You Win Some, You Lose Some

This is not another long-form think piece about Beyonce. Or the fact that Jay Z got up on stage and started another unnecessary skirmish between the Bey Hive and the Swifties over the one Grammy Award that a certain person has never received whilst the other person has four. I mean, I understand the complaint, but it feels rather on-brand (and not in a good way), to whine about having ALL the things except this one little thing, for which she was not nominated, she doesn't need, and probably doesn't have the shelf space to display...

Nevertheless, none of the Beekeepers are going to agree with me on that. And after a week of reading commentary posted by grown-ass people with jobs unrelated to defending the Carter Family empire, I am going to leave that alone. Furthermore, having just written about Swift and mindful that we have an extra day this year for Black History Month, I will let her sit this one out as well.

Instead, I am writing a general open letter of sorts to the world that maybe we need to do a better job of remembering the lessons we were taught as children about winning and losing. Seems everyone has forgotten how to be gracious at both, with folks complaining about not winning enough or folks insisting that they won victories when all evidence indicates otherwise. Into this fray comes the Busy Black Woman to offer some reminders. 

Dear Everybody:

One of the first sentences you were taught as a child was to say thank you. I distinctly recall that if I failed to utter those words, several scenarios might play out, such as having whatever was just offered to me taken back. And it was done in such a dramatic way to maximize the impact, usually by the loudest Auntie or Uncle who declared I didn't hear you say thank you, so I guess you don't really want this. Then as a follow up, you had to endure a public scolding. And because this always happened at some large family gathering, you got that look from one or both parents--the look that clearly communicated that this wasn't even the half of what to expect on the way home. Ah yes, even at 50 years old, the memory of that kind of embarrassment has never faded. (Mind you, the person responsible for this trauma did not hear me say thank you, because I did say it...it was no use arguing that point 40+ years ago any more than it is worth insisting on it now.) 

But you get my point. Thank you is the simplest, easiest, and most gracious sentence in every culture and language that can avoid most misunderstandings in life. It doesn't need to be an Emmy/Grammy/Oscar/Tony-worthy speech (unless you are accepting one of those awards and need to thank God; your parents; your significant other, children, and pets; as well as your team of lawyers, agents, glam squad, etc.), in which case, just make sure to wrap it up before the music plays. 

Some of us were raised to send thank you notes; some of you were not. It seems as if nowadays handwritten notes are a generational relic, with many folks opting to send a thank you email or text. To be honest, I am not going to be a stickler about the form because I get that there are times when a less formal communication of gratitude is appropriate. Therefore, I am happy to receive a phone call in place of whatever Emily Post etiquette rules once existed. We're all busy, kids don't learn how to read or write in cursive anymore, and ain't nobody got time to be worried about stamps or how to properly address an envelope. 

However, I will judge you if I go out of my way to do something nice and you shrug it off like you deserved it. While I won't call you out like that loud Auntie, you gonna learn real quick that I won't trouble you with any future acts of kindness. Yes, it is that serious, because a failure to acknowledge someone's benevolence or generosity is not just rude, but it reeks of entitlement. No one is that busy or important. Even bill collectors take the time to thank you for making a payment. And in the event that you had a human moment and forgot to express thanks, that's fine because there is no statute of limitations. Better late than never.

When you were in elementary school playing some game on the playground, invariably, somebody got mad about losing. And that kid had an epic tantrum that required intervention by a teacher or playground monitor. After being hauled off to the principal's office or the teacher's lounge, s/he returned to class to offer an apology, which was then reinforced by a lecture on the merits of sportsmanship. I can't speak for everyone reading this, but I remember hearing this lecture every year in some capacity from every teacher who needed to emphasize that not all of us were going to win the game, be awarded the first prize certificate, be cast in the starring role, or sing the solo. 

Some of y'all weren't listening. Or maybe you were the kid who always came out on top, so you never had to learn what it meant to be the runner up. You got all As, you were the team captain, or you maybe you played soccer during that era when folks stopped keeping score and gave everyone a participation trophy. Whatever excuse you have for being a sore loser as an adult, it's time for you to put on your big kid pants and grow the heck up!

Sometimes you don't win. Al Gore invented the internet, won a Nobel Peace Prize, and still looks pretty good for his age. But he didn't win the 2000 Presidential Election because he lost the state of Florida by 537 votes*. The Atlanta Falcons were winning the Superbowl against the New England Patriots in 2017 until the second half of the game, then they lost in overtime 34-28. How many times have you watched a game show and the contestant in the lead loses Final Jeopardy or overbids the Showcase Showdown on The Price is Right? Imagine being from one of those small countries that goes to the Olympics every four years but never wins any medals. Or being Susan Lucci for 19 years.

I don't know how we got to this point. I don't know what changed in the course of my lifetime where the adage that winning isn't everything became an alternative fact from the multiverse of infinite options. Political candidates routinely refuse to concede elections, with the best example being the former President of the United States who continues to insist that he won an election that he lost by 7 million votes. Winning at all costs has been normalized in other aspects of life, with students now filing lawsuits to gain admission to their top choice college. Or cheating to stack the deck in their favor like the parents caught up in that Operation Varsity Blues scandal. Sports franchises spend the equivalent of the gross national product (GNP) of the world's poorest countries just to win trophies. All of this backlash we see against diversity, equity, and inclusion is just sour grapes and fear over possibly losing access to once-restricted opportunities.

It used to be that losing built character. It encouraged perseverance. It taught us that life is sometimes unfair, but to show up and try anyway. Even the Bible tells us that there is a time and a place for everything, and while it doesn't explicitly mention winning and losing, shouldn't that be implied?

Someone wrote a post to Facebook about what Jay Z was teaching his daughter in his speech the other night, and I certainly agree that it was admirable for him to defend his wife (we'll address that part at another time). At the same time, I can also believe that he imparted the wrong message to his daughter about winning--it isn't always based on objective criteria. And we don't always deserve to win just because we show up. There are a lot of people who worked hard who still finish last, which is what we see happen every four years at the Olympics. Some of those folks only won the preliminary opportunity to compete on the international stage, but that doesn't make those victories any less significant.

There is an arrogance to feeling so entitled to winning that often leads to backlash, resentment, and eventually to becoming what winners fear--a loser. We've seen the defeat of athletes who compete past their prime and refuse to retire. We've seen the hubris of leaders who think they are irreplaceable. We've seen some extremely talented people surround themselves with sycophants who never offer critical advice or counsel. We've seen how people who are so used to winning at everything can't handle when the tides shift. We've seen world records broken, statues and monuments toppled, and greatness surpassed. 

We've seen winners lose. And then true character is revealed. 

The true character of the two ladies who aren't supposed to be the reason why I'm writing this open letter was on display well before the Grammy telecast. Beyonce attended the premier of Taylor Swift's Eras concert film, and Swift graciously acknowledged the influence Beyonce had on younger artists like her. EVERYBODY seems to have missed that in the rush to take sides, which has been most disappointing. Because if you truly understood the diva-like aura that tends to surround artists on that level, you would know this photo was definitely not a PR stunt.

You win some and you say thank you. You lose some, you nod and smile, and then go back to work or practice with a mind towards winning the next time. You keep putting in the work. You keep showing up. And what you will win at some point in the process will be more meaningful and significant than a participation trophy.

* still disputed, but not by Gore

TIME to Shake It Off

Alright Swifties and the folks who hate them, I started this piece before the Superbowl conspiracy theories began circulating about Taylor Swift trying to influence your young impressionable daughters. She'll swear that she isn't, but if your daughter suddenly decides to watch the game to catch glimpses of her in a skybox instead of Usher at the Halftime...

Remember when I said that I wasn't going to say anything about Taylor Swift being named TIME Magazine's Person of the Year? Me neither (it's been almost two months)...but I do recall that I tasted blood from biting my tongue. So fine, I have a lot to say and I guarantee some of you aren't going to like it! 

I saw the list of finalists, and it reflects all of the appropriate choices that one would have expected: controversial world leaders; the righteous working man (as represented by the Hollywood strikers); the heroic Trump prosecutors; icon(s) of popular culture; and the random inanimate object thrown in the mix to represent the cultural zeitgeist of the moment. My best guess is that Barbie actually won, but then someone was going to have to figure out how to interview a toy without that coming across as inappropriately suggestive or weird. 

So they went with the neurotic human Barbie that is Taylor Swift, and as is always the case whenever her name is trending, there was controversy along the predictable lines of people being elated, annoyed, or indifferent. What surprised me was the larger than usual coalition of people who expended time and energy on being offended. 

Like really? As the world burns, y'all are upset that a pop star got featured on a magazine cover? War in the Middle East, Eastern Europe, and Sudan. A wannabe dictator is running for President with a solid shot at winning, but Taylor Swift is the more worrisome influence on America's youth? I know that in theory, the TIME Magazine Person of the Year isn't supposed to be as trivial as the People Magazine Sexiest Man Alive or the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue can be. However, it is just a magazine cover as well, so by now (two, four, six...eight weeks or so later) we're just ignoring whomever/whatever is staring back at us from the virtual newsstand because no one keeps physical magazines anymore excepts doctors and dentists. 

And that would have been more than enough to say on the matter, until I noted an alliance of pearl clutchers between the Black Twitterati and the Moms of Liberty. That made for the kind of strange bedfellows which caused me to reconsider my silence. On the one hand, I understand the exasperated groans...Taylor Swift (again) when Beyonce is right there??!! However, on the other hand, just when I thought it might be best to *swiftly* walk away from what looked like white-on-white violence and head back to the hood, it dawned on me that Tay-Tay has become the most polarizing white woman in America since Hillary Clinton.

Again, we're talking about a magazine cover, not the Nobel Peace Prize. I know that we want Beyonce to be given her flowers and properly acknowledged, which we can do without going full Kanye at the 2009 VMAs. Nobody is denying the impact of Beyonce's World Tour. Nobody shrugs off the devotion of her BeyHive. And though we addressed this a few weeks ago with that cute picture of Bey and Tay together at the premier of Swift's Eras movie, nobody cares if they are frenemies or fake besties. Y'all need to stop pitting these women against each other! Seriously, you need to calm down.

Go on about your business and let Taylor Swift do what she does best, which is play the victim/anti-hero of her own success. Isn't that ultimately how she got this honor, by hamming up her "Gee, aww shucks, who me?" schtick to the kind of pitch perfection that has kept people talking about her all year? So stop helping her...PLEASE! 

She's talented. She's pretty. She can be charming. She likes cats. She has a lot of famous ex-boyfriends. By naming her Person of the Year, TIME has done us a solid by starting the clock on her inevitable popular decline. I know that reads like I'm taking shots of haterade (I'm not); however, I'm simply stating the obvious. What goes up, must come down. After a year of being the center of attention, the backlash of being weary of all things Taylor, Taylor, Taylor is just beginning. 

Is that what y'all want for Beyonce?

Congressional hearings over the availability and price of her concert tickets that result in nothing? Having your pleas for her to come to your city on her much-ballyhooed concert tour go unanswered? Getting denounced by the Alpha men and Podcast Bros as a floozy and the MAGA Karens as a witch? 

Consider what the title of TIME Person of the Year really means in the grand scheme of things. She gets to share that designation with some very honorable people such as Nelson Mandela, St. Mother Teresa, and Martin Luther King, Jr., but also quite a few terrible folks like Adolph Hitler, Elon Musk, and Donald Trump. She wasn't chosen because she's some inspirational freedom fighter standing up to a Bond villain dictator (nominated again this year), nor as a symbol of some significant movement in human progress. She's no Angela Merkel; however, she is a mega-successful multi-talented artist who had a really good year. Maybe it seems inconsequential, because making people happy through art isn't at all like working for world peace or curing lethal diseases, but Lord knows that we need some joy in these turbulent times. However, this choice feels like a set up, and a few months from now, she might wish they had gone with Barbie. 

Honestly, the person who should be really pissed right now is King Charles III. Consider that he's waited his entire life for these kinds of honors, only to be relegated to being just another name on a list. I got a certain amount of petty glee to note that the American daughter-in-law he keeps trying to make us hate, the one who was too busy living her life to attend his coronation...she found time and a sitter to attend the Taylor Swift concert.  

Even I got sucked into Taylormania this year. I had just joked with a friend that I would never, only to forget that declaration when I bought tickets to the Eras film a few weeks later. Of course, they were for the Kid, under the rationale that her ability to sit through the Swift concert would determine whether she could manage to do the same for the Beyonce film (almost). We were about halfway through hour two of Eras when I realized how many TS songs I knew from just casual radio surfing in the car. And I have to give the woman her props--it was a quite a show!

So now what? Will this be the high watermark of her career?

Since I am old enough to have witnessed this phenomenon with several other global superstars, I can say with certainty that the fall ain't pretty; the splat at the bottom is ugly; and the comeback never restores the artist(s) to the heights they once achieved. Having just watched the documentary about Michael Jackson and his iconic Thriller album at 40, it reminded me of those innocent times before everything really blew up, when I was the age of many of the youngest Swifties. Back then, Jackson was setting Guiness World Records, collecting Grammy awards, integrating MTV, and overall changing the music industry. No one could touch him, but like most people who fly too close to the sun, he came crashing down to earth. 

I imagine that a similar retrospective of Eras in 20-30 years or so will find us revisiting this moment to determine where it all began to shift. Was it Taylor's fault that her presence at NFL games to cheer on her next ex-boyfriend would annoy so many people? Didn't she know that she would never overcome the ridicule of having taken a role in the movie version of CATS (2019)? How did she always manage to reach any career milestone without the "help" of Kanye West? (Yeah, I said it!)

While we can clearly see the Beyonfluence on Swift and think the worst, it isn't like she hasn't been borrowing notes and copying from the others who preceded her. Let's begin with Janet Jackson, the Fairy Godmother of every 21st Century Pop Princess. Recognize that pose from Swift's second POY TIME cover from the janet (1993) album? How many of you remember the first Taylor (Dayne) to make it big in pop music? Or that Ms. Diana Ross the Boss was the queen of multiple costume changes in a single show? I could name-drop a bunch of girl pop acts from the 80s, from Tiffany and Debbie Gibson to the Aunties Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, Gloria Estefan, and Mariah Carey who were each, in her prime, pioneers who cleared away shards of broken glass so that Swift didn't get cut along the road to success. 

Heck, some of Taylor's best stuff has been ripped off inspired by others. Becoming BFFs with various LGBTQIA icons--that was Madonna in the 90s. The entire boudoir dominatrix aesthetic was big in the Aughts, which I remember well since one of the very first pieces I wrote about popular music back in 2001 was inspired by the remake of the Lady Marmalade video for the Moulin Rouge soundtrack. That same year Britney Spears performed live with a snake (Swift's snake at her show was an optical illusion). Swift must have been about twelve then, the kind of "good" girl who diligently practiced her instruments and jotted down lyrics (while taking copious notes) in her glitter-covered spiral notebook. She definitely spent a LOT of time watching classic MTV videos because hello, Michael Jackson did the zombie in the graveyard thing first. And that folksy rock-witch serving Sarah Jessica Parker in Hocus Pocus (1993) era was a clear nod to Stevie Nicks. How much do you want to bet that Swift assumed no one would make the association between one-hit wonderful Toni Basil and how she obviously inspired Shake It Off?  

Yeah, if Artificial Intelligence could have created the perfect pop star...

Which brings me back to where this all began with the TIME cover and how maybe it's just perfect that Taylor Swift would be named the Person of this most superlative thank-God-it-is-almost-over trainwreck of a Year. While some folks might be envious and critical of Beyonce for both legitimate and ridiculous reasons, she's a working mother of three married to a billionaire, so she's not worried about a magazine cover. And she's made it clear that she and Swift are like two vast oceans that maintain their unique attributes even as they mix, commingle, and share fans. Queen Bey don't need or want any parts of this foolishness.

On the other hand, Taylor Swift is probably writing a song about all of this backlash that will become next summer's earworm, and so all of this Taylorific disdain will have the opposite effect. She has a knack for courting controversy so that it serves her; hence, no matter what we say or how we feel about her, she's not going anywhere anytime soon. She is formidable, resilient, and she won this dubious honor over a King, organized labor, two dictators, and a $10 plastic doll. That this woman can be loved and reviled, admired and maligned, yet somehow manages to triumph is extraordinary.

Even if you're still convinced that Barbie would have been a better choice, the reality is that she would have melted under this kind of scrutiny. In the movie, she couldn't handle the perceived imperfection in having flat feet, and the other Barbies got overthrown in their own dreamworld by a bunch of idiots. Taylor (and here comes a bad pun), is too Swift to be undone by shallow insecurity or some male accessory who is only relevant because of his association with her. If for no other reason than to piss off the podcast bros who resent that she's way out of their league, Taylor Swift will always be a better choice than Weird Barbie...and the world will be grateful for that in 20-30 years.

Barbie, Beyonce, and Bucket Lists

If someone asked me to provide a description of my first weekend of August 2023, those would be the words I would use. 

I know that I said that I wouldn't do a recap or review of the Barbie movie, and while this is kind of a cheat, I do feel compelled to offer a brief paragraph or two of my perspective. Because I have seen all kinds of opinions and weird takes, and I swear, some of you just want to something to complain about. Which is ridiculous since it is a movie based on a toy.

Perhaps everyone is used to movies about toys being overly sentimental or centered on the ones that explode or destroy things, I guess the very non-violent and only mildly dystopian premise of a Barbie doll that gains sentience and crosses over from a land of make-believe into the real world really warped your sense of things for a minute or so. I mean, it must have been really hard to fathom a world in which a fictional depiction of the Mattel corporate boardroom as men in suits or warring factions of Ken dolls fighting for relevance in a music video wasn't intended to convince your daughters to challenge the patriarchy. Of course it was, but then again, was it? 

Think about this way: Mattel is pre-selling Weird Barbie for $50, which is more than what I've paid for every Inspiring Women series Barbie doll that I won't let my Kid touch. Now, there are various collectible dolls selling for many times that amount, but the point was and still is that this film is nothing more than a 2-hour commercial meant to sell dolls...to grown women! Because the audience for this film is not your rebellious teenage daughter who stopped playing with her Barbies right after you built her that Dream House that takes up too much space in the garage.

Now we're going to do an abrupt pivot to the Beyonce concert (because I have a lot more to say about that, and I'm bursting at the seams to share)! I realize that even revealing the details of how I decided to get tickets will polarize people into various factions: those who think it was crazy to spend that kind of money to see Beyonce; those who wish they had that kind of money to spend on Beyonce tickets; and those who enjoyed the show because seeing Beyonce live is a BFD!

Let's start with the latter group. In February, I floated a query to a group of friends regarding tickets and for the most part, most of them responded with disinterest. So it was on a far-fetched whim that I even put my bid into the lottery system to purchase tickets because I figured it was a long shot in the dark. Worst case scenario, I wouldn't make the lottery; best case scenario, I would get a chance, see the prices, and get a good laugh once my credit card got declined. Welp...

A week later I got notification that I was in the lottery and suddenly, I felt like this was akin to playing high stakes poker with a Bond villain. I logged into my Ticketmaster account an hour earlier than the appointed time and made it clear to everyone in the house that I was not to be disturbed. I refreshed my screen and dove into the queue, where I was informed that I would have to wait behind at least a thousand people. But that process went very quickly and within half an hour, I was clicking around the seating chart to see what seats were affordable and still available. As it turns out, I got pretty good seats for someone who approached this on a whim and a long shot (four tickets plus fees for less than my monthly mortgage). 

I decided that I would reserve one ticket for the Niece, and I think she had a good time (as you can see from this picture, it's hard to tell with teenagers). My friend AH claimed the other two tickets for her and her daughter. Several people asked, but no, the Kid was never in my plan because of her age and my belief that it all would have been way too much for both of us, so I took videos to share with her afterwards. My other Niece, same age as the Kid, made me pinky-swear promise to take her the next time, so God willing and the creek don't rise, I've got at least two more companions for the next Beyonce show that comes our way. So yes, that answers your next question.

To answer your third question, YES, it is worth making such a promise to make plans to see the next Beyonce show, even if that means I need to start saving my pennies now. Beyonce is worth ALL of the hype, similar to how many of us felt when Michael Jackson and Prince were alive. I can say that I saw both of them perform live and those experiences were unforgettable. She is definitely on that level. I am sure that there are others (Elton John comes to mind) and I wish that I hadn't missed that boat when it came sailing through. No matter though, because I have a bucket list of performers and will make it my business to be blessed to see each one. To be totally honest though, Beyonce wasn't even on that original list.

So let's address the desires of those who wish they could have been there. Several years back, an acquaintance posted on Facebook about folks needing to be ready with their Beyonce ticket money at a moment's notice, and I thought, hmm easy to say when one doesn't have responsibilities. At the time, I believe my Kid was still a Toddlersaurus and the Niece was about her age now. I didn't bother to look into getting tickets nor did I survey any of my friends, even though several people I knew ended up going. In one case, someone had an extra ticket and asked a friend if he wanted it. Sometimes we get blessed at random when someone decides to cast their bread upon the waters.

For the rest of us who want to see Beyonce or check off some adventure from our bucket lists, we've got to just decide to do it. That isn't just about concerts, but about most things in life. A lot of people assumed that the ticket prices would be beyond reach, so they didn't try, but it wasn't like that at all. Some people even bought tickets the day of the show for pretty reasonable regular prices, and I'm happy for them. Broadway tickets are sometimes sold at a same-day discount, so maybe one day the Kid and I will stumble into Hamilton or some other fabulous show she wants to see (such as The Six). Most times, however, fortune favors the brave; therefore, make up your mind now that you do have Beyonce ticket money. Decide that if the opportunity presents itself, you will just throw caution to the wind, throw your shit into a bag, and just go for it! 

Mind you, I am not always that impulsive, but as I have gotten older, I've accepted that sometimes it makes so much more sense to roll the dice than to play it safe. I'm not saying that I was too cautious when I was younger (actually, yes I am), but I think that if I had been a little less so, I wouldn't feel like I missed out on so much. I only saw MJ once, in 1984 because that's the only time an effort was made. I was blessed with free Prince tickets in 2004, but that was random luck. Looking back, maybe I should have been more willing to venture outside of my comfort zone instead of telling myself that I might not succeed so why try...

I know, we were talking about Beyonce tickets, so to those who think it was crazy, you are right! And I've already declared that I would do it again, so there's that. So as not to provoke too much social media envy, I have been very mindful about over-sharing because it feels like the exact opposite of a humble brag. Yet at the same time, I'm not sure why I should feel any kind of way considering how many of y'all post pictures of your vacations on Martha's Vinyard and Dubai. I've never been to either of those places, but now I'm thinking of a master plan.

I'm not mad at you...YOLO so Carpe diem!

Which brings us to the topic of bucket lists. Last year, many of my friends turned 50 and as some of you are aware, the Busy Black Woman will reach that golden shore later this year. I am all over the place with various emotions. There are days when I think YAY, and then there are days when I look back and wonder where the years went and how did I get here. Actually, my thoughts use more colorful language, but the end result is the same. Not only are these gray hairs hella disrespectful, but so are these hot flashes and the accompanying brain fog. I cannot believe I have lived almost 50 years!

With four months to go, I have no idea how to celebrate. I think the Hub had plans, but then our bedroom ceiling collapsed, and the Kid keeps growing taller. So that means being practical...but is that how I want to start my next half century? What did Barbie do? I think she changed her hair and stopped wearing heels, but she's a toy, so maybe a better question is what will Beyonce do? I'm pretty sure I'll get my answer when I take the girls to see her on her next world tour.

Since I don't have Mattel or Jay-Z money, I believe a viable alternative to renting the Louvre or opening my own amusement park is to just say Yes. I have already alluded to that with respect to having your ticket money ready, but this is about more than just going to shows. This is about being open to living and experiencing more than what you have been doing. It means setting intentions--not just of the things you want to do before you kick some metaphorical bucket (because we know not the day nor the hour), but what things do you want to have done that will fill your bucket with memorable experiences? Did you want to backpack across Europe at some point? Did you want to go on Safari in some African country? Did you want to drive cross-country in an RV? Did you want to ride every wooden roller coaster that you were too young to ride as a child? Did you take a language and wish you had become fluent? Did you play an instrument?

Are you getting the point? 

Now back to the Barbie movie, because the ending offers the perfect message for concluding this piece: once you get a taste of living, it is hard to go back to just existing. It becomes an existential dilemma to return to your box or your imaginary world where things seemed perfect. You've got to make moves, decisions, take action. You went to see Beyonce and now you're thinking as you are preparing and packing for a week at the same beach where you've been going for about ten years that maybe next summer you'll go somewhere different.

It's time to go back to Homecoming for the first time in years. It's time to put that passport to use, even if you're not crossing the ocean, just playing in it. When was the last time you went to an amusement park and rode an old wooden roller coaster? Now that you've gone out into the real world, it's hard to go back to being stereotypical Barbie. Or to being a predictable, practical Busy Black Woman.

Submission is for Job Applications and Poetry Contests

Literally, I have several unfinished drafts and too many open tabs and a gaping hole in my bedroom ceiling where the fan used to be...so the last topic I need to worry about is submissiveness in other people's relationships.

Yet here I am opining on some nonsense, instead of trying to micro-blog it on the Book of Faces or writing a thread about it on the Dodo Bird App that no one will see because I refuse to pay the $8 monthly ransom for visibility. Therefore, here is your annual reminder from me that these man-baby tantrums y'all are having on social media about grown women's choices are why half of you are still living with your single Mamas.

Before we get too far into this, allow me to say that I am not commenting on any specific celebrity couple, but you can select the duo that resonates with you and feel free to agree or disagree as necessary. As an opening statement, I believe that we are all entitled to dance to the beat of our own drummer in relationships, including the celebrities who put their business out in the world for all to see. Everything ain't for everybody, as the old folks say, so it's okay if you aren't down with whatever the kids are doing these days.

Having said that, of course, the entire point of social media is to share, and as significant aspects of celebrity livelihood depends on what we know about their lives, once they post in on da' Gram, then they expect you to have an opinion. In the past few years, Auntie has opined on a variety of issues: driveway therapists, hair bonnets in public, Lizzo, and the "requirements" that some men have for dating, and I welcome you to peruse my archives to get my take on those topics. My issue isn't about your inalienable right to an opinion, but with how you say what you feel compelled and/or obligated to say. Just recently, I issued a preliminary warning about how some of y'all think being racist, sexist, homophobic, etc., is merely an exercise of your free speech until those consequences come back to bite you.

For the most part, I don't believe too many of my readers are rolling with the Polo Tiki Torch Club racists, so let's address the sexism and misogynoir disguised as tradition and respectability. Because some of you really need to be called out for the way you talk about and expect to be treated by grown women in relationships.

A few months ago, this picture of Rihanna and A$AP Rocky with their son had Blue Ivy's internet in a tizzy. Some of y'all were hot that this young father was demonstrating affection while standing in the background behind his partner. I read a number of complaints of how emasculating this image was, when to me, it was a beautiful family photo, especially after we all learned that there was another baby on the way. If anything, the only controversial thing is the child's name (because RZA ain't even his government name)...but again, if that's what the kids are doing these days Imma scroll on and mind my business.

VOGUE is the fashion Bible, and RiRi, one of its Apostles has graced their cover countless times (this was the British edition). She has a fashion line, a cosmetics company, and as an It-girl of this decade, rightfully is in the forefront of this picture as the article that was written is about HER. The fact that her Bajan boys were even included in the photo, when most women featured in the magazine are highlighted for their solo accomplishments, should have shut down all of the ashy attempts at deconstructing the dynamics of their relationship.

Of course, it should be assumed that if one is unashamed to go forth amongst the people unlotioned, then that same level of audacity fuels most of their questionable opinions and decisions. A bunch of these same dudes idolized that brother from Jos A. Bank who moonlighted as a relationship expert until he died under the most ironic circumstances. They still quote his relationship advice while complaining about splitting checks on a first date at the Olive Garden, and we're supposed to take their opinions on Rihanna and how she minds her business seriously?

I get a lot of laughs while reading the polarized takes on how real men ought to assert themselves in relationships. It tracks that many of these are the musings of dudes who spent too much time with their uncles in the barber shop, but failed to notice the frequent address changes and the ever-changing number of cousins from various situationships. Uncle Eddie's definition of submission is to brag about how his woman fixes his plate because he's the king of his household; in reality, she does that to keep an eye on his diet, lest he ends up in another diabetic coma.

(I need to point out that I while my examples come from a specific cultural vantage point, there are parallels. I see those burly mid-westerners carrying their wives' purses at various tourist attractions and I chuckle to think what manner of lies they tell about being in charge.)

Listen to those Alpha male traditionalists on social media if you want, but behind the closed blinds, most of them don't run shit but errands. That's not intended as an insult lest you think being a reliable, stable, and dependable presence in one's family isn't the point of being "the man" in the household. The way I see it, you're still a man regardless of how the labor and expenses are divided, unless you're hung up on semantics and outward appearances. Nobody has to know anything as long as you keep your business out of the tweets. 

If you're more engaged in showcasing relationship "goals" instead of being in the relationship, for better or worse, then you'll never understand how your parents and grandparents stayed together for 50+ years. For starters, they weren't starring in a never-ending reality show with cameras documenting every aspect of their lives. And trust me, it wasn't because those were so-called traditional relationships with a dominant male figurehead and a submissive female servant. What you saw was a private partnership, not a public power struggle. You saw two people who had enough respect for each other to disagree and still put forth a united front to the world as necessary. You saw two people who celebrated each other, made mistakes and took accountability, and who worked hard to stay together in spite of everything.

Everything. Double shifts. Flirty co-workers. Unpaid bills. Children. In-laws. Somebody finding Jesus. Someone losing their religion. Chronic illness. Stagnation. Midlife crises. Menopause. Grief. Success. I could keep going, but you get the point. And in the event that your grandparents or parents didn't arrive at that golden milestone, it makes a lot more sense to learn from their mistakes than to follow the advice from a bunch of online hecklers and haters who revel in other people's misery.

Which brings us to the point where I admit that I lied..

Of course, I saw the video of Keke Palmer dancing with Usher in a bathing suit and cover-up. And I saw the tweet her man should NOT have sent while he was home alone, horny and drunk with a restless baby. And I saw where sides were chosen, and hard lines were drawn before she even got home. AND THEN I saw where the entire incident became a CNN news-worthy headline instead of staying on the gossip blogs like the rumors about Tyler Perry buying BET.

And, well since it is already out there in the Twitterverse, left on Blue Ivy's internet for us to express our opinions (because all he had to do was send her a text message), now Auntie feels compelled to offer some advice from her Busy Black Book of Wisdom:

    Dear Keke,

        Can I start off by saying that I am still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you are grown-grown, as in little Akeelah is almost 30 (and my old azz just wasn't ready to accept that yet)? So after I got over that shock to my system, I just feel the need to restate that fact for the people in the cheap seats, including that man you have (had?) living in your house--you a grown ass woman!

        Thus, there really isn't much more that I should have to say, unless I am expressing my opinion on your outfit, which I am not. Because you already know that you are a mother, having carried and birthed that baby with your own body, so that ain't no newsflash. However, since the talk in these tweets has been over the audacity of that man who lives (lived?) in your house to make public a disagreement that has obviously been a bone of contention between you, let Auntie offer a little advice: Move on.

        Move on and try to figure out how you plan to co-parent your son with an insecure man-baby who thought he was making some giant leap for manhood in trying to have the last word in an argument by telling a grown ass woman how she ought to conduct herself in public. Then, instead of realizing the folly in airing his private relationship business in the tweets, he doubled down and then made matters worse with this very mature response (after aligning himself with two poster boys of male fragility Con Baybay and the Muskrat). Allegedly, he's deleted pictures of YOU from his IG page, so even if that original post was not typical behavior, he has now shown you who he really is 🚩 

        Now, I happen to enjoy petty, and if you had waited a week or so to get with Beyonce on a remake of Irreplaceable before releasing your new line of merch, then I might have been inclined to buy a tee shirt. Because she's a Mom too, and you don't see Jay Z issuing public rebukes of her attire or behavior (nor will he ever after Lemonade). I'm not comparing your situation to theirs, but I am pointing out that however Jay might feel about what his wife wears on stage or for promotional photos is irrelevant because no one bothers to ask him. Even if some ashy dude pumped full of audacity thought to inquire how Jay feels about his half-naked wife straddling a glass horse, I'm pretty sure Jay wouldn't take the bait.

        Because not only is Beyonce a mother and a grown ass woman with that body after three children, she is also an entertainer. It is her J-O-B. It is Usher's JOB to give a show during his Las Vegas residency that includes serenading women in the audience. And I'm clear that it is also your JOB as a celebrity attendee at the Usher show to give a performance that entices other women to want a chance at the same experience. With everyone else being clear about their roles and responsibilities, why come your man (ex?) had to throw his ego in the mix as if any of this was about him?

        I mean, what's up with the insecurity when just hours before all of this went down, you and dude had been rolling in the deep (because you posted this), so what happened? As if he hadn't posted pictures of you wearing something equally risqué in the past? If you were at the beach or the hotel pool bar, instead of front row at the Usher show...

And now it all makes sense. This was never about what Keke was wearing, but the fact that she was seen enjoying herself with another man in public. Old boy was upset that image was going to make him look some kind of way, so he lashed out. And then suggested that he was only doing what any self-respecting man in his position would do to protect his ego. As I've said many times, when someone cannot control you, they will attempt to control how others see you.

You a Mom. Those three words might as well have parted the Red Sea. Because for every person who saw and understood Keke's joie de vivre at getting out for a few hours of much needed girl fun in Vegas (where what happens there is supposed to stay there), there were the furious slings and arrows of judgment coming from every angle. Deeper than trying to shame her was the implication that motherhood had stripped her of any agency, any power, any freedom she previously enjoyed. 

You a Mom, living with a man who exerted his prerogative to decide when to flaunt her assets on these same social media platforms. It was all good when he was posting the pics, but problematic when someone else did? You a Mom, because her body was for him to expose and exploit, not for her to be wiggling and giggling in a club with Usher. Three loaded words that revealed so much.

Such is the subtlety of misogyny, communicating several diminishing messages, delivered in a seemingly innocuous manner. We joke that this should have been kept private in a text, but the result would have been the same (just ask Sarah Brady about Jonah Hill). Offline, who knows what else he's said about her body, her clothes, or how she conducts herself in public? If you've read some of the responses posted in support of him, you would think she was lucky that he had attached himself to her. That as long as he was in her life, at least she could dream of a happily ever after (because the only thing worse than being a spinster is being a single mother). Now look at her, branded with a scarlet letter...You a Mom, but not a wife.

I'm not reaching because I've read the first chapter in the Gospel of Submissiveness. Some of y'all resurrected Kevin Samuels; some of y'all are finishing up dissertations and Sunday sermons; and this dude gave a 30-minute TED Talk (of which I only got through a little over 5 minutes because I don't have that kind of time). So let me save you from learning this lesson the hard way--submission is another way of allowing someone to control you. You have a choice if that's the kind of relationship you want; it is not a requirement. Anyone who expects submissiveness and regards it as a prerequisite to commitment or building a life with you doesn't regard you as an equal but as a subordinate. As my Mom made it clear to me and anyone else who had issues with her outspoken independence, she was nobody's doormat. And just so you know, my parents have been married for 50 years.

PS: I'm not buying a tee shirt because I'm waiting to see what happens next. One of the other truisms about these social media relationships is how a lot of stuff is staged, so Imma wait to see that duet with Beyonce.

Playlist Project: Steppin' Out

Last year on the Facebook page, I promised that I would share this rather unconventional playlist on behalf of those for whom Valentine's Day is celebrated on someday other than February 14th. I got inspired to do this by a song that my friend and de facto music editor RC posted on his personal page, one that I had never heard, but was very familiar with the song that inspired it. Then a few Saturday mornings later, I was minding my business and heard a crazy song called My Side Piece (2016) on the radio...also for the first time. Later that same weekend, I saw a thread on Twitter about the meals that had been used to lure folks in and well, I took that as a sign.

But here's the thing--I never published this piece. Days turned into weeks and by the time I realized that I had moved on several times to write about other topics, this project languished in my drafts. Recently when I noticed the calendar, I wondered if anyone would recall that I had promised, but never got around to posting this...well, here it is for those who have been waiting. 

Now let me say this at the outset, the Busy Black Woman is NOT judging anybody, which is why this playlist is called Steppin' Out. I won't be resorting to name-calling or blame-gaming since it takes two to tango and much like the it's complicated relationship status category that used to be a feature on Facebook, nothing is ever as straight-forward as most of us would like to believe. And since I am not calling names or passing judgment, it is entirely your choice to continue reading to see which songs made the list...

We begin with the most iconic of songs in this category, a staple of bid whist in the basement/old-school Saturday morning R&B radio, Me and Mrs. Jones (1972), by Billy Paul. Because if you are of a certain age, you grew up hearing this song and had no idea what kind of thing they had going on "every day at the same cafe". I mean, until I gave more thought to the matter, I often wondered how wrong it was just to meet for coffee with an old friend until I realized that the lyrics were winking at us. This was a subtle nod to stepping out, unlike that other basement classic by Johnnie Taylor, Who's Making Love (1968). I think it is fair to say that Taylor's version is definitive because the Blues Brothers (1980) aren't really singing. Mr. Paul's triumph has been reinterpreted a few times, most notably by The Dramatics (1975) and more recently by Michael Bublé (2007). And though I could not find a stand-alone this clip of this song on YouTube, I must give an Honorable Mention to the waiter in the Walter and Jaleesa Anniversary episode of A Different World (you can watch the entire episode here). 

In this same vein of songs from the 70s, ain't nothing subtle about If Loving You Is Wrong (1972) by Luther Ingram. He admits to being a married man, but apparently that didn't deter Millie Jackson (1974) or Barbara Mandrell (1978) from stepping out with him. When the Manhattans sang Kiss and Say Goodbye (1976), I'm betting it was because old boy knew he was about to get caught, so in order to avoid the inevitable third degree from the wife and her crew, The Pointer Sisters, inquiring How Long (Betcha Got a Chick On the Side) (1975), he just called the whole thing off! Not sure if it was a similar preemptive strike happening in this 90s version by N-Phase, but it is kind of ironic to think of Beyonce Knowles-Carter channeling that same get-to-stepping energy from 2006 on Irreplaceable now (put a pin in that because you already know). Lest it be thought that married men were the main ones doing the stepping out, Bill Withers made it clear that he was suspicious of his woman on Who Is He and What Is He To You (1972). Nowadays since love is love, we cannot assume that a man would be the only partner asking that question because in 1996, Meshell Ndegeocello wanted to know as well. 

Not everybody can hide their tracks, thus when Betty Wright caught Richard "Dimples" Fields in the bathroom singing She's Got Papers (1981), we can all guess how that went down. Well as it tuns out, he landed on his feet according to the song that inspired this playlist by Barbara Mason She's Got Papers (But I Got the Man) in 1981. However, the original response was recorded by Jean Knight, but was called You Got the Papers (But I Got the Man); before that, Ann Peebles released a different song You've Got the Papers (I've Got the Man) in 1979. That's a whole pile of messy papers all over the place 😦! As an aside, and I hope Ms. Mason doesn't take this the wrong way, but she also sang a cover of If Loving You Is Wrong as well as I Am Your Woman, She is Your Wife (1978), so I have to ask if this woman had any friends? Or were her only other girlfriends the two women from The Soul Children, who sang I'll Be The Other Woman (1973)?

So that no one gets the impression that people only began singing about stepping out (and getting caught) in the 70s, I found quite a few gems from some of our favorite jazz vocalists, beginning with The Other Woman and You Can Have Him, both recorded by Nina Simone in 1959. Another classic comes to us from Carmen McRae's Guess Who I Saw Today, a song I often hear on the Sunday jazz programs that she recorded in 1957. This video interpretation offers an interesting twist using Nancy Wilson's classic version that was released in 1960. Wilson also sang an emotional rendition of You Can Have Him in 1964, but perhaps the most dramatic version came from Dame Shirley Bassey in 1966. There is something so dignified in the way these women sang about their hurt. I feel like throwing a martini!

(Random sidenote: two of these songs came from Broadway musicals, this song had been written in 1949 for Miss Liberty by composer Irving Berlin and was initially recorded as a duet between Dinah Shore and Doris Day.) 

If you think only city folks engage in stepping out, I'm inclined to believe it is a regular theme in country music as well. If Dolly Parton was worried about losing her man to some chick named Jolene in 1973, by 2021, Sis in Chapel Hart had decided You Can Have Him. Carrie Underwood was over her man too, but she made sure he knew how trifling he was in Before He Cheats (2005). And while this takes us off topic a bit in terms of songs that tell the story, check this 2018 video for Yola's Ride Out In the Country...

As D'Angelo said Shit, Damn Motherf***er! 

We all know human emotions and interactions are complicated. A change in routine got Stevie Wonder wondering on Lately (1980), although he was the one Creepin' in 1974 (oh wait, that isn't what he's singing about, that's what Luther Vandross was doing in the coda to If Only For One Night in 1985). Or was that Jodeci in 1993, begging for forgiveness clad in leather on a desert set on Cry for You after the tables were turned, once they too, realized that Lately things had changed? In 1985 Stevie sang about having a Part Time Lover (with Luther singing backup), so that's an easy mistake to make. However, there was no mistaking what Shirley Murdoch was singing about that same year in As We Lay and how she tried to warn Kelly Price from making the same mistake in 2000. For years, I could claim naiveté while singing along with Whitney Houston to Saving All My Love into my hairbrush, but not so much when I was singing along with Stephanie Mills to Secret Lady in 1987.

Babyface and Pebbles offered an interesting perspective on how people got caught up in Love Makes Things Happen (1990) because sometimes things do just happen. Unless you are taking your partner for granted, and she decides that Ray Parker, Jr. was right in 1981 when he sang A Woman Needs Love (Just Like You Do). It could be the chance encounter with an old flame, as was the case with Rick James and Teena Marie on Fire and Desire that same year (and they clearly got consumed in the moment). It was loneliness that propelled Jeffrey Osbourne into the arms of a Stranger (1979). For Jill Scott in 2004, it was flirting with temptation on Cross My Mind while Philip Bailey was singing about all the Reasons in 1974 why he couldn't resist. Karen White enjoyed the thrill of the nonstop Secret Rendezvous (1988). For Cherelle, the other man was giving her Everything I Miss At Home (1988)...so Joe was right there promising to do All of the Things (Your Man Won't Do) in 1996. And in 1970, Gladys Knight was making a strong case for herself on If I Was Your Woman. 

Sometimes, the other person doesn't know all of the facts of the situation. For instance, I don't think Vesta Williams had the slightest clue in 1988 that she was the other woman until she happened upon the man's wedding! It took a minute for Shiley Murdoch to figure out that her man was somebody's Husband, and Jocelyn Brown was also in deep with Somebody Else's Guy (1984) before she learned the deal. Luther Vandross knew from experience not to get mixed up in a Secret Love (2001); meanwhile Stokely from Mint Condition questioned What Kind of Man Would I Be, and then chose not to yield to his desires in 1996. Ultimately, one would hope that when faced with temptation, most people assume like Toni Braxton did in 1992 that Love Shoulda Brought You Home.

When love doesn't bring you home, well that's how we end up here, like the couple in Atlantic Starr's Secret Lovers (1985). The ladies of TLC were singing Creep out of a mix of loneliness and revenge in 1994. Carl Thomas regretted his feelings for someone's wife in I Wish (2000). In 1983 when Klique found out that his woman was stepping out, he begged her to Stop Doggin' Me Around (taking his cues from Jackie Wilson in 1960 and Johnnie Taylor in 1972). Meanwhile the O'Jays, upon having learned about the state of things at home, were also attempting to work things out in 1976 on Your Body's Here With Me. 

By the way, when I said I wasn't judging anybody...I lied. I am judging how we refer to the participants in these liaisons because the evolution from being referred to as The Other Woman (Sarah Vaughn in 1958) to being called a Side Piece (Julia Cole in 2020) seems like quite the misogynist twist on how we regard stepping out. Property was the rather impersonal double entendre used on Naughty by Nature's O.P.P. from 1991. Homewrecker was the term used by Gretchen Wilson in 2004 to describe women out there with no shame, like Evelyn "Champagne" King in Betcha She Don't Love You (1982). Would the same be said for men waiting in the wings like Tyrese on The Other Man (2002)? What would you call someone like Bobby Womack who sang how I Wish He Didn't Trust Me So Much (198)? Is there a derisive name for a Mister-Too-Good-To-Be-True who is offering the world to someone's unhappy woman like Babyface was in 1989 on Soon As I Get Home? Men get just as caught up in these entanglements as the women do, like Mtume on You, Me, and He (1984). 

Now if you find yourself in one of these complicated situationships, try not to end up arguing like Monica and Brandy on The Boy Is Mine in 1998 (ditto for Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney in 1982 because that was whack too). Hopefully, you aren't the reason why Usher was dropping bombshell revelations on Chili in his multiple Confessions (still not sure why he needed two songs when he offered up the details in the first part). Nor would it be cool to roll up like Meshell Ndegeocello, confronting the rival by telling her If That's Your Boyfriend (He Wasn't Last Night). I remain un-convinced that ultimatums are ever the move like Today demanded on Him or Me in 1988, because even if it did work for Prince on The Beautiful Ones in 1984, there is always the possibility that it might backfire. 

If you find out that your partner is stepping out on you, there are multiple ways of letting them know you Heard It Through the Grapevine, and most of us think of Marvin Gaye's classy heart-broken confrontation ballad from 1968. I had always assumed that Gaye was just putting his spin on the funkier up-tempo Gladys Knight and the Pips version from 1967, so I was surprised to learn that this song had been originally recorded (but unreleased until later) by Smokey Robinson and the Miracles in 1966. Motown was good for having multiple artists on the label cover their hits, and this song made the rounds because it was also recorded by Bobby Taylor & The Vancouvers (1968), The Temptations in (1969), and The Undisputed Truth (1971). However, this song belongs definitely to either Gladys or Marvin, depending on your mood, which is why this joint live performance is such a gem. When Credence Clearwater Revival recorded it in 1970, it was a nod to both of their iconic Motown arrangements. Roger & Zapp took a completely different approach in 1981, with the talk box and the beat making this sound like dance battle at the club.

Speaking of public confrontations, this scene from Mo' Better Blues (1990) is probably how most men try to play off getting caught in the act and hope that the women respond without making a scene; I suspect Beyonce's rage on Hold Up (2016) is how most women really feel. Since Beyonce can afford to pay for all of that property damage, confrontations are more likely to resemble the Sunshine Anderson approach on Heard It All Before (2001) than Jazmin Sullivan's Bust Your Windows. Men get hurt too based on Oran 'Juice' Jones' low-key stalking then humiliating eviction of his girlfriend In the Rain (1986). To be honest, I remember hearing this song by Al Hudson and One Way when I younger in 1979, but now that I'm older I find it hard to believe that some dude is just going to Toast to the Other Man...

Which brings us to the penultimate song on this playlist, brought to us courtesy of Shirley Brown making that Woman to Woman phone call to Barbara in 1974. For years, I've tried to understand how Barbara was to blame for Shirley's man stepping out on her (given that they only just met if her number was still in his pocket). It also seemed like a weird flex to fight for a relationship by claiming that your significant other ain't shit without you...sounds more like a deflection. And that was exactly how Barbara framed her response on From His Woman to You in 1975. 

However, the fact that 'Barbara' is the same Barbara Mason who made a whole singing career of being the other woman (and was the impetus for this playlist) is both ironic and my cue to turn up the lights to send everybody home. The brown liquor is all gone, and somebody is probably waiting up for your response to a WYD or WRU text. If you grew up in the 70s and 80s listening to urban adult contemporary radio (i.e. The Quiet Storm) or watched music videos on Saturday night, then you probably know most of these songs. By now, you've also figured out why we were admonished to stay out of grown folks' business. Relationships are complicated, period. I don't have any profound observations or parting words because I'm not judging. Beyonce is still with Jay. This is a playlist reflects that reality, so if there is any lesson to be gleaned from any of this, it is to keep your eye on any woman you meet named Barbara...

The Devil in the Green Dress

This is one of those pieces where I can't provide a map or a key to tell you where I am headed, you just have to trust that it might all make sense by the end. Initially I thought I might write this in two parts, but that is not how it is unfolding. So follow me on this meandering journey through the personal and professional reactions to the noteworthy topic du jour. Because I've seen so many different takes on the Slap and since I've already had my say on that, I want to talk about Jada. 

Somehow, a fight between two men is her fault...because she made a face after a comment that was a joke made at her expense. She's at fault (checks notes): for not stopping her husband, for not following her husband to the stage to stand in between his open hand and another man's face, for being bald, for having an entanglement with a man who kissed and told, for addressing the matter publicly on her internet talk show, for dating Tupac back when they were in high school, for convincing Will that Wild Wild West was going to be a hit...

I'm sure I left something out, but it is absolutely crazy to me how Jada Pinkett becomes Helen of Troy and takes all of the blame for how two grown ass men acted up on national television.

How is that personal? Well, it isn't because I am friends with Jada. In fact, I am not even a fan of hers, since I believe her addition to the cast of A Different World is the precise point when the show jumped the shark. Her character was terrible and annoying, and with rare exceptions, I have yet to see Jada take on any role that isn't some derivative of Lena James. 

It sure is convenient that Jada became the Devil in the Green Dress that Denzel Washington alluded to when he sought to comfort Will Smith after the Slap. In our attempts to make sense of what set him off and made him forget where he was and how many people were watching, the only logical explanation was he got possessed. An evil spirit inhabited that man's body and forced it to act out on national television. And in the tradition of Adam blaming Eve for his choice to bite the apple, the world settled on Jada.

Why do y'all hate Jada so much? For anyone who has been paying attention to the Smiths for any amount of time, how did it escape your notice that while Will has continued to have a rather high-profile, yet consistent career that has ebbed and flowed, hers has been practically dormant for a minute. She started hosting an internet-based talk show with her Mama from her basement before the pandemic. Jada worked steadily in the 90s, up until she had her first child with Will. She found work here and there, but after their daughter was born, Jada went ghost for a while. She fronted a band, she had a short-lived TV show, she voiced the Hippo on Madagascar (with Chris Rock), co-produced a sitcom with Will, and she had periodic cameos in various movies. Will has been on a hot streak of summer blockbusters, intense dramas, and being a Hollywood mogul. Their son Jaden got to be the Karate Kid and daughter Willow got to be a rockstar for an entire summer. Jada got to stand on the sidelines with her spiked coffee to cheer everyone on.

I don't know why y'all never noticed that Will has always treated his family like employees. I remember that the Smiths hosted the BET Awards show together in 2005 and this promo captures my belief that Will has been trying to push guide his children's careers from birth. He and Jaden co-starred in a disastrous movie (one that I actually paid to see in the theater) and it included some truly painful moments of father-son tension that were not acting. Not too long ago, Willow opened up about the pressure she felt from her father to pursue a music career after the success of her Whip My Hair video. How it took her refusal to continue with a tour for him to accept that he had been forcing her into something that no longer seemed fun. She was 12.

Will has confessed on quite a few occasions that he does the most. Before he wrote his book, he gave plenty of interviews in which he outlined his I-think-therefore-I-am-Legend philosophy, and every single time, I have come away feeling drained by his intensity. The man is consumed by the pursuit of success, and every move he makes is about being Will Smith, the man with the multi-million dollar brand name. I wish more of you took the time to psychoanalyze him instead of Jada, who has been his ride or die all along. Every movie premier. Every twist and turn. Every career high and low.

Until August whatever his name told everyone about his puppy love affair with Jada, NOBODY had a clue how unhappy, unfulfilled, tired, and generally sick of Will's shit she was. Sure, the rumors about them have always alluded to them being about as real as the Fendi bag you bought from someone's trunk, but you wear it anyway. What man hasn't been called gay in Hollywood and shrugged it off because that is the rumor about everybody? And who cared if she went a few years without working if he was bringing home $20 million per film?

I have said this several times and will say it again for everyone in the cheap seats--Will isn't anybody's cuckhold. He's had dalliances and at some point Jada said bet, what's good for the goose is good for the gander and she got her some. But her non-disclosure agreement wasn't as airtight, so when her little boy toy got in his feelings about Mrs. Robinson cutting him lose once she had her fun, everybody is out here clutching pearls and denouncing Jada as if...

As if marriage ain't complicated and messy AF for everybody. Beyonce wrote a whole album in response to Jay-Z's extra-curricular activities, and I swear that is only because she knew fucking one of his friends wasn't worth it. And how we found out about that was because Solange couldn't believe that shit and threw hands in an elevator.

I mentioned to a friend recently how people are being way too dismissive of Jada's alopecia. I saw where someone questioned if it is any more or less traumatic than men going bald in their 20s and that was the moment when I realized how desperately y'all want to salvage Will's reputation and career. Did you know that there is a support and advocacy community for people that suffer with alopecia (and I know this because I'm on their mailing list)? When you dismiss it as a milder auto-immune disease than lupus or multiple sclerosis, is that because you know from personal experience, or just don't think it is a big deal for someone to suddenly be disfigured or have their appearance altered by something they can't control? As if the stress of being Mrs. Will Smith didn't finally get to her? Have y'all forgotten Michael Jackson's vitiligo?

Here is where I get personal. I have this birthmark on my forehead, which I've had since I was a child. This picture is one of the earliest appearances of it (the faint shadow you see in the upper left corner). In my teens, I had a dermatologist who provided options if I wanted to have it removed, and because I had been teased relentlessly about it for my entire life at that point, I considered it. This was the late 80s though, so the methods for removal sounded like torture--having it frozen, burned, or cut off. And get this, I did have portions of my birthmark cut off to get it biopsied for skin cancer and it grew back! That was the risk I faced including discoloration or some kind of disfiguring scar that would have been no different than the mark itself.

For years, I was very self-conscious and never felt safe from the ridicule of my peers or some adults. Once a substitute teacher cracked that it looked like I had a third eyebrow, that became the default insult for the remainder of my elementary school days. In middle school, I was declared ugly and diseased. By high school, I thought people had outgrown the taunts, but I later learned by accident that someone whom I thought was my friend had talked about me and the ridiculous splotch on my forehead.

Yeah, kids are cruel and teenage girls are mean and boy are stupid. All of that. And though I am used to the stares and the awkward questions from children, every now and then, someone makes a bad joke, so I recognize the look Jada gave in response to Rock's quip. I can tell you how I have accepted my birthmark and how I chose not to have it removed because I came to see it for something greater than a flaw. I can tell you that I don't care if people whisper behind my back about that thing on my forehead. But I can also tell you that I would NEVER intentionally sit on the front row at a comedy show...

I can tell you that it was a few years ago in San Francisco when an unhoused man made me feel like that ugly middle school kid again after he harassed me for not giving him money. He started out by hitting on me, then he asked me for money, and then completely turned into an asshole when I honestly told him that I did not have any cash. I haven't wanted to go back to San Francisco because of that encounter.

So yeah, I feel a personal connection to Jada over the fact that she had an honest here we go again moment and everyone is calling it the look that launched a hundred angry steps. You want to know why she didn't jump up to stop Will? Because she was in shock like the rest of us!

I haven't read Will's book and honestly, I won't since we all need a break from their never-ending drama to focus on other issues. I didn't have to write this, but I felt compelled to say something in Jada's defense after seeing how folks have either written her out of the narrative or reframed it to cast her as Tituba from the Salem witch trials who set this all in motion with her evil feminine wiles (midlife crisis). A lot of Hollywood couples had extramarital entanglements, and not all of them were discreet (Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn come to mind). Even some of the long-haulers had non-traditional marriages. You'd be surprised.

So please stop. Miss me with all of your amateur expertise in relationships when we spend a great deal of time on social media trying to understand why some men think paying for a date is some kind of conspiracy by women to drain their souls. When we've got dudes offering advice from their cars in the parking lot of McDonald's before their weekend visitation starts. When there are women bragging about how well they take are of men who haven't married them so they've been playing house for 15 years. Water your own lawn!

A final word on why I took the time to defend Jada--because I see her. I see this woman living her life like the rest of us, dreams deferred and answered prayers and everything else in between. Maybe she is terrible and this is that moment in Mean Girls when she gets hit by a bus, or maybe she is a much better actress than we realize. Just because she is comfortable with her bald head that doesn't mean she is immune to the sting of a bad joke. Y'all think everything is fair game and it isn't. Words do hurt people, and as a friend pointed out, we know when someone is hitting below the belt. Poking fun at a woman's appearance walks a very fine line and is often just mean. 

And slapping somebody on live television is stupid. Will Smith has been telling us for YEARS what kind of person he is and now he's shown us. Chris Rock has been telling us that he's kind of a jerk too, but with more self-awareness. So again, how did this narrative shift in 24 hours to Jada being the Instigator, Geppetto the Narcissist Puppeteer? Incredible. That's a whole semester on Freud that most of you skimmed from a YouTube video, so now you think you know something? You only know what you saw, and no one saw Jada slap anybody. So stop smacking her around and if you can't say anything respectful about her, then keep her name out of your mouth.