Arrogant, Uppity and Not Here to Perform Tricks

Imagine being the kind of person who suggests that a man who expresses somewhat delusional opinions deserves an audience with the sitting Vice President of the United States. And upon being rebuffed in that demand, his decision to back her opponent is thought to be justified because she was too "arrogant, uppity."

Noting that the man with this kind of audacity happens to be the nephew of a former President and until recently, was also one of her opponents in this most extraordinary election year, you might be forgiven in thinking that she at least owed him a return phone call. I mean, getting tapped to take on the biggest role of one's life, maintaining a hectic campaign schedule, having to vet and announce a running mate, and attending a convention to formalize the process in the span of a month is NO EXCUSE for not taking the time to listen to whatever Master Robert Francis Kennedy, Jr. has to say (if you're willing to wait an hour for him to get started, right around the 1:02:30 mark). How dare she?

In choosing not to meet with Master Robert, it appears that Madam VP forfeited her chance at his endorsement. To be clear, he was never going to back her even if she had acceded to his demand, so it would have just been a stunt for the cameras. And she's too smart to be played for a fool by a guy who thinks we're naive enough to believe that story about "finding" Baby Bear on the side of the road (because now we've got a whale of a story to top it). Yeah, looks to me that unlike Trump, Harris dodged an actual bullet...(not saying he wasn't shot at; I'm saying the man was hit in the ear by flying glass from the teleprompter and until he produces a credible medical report that proves he is the luckiest SOB to be nicked by a bullet that should have blown his ear off his face, NO I don't believe the alternative facts version of what happened.)*

I was going to share some of my initial thoughts about RFK, Jr.'s decision to join the dark side on the Busy Black Woman Facebook page, but the spirit has been moving in me of late to get back to writing here in this space. And as the day unfolded, I had more of a chance to absorb some of the reactions to his endorsement of Trump. Then I almost got baited into one of those pointless "debates" on social media over staged rage engagement, so let's just see where this rabbit hole leads. Shall we?

It is not my intent to devote much more time or energy to assessing the unseriousness of Master Robert Francis Kennedy, Jr.; rather, it is my belief that we ought to recognize this entire debacle for what it has and always will be--a con. That man has been wasting our time and playing in our faces ever since he declared his candidacy, and just so that we're clear about this brand of chicanery moving forward, there are a lot of other people on social media who are players at the same games. As I mentioned, I almost took time to provide a detailed response to some random dude on X who challenged me until I was reminded of my own warning against engaging in such foolishness. To sum up, most of these people who post these open-ended, seemingly innocent questions are actually cat-phishers. There is no good faith in their motives, so no need in giving them what they really want, which is attention/engagement. Take a hint from our Madam VP Harris and decline the invitation to meet them, engage with them, or even acknowledge that they exist. Stand your ground, on business and don't sweat being called stupid, arrogant, uppity or any other adjective intended to bait you into a fruitless exercise. 

You know what they say about arguing with a fool.

Last Friday in the afterglow of the DNC, I saw the breaking news announcement that Master Robert would be suspending his campaign and that he would probably be endorsing Trump. This was not much of a surprise as his running mate, Nicole Shanahan all but conceded that was the way forward for the campaign at the beginning of the week. I watched the footage of her statement with some vindication that I KNEW IT ALL ALONG because she seemed more sincere in her resignation to reality than their campaign had been. It's hard to believe anyone ever took either of them seriously--and not just because she is some random tech billionaire who barely beat out Aaron Rodgers for the job. Think about that...she prevailed in a veepstakes pageant between an anti-vax NFL player and former Minnesota Gov. Jesse "The Body" Ventura.

At least she's the prettiest.

Let's stay on the topic of Ms. Shanahan for a bit because I must admit that when I first took a more critical look at Master Robert's campaign earlier this month, I had only glossed over the existence of a running mate as non-consequential. I apologize for that oversight because I'm sure that she could have brought a sense of gravitas and credibility to the effort if they had continued in their quixotic quest. I would have enjoyed seeing her match wits with James David and the Coach because we already know that debate is going to look like an old-school wrestling match. And you know what...Imma stop lying because there is no way I would have appreciated seeing this woman on stage alongside Vance or Walz (and I mean that with respect to both men). Not that I am conceding or acquiescing to any of the arguments often made against a woman's qualifications or credentials for running because technically, there aren't any. I'm just recognizing these unserious PR stunts for what they are, and I am profoundly disappointed that she went along with this farce.

Which brings me back to a few of the issues I wanted to address with respect to Master Robert: his utter lack of seriousness and how it unnecessarily tarnishes his family brand. I am sure that he felt some compulsion to run for President because the weight of expectation to aspire to some elected or political office must have been drilled into every Kennedy man. At 70 years old, Master Robert needed to heed the call or accept his fate as the namesake who never felt compelled to go into the family business. He could have stayed in the private sector as an environmentalist or under different circumstances, he might have scored a cushy ambassadorship somewhere. Perhaps I can't appreciate what it must be like to be perceived as an underachiever or worse...which is why I don't understand why he didn't just continue to do his own thing out of the glare of the world's expectations of him.

I did write this mini post after the family statement was shared that notes how significant it is that his sisters rebuked him so loudly and publicly, and how that's gotta sting. Maybe he doesn't care, but I can only imagine the pain such a drastic choice had to be for them, particularly eldest sister Kathleen. As an eldest sister myself, we look upon our younger siblings as our perpetual charges because that's the role we are born into--watch out for your younger sister(s) and brother(s). My parents must have told me that a thousand times, so still at this age, that is a responsibility I take most seriously. Even when we disagree, my default is to protect them. Therefore, Kathleen Kennedy Townsend's name atop this statement reveals just how truly a heartbreaking moment this is for this family.

The salt in the wound must have been that Madam VP wouldn't make time to meet with him; yet somebody from her campaign had extend an invite to his younger cousin to come speak in primetime on their to-do list. Hence, Master Robert, the eldest Kennedy male with the name and the face, was passed over, again...

By an arrogant, uppity Black woman!

Now, I don't believe in my heart (and I am serious) that her race or gender are what motivated Master Robert to set off a San Andreas fault level rift in his family. Instead, I believe her race and gender are what compelled that slithery Donald Trump to exploit this schism to his advantage. As one entitled rich guy to another, I imagine the constant refrain in their conversation was who does she think she is?

Privilege is one helluva drug and even the most liberal leaning of old money/nouveau riche gazillionaires have been known to question the long-term wisdom of a We The People ethos. The same democracy that touts the ideals of one person one vote stands in direct conflict with the affirmative action of generational wealth that Michelle Obama alluded to in her convention speech. Men like Trump and Master Robert never had to work at McDonald's. They didn't go to college on the GI Bill or Pell Grants, nor did they have to piece together funds from various sources to pay for their advanced degrees. They never had to tailor a resume to apply for any previous jobs, since running for President is the first high-stakes job interview either of them has ever pursued. 

Take a moment to let that sink in. And then it becomes clear why their disdain for Madam VP is so intense. Who does she think she is, not sitting for interviews with the media as if she is Beyonce? Who does she think she is, being handed a nomination without a traditional process? Who does she think she is, filling two arenas with real people at simultaneous rallies during the DNC? Who does she think she is, refusing to kowtow to Trump's proposed debate schedule and preferred format? Who does she think she is, Black or Indian (because she can't be both)?

Every other person who runs for President is motivated by some over-inflated sense of self. And we wonder aloud that same question about traditional third-party candidates. What made Ralph Nader or Lenora Fulani, or makes Jill Stein or Cornel West think they can run this country if they only appeal to a fringe sliver of the electorate? I get that they want to shine a light on issues that won't receive priority attention, but that is a primary election strategy, not one that has yielded much change or reform on the national level. When confronted on the prospect of being spoilers, they typically respond that they don't care about the consequences. Ralph Nader has been particularly vocal, unapologetic, and defiant of late. Once the dust of their pie-in-the-sky Presidential campaigns clears, they aren't pounding the pavement to build momentum in the states for future contests. Therefore, it is fair to assume that the typical third-party bid is an exercise in toxic hubris.

If you need any further proof of that same inclination in Master Robert, look at how his campaign has strategically opted to stay on the ballot in states where it can inflict harm against the Vice President, but has taken steps to be removed in states where he might harm Trump. If he was so concerned about the right of third-party candidates to be treated fairly, he would have thrown some campaign resources behind Jill Stein or Cornel West, both of whom are still attempting to gain ballot access in various states. Why not righteously demand that they also deserve to be heard in debates against the two major party candidates? Why leave them without the funding and infrastructure that they sorely need in order to support Trump, who has the RNC infrastructure and his own personal fortune at his disposal?

Even though Drs. West and Stein are un-redemptive chaos agents (albeit in a more traditional fashion), Master Robert is on another level. He is on par with Kanye West, who launched a spoiler campaign in July 2020 to siphon votes from Joe Biden in service to Donald Trump. Nobody thought Con Yeah Man was serious, but he did succeed in helping to sow seeds of discord in Georgia, setting the stage for what will now be Ground Zero in the second Trump Insurrection. And make no mistake, there will be another violent attempt, and Master Robert just helped to make that prospect a guaranteed certainty. 

For all intents and purposes, Trump is just another third-party narcissist who executed a hostile takeover of the Republican Party in 2016. Bernie Sanders attempted a similar coup with the Democrats twice, but they caught on and foiled his plans. These egomaniacs assume no one is hip to their duplicity, so once exposed by sunlight, they retaliate by gaslighting us. How many times has Trump whined that a process that doesn't advantage him is unfair, even with all of the resources he has to thwart his accusers? What have the Bernie Bros accomplished in the last four to eight years except become louder and more obnoxious? 

Strategically speaking, while the Democratic National Convention was quite the party, Madam VP took to the stage on that final night to let it be known that not only was SHE the effing headliner, but SHE is also a woman all about the business, with no time for suffering fools.  Cognizant of how hard some folks had been working to undermine her for the past three years by second-guessing her intelligence and arguing that she was an albatross around Biden's neck, Harris clearly understands that she only has two months to win or lose. Two months to define and introduce herself to the voters on her own terms as her own woman. With a truncated campaign schedule, she has to prioritize and be strategic about how she spends her time, and no good can come from giving an audience to a clown. It's enough for her to have to debate the Ringmaster. Folks who want to entertain a circus can vote for one, but she ain't with the shits!

So NO, Kamala Harris don't have time for tea with Master Robert. He's not entitled to an audience with her any more than the other chaos agent candidates. I listened to part of his statement, and it is puzzling to me how he criticizes the media for engaging in anti-democratic tactics while questioning Harris' right to choose if and when to give interviews. Which is it? It must be maddening to encounter a woman who can't be accused of using him to gain access to power because she already has more power than he could possibly imagine. She ain't concerned with his bruised ego nor is she impressed by his name. He is just one Kennedy. The majority of the family already publicly endorsed President Biden back in April (and are transferring that support to her), so any lingering hard or bitter feelings he harbors aren't with the Vice President, but with his family. She's not the one who will be uncomfortable at the Annual Kennedy Labor Day BBQ Bash on Hyannis Port...

When I invited you into this rabbit hole with me, one of the flashbacks that replayed on the way down was the memory of another Kennedy who pulled a similar stunt in 1980, which might have inspired this present carpe diem/YOLO effort. Lest we forget, the late Senator Edward Moore Kennedy, the baby of the family, also took on a sitting President when he thought there might be a vulnerability he could exploit. The rivalry and animosity between Uncle Teddy and President Carter lingered for decades and provides an interesting example of the historical rhymes and bars that we should commit to memory. 

In his DNC remarks, former President Obama threw out a laugh line about the remake never being as good as the original, which probably prompted most of us to compare and contrast a mental list of movies or songs. And sure enough, there are plenty of examples that prove his point. Although that was a reference to Trump, in this instance, Master Robert must have thought that he could attempt a remix of history by succeeding where his Uncle Teddy had not. He saw in President Biden an old and war-weary general and gambled that a Kennedy candidacy could offer us the prospect of a 21st Century Camelot Returns. He must have forgotten that Old Man Biden was there in 1980, so the general knew how to out-maneuver his would-be adversary. In passing the mic to his protégé, Biden robbed Master Robert of his shot; and by refusing to meet with him, Madam VP only compounded his humiliation. Uncle Teddy died 15 years ago to the day of his defection...but President Carter is alive and eager to vote for Harris this fall. At this rate, the only way Master Robert's name will be anywhere near the resolute desk in the Oval Office is in the form of that bust of his father. 

* Just because I want to be respectful and recognize the seriousness of what I am suggesting, there are reasons for my skepticism. I taught a class on the John F. Kennedy assassination, and one of the most graphic details was how the bullet that hit Kennedy caused his head to explode. That was from a rifle shot in 1963. Technology has advanced considerably in 60 years, and we know that a bullet from an AR-15, the gun recovered from the shooter, has the power to pulverize human flesh. If Trump had been grazed by that bullet, it should have knocked him down on that platform; instead, he reacted as if he had been stung by a bee before he was tackled by Secret Service. A man who was hit by one of those bullets, Corey Comperatore, died so it is offensive to me that Trump minimizes that man's life by stunting: thrusting his fist in the air in defiance; parading around with a maxi pad affixed to his head; and refusing to My disgust is compounded by the narcissism of Master Robert in endorsing such theatrical nonsense. 

Me and All the Black Women I Know

There is a meme going around on social media that if you receive a certain picture, it has symbolic meaning. Until a few days ago, I would have sent a picture of Supreme Court Justice (and my Soror) Ketanji Brown Jackson to represent the disgust my fellow Black sisters in law feel whenever we have to defend ourselves against specious attacks. She's definitely in the arsenal, as well as a picture of Spelman Founder Sophia Packard (which might not pack the same punch to anyone unfamiliar with how the Spelmafia rolls) but I think my go-to may now be Fani Willis.

If you get this from me, it means you done started something you'd best be prepared to finish. And if you read that and thought, hmm, shouldn't she have said better, then Imma caution you to watch your step and tread lightly. Because if you're judging my delivery and command of the English language in addition to questioning my intelligence while feigning sincerity, this not gonna end well attall!

I spent the better part of two days last week seeing shades of red that I didn't know existed in nature. It began with my frustration over comments made by a certain political pundit who helped Al Gore lose his home state of Tennessee in 2000. That must have provided cover for all of the other keyboard pundits, most of them nonlawyers, to opine about what Ms. Willis should have known better not to do. Then I happened upon some of the commentary from the hotep hallways where nothing any Black woman does is celebrated. And then finally, because it is February and I missed the memo that granted blanket amnesty to all current and future racist content on social media, y'all really been on one this year. Keep at it though, we got an extra day this month...

Let's start with the low-hanging fruit and dismiss any and all musings by the ashy un-lotioned incels among us. Dear Reader, I won't waste your time in linking to that nonsense because it follows the predictable pattern of diminishing the work of any accomplished Black woman. In this case, because they can't denounce Willis for being a bed wench, they can just call her a bitch or a hoe, and those posts get lots of traction from their man-baby brethren. This is in spite of the fact that their purported hero Brother Minister Malcolm X famously said in 1962 that the Black woman is the most disrespected and unprotected person on earth. I guess they all mysteriously missed that particular speech.

On the opposite end, as much as we appreciate the 'love' coming from our #thankaBlackwoman groupies, I am reminded that some of those people have been conditioned to believe that it is our job to clean up after them. As writer Zora Neale Hurston described it in Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937), Black women are the mules of the world. Mules are beasts of burden, intentionally bred for hard labor. Maybe these people grew up in homes where there was a beloved Big Momma, or a trusted maid who was also the family confidante/washerwoman/cook/wet nurse. Or perhaps they watched a lot of television; regardless of what may have informed those expectations, their praises carry a tinge of, yeah just leave the dirty work for that Black lady. 

Thus, the faux outrage that Willis messed things up for all Black woman in professional settings is another problematic argument being touted by the loudest Black-people-are-not-a-monolith Pick Mes. Some of these same lowercase black folks insisted for YEARZ, like trained parrots, that we are not all the same and they prided themselves on being different, independent, suburban with a tan. Suddenly, in spite of their protestations, one pissed off Black woman has the power to make all of us you look bad to your drinking buddies. So you just had to take the time to denounce her to remind them that you are still cool, because dammit, you worked hard to be deemed acceptable and worthy to be allowed in their presence. Perhaps as atonement, they will let you buy the next round.

It is amazing to me that no matter how much we accomplish, no matter how much ballyhooed progress, it is nothing more than an intricate sand sculpture on a small beach. One wave and all of our hard work gets washed away by the tide. All of our accomplishments can be undone in a careless millisecond. Everyone else is allowed to be flawed, make mistakes, stumble through, but let a Black woman reveal the slightest vulnerability and I swear, it's like Jesus and His disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane. While Judas is preparing for his betrayal, the majority of the disciples are in hiding. A chosen few accompany Jesus to pray in the Garden, where they fall asleep. Startled by the arresting mob, Peter loudly denies their friendship. In our most vulnerable moments, we anticipate that someone will betray us, and we expect that most of our friends are either going to remain in hiding or are too preoccupied with their own lives to get involved. But it is Peter's denial--the gratuitous disavowals that Willis should have known better; the acquiescence that this is an unfair system built on an ever-shifting landscape; that in her hour of need some friends wouldn't risk getting as much as a toe wet even if she had walked out on water to save them from drowning... 

It be your own people sometimes. Et tu, Brute???

Finally, let's talk about the I-don't-see-color because I-am-not-a-racist-BUT folks, the ones who have perfected other ways of expressing their biases. The pearl-wearing Birkin purse-clutchers who described Willis' courtroom demeanor as ghetto and made references to The Jerry Springer Show (which they must have watched). They were appalled that an angry Black woman walked into court on her own accord and left that same way, defiant and unashamed. That this Black woman with a law degree, years of prosecutorial experience, and the confidence of someone who was elected as the first woman to hold that position would stand up for herself. That this woman, who upon recognizing that her office possessed the power to pursue justice on behalf of those two Black women election workers who were harassed and defamed, decided to use that power to face off with the most powerful giant the Philistines have. That they assumed this same woman, who personally appeared in court weeks before this sordid soap opera to confront Harrison Floyd for violating the terms of his bail agreement, wasn't going to bring that same energy to court in defense of her career? 

I get it, you prefer a more refined Black woman, one that doesn't have a discernable regional accent and who comports herself with dignity. Right, because when now-Justice Jackson sat for three days at a Senate hearing where it was intimated that she didn't know the difference between a law book and a J. Crew Catalogue by Senator Foghorn Leghorn, I didn't see you take offense or offer her any empathy.  That Black woman also went through law school, had several prestigious federal clerkships, and was herself a federal judge--credentials no one could deny were impressive. Instead, Senator Bull McConnell attacked her demeanor as a performance which met the approval of Senator Butler Mushmouth whose theatrical thumbs down sure did ingratiate him with your MAGA crowd.

Quit playing in our faces! I could offer up the names of countless "respectable" Black women that you have disrespected for the most trivial of alleged offenses. Going back as far as Phillis Wheatley and the American Revolution, every educated Black woman has been subjected to those back-handed compliments, polite insults, and reminders that we will never be good enough. There is an entire MAGA conspiracy theory that Former First Lady Michelle Obama, the epitome of style and grace, is really a man. Madame Vice President Kamala Harris is right there, and no matter that she serves admirably as Joe Biden's work wife without breaking a sweat, these folks get on social media and act like she's the ethnic design pattern on the Oval Office drapes. Some of y'all wouldn't sit next to a respectable Black woman on a crowded city bus, so miss me with your T.J. Maxx condescension. 

If Fani Willis had glided into court performing Tchaikovsky's Pas de Deux, y'all still would have called her graceless and classless. If she had worn the crown jewels and spoken with the elocution of the Queen of England, y'all still would have criticized her body language and demeanor. So Sis came to court as her authentic I-grew-up-in-DC-during-the-80s-crack-epidemic self so act like you know, and I ain't mad! (Side note, she's a fellow survivor of DC's all-girl Catholic schools from that era, so she earns extra cool point in my book for that.)

She was righteously angry about while testifying about her personal life in open court, so she opted not to code switch. Unlike some of these rich men who do whatever the fuck they want as long as they don't get caught, women don't receive justice by remaining silent. There would be no presumption of innocence if she hadn't spoken up for herself, only the perception of her as presented by others. And make no mistake, this was political revenge porn without any pictures, so she had every right to take the stand to debunk the crass allegations and insinuations made about her character. 

You saw her Daddy. Of course he taught her to keep cash on hand and to have a plan that doesn't rely on a man. Me and all the Black women I know got this same life advice from a Black Daddy and/or Uncle. All of us also received some version of that infamous Papa Pope speech about being twice as good to get half of what they have. 

It isn't my place to opine about what she should have expected if someone went rifling through her garbage. My guess is that she expected them to find trash, so even if she was sloppy about not disclosing her past relationship with her co-counsel, maybe it shouldn't have been all that shocking in the first place. God forbid she has a personal life (another sexist stereotype). They discussed work over dinner...and took some of it home...and on a couple of trips out of town. And they went Dutch! The fact that we would hold her to a higher standard of personal conduct than the former President who directed a conspiracy to commit election fraud and the harassment of election workers, is a special kind of sexism. It's the kind that conflates an ethical slip with abuse of power from the highest elected official in the land by claiming that they are equal in magnitude. She should have known better while President Trump was only trying to disenfranchise millions of voters because he's a sore loser.

GTFOHWTBS!

Admittedly when I first saw those Jerry Springer/anti DEI talking points trending, I took it personally. It isn't just that y'all are saying the quiet parts out loud, because that ain't new. And as Willis and I are the same age, we've both endured our fair share of micro-aggressive challenges to our right to occupy spaces that were only accessible to our grandmothers for cleaning. They weren't expecting her to come in with a more powerful broom, nor that she wouldn't ask for permission before redecorating. Of course these folks hate-watched her testimony to dissect and rip the very flesh from her bones--envious haters will do whatever it takes to discredit and disqualify us.

Then I remembered another lesson my Black Daddy taught me about not accepting the negative comments and jabs that people hurl at me with their mean-spirited intentions. Yeah, they might call me all kinds of names but I don't have to answer to them, nor should I allow their descriptions of me to undermine my confidence. It is not my job to control how you interpret what I am. If ghetto is the worst insult that your feeble brains can conjure up, well that's just proof of your mediocrity, lack of imagination, and audacity. 

I used to watch The Jerry Springer Show too, and from what I recall those raucous chants not only greeted Springer when he took to the stage, but also were used to de-escalate the chaos unfolding among the guests. What you heard was both an audience of Black sisters in law chanting Willis' name as she took the stand, and a necessary reminder that she's the District Attorney and she's got this.

FANI! FANI! FANI!

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.

The Proud Family

This was one of several unfinished works-in-progress that I had in my drafts for over a year. Who knew that the pendulum of tolerance would swing so violently in that time? --ADH

A couple of years ago, I wrote a piece that expressed my frustrations with the commercial embrace of PRIDE Month, specifically the blatant rainbow labels on everything and the hideous offerings of rainbow-adorned clothing being sold at major retailers. I haven't changed my tune, in case you were wondering (because so far, things are not much better this year). But I want to be clear that my issue was not with the celebration of PRIDE, so if you were hoping that I would be firing up a tiki torch to set bonfires with the polo shirt and khaki pants brigade, you should stop reading now.

Last year I came to the conclusion that the corporate chase of the rainbow did indeed lead to a pot of gold. And I realized this after the Hub, the Kid, and I attended our very first Pride Parade. Last June marked the in-person return of the Capital Pride Parade from its COVID hiatus, and so when I tell you that there were terrible rainbow tutus and sequined Mork from Ork suspenders in abundance, I am not exaggerating. I was almost embarrassed that I wasn't wearing something equally tacky. Almost...

I intended to share these two stories to re-emphasize the point that declaring a commitment to being an ally of the LGBTQIA+ community must mean more than wearing the right tee or tutu to your local Gay Pride parade. To think that I was so proud of myself for not getting taken in by the commercialism, only to realize that what I assumed was the fickle and faddish support of PRIDE could have broader consequences. Who would have thought that in 2023 folks would be boycotting companies like Starbucks over their support of the LGBTQIA community? Some of those people have been losing their minds over rainbows on children's clothes (so guess what I just bought for my family from Target this past weekend...)

Story #1 - Eating Out

Yes, I need you to read into that title. Our trio traveled to NYC for the Memorial Day holiday weekend, planned weeks in advance by the Hub who had arranged accommodations at an Air BnB in the Bushwick neighborhood of Brooklyn. In case you don't already know this about me, I have terrible packing anxiety, the kind that has only worsened with age despite years of experience, but glory be, on this Saturday, we managed to leave the house and arrive in NYC while it was still light outside! We found street parking, found our lodging, and the Hub picked out a local restaurant where we could catch dinner at a reasonable hour. BUT...

Yeah, it was all too good to be true. I will save the Air BnB fiasco for another time (quick synopsis addressed here) and skip ahead to where all of the signs clearly indicated that our good fortune in stress-free travel had been too good to be true. We headed out on foot to the pre-selected restaurant, but in the wrong direction, and after walking several blocks the Hub decided to hail a Lyft. By this time, the sun had begun to set, so by the time we were deposited on the corner in front of a restaurant right before 9pm, we assumed it was the place we had been trying to find. It was open air and not busy, so the hostess told us to choose a table, and we headed to a spot up against a wall. Instantly, I spotted some "colorful" artwork and then did a quick scan of the entire wall and took note that there was a theme. For once, the Hub also noticed, so we quickly re-seated ourselves at a table in the middle of the room.

Once we were settled, he handed the Kid his phone to keep her distracted while we discussed our options. At this point, I had completed a full survey of the restaurant decor and determined that it was not, shall we say, kid-friendly. The other patrons included a couple on a date, a few folks at the bar, and a table full of folks who were doing the typical Saturday night pre-game gathering of friends (something that us old-marrieds-with-child tend to forget happens in real life). Should we stay since it was already late and the Kid probably hadn't seen anything too risqué (yet)? What would be the likelihood that we could leave and grab a table at another restaurant as quickly? If we did leave, what would be our rationale? Are we those over-zealous parents who think children ought to be shielded from everything or are we these wannabe hip urban adventurers with a Kid in Montessori? How bad could it get, I wondered...

No need to drag this out for the sake of suspense because all went well. Although neither the menu nor the decor were TGIFridays family-friendly, the chef sent us out a plate of fries and that made the Kid happy. Our food and drinks were great, the server was cool and patient, and I found a way to avoid having to explain why there was a picture of two naked women kissing when I took her to the bathroom. We left and discovered that the restaurant where we had intended to go was around the corner next door, but it was crowded and loud, so I have nothing bad to report about our experience at Maite. 

Story #2 - When In Rome

In fact, our positive dining experience at Maite is what convinced me that we ought to affirmatively go to the DC Pride festivities two weeks later. If we are in fact these wannabe hip urban adventurers I believed us to be, then why not attend the parade? Again, what is the worst that would happen during the day?

As it turns out, nothing. We got a late start, so I assumed we had missed everything, but we went anyway and got there in time to see plenty of floats, bands, and corporate product placement. It was packed with people, all excited to finally be free from social distancing. Although we were still cautiously masked, the gentleman I was standing with just chatted me up about everything from what we missed to the church he attended as if COVID nor my mask were concerns. He was more intrigued by what had compelled us to bring our then 7-year old to the parade, so I shared my thoughts on aspiring to be a wannabe hip urban adventurer with a Kid in Montessori. In other words, when in Rome...

But more importantly, I explained that I have to set an example of tolerance and acceptance for my daughter in a world that is very different than the one in which I was raised. She has already come into contact with children whose gender identification is fluid; in fact, before the summer ended, she had befriended a trans child and seemed nonchalant that their identity might be polarizing to adults. I'm pretty sure that unlike most urban adventurers, the fact that we haven't encountered that many families with same gender-loving parents is an anomaly. So if anything, attending the Pride Parade should feel as normal as going to a National's baseball game, complaining about the tourists during Cherry Blossom season, or making a special effort to drive by the White House Christmas tree. We live here and should take full advantage of all the special events and perks that come with living in the Nation's Capital. 

Just Say Gay

And if that had included Drag Queen Storytime when the Kid and I were regulars on the library story hour circuit, we would have been there! If her enthusiastic love for RuPaul's Drag Race is any indication, I would have had to move heaven and earth for her not to miss a moment. Her current obsession with the show was an unexpected fluke--one Friday night she came downstairs while I was flipping channels and the next thing I knew she had memorized the contestants' names and had designated her favorite queen. Kids like what they like, something the Hub and I have learned in spite of our efforts to steer her tastes away from shows like Bubble Guppies and generic recycled anime. That doesn't mean we can't influence what she watches; instead, it means we allow her to discover what she likes as long as it isn't harmful.

Harmful is the intolerant environment that has been created by these modern-day witch trials and scarlet lettering. One would think the cautionary tales of intolerance and repression as told by LGBTQIA Boomers and Gen Xers would have warned against this current climate. Of course it did, but those over-zealous culture warriors are relentless and shameless in their adherence to the rigid gender roles as assigned at birth. Those people don't care if queer children are more vulnerable to suicidal ideations, or if they run away from home, or if they become addicts. Those people don't have hearts or minds to which appeals for compassion can be made. Those people are why support organizations like The Trevor Project, GLAAD, GLSEN, and PFLAG are so necessary. In spite of their macho Alpha-male bravado, those people are threatened by the sight of men wearing dresses.

But apparently not all men in dresses, since I have yet to see the same organized fervor taken against the Catholic Church as I have seen in the past year against drag queens. Or did I miss any of the armed protests that were organized against Friday Night Bingo at St. Aloysius? Don't worry, I'm not only calling out the Church (especially since the Southern Baptists and the Mormons deserve just as much smoke, if not more), but I can tell you that more children were harmed by those clergy sexual abuse scandals than have been harmed by listening to Mistress Petty Pat read And Tango Makes Three. 

So let's not gloss over the fact that many of the loudest "Christians" who have been yelling crucify them at the LGBTQIA community happen to be members of fundamentalist congregations. Particularly in the case of the Southern Baptists, this entire crusade seems like a massive deflection from their denominational failure to root out and condemn the sexual violence committed within their ranks. The conflation of acceptance and tolerance as "grooming" is intentional given how many of those same people have advocated against choice in reproductive health care for women; supported book bans and efforts to promote anti-racism, diversity, and inclusion; and justified their bigotry as an expression of faith in order to self-righteously condemn everyone who disagrees with them as godless. 

As I reflect back on that night from almost a year ago, all I knew at the time was that we had chosen to stay at a restaurant other than the one where we had intended to eat. That choice was not meant to be a political statement, but it has become symbolic of the kind of allyship we want to impart to our daughter. Because no, we are not those people (nor are we all that hip or adventurous as parents); however, we are the kind of parents who hope that she respects the humanity in everyone. I proudly accept being called godless by those people because I don't worship their gods and false idols. My God doesn't restrict love to man-made traditions. My God is love, and He put the rainbow in the sky as a covenant to us of that love. 

Therefore, when I see the rainbows and the ever-expanding acronym of people who find meaning in each color, my first reaction isn't one of anger. Because how is there a hidden agenda in a tee shirt that depicts a dinosaur shooting rainbow beams from its eyes at spaceships (when neither dinosaurs nor spaceships exist)? How does a swimsuit with a tucking feature affect my child if she doesn't need to wear that? And why should I be triggered if some shy adult needs that feature so that they can feel more confident and comfortable? I am the Busy Black Woman, so trust, I don't have time to record a shaky TikTok video of myself looking and sounding deranged over the clothing selection at Target. I won't be stalking anyone in a public bathroom to demand to know whether they were born male or female. Nor would I shoot up full cans of beer that I bought because I don't like that one of their spokesmodels dresses like Holly Golightly.

And shame on Anheuser-Busch for bowing to that bigotry! To any other corporate brand that is contemplating how best to respond to this backlash, the right thing to do is stand firm. If your options include full or even a partial retreat then I guess I was right to be skeptical about all of this back in 2019. Y'all are just selling us shit covered in rainbows. 

Allyship isn't a fad nor is it a marketing strategy. PRIDE isn't supposed to conform to the politics of heteronormative respectability. And whether those people like it or not, the LGBTQIA movement won't be shamed back into the closet. Anyone who embraces repression and discrimination will find themselves on the losing side of history--maybe not in the short-term, but eventually. Because the moral arc of the rainbow is long, but it bends towards justice.

 

Jangled Bells

It's the most annoying time of the year...

Yep, my inner Grinch is back because y'all insist on pushing Christmas on me earlier each year. This year, I swear some Southern radio station was playing Christmas music before Election Day and that isn't even the worst of it. I've been seeing Black Friday deals since September, so yes, it is already way too much too soon. 

Give folks time to eat the rest of the Halloween candy, damn!

Regular readers of this blog already know to expect a lot of bah humbugging from me right around this time of year, so no new ground to cover by writing yet another piece about how much I hate Christmas. So let's go in a different direction by addressing one of the many reasons why I find all of this so ridiculous: Christmas movies.

Specifically, the Hallmark kind that always end with a happy couple kissing in a faux snow-covered gazebo. Or the kind that features a magical appearance by Santa or his wife or an elf or an angel or an abandoned baby or a ghost. I think that covers the gamut of plot possibilities because no one has come up with a new Christmas story so y'all just do a remix of the various themes already out in the universe. And while there are a few Christmas movies that I do enjoy and could watch over and over, those tend to break the formulaic mode because they are comedies or about family dysfunction. If there is an all-day marathon of A Christmas Story (1983), Elf (2003), or The Family Stone (2005) playing somewhere, I am there--just not until after my birthday.

Every year, Hallmark, Lifetime, and now TVOne roll out a new batch of Christmas movies which makes avoiding that aspect of the holiday just as challenging as escaping Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas. I'm pretty sure that other TV networks have taken note and have been working on their own holiday programming, so now might be a good time for me to finally pay for a streaming service. What are the kids binge-watching on Hulu these days?

Having said all of that, the real reason I've brought you here today is to take note of a little article I recently read that explains why one of Hallmark's biggest movie stars, Candace Cameron Bure, suddenly defected to Great American Family network. Now, when this was initially announced back in April, I took a moment and thought, hmm, I guess that means more work for Holly Robinson Peete. And then I realized, yeah it must be nice that Candace can take her toys to her own room so that she won't have to share.

If you can read between the lines, it seems rather convenient that Bure would claim to want to promote more family-friendly holiday fare now that Hallmark has opted to expand the definition of its family offerings to be more inclusive. Not just in terms of racial diversity, but in presenting representations of family that depart from the "traditional" nuclear model. And while that is certainly her right, nothing screams I'M A SANCTIMONIOUS KAREN louder (except maybe writing it in all caps like I just did).

Color me not at all surprised because this script is just as predictable as one of those holiday movies. The former child star had built quite the brand for herself as the face of Hallmark made-for-TV movies. She got to work for about three to four intense months, and then spent the rest of the year teaching Sunday School and baking bread. It was the perfect gig, but then we had to ruin it for her by asking why come she and her other sitcom sorority sisters were the only ones getting cast in those kinds of movies. And then suddenly it was inconsistent with her brand to be seen in the company of the very people she moved to the exurbs to avoid in the grocery store.

I had taken note some time ago that the offerings on Hallmark were very pumpkin spice latte, so I rarely watched anything on that channel other than The Golden Girls or Fraiser reruns. Since I always fall asleep with the TV on, I often woke up to I Love Lucy, which as many of you know is definitely an all-time Busy Black Woman favorite. Like many niche channels, Hallmark fills the spaces between shows with a lot of promos for its own programming. And I began to detect a theme...

I wanted to keep an open mind about what or who I rarely saw. But it was kind of obvious, and despite the appearance of an occasional Black or Asian best friend, some things are exactly what we see as clear as day. Perhaps it could be written off as unintentional that Hallmark had become a refuge for former sitcom actresses, all of whom happened to be white...or maybe it was a choice. Because I could think of several nonwhite sitcom actresses who certainly could use some work but don't ever seem to get any.

The lack of diversity became undeniable to me the Christmas the Hub and I stayed with his sister. I remember that holiday in vivid detail because she LOVES those movies, they were airing 24/7, and I was pregnant. For three days (talk about biblical allusions), I don't know how many of those movies I sat through and actually watched, but if you can believe it, one stood out from the milquetoast fare. It starred Lacey Chabert, whom I knew as the kiss-ass friend from Mean Girls (2004), as a woman who gets wooed by a Prince in A Royal Christmas (2014). I don't remember anything distinct about the love interest, such as how they met or fell in love, but I do remember that his mother was Doctor Quinn Jane Seymour herself. And I thought out loud, well is there a white actress who hasn't been cast in one of these movies yet? When will there be movie starring the daughter from Mr. Belvedere?

No response to my pregnant rantings, so I just sat quietly in my corner. I could either brave the Staten Island Mall two days before Christmas, read one of my SIL's cookbooks, or give in to see if there was anything compelling or redeeming about any of these movies. I choose option C, and while not entirely terrible, it was a lot like spending a sick day at home with my grandmother. In other words, I knew to expect a bowl of canned chicken noodle soup, some saltine crackers, and an intense stare-down with Victor Newman...

The fact that my Nuyorican SIL was unfazed by the predictability of the plots or the homogeneity of the casts, in addition to knowing many sistahs who enjoyed those same movies, it made me wonder why none of the upstart Black cable networks hadn't produced any of their own holiday fare. It wouldn't have meant sacrificing much time on their already packed programming schedule to preempt a few hours of Martin reruns or not to air The Color Purple (1986) one weekend. Who would notice if instead of Danica McKellar, we got Tempest Bledsoe some work for a change? 

Like every other good idea that I was too busy to put into action, someone at TVOne realized that this ain't rocket science. Since practically every Black sitcom had a very special Christmas episode in the vaults that had been inspired by It's a Wonderful Life (1946) or Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol, how hard could it be to come up with something, anything other than the sugar cookie cut-outs on the Hallmark channel? I don't know if Merry Wishmas (2018) was the first of their original movie offerings, but they've been pumping out new holiday movies every year which must have caught the attention of the Hallmark suits. Because now they've responded with their own Mahogany line of Christmas movies, along with a VIDA lineup, and methinks that it was only a matter of time before someone pitched the idea of two elderly lesbians kissing under a gazebo covered in faux-snow. And that was just too much for the most wholesome and ever self-righteous Candace Cameron Bure.

That, and having to cede some of her realm to Holly Robinson Peete.

I'm not calling Bure any names, just pointing out that it is really convenient to allude to "traditional family values" as a euphemism for realizing that she was no longer the Queen of the Hallmark Movie Empire. I wouldn't go so far as to call her a bigot; instead, I would argue that this was a rather shrewd move to make in the midst of a white-hot culture war raging in the real world. In a year when there has been legislation introduced in several states that target trans-youth and claims that children are being indoctrinated into the "gay lifestyle" by a storybook about two penguins, yeah Candy Girl you definitely chose a side. And again, that is your right, because there is an audience that prefers to only see stories that reflect what makes them comfortable in their own biases, so go forth and be mediocre!

But please do me a favor and stop using your narrow definition of Christianity as justification for your intolerance. I'm a Christian too Boo, and my Jesus, the one whose birth your crap ass movies are supposed to celebrate, doesn't seem like the kind of person who would have been concerned about tarnishing your brand. He wasn't all that worried about being seen with the wrong kind of people because there was no such thing in His eyes. You don't have to take my word for it because He said so, and I urge you to look it up in one of those $65 bibles you are hawking.

I will come right out and say it: the Hallmark channel got too ghetto for Bure, so she clutched her purse and hurried across the street. By switching to the Great American Family channel, she can lure her fans to the new mall where there is a traditional Santa and no David Sedaris-ian elves. At her new mall, Bure can get her overpriced coffee served in a disposable cup that has CHRISTMAS emblazoned all over it, brewed by an un-unionized underpaid barista working overtime. Her brother's crappy Christmas movie can play in the multiplex and her tee shirts can be purchased in stores where the retail workers are required to wish you a "Merry Christmas" instead of Happy Holidays (because Hanukkah and Diwali aren't for real Americans). The new mall is everything the old mall used to be before everyone got woke...

Because isn't that the reason for the season--for folks to keep buying the illusion that the Cameron siblings have been selling all these years? They want top shelf placement for their stuff, not to be comingled in what they perceive to be the bargain bin with ours. God forbid that someone just might prefer The Drifter's 1954 version of White Christmas to the movie version from White Christmas the film, also released in 1954. And why not add a little José Feliciano in the mix because Feliz Navidad is a jam! The notion that there is only one right way to celebrate Christmas, or that this is about constraining Christianity when it is all about Capitalism is absolutely on-brand for both Candace and Kirk and their ilk--former child stars whose careers were built on nostalgia for realities that only ever applied to them.

I want to end this on a more festive note because Bure did a lot of people a big favor by making such a dramatic exit. As she stated, this gives her an opportunity to help launch a new venture from the ground floor, so that is both admirable and risky. And by leaving an already established network franchise, she has cleared the stage for other actresses to get some of that Hallmark holiday shimmer and shine. Let the Mowry sisters build themselves an empire! My issue was never about the fact that she left (because even though I did write an entire piece on the matter as if I care, I don't); it is with the manner in which her departure was framed, as if she had to run for her life in order to save her virtue.

Although I'm sure her movies won't get any better on a different network, at least she is safe from secularism and the gay agenda. Her values and her fortune secured, Candace Cameron Bure will be just fine. All of you avid Christmas rom-com movie fans now have an additional channel with a new slate of movies, so now I know what to avoid while channel surfing.