman, you’ve read your fair share of inconclusive articles that seek to answer this sphinxlike mystery. This topic comes up as a national discussion with only slightly less frequency than those “why women—never men—are soooo single” articles.

This time the question of women having it all is cocktail conversation fodder once again thanks to an admission by PepsiCo CEO Indra Nooyi at the Aspen Ideas Festival, where she said that she didn’t think women could have it all—whatever “all” means, because despite the abundance of these conversations about women having it, I’ve never been quite sure what “all” actually is. Anyway, Nooyi’s perspective echoed the sentiment of that very popular Atlantic magazine cover story from 2012, “Why Women Still Can’t Have It All.” The title clearly explains the gist of the artlcle.

Here’s what Nooyi told folks in Aspen:

"I don’t think women can have it all. I just don’t think so. We pretend we have it all. We pretend we can have it all. My husband and I have been married for 34 years. And we have two daughters. And every day you have to make a decision about whether you are going to be a wife or a mother. In fact, many times during the day you have to make those decisions. ... We plan our lives meticulously so we can be decent parents. But if you ask our daughters, I’m not sure they will say that I’ve been a good mom. I’m not sure. And I try all kinds of coping mechanisms."

So back to what “all” is. It sounds a lot like striving for unattainable perfection. Here we have a woman who, from the outside looking in, has the elusive “all,” or at least what I thought, but was never sure, was always being talked about when women—only women, never men—engaged in these “having it all” discussions: a great career, a mate she’s married to and a kid (or two). Nooyi is the head person in charge of a global brand, PepsiCo—friggin’ Pepsi! She’s been married for 34 years and has two children. And this very accomplished, long-married mom doesn’t think she has it all?

Something’s wrong here. But the problem isn’t with Nooyi; it’s with a culture that has screwy expectations of women who work. They’re too damn high. Women are striving to reach some unattainable superwomanlike existence in which they’re all at once like the definitive mother Clair Huxtable to their kids, catering to their man like Beyoncé and displaying Oprah-like genius to their employer.

While I’m with the whole overachiever motto of “Shoot for the moon because even if you miss, you’ll still be among the stars” philosophy, I also know that one person trying to be three different people is exhausting, and Sybil ended up in an institution trying to do something like that.

Read more on TheRoot.com

The Root: We Can All Learn From Maya Peterson

 

I might be Maya Peterson’s biggest fan. Don’t know her name just yet? You should. She’s the prep school graduate everyone’s buzzing about for her bold, if a bit misguided, way of tackling sexism and racism at her New Jersey high school.

Maya, a black-Latina lesbian, was elected class president at the very elite and very white Lawrenceville School, the most expensive boarding school in America. She ran on a platform that catered to minority students and underclassmen. She was the school’s first black female president and its first lesbian president, too.

Maya’s term abruptly ended in March when she posted a picture on Instagram mocking some of her classmates. She dressed up like the white boys at her school while holding a hockey stick and wearing an entitled glare. The caption had the hashtags #romney2016, #confederate and #peakedinhighschool.

“You’re the student body president, and you’re mocking and blatantly insulting a large group of the school’s male population,” one commenter wrote in response to the picture.

Maya’s response was epic: “Yes, I am making a mockery of the right-wing, confederate-flag hanging, openly misogynistic Lawrentians,” she wrote. “If that’s a large portion of the school’s male population, then I think the issue is not with my bringing attention to it in a lighthearted way, but rather why no one has brought attention to it before ... ”

Welp.

This is why I like her. She got into a position of power and—unlike so many politicians who swear they’re about change and making a difference but who, once they’re elected, get stifled by the status quo—used her voice to address something that mattered to her and the people who elected her. It’s what we all wish we could do in our corner of the world but so few of us actually do. It’s admirable. And while I may have bursts of “DILLIGAF” now in my mid-30s, I certainly didn’t have it at Maya’s age of 17.

Her election represents the school’s—and, in many ways, America’s—colorful changing face. As we’ve seen this play out on a national scale with our actual president, change—coming in the (threatening) form of a nonwhite and/or female person in charge—doesn’t always go over so well in places where there’s a long tradition of white, conservative men being in power.

I was a prep school student, too—though my school wasn’t nearly as elite or expensive. The racism and sense of entitlement of some—not all—wealthy white students and of administrators who don’t know what to do with black kids is, unfortunately, part of the deal with sending your black child to a predominantly white school.

Read more: here 

The Root: Why We Need More Black Female Rappers

I swear, this is not another “I miss Lauryn Hill” article, even though, yes, I do miss her output. The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill (and, to a lesser degree, theUnplugged double album) changed my life for the better. But as often as Hill is cited for being the greatest female rapper of all time (I agree) and, in some circles, the greatest rapper, period (I also agree), she wasn’t the only. There were several, and as an ’80s baby, I grew up watching them and sneaking to order their videos off Video Jukeboxand playing dumb like I didn’t know where the charges came from when my parents got the bill. Oops!

I was musically raised on three genres: 1) the obscure Motown songs that my father—a former DJ in Detroit during the ’70s—prided himself on knowing all the lyrics of, claimed were better than the hits and blasted loud enough to wake me up on Saturday mornings; 2) any and everything Luther Vandross or Celine Dion, which served as my mother’s driving and/or cleaning music; and 3) hip-hop, the kind that actually had women—note the plural—in it.

Twenty years later, give or take, I can still rattle off the lyrics by Roxanne Shanté or MC Trouble or Oaktown 3.5.7, or J.J. Fad or Salt-N-Pepa or MC Lyte. After that, Queen Latifah, Da Brat, Missy Elliott, Lil’ Kim, Foxy Brown, Trina, Lauryn Hill and more. Sometimes their lyrics were deep or profane, funny or boastful, or hard or occasionally politically incorrect, but they reflected a point of view that some women could relate to without having to suspend reality or change the pronouns when spitting along.

I liked seeing women who looked like me making music in the genre I loved. And I took for granted having readily available options and differing perspectives. I’ve thought about this from time to time in recent years but again on Sunday night, as Nicki Minaj accepted her fifth BET Award for best female artist. It’s been a long-running joke, for about five years, that the network even bothers nominating other women, when half the audience thinks “Who?” or “She had an album?” because Nicki is the only name they really know with a recent hit or radio play.

I don’t like or dislike Minaj, really. She doesn’t make music for me, and that’s OK. I just wish she had some real competition from other women on her level or at least somewhere close. Surely there are other women with something to say worth hearing. And while I’m sure that T.I. protégée Iggy Azalea—aka the blond, white Australian girl Forbes magazine bafflingly described as “running hip-hop,” and the only other female rapper to perform on the show—is a nice person, she seems more like a marketing gimmick than an MC with something to say.

Read more on The Root 

Macy's American Icons: The Power Playsuit

It’s finally summer in the City, which for the uninitiated means NYC proper has turned into a sweat box. I’m not complaining though. Our most recent  winter was brutal, lasted forever and I thought I’d never feel heat again without getting on a South Africa bound plane. So I happily will run my AirCon, pay and exorbitant electricity bill and wipe my sweaty face with a smile. The good news is, I’ll look cute while I do it, thanks to the good folks at Macy’s who last month offered me the opportunity to run wild in their stores thanks to their “American Icons” campaign, celebrating all things American and good, especially New York.

I’ve been heading to the Macy’s flagship store at Herald Square weekly for the past six weeks and usually shopping with reckless abandon… so much so that I require breaks at one of the Starbucks, which can be found on nearly every floor. (I know, I know. Tough life. :-)

I’m more focused this week because I’m gearing up for Essence Music Festival on July 4^th weekend in New Orleans. “EMF”, is a fashion show as much as a music event and I have a few dinners and appearances lined up in addition to the concerts. The trick here is to find cute clothes that I won’t sweat to death in, in all that NOLA humidity.

I have most of my looks planned, but I needed a few extras. Here are my Macy’s treats that I hope will have me feeling and looking cool over the holiday weekend.

If you follow me on Instagram or watched “The Show”, you know I’m a dress girl and also a pretty modest one at that, but I will make an exception for something really cute like this adorable Rachel Roy play suit.  I gave it a spin last week when I went to see Dave Chappelle and Erykah Badu at Radio City Music Hall and received lots of compliments. I paired it with red flats by MIA (available on Macys.com) to give the look some extra  “pop!”… and I thought this romper would be too scandalous with heels.

Rachel Roy playsuit

I spotted these rompers on the Macy’s website this morning. Hmm… Maybe these should go to NOLA too?

Guess Tie-Dye denim romper. ON SALE: $59.99

American Rag ruffled print romper. ON SALE: $29.99

Guess floral romper. ON SALE: $47.99

I’m also breaking out of my knee-length A-line cut shell lately.  I loved the pattern on this French Connection maxi dress so much that I had to give it a try, even though it’s longer than I would usually do. I fell in love! I have a fancy dinner party my first night in NOLA and this makes me feel more Belle than Brooklyn.

French Connection maxi dress

Of course, I can’t get out of Macy’s without a run through the make-up department! (I’m a borderline make-up junkie.) I love a good smoky eye and pale lip so I picked up these awesome finds from Urban Decay. (If you’re not an expert at smoky eyes, they come with instructions :-)

If you’ve ever thought , “I like her make-up” anytime in the last 2 months (and I wasn’t on TV), I was wearing one of these. I swear by Naked 2.

Because Urban Decay hasn’t failed me, I’m relying on this setting spray to hold my make-up together in NOLA heat. I’ll keep you posted on its progress via Instagram! LOL!

I'll be using the "oily". Thanks, Mom!

NewsOne: ABIB Named One of the Top 15 Most Share-Worthy Black Blogs

 

Honored to be named as one of  TV One’s NewsOne top 15 most share-worthy black blogs or websites for  2014.

NewsOne suggested described A Belle in Brooklyn as "pop culture and relationships from a black, feminist perspective" and suggested folks visit the site because.... "Fans of Bravo's Blood Sweat & Heels will recognize what Lucas's readers have known all along: she knows what she's talking about."

Welp. LOL.

Many of my faves also made the list, including Very Smart Brothas, Colorlines, My Brown Baby, For Harriet, The Crunk Feminist Collective, and Black and Married with Kids.

Congrats to all the honorees!

What sites are most share-worthy to you?

Ask Demetria: Should I Tell My Husband Our Child Isn't His?

 

Dear Demetria:

I am the mother of two. I have an amazing husband and father to my children. The last child is not his, and he is unaware. His best friend and I had a one-night stand two years ago when my hubby was out of town. I can’t bring myself to come clean.

I just started going to therapy about this. The guilt is making me miserable. I feel honesty would break our whole family apart. I'm afraid to find out what my husband may do. —Anonymous

My grandmother had a saying about truth: “What’s done in the dark will always come to the light.” You’ve been carrying some huge secrets, and despite trying to ignore and avoid them, they’ve come to the forefront of your mind nearly three years later with a crippling vengeance that’s making you miserable.

I’m glad you’re in therapy. That’s a good starting point. If you have a good therapist, she or he will help you find the courage to “come clean,” as you put it, and tell your husband the truth about your affair and the child that resulted from it. It’s not the easy thing to do, but it is the right course of action here for everyone involved, including you.

Your husband deserves to know the truth, and sooner rather than later. Your child, though too young to understand what’s going on now, also deserves the truth, and the older she or he is when you tell her or him, the more devastated the child will be. Surely you’ve seen that viral video of the trailer for Paternity Court when a grown man discovers that his dad is not his biological father. He was broken, and it’s heartbreaking to watch. You don’t do that to your kid.

Your husband will be devastated, and he will be angry (to put it mildly). And the longer you wait, the more intense those feelings will be. I suggest that you speak with your therapist about bringing your husband into a session sooner rather than later and confessing to him in a controlled environment.

But before you do that, let’s make sure you’re accurate about what you’re confessing to. Have you had a DNA test done on the child to verify who her or his father is? I hope so, but if not, you need to do so immediately, and before you tell your husband anything. There’s no sense in having an unnecessary back-and-forth about who the actual father is, if your husband is actually that person.

If your husband is positively not the father, you need to inform your husband’s best friend that he is, if he’s not aware already. The best friend needs to know right after you tell your husband what you’ve been hiding. (Why after? Because your husband’s been on the back end of secrets long enough.) Your husband is also going to be hurt by and angry with him, too, but that’s not your concern. The men will work that out with each other.

Oh, and even if the child is biologically your husband’s, he still needs to know about the affair.

Read more: here 

The Root: Dear Jealous Guys, It's Ok That You Don't Look Like Jeremy Meeks

 

Fact: Jeremy Meeks is fine. OK, technically, that’s an opinion, but it seems the vast majority of people—including a couple of modeling agencies—share it, so let’s just say it’s close to fact.

Meeks—the convicted felon with chiseled features, eyes the color of a Caribbean ocean and café au lait complexion—who has drawn the “likes” of upward of 120,000 appreciative women, and men, on the Internet landed on our radar last week via an unlikely source: his mug shot. The police department in Stockton, Calif., makes a habit of posting its alleged criminals on Facebook, and Meeks, an alleged gang member who landed in jail with five felony weapons charges, fit the bill.

The massive e-fawning for Meeks has ticked off his brother, his wife and various men around the Internet who just don’t get how women can get riled up over a man with a criminal past bearing the “thug” trappings of neck tattoos and a teardrop under his eye.

Somehow being attracted to a picture of an attractive man has become the latest example of black women having screwed-up priorities, and yet another way to blame black women for the downfall of black relationships (and everything else). As the most popular theory goes, if black women—all black women, no exceptions—were less superficial and could actually pick a decent non-thug mate, the world would be a better place.

To which I say: Stop. It’s not that serious. Men, we might not like it, but we understand why you watch videos, flip through King and Complex magazines and scroll through Instagram to ogle random women with extraordinary backsides. Their husbands or children, their virtue, morals or criminal leanings don’t even cross your minds. From your seat on the bus, from your cubicle at the office or sprawled on the couch, you fantasize about that a-- and what you would like to do with it, “if” you had the chance, which you don’t. The same applies for Meeks and the women who adore his looks.

Meeks, aka #PrisonBae, has a face to rival Tyson Beckford’s. Women—and men—find him attractive despite his seeming fondness for trap life, not so much because of it. At best, the fantasy for most women is about one night only, on vacation, so no one will know. It’s only his wife and the crazies, by far the minority, who actually want to contribute to his commissary and donate to his bail. Everybody else is passing the day looking and “liking.” Next.

I’d like to offer a tough love, “get out of your feelings” directive here for menfolk who are blowing this whole thing out of proportion. But your feelings run too deep for that to work. I’ll address them instead.

You know this isn’t about women liking a so-called thug, right? A whole lot of men get sour every time black women like anyone. Earlier this year, there was that whole “I’m Sorry I’m Not Idris Elba” poem that men were passing around like it was a 65 percent Polo discount. Elba is nobody’s thug (playing one on The Wire does not make him one). In fact, by most accounts, he’s a pretty great bloke who spends his down time on daddy duty and in a DJ booth. And yet “regular” men were passive aggressively upset that he got to be a #ManCrushMonday on social media and not them. Apparently a woman liking a movie star was a sign of “disrespect.”

You know the same thing happens every time Scandal airs on TV and women go ga-ga for white guys Jake and Fitz and not the nice, but kinda corny black guy. (Somehow the adoration for black Harrison and his attainable nerd-gingham gets overlooked.) If only we could fawn over the “regular” black guy on the screen, in life and in our fantasies, all would be right with the world.

The men who feel it will never admit it, but women going wild for a man with looks they will never attain makes them jealous.

Read the full story on The Root 

ABIB Review: 'Think Like A Man Too'

It was something of a given that Think Like a Man was going to get a sequel. The film, inspired by the advice in Steve Harvey’s best-selling advice book and featuring an all-star black cast, grossed more than $33 million during its opening weekend and went on to clear nearly $96 million at the box office. It was a surprise hit, though I’m not sure why it was a surprise. Plenty of black movies have earned good returns, but critics seem amazed every single time it happens, as if black people and nonblack people alike don’t turn out for a solid film, especially one with predominantly black folks in it.

Think Like a Man Too opens today, and there’s hope that the movie—which is loosely a black version of The Hangover, replete with an accidental drug intake and an appearance by a popular boxing champion—will bring in similar numbers. The entire cast is back, and this time they’re gathered in Las Vegas for a fun-filled weekend that includes a competition over who can have the most fun between the bachelor and bachelorette parties, as well as the nuptials for Candace (Regina Hall) and Michael (Terrence Jenkins). The couple are still figuring out how to deal with his meddling mother, who this time extends her overbearing nature to the rest of the cast, too.

The storyline has all the trappings of what good romantic comedies are made of: attractive, likable actors with chemistry and a glitzy setting. It should work, but as a whole it doesn’t quite do the job.Think Like a Man Too, whose first film was adored by many, suffers from a classic sophomore jinx in that in its gallant effort to duplicate the success of the original, it just does too much. There are individual scenes that work well—there’s a cute moment at the bachelorette party when the girls party to “Poison,” and anything with even a glimpse of Michael Ealy is magic—but overall, they never gel into a cohesive storyline. If the movie were chopped into a series of Funny or Die clips, it would have been brilliant.

For a rom-com, one based on a dating-and-relationship advice book, it’s also extraordinarily light on relationships. Each of the returning couples has a new set of issues. Corporate-ladder climber Lauren (Taraji P. Henson) is mulling a job offer that will take her away from her boyfriend, Dominic (Michael Ealy). Mya (Meagan Good) is hung up on Zeek’s (Romany Malco) playboy past. And Kristen (Gabrielle Union), who is somehow still in the unlikeliest relationship ever with Jeremy (Jerry Ferrara), wants to have his baby. (Is Union typecast or what?) Jeremy, of course, isn’t ready. Each of these major conflicts is worthy of being explored in depth, but as quickly as they’re laid out, they are tidied up with little more than a single conversation.

Part of the shortcoming here is the sheer number of people in the film to be tended to—including three white cast mates who add little to the story and seem to be there for the movie’s crossover

appeal. The other part is the overwhelming focus of the film on Kevin Hart’s antics (as Cedric, the best man); the glitz of Vegas—the film is practically a tourism guide; and the occasionally funny, if predictable, shenanigans that ensue during the girls’ and guys’ night out.

There is an upside to the film, though. Many people (including me) have complained about the number of sad, single-black-woman stories that dominate the media, as if black women never, ever have relationships or get married. Think Like a Man Too plays up black commitment and presents it as wholly normal and doesn’t vilify its single characters as dysfunctional. The film might be disjointed, but you won’t leave the theater feeling depressed.

Read the original review: here