Dear Yoga Girl, You Know That Most Black Girls Don't Envy Your Shape, Right?

 

I debated  whether to weigh in on this XO Jane story , "It Happened to Me: There Are No Black People in My Yoga Classes and I'm Suddenly Feeling Uncomfortable With It."

In case you missed the hoopla, a self-described "skinny"white girl went to a yoga class in NYC, saw a Black girl in her class and wrote the most narcissistic, projecting essay I've read in a really long time. The only thing I can think of that tops it is that infamous (and fake? And equally delusional) essay from a white woman explaining why Black men prefer white women. #womp

Here's a selection from Yoga girl's essay. Try not to laugh:

"A few weeks ago, as I settled into an exceptionally crowded midday class, a young, fairly heavy black woman put her mat down directly behind mine. It appeared she had never set foot in a yoga studio...

"Because I was directly in front of her, I had no choice but to look straight at her every time my head was upside down (roughly once a minute)... At that moment, though, I found it impossible to stop thinking about this woman. Even when I wasn’t positioned to stare directly at her, I knew she was still staring directly at me.

"Over the course of the next hour, I watched as her despair turned into resentment and then contempt. I felt it all directed toward me and my body. I was completely unable to focus on my practice, instead feeling hyper-aware of my high-waisted bike shorts, my tastefully tacky sports bra, my well-versedness in these poses that I have been in hundreds of times. My skinny white girl body. Surely this woman was noticing all of these things and judging me for them, stereotyping me, resenting me—or so I imagined."

Are you laughing yet? It gets worse:

"I thought about how that must feel: to be a heavyset black woman entering for the first time a system that by all accounts seems unable to accommodate her body. What could I do to help her? If I were her, I thought, I would want as little attention to be drawn to my despair as possible—I would not want anyone to look at me or notice me. And so I tried to very deliberately avoid looking in her direction each time I was in downward dog, but I could feel her hostility just the same."

Really, lady?

Lawd, how I wish someone could track down the Black girl in the yoga class for the ultimate response piece. I really want to know what she was thinking. It was probably, "Can I live?"

White Yoga Girl is currently being dragged for entire life across the Internet. There are many great retorts, but the best response came from KazzleDazz.com where writer Kadia B. substituted yoga for twerking and read Yoga Girl from the complete Encyclopedia Britannica:

"A few weeks ago, as I settled into my crowded evening class, a young, fairly thin white woman took her position right behind me. She appeared to have never set foot in a twerk-out studio before..

"Because I was directly in front of her, I had no choice but to twerk in her face. I found it impossible to not think about this poor woman behind me. Even though I wasn’t positioned to stare directly at her, I knew she was still staring directly at my ass. Over the course of the next hour, I felt her despair turn into resentment and then contempt. I just knew for sure, it was directed toward me and my booty.

"By the time Juvenile’s “Back That Ass Up” came on, I was completely unable to focus on my twerking.  Instead, I was feeling hyper-aware of my spandex booty shorts, my sexy tight tank top, my well-versedness in dropping it like it’s hot. My heavy-set black woman body.  Surely this skinny white girl was noticing all of these things and judging me for them, stereotyping me, resenting me – or so I assumed. However, I’m pretty sure I was right. How could I be wrong?"

Like I said, there have been so many great satirical and intelligent responses (honorable mention), I feel like I would be re-inventing the wheel to do add one of my own.

There is, however, one point that I have not seen in the many great responses, a nuance that NEEDS addressing:

*ahem*

SOME white ladies need to know that really, it's only thicker American Black girls who were raised in or only operate in white environments who have any envy for the "ideal" skinny white girl shape. Skinny Black girls have the same shape, usually with some ass, and they're not trying to exchange it for long back or noassitall.

In general, Black girls don't get the size 0/ size 2 with absolutely no curves thing that SOME white women cottage cheese, lettuce and yoga their way through life for. We flip through "mainstream" magazines and look at the clothes on the skinny models that reflect the white ideal and think, "that might look like something if she had some shape, but her shoes are cute though."

Think I'm playing? Look on Twitter at the reaction to the  size 2 Beyonce' that showed up at the Grammys Sunday night.

This may cause some alarm for white folk who think they are the center of the universe, but those particular white folk do need to know that Black folk have their own standard of "ideal" beauty. It involves curves in the "right" places-- kinda like what Bey had pre-Blue or like the woman in the picture at the top of this page. And there are black girls aplenty trying to get that shape, narrow waist, wide hips, thick thighs and plump ass mandatory. When most Black women exercise, we're mostly trying to cardio off mid-sections and keep everything else curvaceous so we can "fill out" our clothes, ironically enough, just like Beyonce' sang about on "Jealous". Milkshakes bring boys, of all colors, to the yard.

Lastly, Black women really don't spend that much time thinking about white women. We go through life thinking about, you know, ish that matters-- when is Scandal coming back, how long it's going to take to pay back Sallie Mae loans, if the Rabbit has fresh batteries, etc. Random white women only pop on our radar when one of them does something wildly offensive or asinine... like write a masturbatory essay about how a Black woman minding her own damn business in a yoga studio must envy or hate her  for being thin and white.

And then? Well then, you get dragged.

Uptown: Demetria L. Lucas The Anti-Reality TV, Reality TV Star

I don’t like watching reality TV shows, especially the programs that have a penchant for making Black folks look corny as hell. It’s not that I think I’m better than anyone who does enjoy these shows (like my sister, who says these programs help her de-stress after long days of school as she attains her master’s degree), but I just find the bickering and bullshit annoying (hell, I can get that in my own life). So when I heard that Bravo was releasing a new show called “Blood, Sweat and Heels“, I instantly rolled my eyes and attempted to change the channel as fast as I could – until someone very familiar popped up on my screen: Demetria Lucas.

I know Demetria through her strong writing as an advocate for the empowerment of Black women and an opinionated critic of relationships and everything that comes along with them. The reason I couldn’t change the channel was because I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that Demetria, a harsh critic of reality TV and its presentations of Black women, was doing on a show that, from the trailer, appeared to be everything she once denounced.

After watching the first episode, I realized something very significant about Demetria Lucas – of all the women on the show, she is not only the best at branding her business, but she is also (intentionally or unintentionally) positioning herself as an “anti-reality TV, reality TV star”. So getting the opportunity to sit down and talk with her was intriguing.

Lincoln Anthony Blades: The big question I have, as someone who writes and blogs, is how did this opportunity come up? And what did you think about it when it was first presented to you?

Demetria Lucas: Oh, my first thought was hell no. I’ve been approached to do reality shows several times, and someone reached out to my manager and said “we’d like for Demetria to consider it” and when she called me I was like “no, no, no this is not gonna happen. I’m not doing reality TV.” If you follow my work I’ve been very critical of the portrayal of Black women on television, and [my manager] was like “I think this is different, give it a shot” and I trust her, so I said ‘OK, let me see, I’ll hear them out.” So I met with the production team, I met some of the other ladies on  the show, and I liked that they all had good backgrounds and I thought maybe this would be different because the women here have something to lose. We’re not here to be famous, we’re not independently wealthy, we have to work for a living, so our reputations matter. So I think this might be something different and I think this might be a good opportunity. It took me a minute to sign on, but I eventually came around.

LAB: So, just to go off what you were saying before, there’s been a lot of campaigns like Michaela Angela Davis’ “Bury The Ratchet” campaign where she’s gone after everything from Love & Hip-Hop to Married to Medicine to the Real Housewives of Atlanta. If someone was to say that your show is like these other shows or asked you to prove your show is different, how would you explain that “Blood, Sweat & Heels” should not be considered ratchet?

DL: Well, I can say that there is no fighting, no bottle throwing, no over-the-top physical antics. I think you saw there is some psychological stuff, you know I got ambushed at a dinner table which I definitely didn’t appreciate. But you know what? Michaela has been a friend and mentor of mine for years. She is someone that I ran this by and she let me know very clearly what her expectations were of me. She’s known me for a while and she said “You know what I expect”. I hope, in that sense, that I gave it to her. But I do think the show tackles some deeper issues that working women deal with like, can a woman lead? How do you balance a career and a relationship? It gets tricky sometimes, but I think those conversations aren’t being had on Housewives. These women are married, most of them are in stable relationships and you don’t get the nitty gritty of that. We are all women who’ve sacrificed a lot of our personal lives in order to pursue our careers. And I think there’s always the question hanging over us of, was it worth it? Does it all balance out at the end? Do we get to have it all? So I think in that sense we are a little different than the other shows you see on television.

LAB: Recently, a lot of people have been saying that this is a great time for Black women in television because of Sasheer Zamata being hired on SNL with two other black writers, and shows like Being Mary Jane and Scandal, which have won awards. Do you think that your show contributes to what is a pretty good time for Black women in television?

DL: Absolutely. You know, for so long there’s been a conversation about Black women. There’ve been these studies and conversations on Nightline, The Washington Post and The New Yorkerand Psychology Today. Everyone was talking about Black women but this is the first time you’re really seeing Black women control their own narrative. In terms of Being Mary Jane, Mara Brock Akil is at the helm of that. Shonda Rhimes is at the helm of Scandal. For our show, we’re in control of what comes out of our mouths and  how we behave.

After the interview was over and I watched more of Blood, Sweat and Heels, its become even clearer that Demetria doesn’t fall into any typical Black reality TV caricature. She’s not a kept woman, or an anti-intellectual who thinks the underground railroad was an actual train. She’s not the backstreet brawler or the hood-chick playing bougie. It really seems like she’s essentially the voice of people with common sense who watch these shows shaking their head in disgust. In my opinion, Blood, Sweat and Heels (with this current cast) won’t do much to empower Black women or change the perception of professional African-American women in New York, but it may just be the platform to something bigger and better, kinda like the early ratchet Oprah years that preceded the far classier “Book Club” days.

Well, at least one can hope.

Read the complete article here

The Root: Beyoncé Can Do Whatever She Wants

UPDATE: In the hours since this post was originally published yesterday, British newspaper UK Metro referred to America's Queen of  Pop as "Whore Beyonce'" for Sunday night's Grammy performance.

C'mon, son. It was a risque performance, no doubt. Extra? Perhaps. Sexy? Yes, gawd!  But for Yeezus's sake, she's a pop star.  This is pretty much in the job description and compared to say, Miley Cyrus at the 2013 VMA's, it was pretty tame. Let's be reasonable here. A married woman grinded on and writhed  for her husband. Miley Cyrus twerked, wagged her tongue, rubbed someone else's ass, humped a "We're #1" fan sign then bent over in front of someone else's husband and didn't even get called a whore.

A whore?!

Over on My Black Baby, writer Denene Millner was rightfully fit to be pissed over the w-word. She wrote:

Whore?

Now mind you, these are the same people who would turn a blind eye to racist “art” depicting a white woman using a naked Black woman as a chair and applaud Miley Cyrus using Black women’s asses as props in a bizarre, crotch-grabbing, chicken-twerk dance at the VMAs, but have a conniption when Beyonce straddles her phatty across a chair and sings about making love to her husband. They’re the same people, too, who would giggle about how adorbs Justin Beiber looks in his DUI mugshot but would nod their heads furiously in agreement when fellow Tweeters call pro NFL player Richard Sherman a thug and ape and nigger for expressing his emotion after a game-changing play that sent his team to the Super Bowl. And you best be clear that these same people probably wouldn’t have said a peep when a major media outlet referred to then-9-year-old Quvenzhane Wallisas a cunt on the biggest night of her life, but probably had to be buried, resurrected and given a bushel of throat lozenges to get over seeing Janet Jackson’s boob tassle in the 2004 Super Bowl halftime show. Did any of those women call Pink a whore for showing off her Brazilian bikini wax during her splits and sexy curtain twirling at Sunday’s Grammy performance? No?

See the pattern?

I’ll tell you this much: I’m done—done—with all this righteous indignation over the baring of Black bodies and the demand that Black artists color within the lines of respectability drawn specifically for us. (I’m tired, too, of Black folks who quickly co-sign this foolishness by dragging Beyonce for looking sexy while daring to sing about explosive sex, complicated relationships, the beauty of motherhood and finding her voice as a woman in a sexist world, or dogging out shows like Being Mary Jane and Scandal for showing the less-than-perfect, complicated lives of single Black women.)

#welp.

Original post

When it was announced that entertainment’s “it” couple, Beyoncé Knowles-Carter and Jay Z, would be performing at the Grammys—the opening act, no less—I knew it wasn’t going to go well. They were undoubtedly going to perform their latest hit, “Drunk in Love,” an ode to liquor and the joys of marital sex, replete with raunchy innuendo. Everyone would tune in, and there would be a mega backlash.

There’s been a lot of fuss over the song. Over at the Huffington Post, Frances Cudjoe Waters took issue with Beyoncé’s admission that she’s a 32-year-old woman who drinks, but the song’s most troubling lyrics came during Jay Z’s guest verse. In response to his trash-talking wife, who is boasting of her sexual prowess, he slickly—or sickly, depending on your perspective—says, “I’m Ike Turner turn up/You know I don’t play/Now eat the cake, Anna Mae/Eat the cake Anna Mae/I’m nice.” Le scandal.

Jay Z’s allusion to the Tina Turner biopic What’s Love Got to Do With It—particularly the scene where Ike Turner (Laurence Fishburne) smashes a slice of cake into the face of wife Tina (Angela Bassett)—has been repeatedly (over) analyzed. It’s been called evidence that Bey and Jay Z condone domestic violence and proof of the couple’s insensitivity to Turner, with whom Beyoncé has performed in the past.

Because there have been so many essays taking Jay Z to task since Beyoncé’s album was released in December, I’m well-versed in the argument that his lyrics, joking or not, go too far. But the hype is just that.

Jay Z is in no way condoning domestic abuse on that verse. He’s drunk-talking—hence the song’s title—to his wife, who has been playfully trash-talking to him. By the middle of the verse, he, too, is talking trash about what he’s going to do to her sexually—and, most important, with her consent. I mean, she’s drunk-giggling in the background of the video as he talks drunk mess on a song called “Drunk in Love.” If his wife is fine with him talking about rough sex, what is the problem here?

Is an Ike Turner allusion the best choice? No. But in context, there’s nothing to see here, folks. Drunk married people are playfully saying drunk words to each other—he even says, “I’m nice,” i.e., drunk—right before they “surfboard.”

I know that drunk Beyoncé is a little jarring for some, but at 32, if she wants to get drunk and then be “filthy” with her husband, that’s her adult and wifely right to do so—and her prerogative to sing about it, even at the Grammys, because she’s a “Grown Woman.”

Over at Colorlines, Akiba Solomon seemed fine with all this but believed that Beyoncé should have stayed silent about that “eat the cake” line:

At least one radio station—in the U.K.—blurs out this part of the song because it’s a jokey joke reference to physical abuse. So last night when Jay got to the “eat the cake” line, I thought maybe Queen Bey would stay silent on it. Instead she puts bass in her voice and chants along with her husband, “Eat the cake Anna-Mae!”

That Tina Turner is supposed to be one of Beyoncé’s idols makes this even worse ...  I’m disappointed in Beyoncé. I wish in this moment she could have been more Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and less “Cater 2 U.”

Read more: here

WaPo: Reality star Demetria Lucas makes time for her D.C. fans

 

“I’m a little tipsy so I’ll be very honest,” joked Demetria Lucas on Sunday night at a screening of her new reality show, Bravo’s “Blood, Sweat & Heels.” Eager fans wanted to know just how real the show actually is. Hint: Come on.

It’s been nearly a decade since Carrie and Big got their happy ending on “Sex and the City,” but that hasn’t stopped Maryland native Lucas from picking up the single-girl-makes-it-big baton — and running with it. Her relationship blog, A Belle in Brooklyn, crashed when the show premiered to 2.5 million viewers earlier this month and a revamped edition of her 2011 advice book, “A Belle in Brooklyn: The Go-to Girl for Advice on Living Your Best Single Life,” is back on its way to book stores.

On Sunday night Lucas was joined by more than 150 of her closest fans at Lima lounge on K Street to cheer and jeer as the former Essence magazine editor navigated the quicksand of reality TV without getting sucked into the drama–or at least not completely. “I swear to god, I threw no punches, no drinks,” said Lucas, who is also a life coach. “I’m very much a lady on the show.” The same, of course, can’t always be said of her cast mates. Friendships are fast and loose and wine is on infinite tap in the series that follows six upwardly mobile women in New York City.

Moments before the wall of televisions switched from the Grammy telecast to the fourth installment of “Blood, Sweat & Heels,” Lucas, looking posh in a purple bandage dress by Asos, quietly retreated to a bar stool near the DJ booth. “I can’t watch myself on TV,” she admitted.

The crowd, largely made of up of young professional women with a penchant for skinny jeans and stilettos, came with Lucas’ book safely tucked under their arms like chic clutches. The receiving line of wide-eyed 20-somethings seemed never-ending. Perhaps a metaphor for Lucas’ career?

Originally published: here 

Black Enterprise Q&A: Demetria Lucas Talks Branding & Boss Moves

Bravo’s newest reality show “Blood, Sweat and Heels” had an explosive 2.5 million viewer debut, and seems to be the fans newest reality “fix.” The show follows six up-and-coming black women as they struggle to succeed in the concrete jungle of New York City. Demetria, already becoming a fan favorite, is much more than your typical reality television star — she is about her business. Not only has she taken her blog A Belle in Brooklyn to national heights after writing a controversial blog which was the continued topic of conversation on the show, her brand(s) can also be seen integrated throughout the show on each episode. Already apparent from the first few episodes, Demetria has set her sights on building her multi-platform brand, and advancing her career to her next level. Somewhat of an industry veteran, the former Essence relationship editor is also a criticically acclaimed author, life coach and award-winning blogger.

BlackEnterprise.com caught up with Lucas as she discusses the challenges of exposing her life on reality television, her latest project “Don’t Waste Your Pretty,” and expanding her brand.

Black Enterprise: As somewhat of an industry veteran, what made you decide to do the show?

Demetria Lucas: I’ve been approached about doing some form of reality show before Bravo. What led me to it was the focus on professional women working in the city and on professional life. Over the years I have blogged and shared tons of life story as well as about my business. My book [A Belle in Brooklyn: The Go-to Girl for Advice on Living Your Best Single Life] is very all in. I thought this was an opportunity to share life in video and for people to see it and not picture in their minds. It was also a chance to show my professional career.

Do you think being on a reality show, especially because of some of the negative criticism that reality shows now receive, will tarnish your brand in any way?

Doing a reality show is always big risk, and I realized this especially on the day after the super trailer was released. I was and have always been very candid about my perception of reality TV. I didn’t see women like me in media. I’ve talked about images of women on reality TV for years. When I was approached, producers knew my critique of reality television, and I thought it was opportunity to show a different side. However, I can’t speak for other castmates and can’t speak for what everyone does on the season.

After months of filming, was the show what you thought she you getting herself into?

No. You don’t’ know what it is until you’re actually in it—the idea of cameras being trained on you all the time. What you’re doing is being aired to millions of people with millions of different opinions. I was very cautious. I found myself thinking a lot and having delayed reactions because you want to be yourself but also be conscious of how you’re acting on television.

How shocking was it for you to hear that other black women of color don’t believe that women should serve in leadership roles?

I would have never thought in a million years a woman would say that. If you’re in a certain environment with women who struggle to get things out [of]  life, then you would think 'I understand where this is coming from. ' Then I would say, “OK, I get that.” To my knowledge everyone on the show has a business or a brand. I was shocked that an actual woman would say that they don’t believe a woman would lead. At first I was like are they doing this for the cameras. I was really sitting there in shock like OMG.

Do you believe the stereotype that black women don’t support each other to get ahead in their careers?

People constantly talk about black women are not supportive of each other. I’ve been to the panels and discussions. I hear it, but that’s never been my experience. My first job was at BET and they were the ones that pushed me to say you can do something with your writing. Most people know me from ESSENCE and was an office filled with black women. When Angela Burt Murray was Editor-In-Chief, she was the one that said, “I read your blog I think it’s so good, I think you should have a column.” She really pushed me and believed in me. I feel that about the rest of the office. I’ve never had that experience. I don’t know if I’m very rare or I just don’t promote that stereoptype.

You’re notoriously private about her relationship with “CBW” as you call him. Why did you decide to include him on this very public TV show?

That’s more his thing then it is mine. He’s a behind the scenes type of guy. We talked about showing my life and he’s a huge part of my life. We thought it would be odd to not show him. I’ve [written a blog] for 6 years, I had a column [about my life] in a magazine. I give bits and pieces [of my story], I give enough. If you’re expecting big blows up and fights [between us] that’s not how we get down in the real world.

What’s next for you and your brand?

The next book – “Don’t Waste Your Pretty"-- is a hard core advice book based on the Formspring I’ve done over as the past 3 years. I’ll be delving more into [advice]. The book is the nitty gritty version of the advice I give online, not as much narrative as my previous book “A Belle In Brooklyn.” I’ll also launching 15 city speaking tour from March to December in US and South Africa called “Conversations With Belle.”

Originally published here

5 Reasons You Should Read GQs Mister Cee Interview

I was one of those people who stayed up all night, until 7AM, to tune into HOT 97 to hear the infamous Mister Cee interviews with station manager Ebro Darden. The first morning sit down came after Cee’s name has been splashed on the front page of NYC papers when he was arrested for soliciting oral sex from a prostitute, a man dressed as a woman. Cee admitted he had a thing for strippers and hookers, but swore up and down it was a woman in his car. He said, much like Marion Barry, the D.C. Mayor infamously caught on video smoking a crack pipe, ‘the bitch set me up.’ In retrospect, GQ writer Zach Baron, precisely sums up the listening experience as:

Cee stammered out equivocations … while a city of profoundly confused people listened in their cars and office buildings and headphones, wondering how the Hot 97 morning show had become a live broadcast of some unfathomable form of public therapy or performance art.

The second interview, five months later, occurred shortly after another man dressed as a woman—but still obviously a woman--  secretly videotaped their negotiations for payment for oral sex, then uploaded the tape to the YouTube. Cee’s voice is distinct and recognizable after being on the radio for practically forever. Everybody knew it was him.

In the first awkward interview, he denied he was gay. In the second, he came cleaner. In this latest interview with GQ? He’s still elusive about “his type” but we get straighter answers. Someday we’ll get the whole truth, I guess. Until then, we have GQ’s “The Secret Life of Mister Cee: Hip Hop’s Most Beloved DJ” and five reasons—but not revelations— for reading:

1. You’ll Learn Why Mister Cee is Soooo Relevant

I’m not from NYC and I’m not that hardcore a hip-hop head anymore. I know of Mister Cee as “the DJ on Hot 97.” I knew he had backstory affiliations with Kane, Jay-Z, and Biggie, unarguably the best rappers Brooklyn has produced. But GQ gives the backstory:

He has been around history—sometimes as a DJ, other times as an engineer, an adviser, a sympathetic ear. There he is on turntables on Big Daddy Kane's 1988 debut, track nine—“Mister Cee's Master Plan”—or on tour in 1990, being accompanied by a hype man and sometime drug dealer calling himself Jay-Z. When a shy, overweight local kid from down the street in Bed-Stuy needed his demo tape re-recorded, he showed up at Cee's door,

2. He Doesn’t Remember When He First Got Into the “Other Thing”

The “other thing” as Cee calls it, is sex men who dress like women. But it was sometime “around 2005, 2006.”

Though it is perhaps hard to believe him, he says it never occurred to him until he started doing it. It wasn't a long-held fantasy or a desire he'd held at bay for a while and then succumbed to. But soon he found himself on Christopher Street, a couple of blocks from the Hot 97 offices, nearly every weekend, “out there—like, really out there.”

He never really asked himself why he was doing it and still can't entirely explain why he was drawn to this specific, highly particular thing… “The best way I can explain it is that I was so knee-deep into doing it that it became a part of me,” he says.

3. He Became Addicted to Soda(?!) After His 2010 Arrest

Drank so much soda he almost lost his sight. “I would buy two-liter Fanta Orange, two-liter Sprite, two-liter root beer—and I live by myself—just guzzling them. That's how I was getting through my pain, fucking going to sleep and drinking soda. And I'm not even a soda drinker. I drunk so much soda to the point where my diabetes—my sugar level went so high, I started getting blind.”

4. The Police Covered For Him… At First

He even lied to the cops, who took care of him the first couple of times he was arrested—“Once you walk in the station, all it takes is one black officer to recognize you”—but whose patience ran out when the arrests continued to mount: “When I got arrested in 2011—this is just my theory—that came out from the D.A.'s office. That leaked from the D.A. That didn't leak from a precinct. You know, after a while, I'm making deals with the D.A.: ‘I'm never going to do this again. I'm never going to do this again.’ And they're like, ‘Okay, all right. All right.’ And they let me slide the first couple of times. That third time, they was just like, ‘Yo…’ ”

 5. More of Less, Hip-hop Has Supported Him Since He Sort of Came "Out"

Cee was desperately afraid of being an outcast in the industry he loved:

 I was just afraid of what the perception was going to be about me and that people was still going to want to stand behind the Mister Cee brand,” he says. Promoters. People he worked with. And if they didn't, “how was I going to be able to continue to support and take care of the people that I care about?”

But surpisingly, his friends have been receptive and accepting:

Cee says Big Daddy Kane called just the other day to ask, only half-jokingly, “You ready to come back on the road?” Kane, Cee says, “is not the most expressive person when it comes to saying ‘I love you.’ And within the past two years, that's all he's been saying to me.” The past is being rewritten before his eyes.

In our booth at the restaurant, I ask if Biggie would've understood, had this happened twenty years ago. “Oh, I know that,” Cee says instantly. “I know Big stands next to me. I have no question in my mind.”

I ask him why he's so sure, and he says it's because they were friends, first, but also because hip-hop is such a transparent thing to those who've lived it: “You know who's phony, you know who's hypocritical, you know who's real.” Cee is real.

What did you think of the interview?

There's More to Boobs Than Meets the Eye

See those boobs above? They belong to video model Esther Baxter and Katy Perry, who is on the most recent GQ. Baxter has appeared in multiple videos and landed the cover of King magazine because many men (and women) find her boobs to be aesthetically pleasing. Perry is, well, an international pop star, as known for her boobs as she is for her music.

Many people find both sets of boobs nice to look at. But that is not their primary function of boobs. It seems people should know this. So a quick refresher:

The primary purpose of breasts is to feed babies. That some find those same breasts alluring does not negate the primary purpose of breasts.

So why am I telling you this?

Because there's a story on Today.com about a mom, Ashley Clawson,  who was shopping in Victoria's Secret with her 4-month old son when the child became hungry. She asked a saleswoman if she could breastfeed in a changing room. The saleswoman told her to take it to the alley (?!) outside the store where no one would see her.

"You would think a place like Victoria's Secret wouldn't be offended by the presence of a partially exposed breast", a woman wrote on my Facebook page. "Have they seen their own advertisements?!"

My first thought: Um. If you wouldn't want to eat in an alley, why should a baby? You know those small people with an underdeveloped immune systems?

Clawson said she was "shocked", humiliated and confused by the suggestion. “What are we, animals? Are [nursing women] that gross to you?” Clawson says she wondered.

So she reports the incident to Vicky's HQ and gets an apology and a promise of a gift certificate for the store (which she still has not received) as if she would have any desire to shop there again after a salesclerk tried to send her into the alley to feed her baby like she was a hooker servicing a "John" at Hunt's Point.

"See where the mother messed up was asking in the first damn place," another commenter wrote. "I breastfed both my daughters WHILE WALKING in stores. And I did it with a look on my face that said, "Please. Try me. While I got this baby on my titty, hungry and whatnot." This lady was being polite, I'm sure, when she asked if it was okay to use the dressing room to feed her kid, but really, asking permission to feed your kid is not necessary."

I hope Clawson sues the entire hell out of  Vicky's for discrimination and gets the kid's college paid for and then some.

I don't understand the anti- public breastfeeding logic. Is it cause a partial boob may be seen in that quick flash of a moment before or after it is covered by a nursing cloth? Is it really so hideous to see a breast? Do breasts pose a societal danger that, despite having them for more than twenty years, I am as yet unaware of?

As a society, we-- or at least our doctors-- have agreed that breast-feeding children is best for the health of the child. There are multiple national initiatives to get women to breastfeed more since the United States lags behind the rest of the world in doing so. These women hear a battle cry, take action and are met with: take your kid to the alley?!

Clawson actually ended up feeding her kid in the bathroom, which I find gross. I don't eat in the bathroom. Do you? Then why should a baby?

What if there is no bathroom available? Or is as commonly the case with public bathrooms, it's gross in there? Or if the mother rightfully finds it gross to feed her child where people release their bowels? Then what?

Is it really the most horrid occurrence in the world for a woman to park herself in safe and public place, or even a private place like a dressing room, and pop out a boob to feed her kid?

A lady on my Facebook page more or less said, "yes".

"I have 11 week old twins. I do think people should be more open minded [about breast feeding] but I do not think women should force anyone to like it or witness it. Or change their company policy (if it was one)...  I do breast feed in public but I balance my time and places I visit to accommodate. Sometimes the first year of having a baby might mean you can't go everywhere and or do everything the same."

Hmmm. 

Should breast feeding mothers curb their outings to avoid public feedings as much as possible, so as to convenience others? Or  pump and bottle the milk to avoid flashing boobies? Should they just let the baby wail?

I have no "skin" in this game. I am not responsible for any babies, and don't think I will ever will be. (I like kids, but raising people who can't talk isn't really my thing.) But as person with some basic compassion for small people-- and one who can't stand the sound of screaming kids— the discomfort of a hungry baby and the assault of their crying on my eardrums trumps any way your eyes might feel spotting a boob put to its primary function. And that's especially if you've walked by the cover of a men's magazine-- like King of GQ--  and never given the over-exposure of breasts just for the titillating sake of doing so, any real thought.

Ask Demetria: Do Scandal & Being Mary Jane Condone Adultery? (Sigh...)

“Do you think shows like Scandal and Being Mary Jane are condoning adultery or man-sharing to black women? It’s strange that the only two noticeable scripted shows about black women show them as ‘the other woman.’ I see so many women rooting for them. Is adultery ‘in style’ now?” —Anonymous

There have always been, and always will be, adulterous relationships—on TV and in real life. Adultery has also always been a staple of any dramatic series because of the messiness that is a natural byproduct of toying with emotions and betraying bonds. There is no recent study that points to a rise in adultery in the real world, especially not as attributed to these two TV shows.

That said, I’ve never understood the long-standing “Scandal condones adultery” argument, and I don’t understand the more recent assertion that Being Mary Jane does, too. I watch (and live-tweet) both shows, and I’ve never seen more miserable women. If anything, Being Mary Janeand Scandal show the downside of being the other woman.

Scandal’s Olivia Pope is emotionally tortured by her involvement with a powerful and married man. She gets stolen moments with him and some backroom romps. She’s constantly having to keep up appearances by downplaying or hiding her relationship, and as much as her lover insists that she’s his No. 1, Olivia “plays her position” as second fiddle whenever his wife is around.

Olivia is a powerful presence in every other occasion, but she is ashamed and embarrassed in the presence of her lover’s wife. She also operates almost entirely on her lover’s schedule and whims. Sometimes he’s into her; sometimes he’s discarding her. At the start of the third season, the affair was made public, and she nearly lost her business when all of her clients bailed and most of her money was spent. Nothing about her adultery seems glamorous.

In the case of Mary Jane, the ramifications of adultery look even worse. She’s confronted by her lover’s wife at her job and asked humiliating questions about her sexual practices with the wife’s husband. While she experiences emotional highs when she’s with him, when she’s without him—which is most of the time—she’s self-loathing.

In the most recent episodes of the show, her brother, who knows of her affair, goads their long-married mother into discussing adultery. Mary Jane squirms as her mother unknowingly describes her daughter as vile and incapable of “cultivating a man.” As the episode closes, Mary Jane is home alone and manically texting her lover, who doesn’t answer because he’s having sex with his wife. The next morning, he still hasn’t bothered to respond.

What’s so glamorous about that?

Read more: here 

Mommy Noire: How to be the Belle of Your Own Life

Demetria Lucas is much more than just the latest reality star. The educated beauty and southern belle is a journalist, life coach and award-winning blogger. You can find her on Twitter giving relationship advice or on the web’s most popular sites with her often controversial opinion pieces that are right on the money. The word "socialite" is bandied about way too much but in this case it’s appropriate. Demetria’s “Cocktails with Belle” are a fun, NYC staple and her bestseller “A Belle in Brooklyn” left fans hungry for more. This is Demetria’s moment and she is representing us well. She’s holding her own on Bravo’s hit, new series “Blood, Sweat and Heels” and also releasing a new advice guide, “Don’t Waste Your Pretty.” Let’s see what we can learn from this woman about town about life, love and personal power…

Abiola: Welcome, Belle. Let’s talk about your newest book, “Don’t Waste Your Pretty.” What motivated you to write it?

As a life coach and dating and relationship expert, I talk to women all the time. I pinpointed some very key mistakes that we make when it comes to dating and relationships.  And it’s just because we were never taught.  So “Don’t Waste Your Pretty” is really about not wasting your effort, not wasting your energy, not wasting your looks–because that’s important, too–on the wrong guy.

Sometimes we meet somebody and we get so caught up in emotions that we want things to work.  We want him to be a great guy and just the facts in front of us are not really panning out.  He’s not willing to commit. He’s not treating us the way that we want.  He’s not picking up the phone to call; he’s just texting. So I’m trying to get women to see who’s a good catch, who deserves their energy and who they should just pass on by.

Abiola: You always come from a place of women’s strength and women’s power. You’re also a ‘woman’s woman’ in real life. Anytime that there has been an opportunity for you to recommend my name or open the door for me, you have. Thank you. With that same ‘woman’s woman’ energy you have an exciting, new show, “Blood, Sweat and Heels.” Miss Demetria, you are officially you a Bravo-lebrity.

It’s such a fun ride.  The Bravo-lebrity thing is just so weird to me.  I've watched Bravo  obsessively like Saturday afternoons and it’s raining outside I lay in bed and watch Bravo. I have my wine at night for Sundays and to turn on to the “Real Housewives of Atlanta” and “Married to Medicine” ladies.  So, it’s very exciting. It’s very humbling as well. “Blood, Sweat and Heels” is all about the personal and professional lives of black women in New York City and there are so many of us that could have been picked for the show.  You’re here so you know. We grind, we hustle, we put a lot on the back burner in trying to pursue our dreams.  So, I’m just very honored to represent those women who are on point and will be really looking to see a representation of themselves on television.

Abiola: What do you think of your portrayal so far in the series?

The response that I’ve been getting has been absolutely overwhelming.  You put yourself out there, you never know if people are going to like you or [how] they’re going to respond to you.  What I’m getting more than anything is “strong, independent and proud.”

Just to be transparent, I’m a journalist. I’m known for the Essence background. I’ve been very critical of the way that some women behave on reality television. And so when it was announced that I was part of the show, people were like, “What have you done? What are you doing?” And [people who know of me] weren’t really sure what to expect.  So, that hurt a little bit.

But since the episodes that have come out people are like, “I respect what you’re doing. I see what you’re doing with the brand. It’s all over the show. I didn’t get it but I got it now.” It’s like, “Carry on, D.”  It’s like, “We trust you with this now.”

Read more: here

The Root: Vanity Fair Just Doesn’t Understand Black Beauty (aka The Lightening of Lupita)

There were only two topics that should have dominated any conversation about actress Lupita Nyong’o last Thursday. That morning (and after much hype), she was officially nominated for an Academy Award for her first film role as Patsey, an enslaved woman abused by her sadistic owner, in 12 Years a Slave. And that evening she gave an emotional speech that moved many to tears as she accepted an award for best supporting actress from the Critics’ Choice Awards.

But that day, there was a third topic swirling around Hollywood’s newest “it” girl. Like W and Dazed & Confused magazines, which recently featured Nyong’o on their covers, Vanity Fair was eager to capture her. Evidently, someone had seen folks fawning over her beauty, talent and grace, and the magazine wanted to add to the fervor.

From the Vanity Fair Twitter account came a picture of Nyong’o wearing white and surrounded by white balloons. Her complexion was noticeably off. Nothing as bad as the before-and-after images of the Nigerian pop star Dencia making the rounds. The entertainer had used Whitenicious, a “skin toning” product, to remove her melanin. But Nyong’o was a weird, much lighter shade than the deep-brown hue the public had grown accustomed to seeing on-screen and in Miu Miu ads. She looked ... off.

“Lupita has a very rich skin hue, which would translate in ANY light,” one woman wrote on my Facebook page after seeing side-by-side pictures of Nyong’o on the red carpet and her latest magazine photo. “Vanity Fair has lightened, brightened AND added some flawed undertones. Instagram on heroin.”

This isn’t the first time black women have complained or been outraged by black celebs’ complexions being toyed with by magazines and advertisers. L’Oréalinfamously caught hell for allegedly lightening Beyoncé’s complexion in advertisements. But oddly, it’s the first time I can recall anyone other than a black woman making a fuss about the issue. In a rarely seen act of white-woman solidarity, the Gloss’ Julia Sonenshein went off about what was either Vanity Fair’s bad lighting or its lightening of Lupita.

“In an industry where every single detail is manipulated to be perfect, it just isn’t possible that everyone fell down on the job and forgot that her skin tone was totally off,” wrote Sonenshein. “There’s just not a chance that this was an accident.

She added, “To perpetuate an idea that the most flattering picture of a black actress is one where her blackness is altered is straight up racist, and if you don’t see that, then you’re frankly part of the problem.”

Read more: here

From the Inside Looking Out (aka The Belated Birthday Post) Part 2

It took forever for both of the contracts from the two different networks to come. They arrived the same day, which was oddly enough, the same day I published last year’s birthday post. Without even asking, the network for the scripted show sent an additional contract offering a “consulting producer” position. More or less, it guaranteed that I would have some input in the show. I know the nuances of my world as described in the book; they didn’t. I would fill in the knowledge gaps. That made me happy. My book, A Belle in Brooklyn, is my baby, the physical embodiment of a dream I wished for when I was 12. It took 20 years to make it come true. The additional title  meant I would be there to guide my book through her next steps.

It sounded too good to be true because it was. The main contract was standard, which is to say that it heavily favored the network. They wanted to own everything related to A Belle in Brooklyn, including my URL, the logo, the name “A Belle in Brooklyn”, and anything else “Belle”-affiliated, including any merchandise. Oh, and if the show ever made it on air, I couldn’t write a sequel to the book for approximately ten years and even then it couldn’t use any “characters” that I wrote about in the original book again. In laywoman’s terms, it meant that I wouldn’t be able to write about my life anymore.

I wanted a scripted show so bad that I actually  (and reluctantly) considered this.

I found a lawyer who used to run the legal department at another major network who told me a show would cost me, but I didn’t have to give up that much. It would also cost me financially. The lawyer knew the ins and outs of the business and even with a hook up, she was expensive. If I was lucky, the option rights for the book would cover what I would pay her when she was done re-working and negotiating with the network to get a contract that wasn’t asking for my soul.

In the end, I spent what the option clause the contract would have paid and then some—and never got anything in return. I sat through hours of phone calls at the most inconvenient of times. I was doing a speaking engagement in Colorado and instead of prepping, I was in my dressing room on the phone with my lawyer for an hour going over the latest contracts right until I walked on stage. I would go on vacation and stay  cooped up in my hotel room going over contracts. CBW would come by to visit, and I'd be sitting on the phone with my lawyers. I was on deadline for writing assignments, talking to my lawyer instead of cranking out essays, and watching the minutes move on the clock thinking about how much it was costing me and how pissed my editor would be if I missed my deadline… again.

There was also another lawyer to handle the contracts for the other network. That contract required the same level of negotiation. I would get off the phone with one lawyer and get on the phone with the other. Occasionally, I’d sit on the phone with both of them as they ironed out details and rights to make sure the contracts didn’t conflict with each other. I totaled the price of one of those hour- long calls once. I could have bought a pair of Louboutins.

Two TV deals on the table should have been heaven when I’d just been complaining about none. But I was in hell.

The time commitment to negotiating the contracts and the learning curve was killing me. The stress made me unbearable to be around or carry on anything but the most basic of conversations. I spent most of my time talking to producers and managers and lawyers and they were all throwing about terms that I’d never heard and percentages that I had no clue whether they were good or bad. My manager would bring up concerns in the contracts that I didn’t even know I was supposed to be concerned about. I’d asked to be kept in the loop of all the negotiations so I could learn the ropes, and I’d jump in and ask the most mundane of questions. Everyone always filled me in, happy to help. But at 33, I perpetually felt like a kid listening to the adults talk and no matter how hard I tried, I just wasn’t getting it.

A little bit of that feeling goes a long way. When you spend so much time feeling like most inadequate person in the room, it starts to affect the other rooms you go in. I couldn’t write the same. I started looking up words that I knew the meaning to because I wasn’t sure I was using them in the right context. It would take all-day to write competent articles when it used to take a couple hours tops to make something borderline profound. I’d be scared to push the Send button to my editors with fear someone would write back “um, what is this?” And then that actually happened which messed me up even worse.

I was going crazy. I debated with actual seriousness saying “f*** it” to both contracts and writing all together.  I told this all to Tariq who confirmed I wasn’t crazy, just scared and overwhelmed.

He pointed out that I was doing it right. I’d hired the best to advocate for me. I’d assembled an amazing team of women (as a testament, whenever anyone in the business asks who my lawyer, manager or producers are, I’m met with an impressed look after I answer) and I should just let them do their jobs.

“It will all work out,” he promised. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe in myself. But I’d negotiated away so much of what mattered to me and I’d been in over my head so long and I’d felt so damned dumb, I wasn’t sure who I was anymore.

The negotiations for the scripted show took longer than the time to finalize the reality show, tape it, and it was damn near about to be announced when I finally got a final word on what I’d started to think of as “my show”, which didn’t even exist.

I’d realized months before that something wasn’t right with the scripted deal. I’d pushed the feeling down, blaming my outsider-ness and lack of understanding about the way Hollywood operates. It’s a “hurry up and wait” schedule, I was told. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine.” Until it wasn’t.

I should have listened to myself.

I got the news soon after I’d hopped on a plane to LA to get away from New York hang out with my friends, put in face-time with my team and most importantly, to check on my “baby” cousin, a 20 year old from NOLA who wanted to be an actress. She’d bought a one-way ticket headed West a month prior to chase her dream, a move I didn’t fully approve of.

I took her to dinner in Century City the first night, the same way my relatives and friends of my parents did for me when I moved to New York. I remembered what it meant to have a concerned adult present with a listening ear, and a meal at a decent restaurant, something that had become a luxury. And I'd planned to tell her  she should go back home, get her business in order, and return when it was.

In so many words, she told me she was broke, and at the bottom of the totem pole, but she was where she wanted to be, in LA, and just taking that first step toward her dream despite all the (massive) problems-- like not having a car in LA--  that came with it. She was happy.

I remembered being that girl. In my version I sat on my parents back porch with a Master’s degree and no job, praying “God, just give me a chance to compete. I can make it if I get a chance.” My parents didn't want me to go. I got an offer paying next-to-nothing for a government job in NYC, moved and took a second job where I worked 13 days straight, two days off for a year. My parents thought I was crazy. I was living my dream.

I realized as she talked that I would have been a hypocrite to give her the “you should go home” speech, and I figured she was hearing it from everyone else anyway, the same way I did. It meant a lot then-- and now-- for someone to say,"I'm in your corner" when I felt like no one was.  So I told her I was and gave her a “you gotta want this like your life depends on it” soliloquy. It ended with, “balls to the wall, baby. But not, like, balls, because you don’t have balls, cause you’re a girl. Maybe boobs... Boobs to the wall! That sounds painful. But you know what I mean, right?”

I added, "oh, and that means taking the bus."

She nodded at me across the table and said, “I want this… more than anything, B.”

I smiled at her the way the grown ups used to smile at me at dinner. I always thought it was pity for me being broke and naïve in a big city and dinner was an act of charity. It was actually them remembering their own journey as I spoke, remembering it fondly and recognizing how far they’d come from their own beginnings. I think they were also enjoying the hope that still flourishes in people who haven’t been in over their heads long enough to fear drowning. I certainly was and I was getting more out of that dinner than she was.

For the first time in months, I actually didn’t feel crazy. I actually felt... happy.

The following week, baby cousin sent me a selfie from the bus. She was headed to an audition, and yes, she got the job.

Part 3: Soon come.

The Grio: ‘Sky is the limit’ for Bravo’s new reality TV show

(To watch: click HERE)

Bravo’s new reality TV show Blood, Sweat and Heels premiered Sunday night and broke ratings records.

The show chronicles six women who work in the areas of fashion, media and real estate while documenting their adventures around New York City as they balance their personal and professional lives. It kicked off Sunday night, drawing 2.5 million viewers and set records high as the highest reality series debut in network history.

The show’s Demetria Lucas and Geneva S. Thomas sat down with theGrio’s Lilly Workneh days after the series premiere and shared their sentiments on the show’s success.

“We’re all very dynamic women. We knew it was good but we didn’t know it was 2.5 million viewers good,” Lucas said. “The sky is the limit for Blood, Sweat and Heels and where it can go,” she added.

Both women are media professionals who have worked in the industry for years. Lucas is a published author of the top-selling book A Belle in Brooklyn and the creator of a highly read blog under the same name.

Meanwhile, Thomas began her career writing for various publications before launching her own digital-media agency. She has studied fashion overseas and worked for some of the biggest beauty and lifestyle brands.

Now, these two ladies join four other women in creating a cast that has come together to air and discuss issues with men, money and friendships.

“I feel like people were looking for something different, a fresh take,” Thomas said.

They are individuals in their own regard and share different opinions on a number of issues. The first episode showed a rift between some cast members when Lucas referenced a discussion the ladies had in a post on her personal blog. A preview for the second episode shows the women engaging in a heated discussion over the content in Lucas’ blog post.

“There was no malicious intent, I didn’t use names, I didn’t attack anyone and I was really talking about issues more so than what the women said,” Lucas clarified.

As for any choice words she has for any critics, she says: “Thank you for watching. Tune in next week.”

Catch the episodes of Blood, Sweat and Heels Sundays at 9 p.m. on Bravo.

Originally published on TheGrio.com

You're Invited: Cocktails with Belle (in BK) 01.19.14

It’s a celebration! Join me on Sunday, Jan. 19  8-10PM in Brooklyn at Bedford Hall to watch the THIRD episode of  Bravo TV’s new hit show ”Blood, Sweat & Heels”.

If you can’t make the screening, make sure to tune in to Bravo on Sunday, 9/8c for the second episode.

Ask Demetria: Should I Give My Ex Another Chance?

“Recently my ex emailed me (I've blocked him from calling or messaging me). He wants to try the relationship again. Previously we were together one-and-a-half years. I don’t know what to make of it. It threw me off. Is it ever OK to go back to an ex?” —A.S.

Certain exes tend to hold a special place in the hearts of singles (and some folks in relationships). For whatever went wrong in the relationship as it neared its demise, there were good times had and special memories made. Time, frustration and sometimes loneliness can make us nostalgic for better days and overlook the glaring issues that led to the relationship’s end.

Unfortunately, there’s no clear-cut answer to your question. Making the “right” decision depends on why this relationship ended. If there was an issue that you just couldn’t hash out then—communication, misplaced priorities or money woes—but, with clearer heads and hopefully some maturity, it can be addressed now, then reconsidering an ex could be worth a discussion. If you were treated poorly—any form of abuse, infidelity or you couldn’t trust him—then I’m not a fan of signing up for a second round, no matter how much your partner claims to have changed.

What’s equally important to think about while you contemplate this decision is what both of you are willing to do differently this time around so you don’t repeat the mistakes of your past. If you don’t, you will only break up again, likely for the same reasons. And that’s just more drama for everyone.

Before a former couple consider reuniting, they need to have a few candid discussions on the front end—that means before they are back together—about what went wrong and how the previous issues they had can be addressed. They should also begin to re-date each other almost as if they’ve met for the first time. Exes who return don’t immediately regain all-access and full benefits of a relationship.

That said, I’ve given you the general answer about going back to exes. But I’d be remiss not to point out that in your specific situation, getting back with your ex doesn’t sound like the best idea.

You haven’t said exactly why your relationship ended, but whatever happened during or after the breakup was enough for you to go to the trouble of blocking him from calling or texting you. That’s not a normal reaction to a breakup. You don’t just block someone for nothing.

Read more: here 

From the Inside Looking Out (aka “The Belated Birthday Post”)

Confession: I write mostly about pop culture now because it’s interesting. What we gravitate to or are repulsed by reflect the gauge of what we deem acceptable for our culture, our (sub) communities, ourselves and others. I also write about it because it’s an easy pitch to editors even on the most serious of sites because it gets way more clicks than anything news-y that doesn’t have the dual function of being outrageous, shocking or scandalous. People say they want depth. What they click on says otherwise. But mostly I do it to avoid talking about the ish I really want to say.

Last year’s birthday post was about a TV venture I was nervous about, one that highlighted what’s practically every person’s greatest fear: not being good enough. In retrospect, everyone thinks I was writing about signing on to a reality show.

I wasn’t.

That option was on the table. But there was another contract in play, the one that kept me up at night, talking to ducks at the park, and myself in mirrors.

A popular cable network that everyone could readily identify for its coveted appeal to women 18-35 made an offer to turn A Belle in Brooklyn into a scripted TV show. Remember when I wrote about flying out to LA and everyone said, “soon, soon”? It was for that.

I partnered with a writer and a production team who had been pitching “The Project” as a neat little package. “Quickly” – or for LA anyway— we had our first bite, and at one of the networks on our short list of “dream places” no less.

The network wanted to meet the following week, so I booked a last minute ticket from NYC to LA and spent way too much to put myself up at an expensive hotel because it was the only other option than places that looked liked critters would crawl the walls at night.

The day of, I was too nervous to drive and thankfully my manager picked me up.  “The team” and I went to lunch before the meeting to go over our pitch a thousandth time and I don’t remember what I ordered other than it smelled good and tasted like wood, which is attributed to my state of being and not the chef. I tried not to drink too much water or tea because I thought I’d end up having to pee at the most inopportune moment, ie, in the middle of the meeting.

I tried to seem calm because I was the newbie and the youngest at the table and I didn’t want to come across like an ingénue even though it’s exactly what I was and everyone knew but played along with me anyway. I listened as the vets around me talked matter of fact-ly about the difference between shows with two-cameras or three and felt stupid that despite cramming for the ins and outs of TV writing and production for months, the basic concepts still escaped me. I hated that I had to rely on my manager to explain every little thing like she was talking to a three year old because I knew next to nothing. And the only reason I didn’t let my pride get the best of me is because of what happened to Stringer Bell in Season 3 of  The Wire.

I’m convinced that The Wire provides a metaphor for everything that happens in life. This is no different.

Stringer tried to flip his drug money into something legitimate: real estate. And he was in way over his head because he didn’t know the business or the players or even enough to ask what he didn’t know. Before his unceremonious exit when his past caught up to his present, he asked Levy, his lawyer, about the process of being a real estate developer only to discover he was being jerked along all along. He’d found himself trapped between two worlds-- "too good" for one, not good enough for the other — an existence that has plagued me in my quiet hours since I left my day job. Yes, still.

I know how to write—a magazine article, a book, a blog. I’ve been a good writer since high school—but not even the best in my class—and I breezed through English classes, and most of J-school. I’ve spent more than a decade practicing and executing so I can write uninspired and have the skills to crank out something above competent on deadline. I understand print and web, and books (most people don’t know I spent 5 years as book editor).

Learning to be a life coach wasn’t a walk in the park – 8 months, 10-hour training days over the course of those months—but it was graspable. Decent journalists know how to get to the meat of a story. If you know how to help people find their bottom-line, it’s a natural transition.

But at the time, I knew nothing about TV (and I still have a lot to learn). I studied, I read. But anyone who’s ever been to school knows that there’s a vast difference between what works in theory and what does in application and most of what makes you successful on the job, is the stuff you learn on it.

So me and my theories and my dry mouth walk into the network conference room with my writer and my producer. We’re sitting at a long wood table surrounded by glass walls talking about the unique experience of being a single Black twenty -something woman in New York. We’re seated opposite a “mature” white woman with a gigantic rock on her finger and her assistant who I pegged as gay, ie, two people who have no idea of the world we’re talking about.

My writer does her song and dance, I do mine (breaking away from my rehearsed speech with the hope that I can do some alchemy-like trick of converting nervous energy into intelligent passion), the producer does hers and the white woman and her assistant nod occasionally and sporadically jot down notes.

Frankly, they seem bored. At the end of the meeting, Network Lady says she’ll “be in touch”, which I interpret as “you’ll never hear from me again”.  In my head, I immediately start calculating  the money I wasted coming out here and then we go on our way.

My team and I all go out for “celebratory” drinks after. The producer notes that we ran over our allotted time and weren’t hurried out is a good thing. I think she’s grasping at straw to make me feel better.

The vets are talking and I’m thinking about the security of my former day job. I’d been gone a year then, working tirelessly—  sometimes publishing 8 stories a week for 5 different sites—  as a freelancer and continuing to promote my book at panels and other speaking engagements. Instead of being introduced as “author of A Belle in Brooklyn” or "blogger", I’m always referred to as “former editor at The Magazine" first.  I tried to write my way out of that  and it  didn’t work. My hope is that if I can land this scripted show, I can be “[Belle] of A Belle in Brooklyn” and maybe that will be enough to quell the voice in my head that comes in the dark hours that keeps me up at night, and riding my bike at first light to the park to see the ducks (yes, still). It says, “you are not good enough on your own” and on bad days I believe it.

Less than a week later, I’m at the Arise fashion show at the Lincoln Center. I’m enamored with the Ozwald Boateng line going down the runway as much for the men as for the cut of their wares. And too, this is a bit of a Moment. I swore when I left my previous job that I wasn’t going to be invited anywhere again. My last week at The Magazine, I’d received a fancy invite to the show and sat in a fancy section with all the editors who when described in media always get their name bolded. I relished that afternoon because I thought it would be my last time there.

But a year later, I was back, not in a fancy seat but a seat nonetheless. It was a small feat, but one that gave me a temporary, but welcome reassurance that everything was going to be okay. Someday.

After the show, I checked my phone as I headed out of the auditorium. There was a missed call from my manager. I checked my VM, then called her back. She said she had the producers and the writer on the other line. She’d conference me in.

I thought the worst. My legs haven’t wobbled since I was in my early 20s and that was over a man, but just like that it happened again in my 30s. I walked back to the seat and sat, waiting for the worst, telling myself that it was only one network and there were others. And we’d only pitched one place, and there were more. And a “no” just meant I wasn’t asking the right person. Basically all the stuff that’s true, that most don’t believe in the worst moments, but say anyway to keep themselves from feeling shitty or falling apart.

“Demetria?” my producer asked when I was on the line with everyone.

“I’m here,” I said.

“The network called,” she said.

Simultaneously, I suck in my stomach, close my eyes, and press the phone to my ear preparing for the worst and hoping I don’t fall apart in front of all these well-heeled people.

“They want to option your book!”

Hol-lee fuck!

I teared up, which in retrospect I think of my body's way of releasing all the angst I didn't know I was holding on to. I couldn’t say anything more than, alternately, ‘Oh, My God!” and “Thank you!”, as much to God as to my team. After a good minute and change of that, my producer realized she wasn't going to get anything useful out of me right then, told me to process it all and call them back.

She’s a vet who has sold plenty of shows. This is business to her.

It was a dream for me.

Except it never came true.

Part 2: Soon come.

She Matters: Get Over Gabourey Sidibe's Weight

Gabourey Sidibe attended the Golden Globes Awards Sunday night. And in what has become a time-honored (and vile) tradition anytime she appears anywhere and happens to be photographed, some viewers thought it would be a good idea to mock her weight. Again.

There was, of course, the flat-out name-calling, which was clear fat-shaming. And then there was the faux concern for her health—i.e., passive-aggressive fat-shaming under the guise of sympathy.

After the latest round of jeers about her size on Sunday night, Sidibe offered another reminder to let folks know that they’d been heard and unequivocally dismissed.

“To people making mean comments about my GG pics,” she tweeted. “I most definitely cried about it on that private jet on the way to my dream job last night #JK.”

Welp. You could practically hear the applause around the Internet.

I’d like to take a moment to point out what should be obvious, but seemingly isn’t: Sidibe knows she is overweight. She’s said as much in interviews. She’s been told to her face by her Hollywood idol that she needs to lose weight. Anytime she walks onto a Hollywood set, she is likely the largest person present. When she sees her magazine covers on the shelf next to others, it’s as obvious to her as it is to everyone else that one of these people is not like the others, as much for her size as for her color.

Gabourey Sidibe is not stupid or blind. And as evidenced, she does not give two damns what naysayers think of her weight. ”I was born to stand out,” she told Parade magazine last year. “I don’t care whether or not people will find me attractive on-screen. That’s not why I became an actor.”

If she wants to lose the weight, she has access to trainers who can work it off or plastic surgeons who can suck it out. And if the weight is tied to an emotional issue, she can hire a psychologist who can help her address it. Either she doesn’t want to lose it, is trying to lose it or maybe—though I know it may be unfathomable to some—she’s happy as is.

If all you are able to focus on is Sidibe’s size, widen your horizons. Despite her weight or perhaps even because of the opportunities her pounds have afforded her, she has an Oscar nod for her very first film role and has worked consistently as a black actress in Hollywood, a notable feat when there are countless stories from black actresses a third of Sidibe’s size who complain about not being able to find decent work. Oh, and she’s been co-signed by Oprah.

Read more: here

Xfinity: "I was very disappointed with the idea of being put against each other." ~B.

If you’ve been watching Bravo’s “Blood, Sweat & Heels,” then you already know Demetria Lucas doesn’t mince her words. So far, we’ve seen Lucas, an author and relationship blogger dubbed “the Black Carrie Bradshaw,” call out her five co-stars for antiquated views on women’s leadership and the general belief that all men are “cheaters.” While this assertiveness has been championed by many (her social media following has swelled tremendously) it was frowned upon by her co-stars, especially after she wrote a blog post about it. In Sunday’s episode the ladies confront her about the write-up at co-star Mica Hughes’dinner party, with style expert Daisy Lewellyn immediately going in on her before the ladies could take their first bite.

“Daisy, can we get through the appetizer first, sweetheart? We haven’t even had the first sip and you’re like already going in. Can we talk about something that’s less controversial?” Lucas asked. Her other co-stars, who include Melyssa Ford, a former music video model-turned real estate broker, real estate partner Brie Bythewood, style and pop culture journalist Geneva S. Thomas, and Hughes, a modeling agency owner, observed the heated exchange. That would soon change.

Thomas chimed in, accusing Lucas of doing the very thing she mocked her for doing—snooping on a boyfriend—which fueled the already tense environment and led Lucas to calmly exit early.

Whether you agree or disagree with Lucas’ decision to write about the discussion, the 33-year-old will argue that it’s what she does for a living and she knows her boundaries. She’s been writing about relationships for a decade. She worked as an editor at Harlequin Books and worked as a relationship editor at Essence magazine. She’s bared her soul and dished out advice via her award-winning blog, A Belle in Brooklyn, and penned two books: “A Belle in Brooklyn: The Go-to Girl for Advice on Living Your Best Single Life” and the forthcoming “Don’t Waste Your Pretty: The Go-to Guide for Making Smarter Decisions in Life & Love.”

The engaged Lucas talked with XFINITY about her co-stars’ reaction to her blog post, opines about why some women find themselves in undesirable relationships and her thoughts on the pitting her against Lewellyn. “Blood, Sweat & Heels” airs Sundays at 9 p.m. EST on Bravo.

A lot of people tuned in for the show’s debut last week, giving Bravo its highest-rated series debut.What has the response been like for you?

I got amazing feedback from the show. My Instagram jumped up 4,000 people and my Twitter timeline an extra 5,000. My website crashed because 1.8 million people tried to log onto it in 24 hours. There’s been great discussions about the conversations that the ladies and I had at brunch. Many people have applauded me for being a strong woman and taking a stand for strong women and for standing up for men and saying that they’re not children—I had no idea that many men watched Bravo.

I did live-tweet during the first episode and could see people found your costars viewpoints, including the generalizations about men, to be disheartening. Why do you think a lot of women are quick to label all men dogs or cheaters? Women cheat, too.

I think some people have had bad experiences with men. They see it in the home growing up, they see it in their dating life, they see friends go through really bad things and I think that provides a not-so optimistic outlook on dating. It is disheartening, as you said. But, you know, all women aren’t great and all men aren’t either. All of them aren’t terrible, also. There are good people in the world who will do right by you. I really do believe that.

Why do you think some people constantly find themselves in bad relationships? Any advice on how to change that?

To their credit, bad people don’t come out the gate acting like horrible cheaters, liars, abusers or anything like that. They’re usually quite charming, they usually go out of their way to deceive a person about the lesser part of their character or personality. And some of that stuff comes out over time. I also think that as women, we kind of have an innate sense, about a guy who chats on you or about a guy who lies to you all of the time. You kind of know when something is up but then you say no,’ I’m just trying to make a big deal out of nothing, I’m just being paranoid.’ I think a lot of us who want to be in relationships very much and sometimes we overlook some things that are red flags just in order to keep the thing that we’ve got going.

The ladies weren’t feeling your blog post. Did you expect them to respond that way during Mica’s dinner party?

Absolutely not. I don’t know if you got a chance to read the blog post but I updated my site so that it was more prominent so people could evaluate for themselves. But I never named names in the blog post or said anything negative about Daisy’s brunch. They all received an email saying that I had blogged about what happened and then I put it up and left a note, ‘let me know what you think.’ Only two of them responded. One of them said they thought it was funny. I was very surprised to hear that they were upset. Three of them were very upset and I was surprised that they tried to ambush me like it was in junior high school at the dinner party. I didn’t expect that at all.

Just to be clear: you did email them ahead of time to let them know that you were going to write about the brunch?

I had put the blog up and I emailed them to say, “Hey I wrote a blog about the conversations at brunch; check it out and let me know what you think.” I did ask her on-camera later to see if she did receive it and she said that she hadn’t. But she was cc’d on the email like everyone else. I will also add, that in my defense, I guess, there was nothing that I said in my blog that wasn’t said to the women during the conversation. Again, I didn’t use names, I didn’t name call in any way. I really just wrote about the issue of it and explained the things that they had said as an example of what some women had said.

Read more: here 

You are invited.... Cocktails with Belle, Sunday, 1.12.14

It’s a celebration! Join me on Sunday, Jan. 12  8-10PM in Brooklyn at Bedford Hall to watch the second episode of  Bravo TV's new hit show ”Blood, Sweat & Heels”.  

If you can’t make the screening, make sure to tune in to Bravo on Sunday, 9/8c for the second episode.

Ask Demetria: My BF Tells His Best Friend Too Much!

“My boyfriend has a woman friend who knows every move we make. They talk constantly, and she knows everything he does before I get an update. They grew up together and are super close. Is this just friends being friends or suspect?” —B.A.

I can’t give you a definitive answer based on the information given. I do know that when you’re in a relationship, things go much more smoothly if your partner gets first dibs on major information. Thinking of quitting a job? Tell your partner first. Earned a promotion? Partner first. Starting a new business? Partner first. If you can’t get first dibs on information about your partner on a consistent basis, are you really a partner?

In the best-case scenario, he hasn’t adjusted to being in a relationship, or he’s unaware of some of the basics that come with the “boyfriend” title. The most glaring is that you don’t speak all your business, especially about your relationship, to other people. Another is that your partner gets major news before any of your friends of any gender.

Let’s hope for the best here and have a conversation about the amount of time spent with his female friend and the boundaries that he’s crossing by telling your relationship business to her. That she feels comfortable telling you what she knows first makes it seem like there are three people in the relationship, and that makes you uncomfortable, too. Ask him to set boundaries on the information he shares and pull back on the time he spends talking to her or with her. This is a reasonable request of a person in a relationship.

In the worst-case scenario, this reminds me of the old Biz Markie song “Just a Friend,” in which there’s a whole lot more to the story, and it doesn’t end well for you.

Let me preface what I’m about to say with this: I do believe that men and women can be platonic friends, but sometimes there is more to a so-called friendship than what meets the clichéd eye.

Read more: here 

She Matters: SNL Gets No Love for Doing the Right Thing

Back in September, Saturday Night Live earned the ire of outspoken fans when the show announced its new cast lineup, which failed to include a black woman, a glaring omission. It didn’t help matters when black cast member Kenan Thompson blamed the show’s diversity problem on a weak talent pool.

The SNL cast had not included a black woman since Maya Rudolph left the show in 2007 (and it’s only had a handful since its debut in 1975). Yesterday, SNL producers announced what many skeptics thought would never happen: A black woman would be joining the show. When I heard the news, my heart did one of those flip-flops, and in my head, I shouted something like, “Go, black girl, go!”

Enter Sasheer Zamata, who will debut on Jan. 18. The young comedian, who earned a drama degree from the University of Virginia, moved to New York City in 2009 and began performing with the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre, according to her website. SNL viewers may recognize her from commercials she’s appeared in for Target, Verizon Wireless, New York Lotto and Apple, or from her hilarious (and extensive) selection of online comedy videos, many of which she writes and performs.

I’m happy for her. For a comedian, landing a gig on SNL is a dream come true, and if played correctly could be a launching pad for a rewarding career. If nothing else, her addition will keep Kenan Thompson out of drag costumes (which he vowed not to do anymore), which had been SNL’s baffling (and annoying) solution to portraying black woman instead of doing the obvious a long time ago and hiring one or some black women to actually perform in sketches.

Like I said, I’m happy for Zamata. But forgive me if I’m still not doing the same mental backflips to celebrate SNL. They finally did the “right” thing, but it’s what they should have done years ago. Adding a black woman to a nationally televised show that pokes fun at American culture in which black women prominently exist should have been a no-brainer. As soon as Rudolph went in search of brighter horizons, the search should have been on to replace her with one or, yes, more than one black female comedian.

But it wasn’t a priority or even an afterthought. It took six years and a loud outcry for anyone to say, “You know, maybe something’s missing here.” Zamata is undoubtedly talented and deserves to be on the cast, but the timing of her addition seems like more like a PR move to quell the angry masses than the genuine result of a teachable moment or even a desire to change.

I’m also a little queasy about what SNL will do with Zamata’s talents.

Read more: here