Other People's Business

It never ceases to amaze me how some people can see a row of red flags flapping in the breeze, ignore what they see with their own eyes, and then act surprised when the very thing they were being warned about happens. 

Yes America, I am talking about you and this Regime of fascists that 77 million of you elected...but not yet. Before we get political, I am referring to a particular individual who chose to reconcile with her ex after a decade of being apart. They now have a baby, a reality show, and probably other big plans for their future together. And in all sincerity, I hope that we're wrong because Lord knows there ain't nothing worse than making a mistake that everyone else saw coming. 

But come on Ashanti, what made you decide to accept this Kobayashi Maru?

I won't delve too deeply into matters that are none of my business, except to say that if you don't want people all up in the mix, then don't give out tasting spoons! I would have been content to just shake my head, even after your man agreed to perform for the Abomination, but y'all decided that we needed to know why he did so by dragging out the explanation over eight episodes. 

I won't be watching this reality show for all of the same reasons why I stopped watching these shows years ago. I do not enjoy car crashes. I just had one in May, and I would not recommend it. Having done a stint of time as a church trustee and as a family law attorney, it isn't that I can't take knowing people's business. It is that I adhere to that old adage that when you know better, you do better. And Sis, it's been 20 years, so what is it that you don't know better by now?

Y'all been see-sawing back and forth in and out of each other's lives for 20 years. During that time, you had a complicated situationship with the late producer Irv Gotti. Your man made headlines for some sexual assault allegations that we ain't forgot about (and shouldn't in the wake of what we learned about Diddy, but let's not linger on that for now). At some point after being coy for years, y'all admitted what we had suspected when you had a very painful break-up. So whatever lessons should have been gleaned from your previous relationship, hopefully were taken to heart. While I'm watching all of this from the cheap seat and minding my Busy Black business, YOU know.  

After 20 years of watching reality television relationships implode, you also know that your chances of living happily ever after get bleaker with each episode. I can't cite exact statistics, but most of those Housewives have divorced. Given that reality, I'm mad that you still agreed to do this, as if we are owed some explanation about the inner workings of your lives. Why? That whole part about "repaying fans" sounds like you owe refunds on defective merchandise, a whack performance, or having been party to a massive scam (wrong dude, that was Ja Rule). So again, why? 

Unless...somebody's check is still in the mail, or it bounced. As we know, a certain person, himself a perpetual reality TV presence, has been known to stiff folks or to delay having to pay them. Therefore, if the reason why you're leaving your blinds and shades wide open is to earn a little extra money, I'm still not understanding. I thought you owned your masters, and I could've sworn that Hot in Herre gets sampled for a new ad campaign every summer. 

But get this, Imma stop asking why and get to the point because honestly, I don't really care to know about your finances. I'm more fascinated by your response to the declaration your man made on camera that he's not waking up in the middle of the night with you to tend to his child, and how that sent a bunch of folks to pull out their phones to take sides on Blue Ivy's internet. Did anybody expect him to be a more enlightened or evolved kind of man? This same dude who swiped a credit card between a woman's buttocks in a music video? Granted, that was 20 years ago...back when you were dating him the first time around.

However, he is the same dude, when asked to explain the sexism and objectification of women in that video to the very audience of college students whom he was hoping to use as props, who refused. Because how dare they not be flattered by the attention and publicity of his altruism? I don't know what role you had in that decision, and again I don't care because I'm not interested in revisiting that incident in detail. You stood by your man, which was your right and choice. Just as it is his choice to roll over at 3am, ignoring you and the cries of his son. 

Given that you have known this man for the better part of 20+ years, and he's been a father that entire time, surely you had some idea how that would look and play out for your child. You observed him with his other children and must have been privy to some of his family drama. He starred in another reality show premised on his particular brand of fatherhood! That you seemed taken aback that a man who was on tour for 93 dates in 2024, including the day you reportedly gave birth...(I'm not making this up, here's some video from his DC date with Janet Jackson on July 12, 2024, six days earlier). According to that schedule, he was traveling and performing while you were recovering and going through those first few hazy days/nights of new parenthood. So no, my dear sister in Christ, he's not going to be there for much else unless there is a camera crew involved. 

As for that quip about not wanting to be a 50-something running after a toddler, quite a few of us can relate to that sentiment in theory. In practice, I've seen plenty of older and/or second time around Dads out here trying to prove that they can keep up (even if reality is the opposite). For his part, the Hub is revving up a rigorous fitness regimen to get out on the basketball court with our Tween; I might secretly return to yoga class so that I can show this girl how flexible I used to be. Where there is a will, there's a way. However, what your man articulated a will to do was to wait for this baby boy child to reach the age and mobility level where he could hang out with Dad and his crew. I would be curious to know if the same intent would have been expressed if this child had been a girl, but let's not speculate. 

Instead, let me widen my lens from focusing on the minutia of your life choices to addressing the larger picture here which is the pendulum swing back towards this Detached Dad ethos that defines parenting along gender roles. Actually, it goes a lot deeper than that as it began with this push for a return to the old nuclear family ideal. As opposed to embracing the "modern" family in its myriad combinations: inter-generational, blended, matriarchal, or composed of a chosen village versus everyone related by blood or marriage, we have gone retro to the Father Knows Best era. While it has been framed as a reaffirmation of traditional values, it's just misogyny broadcasted in reruns and on-demand.

Which suggests that this is more than a reactionary moment of backlash, but a pervasive movement that doesn't just yearn for the nostalgia of the past, but which actively seeks to restore patriarchal "order". It demonizes childless women, single mothers, and any other woman who doesn't stay in the lanes that men have chalk-lined to contain our ambitions. For example, I recall thinking that when Keke Palmer got called out by her then-partner for enjoying her Mom's night out a little too much two years ago, y'all were just taking sides. Mind you, there would have been no outcry or controversy if her man had been photographed getting a lap dance. Some of your men blow their half of the rent money at the strip club; yet she was called out, became fodder for the podcast bros, and now she's just another baby mama. 

Not a wife.

That's the ultimate punishment--not getting to be any man's wife, even if he does the bare minimum or the most harm. The message to women is not to complain, just comply and maybe he will put a ring on it and help you pay half the bills. As for any expectations for him to take an active role in parenting, he's the man of the house, and with so many of you eager to uplift and amplify traditional notions of fatherhood as more manly, he gets to decree and declare what he's not going to do. 

Once upon a time, men were defined by the things they did, not by the things they wouldn't do. In the past few years I've seen that notion turned inside out, with men asserting their manhood by not drinking from straws on the shallow end to boasting about the things they won't do for their children on the deeper end. I've seen men record videos of themselves attacking mannequins and destroying store displays over their rainbow decorations. The number of grown men who can't figure out how to put food on their plates and brag about that level of willful ineptitude is astonishing. I believe the ATIA genre is mostly a collection of scenarios where men go to whine upon learning that their happiness and satisfaction isn't the Holy Grail of existence for the women in their lives. 

The absurdity of it all is summed up in the re-elevation of a certain person as the avatar of true manhood--the world's greatest cosplaying showman! A man who only exerts himself to scribble his name to a bunch of cruel edicts resulting in wrist cramps. A so-called man's man who looks real tough in his ill-fitting suit, bad comb-over, and clown makeup. A cad who cannot stand to be challenged by confident women, yet he always ends up having to pay for sex (either to procure it, as part of the prenup, or as punishment).

The man for whom your man felt honored to have been invited to perform. Maybe they have a lot in common 🚩🚩🚩

To be clear, I would never criticize a man for working hard to provide for his family. I heard your man reveal in an interview that he didn't have the same kind of traditional nuclear family unit that you were blessed with, so I applaud that he has sought to provide the structure that he believes is best for his children. For that, in addition to adopting his late sister's children, your man is to be commended. Full stop. 

Therefore, I'm just going to wrap this up in a bow because you know who you married and unlike the rest of us bitter bitches, Ashanti's got a man...on tour.  

And that's what y'all claim to want, according to the tweets--the kind of man who works hard so that he can afford a nanny on call for those 3am feedings. It took Ashanti and her man 20 years to get to this point, so we ought to be happy for them. No more struggle love, because now she's been promoted to wifey, and there are worse fates (like doing bad all by herself). 

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. 

Off With His Head (A Change of Life Story)

The Hub used my bath towel again. I have told him 50-11 times that I don't like that, each and every time after he claims to have "forgotten" that I don't like it because I have observed that he's used my towel. So I snapped, and that's why he's walking around without a head your Honor.

Disclaimer: No husbands were harmed by the writing of this piece (not yet), but the next time he uses my towel...so help me!

On Sunday morning, the Kid had to be at church early, so the Hub made her breakfast and left the kitchen a grease-spattered un-wiped wreck because he wanted to make sure that she arrived on time. He made himself coffee in the French press, left out the agave sweetener that only he uses, and didn't throw out his eggshells from the breakfast he made himself that he left in the sink. I'm sure he pissed me off in a number of other ways, but it doesn't matter because he'll play dumb and accuse me of nagging. And if I grumble to any of my so-called girlfriends (all of whom have come to his defense for the past 23+ years), they will excuse his bad habits because none of them live with his messy azz! That's part of the reason why I need to tell my side of the story so that everyone knows how to react when they cart me away for accidentally/on purpose taking off his head.

For the last year, I have not been my normal self. I haven't become some other woman; I've just decided that I have had enough of the bullshit I've been putting up with to keep the peace. I'm done letting it slide and quietly tolerating what might be classified as the "small stuff". All of the isht that has always irritated me that I have chosen not to mention is now fair game for a knock-down, drag-out fight because dangnabit, at your big age you should know how to fold a paper bag since the folds are literally imprinted on the gotdamned bag! This ain't origami, so what the hell?

Since the piece I started to write for my 50th birthday that declared how I would approach life after the half century point is buried under a year and a half of other drafts, and distraction has become my constant companion on the road of good intentions, let me cut to the point--perimenopause. I have no idea where I am in the process, but the change is a-coming and I am not happy. I already expressed my feelings about that here, but I feel the need to really unload because I get crankier and less tolerant by the day. We are only a week into the 2025 hurricane season, and though there is no chance that a storm will officially bear my name (because of biases against ethnic names, no doubt) it's just as well. As long as this category 1 Hurricane Ayanna doesn't destroy too much property, you might survive, but you still need to be prepared. Because if things continue on present trajectories and gain more strength, my warning is for these meaux faux to evacuate or hunker down.

I am not playing.

And because God is a woman with a wicked sense of irony, puberty is also forming a tropical depression to cause her own wave of destruction and nonsense. This girl-child of mine is nearly as tall as my 5'10" self and wears a woman's size 6.5 shoe! Y'all already know that she's only just 10 years old, so how much more growth do you expect from this particular spurt before she's wearing my clothes? She still believes in the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus...

Before you judge me, judge yo' mamma! Because as long as my Kid is repulsed by the kissing scenes in the live action versions of Beauty and the Beast (2017) and The Little Mermaid (2023), yes, she absolutely can still believe in whatever imaginary friends and fairy dust magic that exists in the world. Borrowing the title from one of my generation's coming-of-age movies, reality bites. So don't spoil anything unless you're a man with six fingers preparing to die.

I said what I said.

I don't know if I get any sleep because I am always tired. That could be the rainy weather, but my knee isn't aching. I'm craving salty foods, but also chocolate. I need to go grocery shopping, and I made a list, but I know I am forgetting something that I want and probably need but won't remember until after I'm in the self check-out line with my 20 plus 2-4 extra items and I can't remember which phone number might be in the system for the discounts. At least I always remember to bring my reusable bags, because as much as I resent bagging my own groceries, the cashiers won't use my bags, and I hate having to pay .05¢ each for the plastic bags they will use. It's like asking me to tip the hostess at the restaurant for pronouncing my name correctly as she hands over my takeout order that I am picking up myself. I always add the tip though, because I don't want to be thought of as cheap (but just know that I don't appreciate feeling guilty).

Yeah, I hate a lot more things now. I hate that all of these plastic bags kill aquatic animals and cause unsightly litter. I hate how bike lanes have increased my commute time between points A and B by at least 10 extra minutes and how no one ever uses them! I get stuck driving behind some dude casually joy-riding an electric scooter when I'm trying to get somewhere. Like seriously, walk or take the damn bus! You look like an overgrown child--scooters are for kids to ride on the sidewalk while their parents walk them to school.

Stuff that I used to find mildly annoying or inconvenient, I hate. Like commercials. I'm trying to understand why every other commercial is for weight loss drugs or these obscure conditions that no one I know has ever been diagnosed with, like the treatment for eyelash mites. Why does that need its own ad campaign? Are y'all just making up ailments in anticipation of some massive outbreak of dust? And look, I'm definitely not against more advanced treatments for diabetes that have the beneficial side effect of aiding weight loss. I'm just wondering why all of those commercials look like those Carnival Cruise Ship promotions with Richard Simmons. Or when the marketplace for car insurance got so competitive.

Speaking of, you wanna know what commercials really annoy me more than anything? Those radio ads for Top Dog Law. They are inescapable if you listen to urban radio anywhere on the East Coast (apparently, they are all produced by this guy). First of all, does Mr. Top Dog, Esq. have a real name? And if he is licensed in several states, he's not going to represent you both in Richmond and Philly. You're getting one of his Scrappy Doo associates, and they're going to take a third of your settlement to pay for more of those annoying commercials. 

I almost forgot what I was here to complain about--that I am surrounded by eediots who do things to annoy me and act shocked when I get mad about it. Like dude, do you know how to turn off any lights when you leave a room? Nobody shits roses, so use the Lysol and close the bathroom door! If you aren't losing your hearing, why is the TV up on sonic blast levels? Little precocious child, why are you playing in my expensive skin care products? This is not Dexter's Laboratory and you are not getting extra credit for these ridiculous science experiments. Do you people think I live only to clean up after you?

As I try to accept the things I cannot change, and given that menopause is inevitable, I feel like it should have come with better warnings. All we were told during middle school health class was that our periods would stop, but there was a LOT of other information that was withheld, and I demand to know why! Why not offer us another updated health class at 40 since we now know that our mothers didn't tell us anything. There's a long list of things they didn't warn us about us about but let me stay focused...the point is that it ought to be mandatory that we get some coming-of-age movie that explains what the hell is going on because Steel Magnolias (1989) barely scratches the surface.

I hate feeling blind-sided.

I hate that every attempt to address menopause in pop culture leaves out all of the real scary shit like heart palpitations, facial hair, and the litany of chronic health issues that all have the same symptoms. That one episode of The Golden Girls where Blanche thought she was pregnant only addressed her one missed period, yet no one ever mentions about how misleading that was? She got a definitive answer from a gynecologist after one visit, then continued to have the same libido for the next five seasons? In a house with three women in their 50s living in Miami, did I miss the episode when they compared the severity of their hot flashes? What the heck did they discuss every week over cheesecake???

To be fair, the show actually did address some of the various health issues that accompany menopause, they just didn't make it obvious. At least now I understand why Dorothy was in a perpetually bad mood. The Cosby Show also addressed the issue outright once, and a few other times as well, but we weren't paying close enough attention. Now seen from the perspective of a 50-something year old woman, the anger Clair unleashed in that Wretched episode was about more than Vanessa's stupidity and getting entangled in her lies. However, the most accurate depiction of what life has become is the episode when Clair comes home exhausted from work and after the family gets on her last nerve, she goes off to some cabin in the woods where she is met with more chaos and calamity. If I were writing that episode today, it wouldn't have mattered if she had retreated to that cabin or a 5-star hotel in Manhattan...the punchline would have been that she never went back home.

I am serious.

There is one Law & Order episode that mentioned more symptoms and ways of coping, but it did so by leaning into many of the stereotypes society has of powerful women. In essence, if nothing else can knock a bitch down, menopause surely will. And I hate that, because all it did was cement a litany of tropes that demonize women for not always being sweet and lovable. As if some of you aren't the most self-centered, inconsiderate, and helpless bunch of babies who can't handle simple dilemmas, like where you left your stuff that you need right now so I have to stop whatever else I am doing to find it for you or else your life is over. Yeah, it's definitely my hormones that are causing all of my irritation...

I'm not advocating or justifying violence; I'm just not ruling it out. Because now I empathize with the women in fairy tales who got fed up with those trespassing children eating the candy off their houses. Where is all the righteous disgust for their cowardly Daddy who abandoned them in the woods? (Don't even get me started on how whack the full story is or how the Brothers Grimm obviously hated women.) If you saw Wicked, then you should be reconsidering whether the real villain in Oz was the woman who lost her beloved sister and her magic designer shoes in a freak accident involving a falling house. Because if you recoil at the sight of the lady with the green skin instead of being disturbed by the lies of the con man game show grifter and the bubblegum fairy who pulls the levers of chaos behind the scenes, you've missed my entire point.

All I know is if the Hub uses my towel one more time, Imma go Red Queen on him and I don't want to hear nothing other than plans to help me hide the evidence or reassurance that you've got enough money to pay for my defense. And for the love of all humanity, it better not be that Top Dog Law dude.

Re-Markle-Bull $#*!

This is a post that I started over a month ago, but got distracted by life so it didn't finish in the intended time frame. The recent verdict that went against Prince Harry and this subsequent statement issued by his office, along with a few other developments with the Royal Family convinced me to revisit and finally publish this piece. 

I haven't written about Meghan Markle in a minute. I was content to let that woman live her best life in peace because other than a few concert sightings and public appearances at the Invictus Games with her Prince, she wasn't doing anything to draw unnecessary attention to herself. That includes starring in a new show on Netflix that premiered in March. I was all set to ignore it until y'all started complaining.

So I accept the challenge, because dagnabbit, I need to know why y'all can't leave well enough alone! Then I realized that since January and the return of the Troll King, there haven't been any Black women in the public eye other than Rep. Jasmine Crockett to draw your ire, so it looks like Duchess Meghan is the volunteer tribute...

Y'all are upset that she has a job? 

Or is it that she's getting paid to do what so many of us do every day for free, and that just doesn't seem right because she's a princess...duchess...still married to a Royal? Because stay at homemaking has always been a thankless, under-appreciated form of devalued labor; however, now that affluent women are embracing it as a form of "soft living" they can brag about, it has become a glamorous trend that they get paid for...

For the sake of argument, yes, it is crazy once you realize that an actual princess is being paid big money to appear to be happily doing the kind of work she could have had servants perform. Isn't the dream of becoming a princess to have somebody else do all of your chores? Alas, she left that life behind in merry olde England, so instead of having servants, here in America she has staff and their job is to make it look like she enjoys doing all of her own cooking and bee-keeping. It's like code-switching accents: potāyto-potăhto...

When you really think about it, her show is just another celebrity cooking show. Singer Trisha Yearwood had a show for 16 seasons as did actress Valerie Bertinelli for 14 seasons. Other celebrities who had shorter runs include Tia Mowry, Haylie Duff, Tiffani Theissen, and Rev. Run (of Run DMC). Heck, not too long ago, Snoop Dogg and Martha Stewart hosted a potluck dinner party show on Vh1. Other than being shocked that Snoop and Martha weren't pranking us, I don't recall any of those other efforts getting this much negative attention. Therefore, if you were ever bored/sick/curious enough to watch any of those other shows, then it doesn't make sense to dissect Markle's show for its lack of authenticity, unless you're a bona fide hater. 

On a whim, I googled Gwyneth Paltrow because I couldn't remember if the name of her lifestyle website, Goop, was the same as the skincare company, and yes the same entity. I guess others responded to a similar vibe because the comparison searches popped up immediately. Only, I was initially looking for that infamous vagina candle to point out how celebrities are always selling unattainable lifestyle "luxury" items, such as handbags, jewelry, and other symbols of conspicuous consumption. Look at any glossy magazine photo spread to see what I mean (e.g. Paltrow featured throughout this Vanity Fair piece). I was amazed to learn that not only have y'all been actively comparing these two women, but Lady Gwyneth Kate Paltrow was declared more relatable?!

Can we take a moment (but not ten minutes like this video I watched, so you needn't bother), to state for the record that someone actually posted on Blue Ivy's internet that Lady Gwyneth Kate Paltrow, in her wrinkled Ralph Lauren jammies baking $14 biscuits in her "own" kitchen sans makeup a few doors down from Meghan in the hills of Montecito was throwing shade?! If you sat through any of that in spite being forewarned (and to be honest, I clocked out at 5 mins), then you, like me, are at a loss in understanding this irrational hate for the Duchess. Because it is literally the same, bland, let them eat scones with expensive pots of jam (beginning at :33) schtick!

Her haters really want us to believe that Markle is some massive phony and a failure, so that leaves me wondering who bought up every pot of jam on her website last month? IDK, what do you call people who will probably plan an entire garden tea party in a few weeks just so that they can show and tell you all about the keepsake packaging that came with their runny fruit spread?

What does it say about the people who have time to hate-watch and comment on every move this Meghan makes but have no smoke for the other infamous Megs...like the one who capitalizes on her Daddy's name and reputation or the former journalist who once claimed Jesus is white and Santa too. There's Meghan Trainor who used to sing about her booty, but now that she's lost all of that baby phat, she's selling laundry detergent. There are other Megans/Meagans and so many other more pressing issues to complain about, so many injustices that should have us in these streets...

But y'all would rather take time to rail against somebody who isn't destroying the world with every stroke of her pen. She's not doing anything different than the rest of us in sharing photos of her family or of herself on IG. She's spreading sunshine and joy, sprinkling edible flowers and hanging out with her celebrity BFFs...so what is the deal?

Like WTF, Bethenny Frankel (whose video I juxtaposed on the FB page with Kamie Crawford's, formerly of MTV's Catfish a few weeks ago)! What's with the green-eyed envy? You do realize how petty and bitter you seem with your constant snipping and sniping at Markle? Rich coming from someone who rose to fame on other people's coattails--first, as a reality show runner-up and then as the unmarried wannabe on a show about NY society housewives. You had your shot, made millions selling watered-down cocktails, but now you have the nerve to opine and stew in your feelings about someone else's life? If you want a Netflix show, get a better agent!

A few weeks back when it was announced that the Duchess would get a second season to regale us with more bread baking and butter churning, I saw an avalanche of reactions, most along the themes highlighted in this article that panned the show and offered up a bunch of reasons why she's so polarizing. Perhaps it is as simple as people not liking her, which is how it goes sometimes--she's not everybody's spot of tea. My problem with these formal pronouncements is that we're constantly being told how unlikeable she is by people who are paid to write negatively about her, and that stacks the deck. It isn't my imagination that every critic writing for The Hollywood Reporter, the New York Post, Screen Rant, and Variety had the exact same reaction.

Doesn't it seem rather coincidental that there are anti-Meghan stories pumped out by the tabloids at the same time there are waves of stories written in support of various members of the British Royal family? Like Queen Camilla deciding to repurpose her wedding suit on an official state visit...it is newsworthy and laudable for the Queen Consort to repeat a 20-year old outfit, giving the impression of being budget-conscious (for once, the Frugal Queen). How about those adorable official birthday portraits being released to celebrate the Wales' spares Prince Louis and Princess Charlotte (better enjoy all of that positive attention now kids). With all of their good news and noble deeds, why was it necessary to pan the roll out of the Duchess' product line in the Daily Mail, The Sun, and the NY Post unless the entire goal was to undermine her efforts?

Furthermore, whenever someone suggests that there is something more sinister behind the immense hatred aimed at the Duchess, we're accused of being woke or ultra-sensitive. Awake to the double-standards or ultra-sensitive because we recognize the abusive cycle of seeing Black women getting built up and then strategically and methodically torn down as some kind of perverse entertainment? The Duchess is hardly the first Black woman to face this; some of her best friends, supporters, and peers have braved the same firing squad of shifting public opinion. Right now, some of y'all are Red-State mad on Blue Ivy's internet that her Momma has the audacity to insist that Black Southern culture is a thing, and not just the fear and complacency y'all would prefer people to believe. 

So let's take a moment to address the irony of this backlash to a Black woman occupying a space to which we were once relegated--why is it so hard to accept the notion of an accomplished Black woman knowing her way around the kitchen? Is it more offensive that she does so while dressed in her designer duds and making use of that good Le Creuset cookware or did y'all expect for her to be sweating over a cheap frying pan from the Dollar Store wearing a red head hanky and a gingham apron?

Lawd...that can't be it, can it?

Surely, it can't be that scandalous that she opted to film her series in a rented kitchen as opposed to her own. Did you honestly expect that a woman whose husband is the son of the King of England, brother to the future King, uncle of the future-future King, and still 6th or 7th in line to the throne himself, who also happens to be fighting several high-profile battles in court to protect his family from tabloid gossip and other nefarious actors--surely she wouldn't be that reckless as to allow cameras into their personal residence to film a cooking show? Other than reality TV Housewives or the late Julia Child, who else is willing to allow a film crew all up in their personal space like that? 

To be clear, the aforementioned Lady Gwyneth Kate was filming herself (or perhaps, she was being filmed by an assistant) in a home video that she posted to her IG account. I shouldn't have to explain any of this, but you do know that most of those TV cooking shows are filmed on sets because there are strict safety protocols for food handling that are difficult to follow in one's own kitchen. If you watch any of those cooking competition shows, they are filmed in spacious studios with fully stocked pantries, farm-fresh ingredients, and state-of-the-art appliances. Do you know anybody who has butcher-block counters or a walk-in freezer?

Speaking of the incomparable Julia Child, most of us who grew up watching her didn't take much notice of her expensive cookware. But if you did, then you rarely, if ever saw her reach for any of those copper pots she had adorning her wall. So why is it unreasonable for Markle to make use of those expensive wedding gifts she amassed when she wed Prince Harry as opposed to letting them collect dust in storage? 

In Meghan's own words, this is a thing, in 2025? Really, because women have been buying discounted enameled cookware from Marshall's for years. Our pieces might not match, but most of the items in our kitchens are a hodge podge of stuff we bought or inherited. I have an enamel Dutch oven that my parents bought me during a post-Christmas clearance sale at Macy's years ago from the Martha Stewart collection. I also happily use my Circulon pots as well as my mother's 50-year old stainless steel cookware. My Mom also had a collection of decorative copper pots adorning the walls of her kitchen. So where is it written that we can't have nice things too?

So what is the big deal? It's a doggone cooking show. On Netflix. Which means, you have to intentionally decide to watch it, unlike the shows that you leave on as background from the Food Network or the Cooking Channel during the holidays. In order to find Markle's show, I had to use the search function because it didn't come up automatically as a recommendation even though every season of Bridgerton, The Crown, and the Downton Abby (2019) movie did. 

By the way, I watched one episode. But I'm not here to offer a review...

I'm here to question why this woman is more polarizing than a Kardashian (whose nonstop attention-hawking we've been subjected to for 20 seasons). Most of us American commoners couldn't care less about the lives of European royalty, yet we know more about the British royals because their family drama is inescapable. Thus, when a Black woman married into the family, more of us got invested and have taken keen notice of how she has been treated. And she has been accused of everything from contributing to global climate change and drought to worrying her husband's nonagenarian Grandparents to death. Since I don't know her personally, I can't tell if she is as terrible as Wallis Simpson...or any more of a phony than this guy.

You would think that she had falsely accused a member of the Royal Family of sexual abuse or that she was a long-lost descendant of one of the rabble-rousers at the Boston Tea Party. As it turns out, it was her naiveté in assuming that in exchange for becoming a mascot for the British Empire, she was entitled to some measure of respect. That she would prove to be as valuable and beloved as one of the Queen's corgis. Upon realizing that the household staff at Buckingham Palace was better regarded, she did what every self-respecting American has done since 1776. And they act like she stole the Crown jewels the way the Brits ransacked everybody else's treasures and antiquities as their own.

I've been trying to wrap my head around this for years, and other than the visceral hate some people seem to have for Black women (and I've got receipts), Meghan hasn't done anything to deserve this. And that's exactly how most of her haters see it too--what makes her so special as to think that she can abscond with our spare prince, keep that title while refusing to allow us to use and abuse her, and live her life on her own terms? Who does she think she is?

As Ever, and With Love...she's HRH Meghan the Remarkable Duchess of Sussex.

Women of a Certain Age

If things had gone a little differently in my life, I would probably be one of the post-menopausal childless cat ladies that JD Vance and his running mate, 34 counts yet still running, keep insulting. As you know, when I started this blog, that was the path I was traveling (oh wait, some of you probably weren't aware that I had a cat-Mommy stint prior to the start of this blog...will tell you all about it in a minute)--except I was/am married. I was a dedicated Auntie to all of the kids in my husband's family and had just the one Baby Niece born to my younger brother. We were coming up on ten years of marriage, and all indications pointed to the probability that we were going to be one of those childless married couples--the kind who were content to spoil everyone else's little cherubs with unnecessary frivolity until they had to be returned to their parents.

We got really good at that. But then life took some interesting twists and turns...and well, we are now living another old married couple cliche--that of being the older parents of a young child. We are so old that we can't relate to any of the other parents in our daughter's peer group because we were in college or full grown adults with bills when most of them were children. Some of them are as young as our adult nieces and nephews!

And though I am not Post Menopausal, I am acquainted with her younger sister Peri while their niece Puberty has been trying to catch up with my daughter. Fun times for the Hub, let me tell you...

Since I mentioned it, allow me to take you on a quick trip through my childless cat lady phase, which got underway exactly 15 years ago! It started in late Spring or early Summer of 2008 when I happened to notice a stray kitten on my doorstep while I was grabbing the mail. It ran away, so I didn't think much of it until I happened to see another kitten with a larger cat out on the walkway in front of my house a day or so later. What struck me about them was both the coincidence of seeing two kittens in a span of days near my house, and the fact that the larger cat and the first kitten (black/white tuxedo cats) were obviously related, but now there appeared to be a tiger-striped sibling. Within a few days, I saw the original kitten (whose name I forget, and it is driving me crazy), Tiger, and the Mother cat whom we called Midnight in my backyard, at which point, I became obsessed invested with these strays. It didn't take long for the Hub to warm up to our little cat family once a fourth sibling (another tiger-striped kit whom he named Pudgy) befriended him, and for the next few weeks, we became foster cat parents.

Yes, you read that right. The soon-to-be Busy Black Lady with lifelong animal fur allergies bought cat food, a house, and even a heating pad in case the night temperature dropped. One night I saw a fox stalking my kits and I chased it away in high heel shoes! I scowled when their deadbeat fat Cat-Daddy (a tiger-striped that reminded me of Heathcliff) showed up one day, expecting to be fed even though he wore a visible collar. We contacted the Humane Society for guidance to support our kitties, and they referred us to a special program for stray cats. They recommended that we could extend the life of our strays by having them spayed/neutered, which we paid to have done (and I think we still have one of the cages they left behind). 

Bob Barker would have been proud; alas, this was a short-lived sitcom. To my next-door neighbor, who kept a strict schedule of meticulous yard work and immaculate landscaping, our cats were a nuisance. They were crapping in his yard, so his demand was if we weren't going to bring them to live inside our house, then we needed to stop feeding them. I ignored him, so he retaliated by using some kind of repellant that kept them away. No matter what I did to entice them back, they never returned to our care. 

The nature of passing fancies is that they pass, and once we were in the full throes of Obamamania, his Inauguration, and that first year of wow-we-got-a-Black-president euphoria, I moved on. By year's end, we were blessed with a Baby Niece (now the Mean Teen) and in spite of our excitement over her, we had accepted that God's plan for our lives wouldn't follow the traditional route of love, marriage, and baby carriages. As it turned out, the delay was not a denial with quite a few detours and left turns before we got here.

I shared that bit of personal history in response to the truly tone-deaf and insensitivity of the statements made by GOP Vice Presidential candidate James Donald David Bowman Hamel Vance (yeah, not exactly the kind of hillbilly name we're used to). He said some things about women that don't sound like a guy who hopes to ascend to a higher office with our support. His wife Usha, also a rather preppie Yalie in her own right, doesn't seem to know how to help him pull that country club loafer out of his mouth...

Childless cat-ladies is the kind of insult one would expect from some bitter IT guy living in his parents' basement because those are the only women he meets--the ones who post cat videos online. I'm not throwing shade because people like what they like, and cats happen to be the pet of choice for certain kinds of folks. I imagine that collecting houseplants and gardening would be similarly regarded, which is something I've done off and on for quite some time (and even blogged about it). So, I'm just saying that if we are categorizing people, basement-dwelling man-babies living in glass houses shouldn't throw stones.

James David has argued that people who don't produce offspring don't have a sufficient stake in the future of the country, and therefore shouldn't have the same rights. Sounds kinda like a version of second-class citizenship that people marched and protested against, say 60 years ago. Because what about my Aunt E, a childless divorcee who taught pre-K for 35+ years? Or the nuns who taught me French, Biology, and Religion back at my all-girls' high school as part of my training and preparation for a good Catholic marriage? I could provide examples of the countless women, many of whom are good friends of mine, who wanted to follow the traditional path of love and marriage, but either never found the right man or experienced some course alteration that put them on a different path. Most of these women are doing great work in their professions, as business owners, and as civic leaders, because they have chosen to focus their energy on making the world better.

Because Lord knows, those of us with children barely have time to take care of ourselves. Ask me how I know...

Furthermore, just as there are childless women who have the time, talent, and treasure to dedicate themselves to improving the lives of others, there are men who are just as similarly convicted and concerned about human welfare. I happen to know quite a few of them as well. James David happens to be a recent adult convert to Catholicism, an entire Christian denomination that follows the edicts and proclamations made by unmarried men--a Pope, a college of Cardinals and Archbishops, Bishops, etc., and somehow, I don't believe he intends to disenfranchise his parish priest. That the men who are leaders of his faith have neither been married nor have any biological children, yet they have taken it upon themselves to impose their moral authority on the entire world...not at all problematic. But it's the cat ladies who can't be trusted?

(In all seriousness, because not only is my Dad a Catholic as are several people I respect, such as President Biden, so I won't dare make a crass joke...just a passing reference to the fact that yeah, substantial and unforgivable harm due to the sexual abuse that was covered up for centuries, but let's move on.)

As a former domestic relations attorney, I can tell you that there are too many people who have had children for all of the wrong reasons, so there is NO way we should entrust our country's future to their poor judgment. I could write a whole separate piece on that part of my life and what I have learned about human nature, but suffice it to say 

Post-menopausal women sounds on par with referring to pregnancy after the age of 35 as geriatric. It is the kind of insult that may be technically correct terminology but might get you shanked if aimed at the wrong person. So of course it gets uttered by two men engaged in light banter on a podcast. And look, I would take James David at his word that he didn't agree with that term if his word could be trusted. This is the same guy who went from being a never-Trumper to his bottom bitch in less time than it takes for a woman in her mid-50s to become post-menopausal...

As offensive as their implied use of that term was, it was actually the awkward white guy "compliment" of their respective South Asian mothers-in-law that was more offensive. Perhaps I'm just being hormonal, but why do white men who marry outside of their race always seem surprised to learn that whenever possible, their non-white in-laws don't consider caring for their grandchildren as an imposition? (And have y'all ever considered that it's you they are most concerned about?) My MIL moved in with her son and then her daughter to assist with her grandchildren too, and I imagine had she lived, she would have moved to DC to assist us 9 years ago. Not because that would have been her purpose, but her pleasure. 

Be clear on that distinction--it would have been her pleasure to assist us, and our privilege to accept and receive such selfless support. Because not all families operate under the automatic assumption of assigned gender roles, nor should it be regarded as an obligation. Relationships are choices. I am perplexed then, by someone like James David, who claims to understand and appreciate how strong women chose to intervene at various points in his life to save him, could so easily betray them with his misogynist rhetoric. I know that he wants to appease the hedge funders, venture capitalists, alphaverse Podcast Bros, and millionaire grifters running for President to avoid prison, but c'mon man! 

Seriously, what kind of man talks shit about women the way James David has done and expects that all will be forgiven once he gets home? Would his beloved Mamaw, the woman he immortalized in his memoir appreciate being reduced to a post-menopausal woman whose only purpose was to keep him from ruining his life? Really? And what of his wife, Usha, an accomplished woman in her own right who has apparently chosen to compromise her principles to stand by her man...I imagine that if she's rethinking her life choices, she's wondering how much she might have accomplished as a childless cat lady.

This is the thanks they get--a man who prevaricates to obscure the impact of his shape-shifting and weather-vane politics. A cardboard cut-out opportunist who wears guyliner. A man who can't even settle on a consistent name for himself, but he's got disparaging names for women. Contrary to the various clarifications and remixed explanations issued by the campaign, James David isn't some inarticulate rube who misspeaks or makes up words. He's the kind of self-made everyman whose trajectory from the Appalachians to the Marines to Ohio State to Yale Law School to Silicon Valley to the NYTimes Bestseller List to the Senate to the point where he could be a heartbeat away from the Presidency is...almost too good to be true. 

I may just be a former cat lady aging my way towards menopause, but this talented Mr. Ripley act James David is pulling has been calculated and methodical. He's not campaigning to be the wing man to someone he despises, because his mission isn't to help elect the useful orange idiot. Trump is a means to an end. Apparently, y'all haven't watched the Manchurian Candidate (1962) enough times. (What, you thought cat ladies and post-menopausal women only watched rom-coms in their downtime?)

Women who can think for themselves, exercise the freedom to make choices about what to do with their lives, and who aren't overwhelmed or tied down by familial obligations threaten the New (Old) World Order. Even if you haven't taken the time to read Project 2025 (and I have a kid, so no I don't have that kind of time), many of the proposals and policy recommendations are intended to undo much of the New Deal/Great Society reforms of the 20th Century. James David wrote the foreword, so even as his running mate disavows knowledge of what is contained in the plan, we know he's lying and it doesn't matter because James David knows. These are the people who groomed positioned him!

Thus, even if they lose in November, they have already sown enough seeds of discord. They have polarized this country along every fault line that exists and have exploited every vulnerability. We are embroiled in daily cultural skirmishes over the most ridiculous of topics. We live with constant agitation and anger over the pettiest stuff with the objective of keeping us under constant stress, exhausted, and on a hair trigger to overreact to just about anything. I mean, why does anyone need to lose sleep over a woman who prefers the company of cats unless she's insisting on bringing a dish to the office potluck?

Do you realize what these people have gotten us so angry about: rainbows, kittens, Dr. Suess books, tampons, crying babies, and RuPaul's Drag Race?! Remember when we used to end friendships over the choice between Coke vs. Pepsi, McDonald's vs. Burger King, and The Beatles vs. The Rolling Stones? Me neither because I just picked my preferences and went on about my business. Sure, we've got fundamental disagreements, competing perspectives, and divergent ideas because this is a diverse country. Allegedly, that is supposed to allow us the freedom to be ourselves, whomever that may be.

For some women, that means choosing to adopt cats instead of having biological children. That's also a valid choice for men too. Choice means that children are born and raised by people who want and are able to provide for them, including extended family members, such as a post-menopausal woman or a retired elderly man. Parenthood shouldn't be mandated or forced on anyone, nor should certain family structures be proscribed by law or deemed superior to others. 

Finally, because I don't know what to make of Usha Vance (is she a manipulative Eleanor Iselin, conspiring with the Kremlin to facilitate a scenario to deliver the Presidency to her husband) or is she a captive would-have-been a cat lady, and it is she who is under hypnosis? I don't know what your choice will ultimately be, but if you need to escape, there's an army of women ready to pounce, just say the word.

Who's Grooming Who?

I started this piece the weekend the documentary premiered on Amazon Prime, but got distracted by a variety of things, including the rather traumatic collapse of my bedroom ceiling...which is now the story of how I spent my summer in case you were wondering 😩

Since y'all have been saying it LOUD and PROUD (how much you hate the rainbow people) and June is almost done, tell me why you haven't descended on the Duggar Family compound and burned it down to ashes? Because after the documentary I watched earlier this month...

A few weeks ago in a rare instance of me sitting down to watch whatever happened to be trending in real time, I saw #ShinyHappyPeople trending on Twitter, and I thought, oh really so now y'all hate R.E.M. and the B-52s??? Or just the Sesame Street parody (since it took about 6 hours for the backlash to this post to get underway). Then I clicked, and oh my, where to begin?

Let's start with the fact that I was skeptical about the Duggars from the very beginning. Call it my spidey senses for whenever certain shows on cable tend to glorify a particular kind of family structure that reinforces "values" that would have been labeled as dysfunctional or pathological had those families come from my hood. In other words, of course a suburban white family from Arkansas with 19 children (and counting) would star in a hit reality show whereas a Black or Latinx family would have been derided as irresponsible drains on societal resources. (I can only imagine if the Duggars weren't white, y'all would have been complaining about your tax dollars going to support all of those children, regardless of their economic situation. Furthermore, someone would have either called Child Protective Services or found some way to launch a criminal investigation to catch the family engaged in welfare or immigration fraud.)

So no, I was never interested in anything about them. I knew what I knew about the way that certain themes could be sold as wholesome depending on how blonde and blue-eyed and All-American it was packaged to appeal to certain demographics. In that same vein, a show like Teen Mom (originally called 16 and Pregnant) could become a hit on MTV, but if it had aired a single promo on BET, Black Church Mothers United™ would have demanded Bob Johnson's head on a platter.

The Duggars offered a twist on Eight is Enough with the prairie ethos of Little House on the Prairie. I imagine it was the kind of stuff that folks who reminisce about the good old days eat up like a dessert with whipped cream and a cherry on top. We heard a lot about family values in the early aughts, perhaps as a response to the social changes brought by the 90s (racial and ethnic diversity, women changing the modern workplace, expansion of LGBT rights before more letters were added to the acronym). For my part, I had declared my refusal to watch any reality TV programs that gave off even the slightest stench of resembling a circus act, so I had no interest in watching these modern-day Waltons. 

Instead of focusing on them (right now), I want to talk a bit about their subliminal proselytizing for the Institute for Basic Life Principles (IBLP), the religious organization that was referenced throughout the docuseries. Because whew, I had more than a few flashbacks to some of the stuff I was exposed to while growing up. Now, before anyone gets upset and suggests that I am mis-remembering or mischaracterizing things, I want to issue this important disclaimer: I was NEVER sexually abused, nor am I accusing anyone of doing that to me or anyone I knew. What I will address is how the ideology I encountered parallels some of the teachings that the Duggars followed and as was represented in the documentary. Thus, the second part of my disclaimer: I was NOT raised in a cult.

I was raised in the Baptist church in the 1980s and many of those churches, particularly in the South, tended to be evangelical. Although that was not our official affiliation due to the historical racism of the Southern Baptist Convention, I would characterize the theological leanings of my church as influenced by many of the same traditional fundamentalist teachings. While I don't believe that any of the material developed by the IBLP was formally incorporated into what was offered to us in our youth-centered fellowship, it is accurate to suggest that we were exposed to teachings that were consistent with its more conservative leanings with respect to the role of women and girls.

For example, as teenagers we spent our Friday nights in fellowship with like-minded church kids in chaperoned activities. We were encouraged to date the young men in our peer group (and in hindsight it is ironic to recall that not a one of those church-arranged couples ever married each other). Young women from our church who did get married were expected to include the word obey in their wedding vows. Those who got pregnant out-of-wedlock were brought in front of the congregation to apologize for their promiscuity and fornication (never saw where any young men were similarly punished). It was expected that the girls would serve as ushers, in the choir, and as the youth clerk (which I did), but never as the worship leader. 

Women served under similar restrictions as most churches did not ordain women or allow them to preach. My pastor did not allow women in the pulpit except on Women's Day, and those speakers were never licensed ministers. Women who felt they were called for more than teaching Sunday School typically left for progressive congregations. Or they stifled their ambitions, accepted honorary titles, and channeled their spiritual gifts to other forms of service to the Lord as assigned.

Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar are older than I am, but we grew up in the same era. Obviously, their upbringing in small town Arkansas differed from mine, but I'm assuming that they had access to the same pop culture that I did in the 70s and 80s. In church we were constantly told that what we enjoyed as entertainment contained demonic messages and inappropriate themes; therefore, they would show these Christian movies at our youth retreats and gatherings. They were terrible, more akin to Christian horror even though they were packaged like Afterschool Specials. Imagine being eight years old and watching a film that claimed barcodes were the mark of the beast (Satan) and that half the people you knew were going to Hell? 

Even worse, I had relatives who held the same strong opinions against pop culture, so if I was allowed to watch television at their homes, it was only Praise The Lord (PTL) or some other televangelist (ditto for listening to the radio--only Christian radio programs). You want to know what was more traumatic than missing The Superfriends or Looney Tunes on a Saturday morning? Having to sit through hours of Tammy Faye Bakker's singing, Jimmy Swaggert's histrionics, or watching some preacher speak in tongues (because that was supposed to make more sense than talking cartoon rabbits and ducks). 

Thankfully, my parents didn't impose restrictions on our entertainment options based on religious beliefs. In fact, I don't believe they even knew some of the extremes of what we were being exposed to, and I certainly don't plan to tell them now! In particular, my Dad would have objected to any whiff of fundamentalism even as a previously lapsed Catholic, now ordained Deacon. Any objections he had to aspects of popular culture were always political or ideological (because he's been woke since the 60s). As for my Mom, I think she conveniently ignored certain things in order to keep the peace since the fundamentalists were her kin and she was a Preacher's Kid. Perhaps she figured that a little fire and brimstone would keep us appreciative and humble, a clever manipulation tactic in case we thought the grass was greener elsewhere.

The key word here is exposure, as opposed to indoctrination. No one ever said, this is how you must live, and these are the rules that you must follow in order to make it into Heaven. Instead, these were general ideas and concepts that even the most holy and supposedly sanctified folks were willing to ignore if they were impractical. Most of the women worked outside of the home. There were only a handful of families where there were more than four children. Rarely did anyone come to church dressed like Laura Ingalls and no one was sent home for wearing a short skirt (ask me how I know). For all of the talk about demonic influences in the secular world, no one was home-schooled. In fact, at least half of us attended Catholic school, but that is a rabbit hole for another time.

My point is, for people who were raised in a biome of wholesomeness as opposed to those of us who were living in the city, there were always people who had similar concerns about our mortal souls. The divergence in our paths came down to the choices that we were allowed to make for ourselves. No one expressed any qualms about me choosing college instead of marriage after high school, nor did anyone object to my choice to pursue a profession in a male-dominated field. The social changes that came as the decades progressed were disruptive for some of the people in my orbit, but most of them adjusted. I can only surmise that for those who reluctantly had to accept the reality of women having the agency of choice (and not just with respect to having children), the Duggars were the embodiment of their nostalgia for simpler times. 

From my perspective, however, the Duggars are no more authentic than the characters on most TV sitcoms. Even a classic show like The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet was scripted--it starred the Nelson family of actors in various fictional situations. We all know that reality television is staged to maximize interest, so even if the Duggars were this wholesome ideal family on camera, the truth behind the scenes is far from what they portrayed. Half of their children were raising each other while the others were shooting footage for the show for little or no pay. It is rather convenient that the network "found" them right after Jim Bob's political ambitions had been derailed; lucky for him to have had an heir-apparent in eldest son Josh.

It was also lucky that Josh's sexual assault victims, his SISTERS, weren't in a position to demand that he be prosecuted. Instead, they smiled for the cameras and helped him plan his wedding, with the promise that they would soon be of age to be courted and married off* to the delight of millions. By the time the full story of his transgressions against them would be brought to light, the statute of limitations had run. The very idea that a subsequent derivation of the show kept going as if writing Josh off in lieu of getting him therapy or until he finally got convicted for much worse, is...

Exactly the kind of "family values" we ought to exemplify??? Forgive me for regarding Michelle Duggar as the Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe instead of some kind of paragon of ideal motherhood. In fact, judge me for wrinkling up my nose and changing the channel when she announced baby #20 on the TODAY Show. And remind me why these people deserve anything other than scorn for the way they trapped Anna Duggar, their own daughters, and are trying to ensnare other young women in their Cult of True Womanhood!

Since you're not reading this in June at the height of the hysteria against the celebration of PRIDE, you've had more than enough time to consider an honest answer to the question posed by my title. Who is being 'groomed' if the worst thing that happens after a drag story hour is your child having questions about makeup? How does being exposed to someone different translate into vandalizing clothing displays at Target? Meanwhile, after watching the Duggars scam that poor girl into marrying their child molester son who also happened to be a used car salesman...

* For research purposes, I went searching for footage of Josh Duggar's wedding to Anna Keller and came across this first video linked above of their wedding planning. I didn't notice the name of the account until after I had watched about 10 minutes, and then noted that there was a second part of the wedding planning and a betrothal video. I am posting those here without comment. Until I sat down to watch the documentary, I had no idea that the Duggars popular enough to fuel an entire cottage industry of tabloid media interest, much like Hollywood celebrities and the British Royals. But also so that everyone is clear, I am not judging their beliefs since I recognize that how God speaks to each of us is personal. The fact that the Duggars and I are on opposite ideological ends of the political spectrum and hold different views on the function of our faith isn't surprising. What did surprise me is what prompted this piece--how exposure and choice impact our outcomes in this life. Regardless of what I was exposed to as a child, I was ultimately free to choose my path in life, and that would be true for most people.