There's An App for That

I had another menopausal meltdown recently, this time in public...but that's not the main impetus for this overshare. I've been toying with the idea of introducing 'Menopause Memoirs' as a new blog label, so the test run is recounting a recent encounter I had with automation and "efficiency" and how those twin illusions have done more to ruin, instead of enhance my overall quality of life.

If you are rolling your eyes and thinking, OK Boomer, first let me remind you that I am Generation X, and you need to watch your tone. Second, I am not a child, but that doesn't mean I want to be called Ma'am or urged to calm down. You can see I'm agitated; so be helpful, not patronizing! Third, I rather like being feared like the mutant Storm whenever one of my rants is doing the most. So if you can't assist me without resorting to condescension, then find somebody who can and just take cover...

Perhaps the word ruin is an exaggeration, but you tell me, how has automating everything made life so much better? From where I sit, y'all have been steadily gaslighting us because every six months there's a new and "improved" version of some system that just makes life more complicated. I didn't ask for any of this. But when I need to ask someone to explain it to me, no one knows how it works or why it was implemented. And after ten minutes or more of going in circles, I am annoyed about that lost time and the realization that this could have been avoided if you had paid somebody to do their old job!

For example, why must I download a new mobile app for every different parking garage within a ten-mile radius? Can we all agree that is the opposite of efficient? Because what if I don't want to set up another account and have my information stored in a database somewhere, only to get a letter in the mail a year from now informing me of a data breach? I just want to park my doggone car while I conduct my Busy Black business at this establishment. Why can't these building management companies work together and agree on a universal system in the same jurisdiction? Or better yet, do not overcharge me an arm and a leg to leave my car unattended in a parking garage where no one bears responsibility for loss or theft even as there are cameras everywhere?

Yep, the fuse for this parking app rant was lit by the Hub because he thinks he knows EVERYTHING, and that was the reason for my meltdown. Mind you, he's wrong 50% of the time, but he's a man and Donald Trump is President again, so that's all I have to say on that. So in my best Sophia Petrillo voice: Picture it, suburban Maryland in the middle of a weekday afternoon, and we're heading to lunch at a hotel on a rare childless outing. He chose this place because it was close to where the Kid was in camp for the day, and they were familiar with this particular restaurant. 

He also recommended this place because it had validated parking. Folks who know me in the real world know that the quest for free parking is kind of my personal hunt for Moby Dick because I refuse to pay more for parking than I would for a meal. (We all have our quirks, and I have been known to park up to half a mile away from my destination). Anywho, upon this reassurance, we drove to the hotel, but as we approached the mechanical arm to access the lot, there was a sign instructing us to scan a QR code. The Hub confidently declared that this sign was inapplicable to us since the restaurant validated parking. Though dubious of his claims, I drove around looking for a space but misread another sign which led us to the facility exit. There was no way to back up or to turn around, nor was there an attendant or booth to provide assistance, so we were forced drive towards the arm in hopes that we would be released. We were able to exit and re-enter the lot, but it was unclear if we would be charged for this mistake. 

We found a space on our third rotation located near another sign with the QR code. The Hub continued to insist that scanning the code was unnecessary, but I scanned it anyway. However, I must have unchecked or clicked something inadvertently that kicked me out of the main menu. I kept trying to undo or return, but it kept routing me to a different set of options. Once we got to the restaurant, there was a sign that confirmed the Hub's claim about free validation which required scanning a second code. I will spare you the intricate details of how I wasted the next ten minutes attempting to navigate this app while the Hub chatted and perused the menu. Just know that he placed his order while I remained stuck in an endless loop on my phone with no insight into how the parking was supposed to work or what I wanted to eat. The waiter informed me that I did need to download the app (which I had tried to do several times at this point) and that's when the Hub said flippantly: geeze, it's just an app.

Dearly Beloved, the fact that he still has his head is a miracle of restraint, but he still got quite a few neck chops. And days later, he still hasn't acknowledged that he was halfway WRONG about the parking app! But don't worry; the Busy Black Woman remembers...

Exasperated, I stormed out of the restaurant to make my way back to the garage in order to let off some steam and to re-scan the QR code. Before I reached the escalator, I decided to inquire at the front desk about how to access the app. The two women were kind enough to explain that this new parking system had been in place for about two weeks and still had a few kinks to work through. Then I was blessed with some in-person, old-fashioned customer service that enabled me to return to the restaurant with a plan to troubleshoot in case there was a problem in a few weeks (because deferring resolution of a pending problem is another fallacy of modern-day efficiency). 

Hence the question that keeps loading and re-loading like a 404 error--what do we gain in exchange for making life so transactional and efficient? To save time for what and for whom? Everything requires an app, a new password, and no way to get assistance or clarity from a human being. None of these innovations make my life easier if it shifts the burden of labor and I have to resolve my own problems. For example, have you noticed how 800 numbers rarely exist nowadays? If you haven't, try finding a phone number to call a company about an issue or inquiry about an order. Nine times out of ten, you won't find one. You'll find a contact form or a generic address to send an email and then wait for up to 24 hours for some kind of response (if you're lucky).

Case in point: I placed an order with a small business in mid-January that hadn't arrived within two weeks. I received a follow-up email from a third-party survey site asking me to rate my purchase, to which I responded that my order had not been received. No response or acknowledgment that my complaint had been received or was under investigation by the vendor. Weeks later, the same order was still missing and after several attempts to contact the seller through that third party site and directly on their website contact form, I sent one final email wherein I threatened to dispute the charge with my credit card company if there was no communication by a specific date. And I kid you not, my order mysteriously arrived two days later...still with no acknowledgement or even an apology for the weeks of delay. Since I haven't received any subsequent solicitations, I must have been dropped from their mailing list. If everything is automated and efficient, who's virtual feelings got hurt?

In the rare cases when you are able to call customer service, you probably aren't speaking to anyone physically working at the company. You end up routed to a call center with someone who may or may not be able to process your request/complaint without putting you on hold while they contact someone at the actual company to resolve your issue. It is not your imagination that many of the people who answer those calls have foreign accents. I saw an ad on my X timeline for this company in the Spring that promotes below American minimum wage remote work abroad. Efficient ain't the e-word to best describe what that really is...

But this is the new world order. Folks get on Al Gore's internet to opine that no one wants to work anymore, while failing to notice how variations on "efficiency" have made a lot of what used to be considered work obsolete. I'm bagging my own groceries at both the self-checkout and with a cashier because they won't assist me in packing my bags if I'm trying to be environmentally conscious by bringing my own reusable ones. I can get some assistance at the post office if I'm mailing a package, or I can fumble around on my own and hope that I filled out the correct forms. I can deposit a check from my phone, manage my accounts online, and withdraw cash from a machine so that I never have to venture into a bank to talk to a bank teller. There are no more record or video stores because we can stream music and movies (for a brief time, bookstores almost went extinct as well). Malls are dying because we shop online, watch movies at home, and get our meals delivered by Door Dash and Uber Eats.

A bunch of headlines and podcasts warn of a loneliness epidemic among young men, and it makes sense if there aren't many reasons for them to leave the house. Where are they going to hang out and not get harassed since half the places where we used to socialize regard teenagers with suspicion? Between lax gun storage laws and sex offender registries, who can we trust? So we keep them inside, plugged into their video game consoles or computers (apps) and then wonder why no one has any manners or social skills. As the mother of Tween (yep, time to upgrade her status), this is equally applicable to young women, not to mention the rest of us.

How do we stay connected, interact with each other, and organize events? Through social media apps. We conduct many of our meetings, job interviews, and trainings on platforms like Zoom. Singles meet through online dating apps and if it proceeds to the IRL stage, they film the experience for their TikTok followers. If there isn't a love connection, there's online porn...and from the looks of some of those female avatars, you might want to check in and make them keep the door open. EVERYTHING is available on an app.

Much of this isolationism was necessitated by the pandemic; however, a movie released a decade before predicted this current movement towards social detachment via technology. It has become clear that a significant segment of the population prefers that kind of solitary existence to living in a society where we need to interact and engage with others. It fuels these broader questions that are driving all kinds of decisions--why we don't need to want to feed other people's children, why we don't want foreigners living in our country, why we don't care about anyone or anything...

But all of that deep contemplation takes this discussion to the existential realm, and I just wanted to vent about how I don't want to download another effing app!

Because I don't want all of my bodily functions measured and recorded on my phone. Yes, I did like your video; no, I am not subscribing to your YouTube channel. I'm not donating to any reputable charity through cashapp. I didn't open the e-card you sent me from my phone because the print is too small. I don't want to keep my credit card numbers on file in a virtual wallet. If I cannot remember the previous 6 passwords I made up, then I am unlikely to remember some encrypted computer-generated gibberish as an alternative. No, I don't want to give you my email address to receive special offers because I have over 100,000 unread emails from every other retailer where I've made previous purchases. All I did was Google a random symptom, so why am I receiving spam about erectile dysfunction? 

Unless somebody invents an app to keep my moods from swinging and democracy from ending, I'm not downloading, upgrading, or scanning another blessed thing. 

When the Words Don't Come

This is one of the pieces I started but never got even halfway through because life kept on lifing (and yes, I have adopted that as my default reason for everything). The main reason why I am returning to publish now is because it captures a unique turning point in my grief journey from this summer--right before the world turned inside out. After the page break, I am writing in real time again, so hopefully that will make this come together. --ADH

It has been a LONG time since I posted anything to this blog. I am still here, trying to sort everything out, but it is taking me longer than expected. I have so many unfinished drafts, so many stray thoughts, so much chaos and crazy going on inside my head. I don't know where to begin.

This is not an excuse. I am just not sure if I can focus long enough to complete anything right now. I am distracted, I am grieving, I am overwhelmed...I am lost. And I don't know how else to express any of what I am feeling, so I will just freestyle and hit publish even if this is the worst, most vulnerable piece of crap I've ever written. Here goes...

I am not as okay as I think I am on most days. I don't know if that makes much sense, but in essence, I put on my big girl panties every day to face the world, and then night comes, and I can't tell you if I seized it or if I squandered it. I haven't begun to deal with all of the final stuff I am supposed to handle with respect to my Mom. I haven't sent off half the Thank You notes. I didn't send half of the Father's Day cards with Thank You Notes because I got caught up in trying to make it to the end of the school year. I still have unsold Girl Scout cookies. I haven't gone back to my house for more than a few hours because I don't have the mental energy to combat unnecessary chaos. 

I cannot believe this is the first day of summer. 

I did do laundry. I did label most of the Kid's stuff for her first sleepaway camp starting in ten days. I did order the Hub a nice Father's Day gift that he seemed to appreciate. I do manage to take a shower every day.

On Sunday, I was in the kitchen chopping veggies and prepping for an impromptu family gathering, and it dawned on me that I am now the de facto matriarch of this band of feral cats. And in this most thankless role, it means that I need to think about everyone in this family, while they get to decide whether to completely ignore me. I mean that in the most complimentary way because the one person who does notice is my Dad. And he is part of the reason why I haven't completely given up.

Lionesses, and Tabloids, and Heirs (Oh My)

I know this is two weeks after the fact, but I could not resist jumping into the fray...because for this most recent installment of #RoyalNewsYouCantUse, the refrain shall be: You had ONE job!

I am referring to the PR debacle that is the British Royal Family under the almost year-long reign of King Charles III. Maybe it's me, but for someone who waited 70 years for this particular opening, he shouldn't keep having these kinds of amateur hiccups. I know he isn't the one mucking things up, but his royal handlers should be better at doing their jobs...unless they want us to think of King Midas with donkey ears whenever we hear God Save the King. As for Prince William the Favorite, he sure seems to be stumbling through this on-the-job apprenticeship, so things don't look that promising for his eventual ascension to the throne.

And you can't even blame this one on Harry and Meghan, although I'm sure someone will try.

Before we entertain those potential headlines, allow me to set the stage for what took place in the real world. The Women's World Cup Games were played in Australia on August 20, with the final match between England and Spain (definitely an ancient rivalry). Since soccer is a big deal everywhere else in the world except America, and our team had been eliminated several rounds ago, all eyes were on them. I had stopped paying attention, and don't know much about the history of either team, but I did notice an uptick in chatter on the social media app formerly known as Twitter. Prior to the game, some people were expressing concern that there would be no high-profile cheering section of spectators for the English Lady Lionesses, namely no one from Downing Street and no one representing the newly coronated King. However, to demonstrate their support of the team, Prime Minister Rishi Sunak posted several messages including a picture of himself at a pub; King Charles dictated a few words of well wishes; and Prince William took 15 seconds to post this video with his daughter, Princess Charlotte. Problem solved, right?

No. Because we keep forgetting that there are other royal families in the world, the Spanish Queen Letizia attended the game in person with her daughter, Infanta (Princess) Sofia. Her presence caused quite a bit of excitement, especially since she got to celebrate her team's win after she had been photographed congratulating the English team. Meanwhile King Charles commissioned someone to scribble his congratulations on an official notecard, and Prince William posted this tweet. 

As an American, the optics of this ain't none of my business, but I'm going to talk about it anyway! There isn't much happening on this side of the pond these days (unless you think the fourth round of indictments for our former game show host con man wannabe DESPOTUS is news you can use.)

Therefore, yes, I'm picking on the Prince of Woes because among his various assorted titles and honors, he is the President of the English Football Association (FA). And as we have already established, football (called soccer only here in the US), is a very big global deal. Even if his leadership of that organization has been a ceremonial formality since 2006, it would seem to me that once the British team advanced to the final rounds, someone should have made travel plans. Even the President of the Spanish Football Federation was there, kicking up his own PR disaster in Australia. I've seen the various explanations excuses for Prince William's absence, and each one is a gem. He was on holiday (vacation) with his family. It is asking much of him to jump on a plane to fly 20 hours for a game. It would have been a breach of royal protocol to visit Australia before the King. It isn't like anyone else was paying that much attention once the Americans got eliminated. It is the women's game and nobody cares...wait, isn't there some nonsense we can make up about Harry and Meghan to keep you all distracted?

Well, let's go through these one-by-one. It was August and summer is almost over, so the Prince and his family are entitled to spend time away before their kids go back to school. I'm sure that they deserve a break from all of their duties: garden parties, charity dinners, handing out medals at military parades, and gosh, what else do they do on a daily basis??? Not that I don't understand how it would have been a logistical nightmare to pack up the Princess, three children, nannies and attendants, and security for a plane ride to the other side of the world, especially on a mere three days advance notice. It takes at least that long to get just the right tone on a message from King Charles. Perhaps after His Junior Majesty compared fares and found that he would have to pay extra for everyone to be seated together, it wouldn't look right to fly solo. And though he might have been able to catch a ride with Queen Letizia and her daughter to share that carbon footprint, there is that pesky matter of British Royal Protocol.

Which means the future King of England couldn't so much as share a carriage ride through the streets of London in a gilded pumpkin carcass with his father, let alone share an airplane with a rival royal family. It would be against protocol, or am I conflating that with the edict that he can't visit any of their realms before an official visit from the reigning monarch? Is that why the Prince can come to America later this month, because we're no longer part of the British empire? He's coming to New York for a two-day trip to attend an environmental summit...

Before I get stuck in a room full of Prunellas reciting rules and arcane rituals associated with the Crown, I noted that their foreign trips are formally announced at least a month in advance. So perhaps the future King, ceremonial President of the FA, had reason to believe back in July that the Lady Lionesses (still ranked 4th by FIFA since 2019) would not have finished high enough to warrant any effort. Even though this had been dubbed the most successful women's sporting event in history, his women's national team made the finals for the first time, so everybody was anticipating the final match, it wasn't like protocol dictated the presence of royal family members at these kinds of event. Merely a coincidence that his late grandparents (at the 2:50 mark) were in attendance at England's last World Cup appearance at the finals in 1966.

If the U.S. had stayed in the tournament, we wouldn't have expected President Biden to have flown halfway around the world; instead, we might have dispatched the First Lady, who seems perfectly willing to fly off to spread goodwill anywhere they tell her it is needed. However, around that same time, we were dealing with wildfires in Hawaii and a hurriquake in California. Therefore, the next person in our delegation of official goodwill ambassadors would have been Second Gentleman Doug Emhoff, whom I bet would have gleefully turned the plane around to be that Dad on the sidelines. You know, the one who does the absolute most for his girls? Like that time he didn't wait on the Secret Service to jump in to protect his wife from a heckler...

Before anyone derides women's sports as unimportant or insignificant enough to plan a state visit, feel free to continue to argue amongst yourselves why women's sports have become ground zero in our culture wars over identity and patriotism. But I digress. 

Prince William has ONE job. 

The job of the Prince of Wales is to ensure the continuity of the Crown that he hopes to inherit. Part of that is to stay alive along enough to get married and have children, which he has done. Another aspect of his job is to show up at all of those fancy garden parties, ribbon cuttings, charity dinners, military ceremonies, etc., but also to comfort and console the nation in times of grief and tragedy. Attending a soccer game doesn't fit into either of those columns, but neither did having tea with Paddington Bear or jumping out of a plane with James Bond. Nobody expected him to have his face painted with the Union Jack, but cheering for your home team ought to feign more enthusiasm.

That this generation of British Royals keeps getting tripped up over protocol, all of these years after the tragic death of Princess Diana exposed most of those rules as arbitrary and superfluous, just fuels the anti-monarchist point. It is an archaic and excessive institution that serves no real purpose other than to perpetuate itself. These rules about flags and travel protocols aren't chiseled in stone, yet they have become part of a number of convenient excuses whenever someone is called out for hypocrisy. Is it "royal protocol" that keeps Prince Andrew from facing trial or any culpability for his inappropriate sexual fetish for young girls? I have to know, what tightly coiled chignon-wearing society matron from the Australian outback would have had her girdle twisted that she had to settle for tea with the future Queen instead of the current Queen consort? 

All of this brings us to the matter of Harry and Meghan, who have been quietly living their best lives in sunny California doing yoga, meditating, and staying hydrated. My search algorithms tend to reflect whatever I have been researching, so guess what has been trending in my feed since I clicked on a few articles about the World Cup and the Lady Lionesses? Would you believe just as many articles about the Sussexes as escándalo engulfing the Spanish Football Federation President Luis Rubiales accused of inappropriately kissing a player? Call it a coincidence or confirmation bias that there are always more negative headlines about Harry and Meghan whenever the working British Royals get into some kind of PR mess.

Imagine how relentless the British tabloids would have been if this had been a faux pas committed by the Spare instead of the Heir. There would have been news panels of Royal experts assembled to dissect every misstep by the spoiled Duke and the entitled American commoner he married if they had allowed themselves to be upstaged by a royal from another country who visited one of their realms and got feted like she was the Queen. Oh wait, that actually happened back when the Sussexes visited Australia when they were still working royals...

This is where my petty impulses kick into a higher gear. It sure does look like the peak of ironic hypocrisy to invoke protocol as an excuse for someone not doing their job when that same excuse became a reason to criticize someone else for doing their job too well. You might recall that in 2018, the late Queen Elizabeth sent Meghan and Harry to Australia on an official visit. After it was deemed a success, they returned home to some resentment from the rest of the Royal family. Then the tabloids began ripping the Duchess over everything from her attire and nail polish, to her collaboration with British VOGUE, and eventually her love of avocado toast.

It must suck to be Prince William, caught in that eternal damned if he does or doesn't place between a rock and a hard place. Heavy is the head that awaits the crown, especially when the one person who could have shut down all of this criticism has remained conspicuously silent. King Charles put more effort into the announcement of his forthcoming state visit with his frenemies in France, thus signaling to the press that it was fine to accuse William of shirking his royal duties. Notice how everything for the Prince changed the moment he donned that ridiculous costume, bowed, and pledged his everlasting loyalty in front of the entire world?

As the British are about to mark the one-year anniversary of the death of Queen Elizabeth II, we can all imagine that Prince William is feeling it because what a difference this year without his grandmother has been! She was beloved and as long as she was alive, so was he. However, since her death he has received more scrutiny and bad press over just about everything. Remember when he was the favorite? How quickly the tides have turned...

So I just have one more observation to make, since it is clear after all of these years that Prince William hadn't been made aware of this most important aspect of his job: do NOT upstage the King! Neither with too much gushing positive press, and certainly not with this kind of embarrassing negative press. As far as KC3 is concerned, he fulfilled his royal duty in siring an heir; raising, loving, and protecting his son was someone else's job. That man waited all of his life for that Crown, so if need be, there will be blood. 

Something to Cry About

I swear, every single day, somebody gets on Blue Ivy's internet to complain about having to put up with something, such as other people's children in public spaces, and well...I understand. Truly, I do since I have a child who is the absolute most on her good days. So yes, there are times when want to I release her into an unsuspecting world, and just walk away like Angela Bassett in this scene because some of y'all deserve ALL of this smoke.

But I know better.

I have written on this topic several times, and I already know that I won't say anything that will convince any of these bitter lemons and short-tempered man-babies that there are times when kids will be kids and sometimes, you just need to join the madness. Not in every situation, but more often than not, this demand that children be seen and not heard in public is unrealistic. Ask me how I know.

Currently, I am holed up in our hotel room writing because it is quiet up here. I would like to chill poolside with a beverage and watch my daughter play, but there are several factors that make that expectation impossible. For one, we are staying at a hotel that allows pets, and after ten minutes of exposure to that the other day my allergies went into overdrive (even after I had taken my meds). The only available pool is indoors, and because it is Spring Break, there are other people staying here with their children and dogs (it isn't warm enough for them to play in the outdoor pool). After I got splashed several times, the last thing I need is a new computer because somebody's cannonball got a little too close. And finally, since I am writing, I need to situate myself in an environment conducive to that, which is not in a room full of screaming children.

So let me rewind that for you so that I make a few things clear: (1) yes, I should be able to sit poolside to get some work done if that is what I want; (2) and children also should be allowed to play in the hotel pool as rambunctiously as they like because that is why it is here. In weighing my rights versus those of the children (while not even addressing the pet issue and why y'all feel the need to impose them into every situation), the bottom line is that I will be just fine if I opt to stay in my hotel room. I have a lovely view of the Bay from the balcony. There is no need for me to complain or to get indignant because this is one of those scenarios when I have to accept the situation for what it is and deal. 

That is called being an ADULT. If you are above the age of 21, you are legally required to get used to having to do this on a daily basis.

I saw that video of the passenger who got upset about the crying baby on a plane, and I read some of the predictable commentary about bad children/parents, and I read the sympathetic commentary about traveling with children (including those with special needs). Well, I have an opinion to share on the matter because there are broader points that needs to be made. We live in a society. We have public venues and spaces where all kinds of people are going to interact and engage. If you can't handle a few minor inconveniences without losing your shit, then YOU are the problem!

Let's chat a bit about how folks traveling on airplanes have all of these issues with being considerate of families. When did we become so self-centered? Like why all of the resentment towards someone who asks if you would mind switching seats so that they can sit with their kids? You are allowed to decline the request, and I certainly do not condone what happened to this person. However, I do have to ask if this is the hill you want to plant your flag on--the one where you insist that you would rather sit next to my squirmy kid for two hours while I am seated two rows back? Alrighty...

I have read treatises on social media about how annoyed people get when asked, and how they believe that saying no makes them some kind of hero to other self-righteous assholes. Bravo. Let me offer the alternative perspective of what it entails to travel with children (or adults with special needs) and the absolute nightmare it is to try to arrange for seats together. A few years back, I had to find an affordable flight for my parents and me to fly out to Las Vegas for my brother's wedding. At the time, my Mom was still mobile, but definitely beginning to have more cognitive issues due to the progression of her Alzheimer's. It was important for us to have a layover, because at the time I thought that would help us manage her needs. 

I began my search for tickets a few months in advance, including the fare watcher so that I could buy at the right time. And that was a game of cat and mouse because there were times when the flights were affordable, but the layovers were ridiculous (like flying to Boston from DC, then flying to Chicago, and then to Las Vegas in a 10-hour stretch). Other times, I found the right flight, but not one with the seats together (only middle seats). Literally one month before we needed to travel, I finally found the best accommodation, which included an acceptable layover but with only two seats together. I took it and figured that was better than nothing. I do not recall that I had the option to pay extra for a third seat, which is sometimes available atop the other fees I paid for checking my bags; however, on all four flights it was occupied by a solo traveler who wanted a window. It worked out for me to sit with my Mom while my Dad sat by himself, but I still was anxious the entire time both ways. 

A few years later, we had a similar issue in trying to book three seats together to travel with the Kid, who was still in baby carrier mode. Again, the best we could get was two seats together. So this claim that parents (and caregivers) have to do better at planning is the kind of entitled booshay that grates like nails on a chalkboard. Like yeah, I can plan my life around watching airline fares and seat assignments or I can look after my parents, raise my kid, and hope that we get seats together on the plane. I've never felt entitled enough to ask that someone change seats for me to sit with the Hub, but I would think that if someone asked me, I would consider it a small kindness that might get repaid in some karmic way.

Of course, I know that ain't how Karma works. I could write a book about the rudeness and nonchalance I was subjected to when the Kid was still stroller-age from people standing in the curb cuts to having to heavy doors not held open for us. Most relevant to airline travel, there was the unforgettable flight home from Chicago on September 11th when I was subjected to additional TSA searches because of the snacks I had packed for her in my carry-on. I followed the guidelines, but because of the date and heightened airport security upon our return, her applesauce and Cheerios set off every red light on the monitors. After they went through every single thing in my bag, they took the stroller and had me carry everything that would have been attached, including her in the baby carrier. The Hub took what he could, but that still left me with a backpack, a 50-lb carrier with a crying child, and about 5 minutes to reach our gate. NO ONE helped us, except for the gate agent who allowed me to board with the priority group of passengers after I asked (but just me and the Kid). Of course, our seats were at the back of the plane, so when I got back there in the vicinity, I put the carrier down in an empty seat and loaded our stuff into the overhead. I thought I was at the right row, so I settled in to try to calm my child, who at this point had been crying since the TSA drama.

As the plane filled with people, the Hub boarded in what must have been the last group. Ahead of him was this woman who stopped at the row where I was seated with the baby. She glared at me and complained that I was in her seat. Apparently, my seats were one row back, but she insisted that I needed to move with the baby carrier from the seat that she had paid for. And guess what happened? The flight attendant made us move, even after some kind Samaritan offered to switch seats with her so that I could stay put and try to calm the baby. That kind-hearted person then offered the Hub his seat so that we could sit together, and once we got re-situated, the Kid calmed down for a bit when she saw him. But as soon as that plane took off...baybee it was a long two-hour flight. 

I had snacks. I had toys. We tried using music and apps. We held her. I tried to nurse her. When the plane hit turbulence, we had to put her back in her seat. Anyone who knows anything about me knows that I had ALL the things and NOTHING worked. She kept crying until the plane landed in DC. So I can imagine that someone on that plane could relate to how the shouting guy felt, because I heard the other passenger grumbles about why we couldn't get our child to calm down. I can also relate to any humiliation felt by a parent or caregiver in that same situation.

In my child-free era, I recall taking a flight from somewhere back to DC and there was some kid (not a baby) who made a ruckus the entire time. I mean, he was non-stop active and it was super annoying. I need to search through my old tweets to see what I said about that because whew, it was a lot. And I remember thinking how his mother should have made more of an effort to keep her kid from being that kid...but then Karma showed up in 2016 on a two-hour flight from Chicago to DC.

And let me tell you, that was bad, but my daughter's meltdown in the Atlanta airport in 2020 was 10x worse. I am surprised we didn't go viral from that drama.

So if you want to judge me for not being the kind of parent your Big Mama was, go back and ask her how she handled travel with your family on long trips. I had to think back and guess what--we didn't fly anywhere when we were kids! My Mom flew to Michigan with my brother and me one time (more than 40 years ago), and since I can't ask her how that went, I can only imagine it must have been a nightmare she refused to repeat. All of subsequent our travel was by car, and I remember how she would pack everything--snacks, books, puzzles, etc., to keep us from complaining of hunger and boredom. And it didn't matter because we were kids, and that meant we were always hungry and bored. Because of that, I'm pretty sure that your family probably didn't travel by airplane as much either. 

There are plenty of other reasons why there are not many comparable travel scenarios from my Gen-X past, but suffice it to say, kids have always been annoying on trips. There is an entire genre of movies about road trips and Dads on family vacations because that is how we rolled (yes, Black families too). Rest stops, weird roadside attractions, and regional amusement parks were integral aspects of those trips so that we could burn off that excess annoying energy. How and why the world shifted towards more airplane travel is beside the point, but it is a more efficient way to travel long distances so that means more children commingled into more public spaces. Why that is so much more of an inconvenience than people's need for emotional support animals is beyond me...

And here is where the people who don't have children or whose children were allegedly perfect angels chime in with their two cents to opine on the obligation of parents to intervene to protect the quiet enjoyment of other adults in public... And yeah, you can throw those pennies in the fountain and make a wish, lady! So that you can enjoy your flight in peace, YOU need to be better prepared. You paid good money to be on that flight in that window or aisle seat, so it is not my problem that you didn't anticipate the various scenarios you might encounter on a public mode of transportation.

If the only person you have to worry about is yourself, then do that. If you forgot your anxiety meds or didn't buy an adult beverage when it was offered in-flight, that isn't my kid's problem. I'm not drugging my child to calm your nerves. If you didn't invest in noise cancelling headphones or didn't bring your tablet with your favorite movies/shows downloaded for the duration of the flight, that sucks for you. In addition to packing, I was up half the night making sure that I had various entertainment options, electronics fully charged, and had generally planned for every possible contingency. AND, I had to pack for two people in one suitcase that needs to weigh less than 50lbs to avoid paying another fee. So if you can't accept that there are reasons why a baby might be crying for 45 minutes straight despite a parent's best efforts to soothe them, and your reaction is to match that energy by shouting expletives, thereby forcing the plane to land in a different city, YOU deserve all of the infamy that comes from being that dude.

No, the world does not have to accommodate any of us. I would be a lot less miserable if people didn't assume that everyone wants to be around their pets, but apparently that isn't realistic anymore. So I take allergy medication with me everywhere. Because I know that my child can be a lot, I load up my ginormous Mommy bag with puzzles and games to keep her occupied. I recognize it is my responsibility to manage my stuff, and the only assurance you have is that I will try my best. Deal with it or call the manager, Karen, but just know that there might be a day when you will be in my shoes. I pray that someone extends you a bit of grace instead of a load of grief.

Final word, bruh YOU are the reason why everyone had to de-plane in Orlando, not that inconsolable baby! As annoying as 40 minutes of crying must have been, nobody expected the plane to land in a whole different city to calm a child, but they had to do that in order to shut your grown ass up. So I don't care how many people offered you virtual high fives in defense of your tirade after the fact, because if I had been on that plane, I would have been pissed to have ended up in Orlando instead of where I was supposed to land. Here's the key difference between you and the baby--crying is the worst thing that child did. An unruly adult passenger on an airplane post-9/11 poses a far greater threat, so you deserved to have been arrested on principle even if all you did was yell profanities. YOU created an unsafe environment for everyone on that flight by refusing to control YOUR temper.

Even if the crying was excessive, your "adult" response was to bully the flight attendants because you couldn't yell directly at a frantic mother with an inconsolable child. None of these folks coming to your defense on social media would trade places with you nor would they contribute to your bail had you been hauled off to jail.  I don't know what you deserve for being an asshole, but may you be forever known as a Cowardly Lion who woke up cranky from his nap, undone by the cries of a baby.

The Most Septembering September

It's been a long while since I wrote one of these kinds of whew, Lawd pieces, but y'all...

I knew September was going to be a busy month, but I had no idea just how hectic and insane it would be. So today, I am sitting here surveying the damage in gratitude that I am still here to live and tell the story. My goal in sharing this is not to elicit pity (since I know some of you are thinking, well you DO call yourself the Busy Black Woman). It is simply to exhale and brace myself, because the rest of the year isn't really trying to let up. 

Come to think of it, this summer was just as hectic. I can't even begin to tell you how it feels like we time warped from May to October in a matter of weeks and all of it is a dang blur. Like, did I celebrate Mother's Day this year? I do recall Memorial Day weekend (because that is a story like you would not believe), but after that, what happened? Did I do anything significant this summer except for buy my Kid a pair of tap shoes for two weeks of camp? And does she even know where those shoes are, or will I find them when it is time to put away the Christmas tree in February?

Y'all where does the time go? How did I go from driving to North Carolina in the middle of August to it being Halloween in a few weeks? Where are we having Thanksgiving dinner? Are we getting together as a family this year after these past couple of years staying socially distant? There have been three babies born in my family since the panini, but I am unsure of their actual ages because one of them might have actually been born before the panini and I just don't remember. He is probably 5, but just short for his age.

Speaking of short, all of the leggings in my child's wardrobe, even the ones I just bought her in August.

Because several of my friends have been over-sharing details about their hot flashes, I am now paranoid about having them and I am not okay. The other day all I did was walk upstairs to my daughter's dance class, but when I got to the door it felt like I had entered the 5th ring of hell, and it took everything in me not to burst into tears (or flames). Like WHAT??? It lasted for about 3 minutes, but worse, I conveniently had a fan in my purse that no one thought was at all strange. 

That same day, I mislaid a pen that I had just been using and this caused an absolute meltdown. I put myself in time-out by staying inside the car by myself because no, I didn't feel the need to explain to the Hub how I needed that pen, and not some generic rollerball that he'd been chewing on. This man has been married to me for almost 21 years and I swear there are days when If You Don't Know Me By Now blares in my brain. For the most part, it's the Simply Red version, which means that I'm willing to shrug it off as not worth the energy, but if it switches to the Teddy Pendergrass version...as of yet, I haven't added the Seal version to my mental playlist. And I just remembered that there is a Patti LaBelle version, but that might be too dangerous.

But back to how this year is practically over and my mind is still stuck on how it was just June last week. It was the last few days of the school year, and I was lamenting to my brother about how the school year had dragged on and then he proposes that I might want to relax with a trip to Disney with my daughter and the Niece at the end of July. That is exactly how it went down--he made this suggestion and the next thing I know, I am standing on line for some Goofy rollercoaster ride. And I swear, I will finally finish writing that piece before I take down the Christmas tree in February.

Before the Disney trip, there was our annual beach vacation to Bethany, DE that I barely remember because I feel like we were there for less than a week. Things felt off because we were there over the July 4th holiday and we were staying in a different rental. Thus, not much excitement, so let's go back a few weeks to that crazy Memorial Day weekend when we inadvertently spent the night in an occupied Air BnB. It took every ounce of self-control not to go full DMX on the host who didn't seem to think it was at all unusual to expect that a FAMILY of 3 might feel slightly uncomfortable staying in an apartment bedroom on an air mattress in Brooklyn!

(Side note, because this is tangentially related to what happened on Memorial Day: I have a whole other piece in my drafts about how we are exactly those parents who have already exposed the Kid to drag queens and the gay agenda, so if you need somebody to judge...)

If you read the previous piece, you know that I saw my college roommate and her darling son last month. The following weekend was my road trip to North Carolina, but what happens in the boonies among friends on a farm in the middle of the night stays there. A week later, I was back-to-school shopping and planning a surprise birthday/anniversary tribute to my parents, not taking note that the date coincided with the weekend of the Classic. But being Thee Busy Black Woman, I declared and decreed that I would make it all work! 

Again, this is not to brag because I was doing laundry the other day and saw clothes that hadn't been washed since Bethany Beach way down at the bottom of the hamper. At least I unpacked the suitcase.

I was talking to my line sister last week about how insane this September has been. Like in the middle of all our life stuff (specifically our children returning to school), the Queen of England dies and now half the state of Florida is under water! Somebody mentioned Mercury being in retrograde, and I don't even want to understand how astrology interacts with real life, but every single time y'all say that it's like that song in Hamilton, The World Turned Upside Down. 

Therefore, to reiterate, I am writing this piece because today it all hit the crescendo. I can't take No More Drama. Family, friends, church, school, advocacy, news...it is all tew murch. I had moments this month when I felt like I should have rolled myself up in a ball, but acting on the advice of Elizabeth Taylor, I poured myself a drink, put on some lipstick, and pulled myself together. I'm not sure that my liver appreciated that level of determination. Maybe next month, I can have a day or two when I won't bother to fake it and push through. Please. Because I can't sit in my car for hours without arousing suspicion of a mental break. I don't have a driveway or a garage, and I'm not a podcaster. 

I'm just a writer who likes to make clever use of all the useless pop culture references that fill her head, so I'm going to take a nap soon, and you can Wake Me Up When September Ends.

Free Brittney!

In a recent social media argument with someone whom I don't know (because isn't that the point, to get froggy with strangers), the topic was about the lanes we choose whenever there is some incident that relies on our perpetual culture wars to inform our opinions. I had posted an article on the Facebook page about the case of Brittney Griner, the WNBA player who is currently being detained in Russia.

Griner, who plays for the Phoenix Mercury during the regular WNBA season and for the UMMC Ekaterinberg in Russia, was detained at the airport in February. The news of her detainment was released on March 5, days into the conflict that is currently ongoing between Russia and the Ukraine. Griner was arrested and charged with allegedly importing vape cartridges containing hash oil in her luggage and could face up to ten years in jail. More than a dozen other American WNBA players scheduled to play this season in Russia and the Ukraine are back in the US, consistent with U.S. State Department travel advisories. In recent remarks, Secretary of State Antony Blinken stated that efforts were underway to secure her release (along with two other Americans also being detained). 

In my FB commentary, I pointed out how reactions to Griner's predicament tracked the cultural fault lines of intolerance, namely race, queerness, patriotism, and diplomacy. In other words, a third of the comments expressed concern, a third felt it served her right for having broken the law, and a third were asking who she was and why they should care. Once I read the meager details that have been released so far and posted the article, a guy we'll call Mr. Toad came to my page to offer his rUlEs ArE rUlEs take, proving my hypothesis that some people would rather hold tight to their politics than see the entire picture, right or wrong.

I'll start with the low-hanging fruit to address the diplomatic angle that had some folks loudly proclaiming that if TFG was still President, Griner would have been home by now. Sure, if diplomacy was the same as selling swamp land as prime real estate. TFG might have won the Pyrrhic victory of securing her release on paper, while trading away something far more costly to the detriment of the rest of the world. Don't forget this same guy got impeached for trying to blackmail the Ukrainian President for information on the current President's son. If you honestly think he would have done a better job, try to imagine how much he would have been willing to wager just to save face in an actual diplomatic face-off with Russia...

My guess is that none of it would matter once we're all dead from the subsequent nuclear blast. No one would be around to identify our disintegrated corpses in the rubble. And because con man luck rarely runs out, he would be safe in a bunker, praising himself until his handlers, driven to near madness after enduring a week of his endless prattle, would escape to try their luck in the fallout.

As you are contemplating that mushroom cloud, let me remind you that my generation has vivid memories of the Cold War as dramatized by the 80s nuclear disaster movie, The Day After (1983). EVERY Gen Xer who is currently watching the events unfold in the Ukraine is having flashbacks. Those aspects of our childhood are why so many of us fear for Griner's safety and fate. In our worldview, the Soviet Union was evil.

The Soviets were the Klingons in the classic Star Trek (before they hired a better makeup artist). They were our greatest sporting nemesis at the Olympics, which is why we boycotted the Moscow Summer Games in 1980 and they returned the favor by skipping the Los Angeles Games in 1984. It is why we booed whenever wrestler Nikolai Volkoff was scheduled to appear on the Saturday WWF lineup. We actually used to chant U-S-A in our living room during his singing of the Soviet anthem. The space race was about beating the Soviets. Our need to beat the Soviets at everything is why we tolerated a fourth Rocky movie; it is what kept the James Bond franchise going after Sean Connery quit; and it is why Indiana Jones as President in Air Force One didn't seem all that improbable. (Jones always beat the Nazis, so of course he could undo the Russian plot to assassinate the U.S. President. Americans hated the Soviets as much as the Nazis!)

Or at least we used to. But as I climb out of that morass, I need y'all to remember that point. Many of us grew up in an era where we didn't praise or extol anything Russian, not even vodka. We cheered when talented Russian artists and athletes defected to America: Mikhail Baryshnikov, Martina Navratilova, and Nadia Comaneci. The entire comedy career of Yakov Smirnoff was based on his coming to America. When the wall came down in East Germany and the Soviet Union disintegrated soon after, we danced in the streets! 

So for some, it is partly understandable how the fault line of patriotism gets tripped by Griner's situation. She's a two-time Olympic gold medalist, who has been playing professional basketball in Russia during the off-season for years. Record scratch--how dare she! No matter how much more she was paid, because not all money is good money...right? Oh wait say that again, her salary as a professional WNBA player doesn't even come close to what a rookie NBA player makes? She doesn't have a lucrative endorsement deal nor star in a bunch of commercials for subpar sandwiches or racist pizza? Ahh, but she made some comment about standing for the National Anthem, so that's what makes her a socialist. Even though our athletes have the right of free speech and the freedom to pursue wealth anywhere in the world, maybe some time spent in the Russian gulag will cause her to appreciate how good she had it in America.

Did I mention that she is a two-time U.S. Olympic GOLD MEDALIST? Does that not count as sufficiently patriotic? Or have you sing or die flag zealots who insist on superficial gestures as more evocative actually embraced Soviet-style genuflection?

The Black, female, and queer angle are also predictable fault lines. Last summer we learned first-hand how some of you don't give a hot damn about Black women in sports, regardless of what they might be enduring off the court. Naomi Osaka couldn't have space to deal with her anxiety. Simone Biles almost spun out of control in a mid-air flip, but she should have toughed it out for the sake of her team. Sha'Carri Richardson shouldn't have smoked a joint to numb the pain of losing her mother. Being a queer woman also irks these red-hatted Americans who don't much like Megan Rapinoe or her pink hair. Our girls need women they can look up to, they claim...until they notice that all of the American figure skaters are Asian American...(thanks for fixing that racist headline NYT)

Now comes the unapologetically Black, female, and queer Brittney Griner. All of the fault lines converge to polarize reactions to the case of an American citizen who is being held in Russia and stands accused of drug trafficking. The outrage is not that she's been in custody for three weeks or that her family has no information about her physical condition or that our State Department can't even assure her safe return because the situation is just that volatile. Y'all only see your politics. As Mr. Toad calmly asserted, she did the crime she must do the time. As if every detail offered by the Russians should be taken at face value! 

How is Brittney Griner any kind of international drug menace if what she was carrying in her luggage was for personal use? She didn't get caught with powder cocaine condoms stuffed in unmentionable body cavities. I don't know much about vaping, but you can buy vape pens at Walmart, so whatever the European equivalent is (el Corte Ingles perhaps), why are y'all reacting like she was on the run from having robbed the place? I know even less about hash oil, but I will earnestly ask if any of you L&O folks ever considered the following possibilities: (a) she was aware of the laws; (b) she had brought these items in her luggage on previous occasions without incident; (c) she's being set up to look like she's part of some drug cartel; and (d) she is being treated like a high-profile pawn. When Secretary Blinken addressed the press, he mentioned the names of the two other American prisoners in Russia, Paul Whelan and Trevor Reed, whose release our government has been trying to secure. Yet the Russians only released the video and details of Griner's arrest to the press in the fog of war.

Y'all are on Al Gore's internet engaging in the very kind of propaganda-influenced speculation about Griner's guilt based on nothing other than what the Russians said she that did. 

The fault lines are exposed. When the North Koreans claimed that Otto Warmbier had stolen a poster, we were outraged that he would be sentenced to 15 years of hard labor. When LiAngelo Ball and two UCLA teammates were arrested for shoplifting at a Louis Vuitton store, a crime to which they confessed to having committed, the bigger story was that TFG had prevailed upon China to secure their release. The case of A$AP Rocky being imprisoned in Sweden for assault is another demonstration of the diplomatic negotiating "skills" of TFG. Well, I say if Trumpelthinskin actually had that kind of juice, he could intervene and offer to help Griner since he is such good friends with Putin...

But you know he won't. Not only is there nothing for him to gain by speaking up for Griner, but Putin changed his phone number and stopped taking TFG's calls last January. As for all of that bravado he touted, Warmbier tragically died days after his release. As a consequence, the North Koreans were rewarded with a high-profile summit but were never held accountable. LiAngelo Ball and A$AP Rocky both fared better personally, but our diplomatic relations with China are still toxic and Trump never did convince the Swedes to award him a Nobel Peace Prize. Now you know why my mushroom cloud isn't off base.

In all seriousness, Brittney Griner has the same chance of surviving this as the Ukrainians fleeing the war zones on the ground, and those are not favorable odds. When a madman declares his intent to punish the ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD because we won't let him conquer another sovereign nation, the response should never be to cheer on his ambition and courage. Or to accept any of his propaganda as irrefutable truth. This is not a game or one of many Hollywood movies where the megalomaniac is tripped up by his own hubris (I mean, Putin might be, but a LOT of folks will die before that happens). Our genuine fears for Griner's life aren't based on idle hysteria, and the casual way that some of you dismiss her plight as acceptable according to the premise that she assumed the risk is troubling. 

SHE IS AN AMERICAN. That is not up for debate nor does it need to be qualified on the basis of your political leanings. I thought we never left any of our people behind. I thought we believed that if you mess with one of us, you mess with all of us. There should already be an Operation Free Brittney in the works in a Navy SEAL or Green Beret situation room. I am serious, we should be MAD the same way we were during the Iran Hostage Crisis (yes, Gen Xers remember that one too). When did we adopt conditions? When was it decided that being Black, female, queer, and outspoken were legit reasons to sit back and watch shit happen to one of our own? Y'all claim to love that flag and the republic for which it stands, so what does that mean if you ignore that it symbolizes liberty and justice for ALL? 

(L-R) Griner, Paul Whelan and Trevor Reed

Well-Behaved Women Seldom Make History

This piece is dedicated to Sha'Carri Richardson, but not for the reasons you might be thinking...

First of all I believe the suspension, while draconian and wholly unrelated to her ability to perform, was unfortunate but fair. Richardson may still get to compete in the Games, just not for an individual medal. She can run in the relays, which can earn her some hardware. And she's young enough that this will only set her up for a great comeback in 2024 (which is sooner than we all realize, since these Games were delayed due to the pandemic).

I had not intended to write anything more formal about this situation with Richardson, but then I happened to catch the last hour of I, Tonya, the film about former Olympic figure skater Tonya Harding. Perhaps this was the intention, but I came away from that movie with all kinds of sympathy and mixed emotions about the way Harding got treated all of those years ago. While I recalled the broad outline of what purportedly occurred (that Harding orchestrated a physical attack on her rival, Nancy Kerrigan), I did not remember all of the individual players who were implicated in the matter. However, I do recall that I took a side...

And now nearly 30 years later, I have a very different read on the entire matter. 

When I tuned into the movie, it was midway at the point where Harding allegedly arranged for Kerrigan to receive a death threat, which to her understanding would be a phone call. So as not to spoil anything, that isn't exactly how things went down. Instead, the rivalry between the two women became a lot more personal. Other aspects of what we probably didn't realize or know at the time include the abusive nature of the relationship Harding had with her ex-husband, her complicated relationship with her mother, and the lack of support she endured from the U.S. Figure Skating Association (USFSA).

I had to re-examine my own personal biases from that time about the image of figure skaters and the "type" of people who were considered representative of the sport. In particular, I thought back to the juxtaposition of Harding to Kerrigan, and how the rivalry between the two women shaped perceptions of them both on and off the ice. Even before the attack, Kerrigan enjoyed more public support as America's Sweetheart, while Harding was dubbed the Bad Girl of Skating. I hadn't thought about them or this incident in years, not even when the movie was released in 2017, but once I sat with it for a few minutes, it immediately dawned on me how not much has changed with respect to how women are scrutinized in athletics.

Even though most folks would argue that this is kind of a reach, Sha'Carri Richardson and Tonya Harding (and a bunch of other women I plan to mention in this piece), are kindred spirits who made (and will make) history.

Think about it. The critiques of Harding had everything to do with the image the USFSA sought to present to the world of American figure skaters as graceful, elegant, and poised ice princesses. A ballerina on blades. In the pantheon of memorable American champions, there were the legendary Peggy Fleming, Dorothy Hamil, and Tai Babilonia, then the modern champion Kristi Yamaguchi, who won the gold medal in 1992. Yamaguchi's natural successor could have either been Harding or Kerrigan, with Kerrigan in the sweet spot, having won the bronze. Harding was more athletic as the first American woman to land a triple Axel in competition, but the subjective nature of skating prized artistry and presentation above stunts (something that bedeviled France's Surya Bonaly).

And at the mention of Surya Bonaly, I thought about a long-abandoned draft from a piece I wanted to write about her a few years ago. It was after I had read an article about her (in a now-defunct publication) that reflected on her career, including the obvious racism she faced in competition. Interestingly, a few aspects of Bonaly's story were similar to Harding's: handmade costumes, loud makeup, and the unlikely rise from obscurity to national champion. There was the added element of racism, which certainly wasn't applicable to Harding, but to the extent that Bonaly was a pioneer for Black women achieving prominence in an elite sport where we had not been visible, the skating rivalry of that era should have been between them. 

However, a Harding-Bonaly rivalry was not meant to be. Instead, Bonaly was simultaneously lauded and penalized for her athleticism. She could perform BACKFLIPS on ice, but got points deducted whenever she successfully executed one. She was deemed deficient in the artistry of skating, which was the same critique of Harding, who was more of an athlete than an ice performer. The subjective nature of the scoring prevented both women from obtaining Olympic medals. Harding was criticized as the exact opposite of graceful in contrast to her teammates, with her loud colors, hair scrunchie, and white trash associates. The fact that she had overcome abuse and had dedicated her life to skating was not a narrative that could be spun to make her more likable, not even when Kerrigan was quickly downgraded from Sweetheart to Spoiled Sore Loser. 

The thing is, nobody is interested in seeing a movie about Nancy Kerrigan or Kristi Yamaguchi, not even on Lifetime. They were celebrated and enjoyed their moment in the bright glare of fame, but the most interesting thing that either woman has done in recent years is appear on Dancing with the Stars (as did Harding). Perhaps Bonaly can get tapped for an upcoming season...

However, before we make the quadruple toe loop from Harding to Sha'Carri Richardson, there are several other names that deserve mention, beginning with the obvious nod to none other than the late great track star Florence Griffith-Joyner (Flo Jo). Last week as the news was unfolding about Richardson's lapse in judgment, some woman took to Twitter to claim that Flo Jo was an "obvious drug user" as indicated by her long acrylics (because marijuana abuse leads to Black women storming the nail and hair salons). The only thing obvious about Flo Jo was her speed, her sex appeal, and the fact that whomever that chick is, she's a bitter, jealous shrew. And for the record, there was never any evidence that Flo Jo abused drugs.

She made history by setting world records and and stacking those medals around her neck with her own unique sense of style. I don't know why some random Australian journalist with no tangible evidence to back up her allegations felt the need to trash a dead Olympian to make her nonsensical argument about smoking weed and nail growth, but this will probably be the only reason why anyone ever remembers her.

The Williams sisters are in this mix too, because around the same time Flo Jo was flashing and Surya Bonaly was flipping off judges, two girls from Compton showed up on the professional tennis circuit with their hair beads and rackets. Previous Black champions blazed trails, but these sisters built interstate highways. They were ridiculed for their appearance, but instead of trying to fit in, they designed their own fashions. They were criticized for exploring outside interests, but that meant they weren't consumed by their sport and are actually interesting people. They advocated for pay equity and won on behalf of every woman who has competed since. Their unapologetic Blackness inspired other Black girls to pick up rackets, so even as their careers approach twilight, there are other young champions in the ranks to help inspire the next generation.

I know this piece is supposed to focus on notable women, but I'm invoking editorial privilege in mentioning the Jamaican men's 1988 bobsled team--a group of sprinters whose quest for Olympic glory became the inspiration for the Disney film Cool Runnings. The fact that they weren't the first tropical nation to compete in the Winter Olympics notwithstanding, the point is that it takes audacity to do the unexpected. And what was written off as a novelty for the men has become a crusade for the women's Jamaican bobsled team, possibly on their way to winning medals. And they are frank that their motivation is to change the complexion of the Winter Games, which in my opinion is rather badass to declare that Black women from the Caribbean can be snow bunnies too.

And if this was just about highlighting the various pioneers, then Debi Thomas deserves recognition for being the first Black woman to win a medal in figure skating. Yet, she was quickly forgotten, until she resurfaced years later in the tabloids, her life a train wreck. She was the epitome of Black Girl Magic before that became a hashtag, but sometimes stars implode and that is what some folks are more interested in witnessing. I'm guessing that there are a lot of people in the world that predict the same fate for Richardson.

Not that weed is on par with mental illness or illegal doping, which is what destroyed Marion Jones, a tragic cautionary Icarus tale of great triumph and tragedy. She became the public face of an Olympic doping scandal that resulted in her losing her medals and world records. Several athletes were implicated, but it was her downfall that served as the catalyst for the kind of rigorous drug testing that disqualified Richardson. 

The thing is, folks can sell more papers when someone stumbles than when they win. Right now, a bunch of folks are opining about the fairness of Richardson's suspension and whether it is racist (which to me it isn't), when the real story is how this young sister took responsibility for her mistake. In a world where folks are claiming alternative facts and embracing lies, this woman declared that there are inescapable truths and unfortunate consequences. So instead of arguing about how she's being mistreated, or admonishing her for the choice to smoke weed and literally blow this opportunity...what if we applauded her for owning it?

And she owns all of it, from showing up to compete in her colorful hair, eyelashes, tattoos, and the acrylics to admitting that she knew better. No need to compare her to other athletes who soldiered on in the face of tragedy, because y'all conveniently omit certain cogent details and are selective with your praise. Y'all didn't applaud Tonya Harding for escaping an abusive marriage. Y'all didn't try to intervene to save Debi Thomas from chronic over-achieving and perfectionism. Y'all knew Marion Jones was headed for disaster and watched her crash. Before she failed this drug test, y'all were debating whether Richardson was respectable enough to get featured on a Wheaties Box. What kind of example is she for our young girls...because she's confident and authentic? Isn't that the message we've been bombarding them with since birth--that you can be your own unique self and be great? When did we add the asterisk *but only if you wear pearls and are VOGUE-cover ready? 

As for the rules are rules crowd...

Rules change all of the time. A bunch of new discriminatory rules and policies went into effect to define who is eligible to compete in sports. Half of Simone Biles' floor routine has been outlawed so that she doesn't dominate the other gymnasts. I'm not saying that weed shouldn't be banned, but we all know it is the exact opposite of performance enhancing. It was a mistake, a costly one, but let it be the lesson Sha'Carri can impart to others. And, let's hope she gets some big-time endorsement deals from OPI, Sally Beauty Supply, and some major CBD distributors.