Service Without the Smile

The hook here is that I decided to chop my hair off a whole year after I wrote the bulk of this, primarily for several of the reasons chronicled here, and another ill-fated faux loc misadventure. I'm not upset, nor was my decision to start over based on any ill-will, just needed a change. --ADH

Picture it, November 2023...

Initially, I was just planning to post a few pictures to the Facebook page and share a few thoughts about a recent ordeal. But once I got to remembering and realized that I had PARAGRAPHS of built-up frustration written out on the page, it made more sense to move this vent in this space where I could really expound. Because I have a lot to say...

This began when I wanted to write a quick note about alumni giving. HBCU Homecomings have finally received mainstream media attention, so I thought of that as an opportunity to preach my annual #HBCUJustGive sermonette to the masses. After a few paragraphs, I concluded with a shady reference to Atlanta restaurants (which people were talking about because of TikTok influencer Keith Lee, and we'll definitely address that here as well) and the complaints I've been seeing on social media about hair stylist pricing. I then thought, hmm, here's a chance for me to air out my gripes about my own experience of feeling price gouged at the hair salon, an experience that still has me feeling some kind of way weeks after the fact.

Because this isn't an anonymous business review posted to Yelp, no names are provided to protect identities. This is also not a stream of consciousness rant on X, nor a vengeful TikTok video because nobody has time for all of that. This is how I felt about an experience that is unique to me, and my goal here is not to destroy anyone's livelihood or tarnish their reputation. Of course, I could have opted not to say anything, but I came to the conclusion that I needed a catharsis after biting my tongue for so long. A wise person once told me some years ago that repression is bad for the soul (as a handy addendum to the adage that confession is good for the soul).

A little over a year ago, I decided to get my hair braided for the first time in a decade. I asked around, and by chance mentioned to my stylist (of many years) what I was looking to have done. She told me that she had braiders on staff at the salon, and that I just needed to make an appointment. Seemed easy enough, but then came the fine print disclaimers. I needed to decide if I was getting knotless braids or box braids, as if I knew what any of that meant since I hadn't gotten my hair braided in 10 years! She tried to explain it to me, and after we perused several pictures on Instagram, we determined that I was looking to get "old school" braids (a form of box braids). That would cost me $200.

Alright, bet, and I was all set to book an appointment. But more fine print--I would have to pay extra to have my hair washed and blow dried by one of these braid stylists. Mind you, this was a salon, not somebody's kitchen or garage. I don't even know if the blow dryer I've had for 20+ years even works, so I opted to schedule an appointment with my regular stylist so that she could prep my hair with a trim and deep condition as well. That ended up costing me $90, but I was optimistic that it was worth the expense. And the prospect of not having to go to a beauty supply store for hair did outweigh that initial cost. I came back two days later, the deed was done, I headed out of town a week later to protect democracy (October 2022), and all was right in my world for a few weeks. I took my braids out a few days after my birthday and thought ahead to my next hair adventure.

Fast forward to February (2023) when I decided to try faux locs. A good friend who gets them done regularly had me thinking I could be cute like her, and since we were heading to Puerto Rico for the Kid's Winter Break, I was looking forward to a boho-inspired look for the beach. In the lead-up to that appointment, I opted not to schedule a pre-wash and blow session with my stylist, thinking that I needed to save some money. However, I didn't learn until the day before my scheduled appointment that I needed to buy my own hair. So, as my Mom would have said, I stepped over a dime to pick up a quarter and didn't really save myself any money in the end. The braid stylist went with me to the beauty supply store to pick out the hair, which cost me $100, plus the actual service ($200+), and tip. When I asked how I would take the style down, she suggested that I could come back in and pay a take-down fee, or I could look it up on YouTube.

I didn't say anything, although I this exchange made me think of the various complaints I had seen over the years posted on social media. For years on Black Twitter, I had read increasingly absurd accounts of patrons being nickeled and dimed for every service, which must have inspired this hilarious skit on A Black Lady Sketch Show ("ABLSS")--which takes place in a nail salon, but the accuracy is uncanny. I mentioned my concerns to my regular stylist, who responded that she understood, but she was allowing these specialty stylists to establish their own practices because they offered services she did not.

Bet, I thought, but still resolved to "educate" myself to avoid any additional $urprise$ should I desire to get another specialty style. Having received a few videos worth of cosmetology training on YouTube Beauty U, I decided to go back to faux locs for the Beyonce show (August 2023) and to rock that look through to mid-Fall. To avoid the beauty supply store markup, I pre-ordered the hair on Amazon and scheduled an appointment in the early afternoon to give myself time to wash my own hair.

Let's skip ahead eight weeks to when it was time to take my hair down. We had family arriving in town, and because I didn't want to look crazy or schedule a hair appointment while they were here, I delayed the take down for a week. At nine weeks it was definitely time and I was uncomfortable with the weight of the added hair and the new growth, so I sat down with a movie and began the process that I had previously learned to take down the style. However, a different braid stylist had installed these locs and after 20 minutes of attempting to unravel one loc, I had no clear understanding of how it had been anchored to my hair. I sat there and fidgeted and uncoiled and then unbraided until one section of my hair was freed. It felt like I was drilling for oil. I repeated this process for over two hours and only got six more locs undone. The next day, attempt #2 yielded the same result, so with 4 hours gone and 12 locs undone, I sent an exasperated text to my regular stylist after 9pm on a Monday night.

I have never done that before, so when she called me back, I immediately felt ashamed for being so helpless. And reflecting back on that precise moment, instead of allowing Catholic guilt to temper my frustrations, I should have been prepared with a list of demands. This absolutely felt like a hostage situation, and I am convinced that I barely escaped with my dignity intact.

(I know, the hyperbole is thick, but stay with me.)

She asked me to come in that Wednesday, and I said that I would try, but I didn't make it because I had to take my Dad to an appointment. I texted her to say that I would try for the following day, but again, something else came up and I was unable to go by the salon. On Friday, I had a funeral to attend, so I had to wrap my head for a third day in order to venture out into the world and not scare any pets, men, or small children. I stopped by the salon on my way home, but none of the stylists familiar with my dilemma were on site. I ended up speaking to a fourth stylist who made it clear that I was on my own. My regular stylist was out of town, so his suggestion was for me to check back on Monday. By this point, I was miffed so I declared that I would figure it out on my own and left. Because in spite of everything else I had going on between my Kid, my parents, and my own isht, surely I had time to take another round of classes at YouTube Beauty U. Because no one else seemed to have any issues when taking their hair down, apparently, I was the problem...

Which was clearly the wrong way of looking at this because I was the one with the problem that dragged on through week 10 and threatened to linger on for another full week until I gave up and called my stylist back to schedule an appointment. Fuck the Catholic guilt; let go of the stigma of being the Black girl with no hair styling skills; get over having to go in for a service I shouldn't have needed; and just pay the damn ransom to get my life back. I was beyond pissed but had no interest in extending this fiasco into a 12th week, and I didn't want to cause any additional damage to my hair. I scheduled the appointment to get the locs taken down and to get my hair done. Of course, that process wasn't drama-free either, but at least the locs were gone. All of that peace of mind only cost me $185 (and tip), plus several unopened packages of hair from Amazon that I can no longer return because who knew this would be such an ordeal?!

What does any of this have to do with Keith Lee? Nothing. But if you've read this far, you might as well keep reading to see how I make the connection. Just indulge me for another paragraph or two...

Now that it has been three weeks since I was released from those faux locs (November 2023), I just happened to be scrolling Black Twitter the last week when I saw where a woman posted a complaint about her experience with a stylist in another state. I won't even link to her thread because I assure you, there are so many similar stories being told of the decline in providing what used to be basic service that I don't need to identify any particular person or locality. Just know that there are horror stories posted on Reddit and videos all over TikTok, as per the recommended route for receiving justice/vengeance due to one of these bad hair day experiences.

I'm not looking for either. And for now, I am sticking with my stylist because the alternative is to take my chances and roll the dice with one of these new school influencers who style hair. I don't know what passes for professional standards or licensure these days, and maybe that's the problem. If the assumption is that anybody who watches enough videos on YouTube can figure out how to style hair, then perhaps it no longer matters that the person who promotes themselves on social media as a professional actually has any credentials. Follower counts and likes are driving business these days, not quality of service, and that is no longer a factor to be shrugged off as regional.

Once upon a time, the Black beauty salon was a place of communal refuge, just like the barber shop for Black men. I won't take you on a nostalgia fantastical voyage because I don't want to give the false impression that a trip to the beauty salon was always a visit to Shangri-La. Some of us still bear the scars--physical, mental, and spiritual; however, most of us agree that the hair salon used to provide respite and service. Hence, another favorite skit from ABLSS Service offered a vision of what should be the norm...alas, it was just a dream.

I know that business owners have overhead and insurance and other assorted costs of doing business, so my complaint is not that I am paying more than I used to. It is that I am paying more and now having to pay extra for basic services that should already be included. Making me do half the work in advance, still charging full price, and expecting a tip is no different than having me shop, ring up and bag my purchases at the grocery store with the prices steadily increasing. What next, will I be charged for each squirt or spritz of product?

In effect, we are hostages, because the corporate mainstream hair care industrial complex still promotes the fallacy that products created for wash and go are suitable for all hair types. Most Black women can't just roll up to the mall Hair Cuttery or Dry Bar and expect to walk out before their lunch hour is over because nobody specializes in Black hair care other than Black people. Wash day is exactly that--a whole DAY, and nobody has time for that. Black women already pay a premium to look presentable to a world where legislation is needed to prevent discrimination against our natural hair texture in the workplace! It is beyond ironic that the BILLION-dollar Black beauty market that made Madame CJ Walker the first Black woman millionaire, precisely because there was a void in services and products provided to Black women, has come to this.

So here is where I pivot to Keith Lee and why his restaurant reviews ought to be regarded and received in a different spirit than the way y'all acted out this week. Because he's not out here destroying Black businesses if he's offering honest assessments of shitty treatment and/or bad food. He's demanding accountability, and to borrow an old-school phrase that seems appropriate, if you can't stand the heat stay out of the kitchen. If you are a musician who has entered the hospitality business to expand your brand, I get that but understand that folks aren't just coming to your establishment to take photos for the gram.

Playlist Project: Steppin' Out

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Devil in the Green Dress

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feeling Secure

Twas the day after the Christmas and I spent the afternoon on the sofa with a bottle of sparkling wine, chicken strips, and a few hours of kid-free silence. So naturally, I did what every other Insecure fan should have been doing in preparation for the series finale later that evening--I caught up on the episodes that had I missed or half-watched from this last season.

Now, because I am mindful that there are Busy Black folks out there who aren't fans or maybe haven't had a chance to watch the finale, so I won't spend that much time this Monday quarterbacking the finale. Watch it, come to your own conclusions, and then come back here for my take on what I hope will be the impact of Insecure for the long-term.

1. Conversations with our families about estate planning - This really hit home for me. My parents wrote their wills some twenty years ago, long before there was a notion of the chronic health issues we have faced for the past ten. My Mom, on the sage advice of Suzie Orman, had the foresight to invest in long term care insurance, which has made been a lifesaver in every possible way. While my Dad is still old school with respect to his faith in life insurance and bank savings, it was the financial planning that my Mom initiated that has really made this season of their lives manageable for us as their children.

There's so much more to say on this topic, because Black people can be inconsistent when it comes to death. On the one hand, we deal with it as a part of life, yet it amazes me just how reluctant our families are to plan for anything other than the funeral. I don't want to think about dying either, but if these last two years have taught us anything, it is that we need to have contingencies in place to deal with the unexpected. TALK TO YOUR PARENTS! Get their passwords. Have them walk you through their finances. Ask them how they want things to be settled. And talk to your siblings so that everyone is on the same page. Ain't nothing worse than drama and tension on the front pew that never gets resolved. 

2. Embracing imperfection by dropping the Black superwoman trope - The name of the show was Insecure. A lot of y'all missed that. Some of you were very critical that Issa didn't have her shit together from the beginning. Some of you probably thought highly of Molly until she realized how much of a hot ass mess she had been for four seasons. Some of you were more concerned about Tiffany wearing your sorority colors than you were about the vulnerability she showed as a new mother suffering with post-partum depression. You might have missed the fact that Kelli was sober this entire season, which was a good thing considering that she pissed her pants during Coachella and got into all kinds of nonsense whenever she imbibed. Y'all were siding with Lawrence's irresponsible fuckboi declaration that Condola blew up his life when she got pregnant (which we're going to revisit a little later).

Life is messy and not even fictional people are perfect. Thank goodness!

3. Addressing the stigma of mental health, especially among Black men - We saw Molly with a therapist, and I know that the religulous among you will argue that all she needed was Jesus. But I'm sure He would have sent her to a therapist too. Despite the ultimate outcome of his story arc, Nathan was one of the most valuable characters, working through his issues with others and with himself. Unlike most stereotypical depictions of mental illness (the homeless vagrant or the drug addicted loser), it was refreshing to see a high functioning, yet flawed individual who owned his issues. 

4. Establishing and maintaining mature co-parenting relationships - So we've reached the hill where I plant my flag--Lawrence, the dude who perpetually let life happen to him finally grew a pair! The fact that it took his fast-talking friend Chad to blurt that out at him for it to finally sink in that he needed to make some choices and man the fuck up (and you thought that was only about his on-and-off again situationship with Issa)...

And one of those choices was to be more present in the life of his son with Condola. She didn't get pregnant--they were fucking. Birth control goes both ways, but sometimes it fails and one of those little swimmers is gonna go all the way (we all saw Look Who's Talking). Given that Lawrence was rather promiscuous generous, I'm surprised that he hadn't created more babies...but y'all aren't ready for that conversation.

Instead, let's keep the focus on the fact that if more folks took responsibility for their actions, the world would be so much better for the children that result. I say that as a lawyer who used to represent parents in their custody disputes. I say that as a woman who has read some of the really shitty takes that some weekend Dads have expressed about paying child support. I say that as a mother with equal disdain for the toxic Moms who feel entitled to erect insurmountable barriers to healthy co-parenting because they have irrational trust and control issues. 

Look, parenting is hard within a marriage, let alone between two households. We only got one full episode, a HUGE blow-up, and a few tranquil scenes scattered among subsequent episodes, but I assure you, it took a LOT of work to get him to that happy ending. 

5. Blackness is Beautiful - I mean, we know this but I don't think the rest of the world always gets to see it presented that way. Sure, we've had sitcoms with all-Black casts that have been unapologetically Black in the past, but this time we got an experience that showcased Black Los Angeles as well. We saw Black people at art galleries, at outdoor festivals, planning events, attending Coachella, hiking, hanging out on the beach, owning businesses, and doing all of the bougie stuff that white folks assume we don't do. We drink coffee too, but in every other sitcom, we'd be the sassy barista or the silent busboy. In any other sitcom, we'd see a few Black faces in the crowd and that would be touted as inclusion. For once, it was great to see us as the foreground and the background. It was significant to depict various aspects of Black life that weren't confined to any one space within the community--the Dunes apartment complex in Inglewood was just as integral as Molly's downtown office or Crenshawn's warehouse workspace or Black alumni weekend at Stanford.

It matters that Issa Rae, the actress, writer, and producer was an aspirant just ten years ago when we first encountered Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl back in 2011 on YouTube. Like most people who became fans of that effort, who could have foreseen that it would lead Rae to the point where she is today? Not just in her career, but also the other Black actors, writers, and directors that she took along with her for the ride: Stella Meghie, Melina Matsoukas, Prentice Penny, Natasha Rothwell, Jay Ellis, and Yvonne Orji. I am thinking about Tracy Oliver, the antagonist on the web series, who is now a budding media mogul in her own right. There is also Robin Thede, the writer and producer of the hilariously funny and Emmy-nominated A Black Lady Sketch Show. I am thinking that when Rae stated that she was rooting for everyone Black, that meant EVERYBODY.

Of course, the predictable backlash to this will be to point out that there is no such place as Black LA if we only make up 8% of that city's population. Some snooty TV executive, probably the same guy that canceled Girlfriends without a series finale, will wonder aloud where in Los Angeles they found that many Black people and whether it was truly representative if there were not as many Latinx or Asian Americans depicted (because it is perfectly acceptable to accuse us of excluding others). Surely, token efforts to integrate shows like the original Sex and the City or Girls, which celebrated a very specific demographic of empowered white woman (the Christines and Kristins) would have more impact. Just greenlight a reboot or a pre-boot with a Black girlfriend and set one of the episodes outside of their typical exclusive enclaves of privilege. Send Miranda Hobbs to a Black church in Harlem with her law school professor. Because that isn't racist...

But it ain't progress either.

I would love for the legacy of Insecure to be a more sustained movement towards inclusion in Hollywood--more diversity in directors, writers, production crews, etc. It would be great, but I lived through the 80s and 90s. Ground-breaking popular Black shows still get marginalized while mediocre mainstream shows live on in syndication. I still believe that our stories deserve to be told and that there is plenty of space on the red carpet for more diversity, but I don't want to wait another 30 years just to make incremental advances. Because Issa Rae decided not to rest on her dreams, someone else needs to wake up and follow suit. 

Are you waiting on a chance, or are you taking any?

Read that again, look at the calendar, and get then serious about making that next move. If you saw the finale, that was a personal message in a bottle that even if the ground is shaking beneath your feet, trust yourself...Everything is going to be, Okay?!

I Am Not My Hair Bonnet

From the Busy Black Woman book of truth, "Be ye ever open to instruction," which in the vernacular is, even if you already think you know everything, you don't. 

This is a general PSA for all of you who had a visceral over-reaction to this video message shared by the comic Mo'Nique last week. I initially saw the tweets and comments as comical, but that was before I saw the avalanche of criticism growing larger...and even though I changed my Twitter handle to reference a bee in my bonnet, that was before I saw her post and had a chance to really process her underlying message. So before I go on my tangent, I want to weigh in with my say on appropriate travel attire by linking to what I already said. I mean it. I will judge you, but I won't approach you unless you are un-lotioned (because that is a different kind of infraction).

However, let me make clear that the choice not to approach you is actually central to a larger issue. It isn't that I would be right or wrong in expressing my opinion, I believe it is more that my opinion would not be appreciated unless it was a compliment. If I walked up to you and said that I like the pattern on your panties that I can see because of your too short, see-through skirt, you might say thank you or think I'm a creep. Both reactions would be correct. Yet, in this current I-am-smarter-than-a-fifth-grader-world of social media, one might be more offended that I had the audacity to even look in their direction.

Be ye open to instruction. I just watched a portion of what was billed as an inter-generational talk with my forever Sister President Dr. Johnnetta B. Cole. She quoted this African proverb: The young go fast; the elders know the way. As she explained, we need your swiftness for the journey, but we've been here, know the terrain, and are only telling you what you need to know for your own good.

So, while y'all are dissing Mo'Nique for wearing her bathrobe while imparting wisdom, her point about showing more self-respect got lost. It became her policing Black women's stylistic choices instead of her being that Church Mother that hands you a lap scarf because your skirt is short. Look, I hated it too, but now that I am of the age where one might expect me to carry a lap scarf, a hand fan, some hard candy, and a shawl, I implore you to at least be open to why all of that became part of the whole armor of God. Our body temperature fluctuates as we age. Hard candy helps to keep the throat lubricated. And some dirty old man might be staring at my glory instead of giving all praise and honor to the Lord. It ain't even my ministry to be worried about his eyes or his soul, but now that we know how many young people were sexually exploited and abused in churches...

That Church Mother knows the way. When she pulls on the hem of our garments or when she hands over her shawl, we might get offended by her implicit judgment, but she is also instructing us about the ways of the world and of life. She is acquiescing to mores and norms that are outdated, patriarchal, and oppressive and she knows that. Yet, she is alive to provide that guidance because she survived being caught off guard in a compromising position with some entitled man who told her that no one would believe her story because of who he was. Maybe she still carries the scars and the shame, somewhere hidden on her body, covered up by a shawl or a lap scarf. And trust, she also knows that neither is a shield or a cape imbued with super repellent powers.

We appreciate your quick wit and determination to call out sexism. But she knows how to navigate it and still keep the faith.

Y'all can criticize respectability all you want. I've certainly approached my 40s with less concern about what people think about me or how they perceive me. And that is the wisdom that comes from accepting that the world will see me as it sees me and will mistreat me anyway. So the issue is not tied to some need to be deemed worthy to the outside world, it is about feeling my best in my own skin. My self-presentation to the world is a reflection of how I see myself, so pulling out an iron, wearing a bra, or putting on lipstick isn't patriarchal or respectable inasmuch as it is my choice to look the way I want in public.

Are we being too literal in our dismissal of Mo'Nique's critiques about wearing bonnets and scarves in public? I know that Mama Berenstein Bear wore her hair bonnet in every book and TV episode, but she also wore the same blue polka dot house-dress and no shoes. Of course, an anthropomorphic cartoon character isn't really a role model. Instead, let's focus on the fact that at least through the 70s and 80s, typical daily hair coverings ranged from those plastic rain bonnets that the Church Mothers carried in their purses to the elaborate Sunday morning hats those same Church Mothers revealed on Easter and Mother's Day. Culturally, there are groups of women all over the world whose custom or religious beliefs require them to keep their hair covered.

So this isn't really about that. And I say that as a woman who carries this modern-day Grandma's rain bonnet in my oversized Mom purse. If I could save some more pennies, I might rock one of these fantastic wax print turbans on my next transatlantic voyage. I am not above wrapping a gele if need be (and I definitely think more of us should learn the variety of styles). And let's be real--Mo'Nique ain't tapping Alicia Keyes in the airport over this look, nor would she check her homegirl Jada Pinkett-Smith at the Red Table.

But she is right that some of you look messy on purpose, and Auntie YaYa agrees. 

The real issue isn't what Sis said because plenty of us have dragged folks on social media for leaving their homes without first checking the mirror. When a school district suggested guidelines for appropriate parental dress for school drop-off/pick-up, most of us would agree that expecting parents to even have on clothing was de minimis. Casual Fridays, if we ever return to a full week of work, will probably be canceled. And we have all shared opinions about the person on the Zoom who should have kept her camera off until she got herself together (or the guy who should learn how to how to use his filters). 

That some of y'all are out here on Blue Ivy's internet still mad at Mo'Nique for speaking her truth about pay inequity is...hmmm, rich. We're still thinking that her opinions on how racism manifests in a variety of forums is just her telling Oprah to suck it? As if she doesn't know a thing or two about being too big, too outspoken, and too Black for people to care what she has to say, even if it is the truth? So now that she's back on the chitterling circuit, recording PSAs between shows in the hotel bathroom, y'all are more focused on her audacity to say what she said than on what she is actually saying?

Coming from a sister who has been judged on her appearance all of her life, whose talent has been under appreciated, whose voice has effectively been relegated to her Instagram followers...y'all don't know the way like she does. She is telling you that you can do everything right: star on a syndicated sitcom, be a Queen of Comedy, even win a damn Oscar, and folks will still disrespect you and treat you like you ought to be happy to get those coins from the fountain they offered. You can be talented. You can be beautiful. You can be skinny. You can be a Black bird-watcher and some white lady will call the cops and falsely claim that you are threatening her life.

Mo'Nique knows that what we wear on our heads doesn't even matter if folks are more obsessed with judging our skin color. She knows that when Oprah was trying to buy herself a fancy silk hair scarf, the saleswoman at the Hermès store in Paris wouldn't reopen for a Black billionaire. She knows that Meghan Markle can wear a fascinator just like her sister-in-law and still get trashed in the British tabloid media. Simone Biles will fix her teammates' hair ribbons and still get points deducted for pulling off truly amazing gymnastic feats. And that the tennis press will insist on imagining a rivalry between a Black Grand Slam champion and a white ingénue. 

Y'all are quick to point out that Black people are over-policed and profiled by appearance even when we conform to the so-called respectable norms. Black travelers with locs and braids must submit to intrusive searches of their hair to go through customs and TSA. So your ratty sleep bonnet or messy doo rag won't shield you from those indignities. Auntie knows that, so her point is that we need to carry ourselves with dignity and self-pride anyway. She said that the world will do what it does, so you must choose how you will show up. 

Let's keep it real, Vice President Harris and former First Lady Obama and every other Black woman in the public eye wears a hair bonnet. Even the Queen of England wears one (and we know this because those royal curls are tight like she faithfully rolls them in tissue paper and pink rollers every night). We ain't never going to see any of these women informally casual, wearing fuzzy slippers and pajamas in public. They face ridicule and unfair judgment too; yet they exude the utmost confidence and presence as they walk through the world.

Mo'Nique is saying that you have that same power to make the world see you in spite of how it defines you. Carry yourself with dignity. It isn't your fault that the deacon won't focus on the sermon, but here is my shawl in case your legs get cold, sweet baby. Be ye open to instruction because you may be quick, but I know the way.

Finally, a word on ashyness, which is a heinous act of omission that will earn you a rebuke by the Busy Black Woman. You can't be walking around unmoisturized, because too much friction can be flammable. Therefore, if someone offers you some hand lotion, take it in the spirit of generosity and concern that it was offered. Only God may know what is up under that sleep bonnet, but everybody can see them crusty knuckles and finger creases...so be ye open to instruction, and a few squirts of lotion.

The Blackest Weekend of This Pandemic (So Far)

In recognition of the weekend that just passed, I am going to offer a book review, television criticism, reflections on an interview, point out some important obituaries, and offer a few thoughts about some music I heard. None of these matters qualify as bleak (in case you misread my headline), all of it was produced by Black people, and yes, I think it is quite the coincidence that it all took place over the biggest holiday weekend for Black people other than Thanksgiving. Because in case you didn't already know this, Mother's Day is even blacker than Kwanzaa, the MLK holiday weekend, and the entire month of February combined. It is the highest of Black holy days on the calendar.

Stamped: Racism, Antiracism, and You by Jason Reynolds and Ibram X. Kendi
I ended up with an Audible account because my Kid sometimes presses random buttons on my tablet, so in addition to buying the entire Llama Llama book series and a Mexican bible, this is her 'gift' to me. Instead of immediately canceling, I've spent the better part of a year wondering what to buy and when I would get to listen to it. When I decided it would be a great way for me to share audio with my Mom of her favorite books, it was then a matter of which book and the fact that I had credits set to expire. But then COVID happened, so I got this book after seeing all of the acclaim over its release and Reynolds's appointment as an Ambassador for Young Adult Literature at the Library of Congress.

Although the book is geared to a younger audience, I thoroughly enjoyed both my first Audible experience and this selection. I listened in between laundry and dishes, and to repeat its disclaimer without spoiling anything, this is NOT a history book. There was some Amen-shouting and a little head-scratching (because it isn't a history book), so if you do share this with a young person under the age of 30, then make sure they know something first. We need them to have some context before they delve into criticizing historical figures. That would be my only quasi-critique/spoiler--nobody is spared. And I won't say who emerges as a clear heroine, (it's her ↓) but you didn't get that from me.

GirlTrek Conversation with Angela Davis and Nikki Giovanni
I missed this initially (went to bed with a headache)...and then it took me a few days to get through the entire interview. Not for lack of interest, but partially due to technical issues and life disruptions, and maybe some green-eyed haterade on my part (because well damn, I would LOVE to have an audience with either one of these great women).

Of course my envy was momentary because it was WONDERFUL that these two sisters, Vanessa Garrison and Tanya Morgan Dixon, had the chance to bring these two icons of unapologetic Black radical womanism together. And for once, the reason this happened wasn't due to some crisis, us mourning over a fallen sister, or the need to charge us up to burn shit down. Well, technically they did that too, but this conversation was organized to help usher in a spirit of honoring our mothers and in the process, I hope some of you got your life. I hope you saw how women can come together, build each other up, have infinite patience with each other (because there was a lot of fan-girling, although I won't lie and say I would not have been doing the most too), and generally demonstrate everything I have been telling you about sisterhood for at least a year...

But in all seriousness, it was a reaffirming experience, and I encourage you to connect with Girl Trek to plug into their mission and to tune in this coming Friday when the guests will be Bernice King and Ilyasah Shabazz, the daughters of Coretta Scott King and Betty Shabazz respectively.

Jilly from Philly v. Erykah the Bad
So I will accept all of the flogging I deserve for missing the GirlTrek conversation in real time, while making it front and center and for all three hours of this 'battle' between these two R&B divas. Me and 750k of my closest friends, including Michelle Obama, spent a very chill Saturday night before Mother's Day vibing to the energy created by real artistry and sisterhood. What had been set up to be a clash was really more like two sisters ribbing each other over who makes the best potato salad (summer BBQ) or mac and cheese (potluck family dinners). Since both sisters can throw down in the kitchen, the preference for one over the other might be situational, meaning one dish is closer to your plate for serving seconds. Or maybe it is the musical equivalent of that eternal argument--sugar or salt on the GRIIIIIIITTTTTTSSSSS...

Either way, it was like shea butter for the soul.

Insecure
Typically I would not give a review of a TV show, let alone mid-season, and I promise not to spoil anything; however, now that I am finally caught up and based on where things stood at the end of the most recent episode, I can't help myself. I knew from the season premier where this was heading, but I fell off the wagon for four weeks straight because keeping track of days and when TV shows air in a pandemic was hard. Thank goodness for content on-demand.

A - I posted some of these thoughts on Twitter, but I really need for folks without children who have friends with children (the ones that y'all oohed and ahhed about before they got here or when they were still babies) to take notice of the fact that we live with parenthood 24/7. I think people forget that fact (I'm sure I did before I had a child) and that we deal with all kinds of stuff that shades our interactions with the rest of the world. Like, we miss TV episodes in real time because we fall asleep after reading four bedtime stories to a wired kid who has been trapped inside her house for 8 weeks and counting. Some of us really tried to make Mommy friends to spare you from the misadventures of potty training, but...and after that failed effort, we didn't come back to you like some chick who got dumped (ok, maybe we did). But it would be nice if you understood.

B - Similarly, even among friends who don't have a new baby or new man as an excuse for shit getting weird between them, it would be nice if we could find a way to handle our disagreements and/or disconnectedness without making mountains out of mole hills. Please re-read the paragraph above, because sometimes relationships evolve and change due to circumstances beyond our control. We know that people go through things and don't always share every single detail for whatever reason, and instead of taking it all personal and assuming that a person means you harm or is being selfish, maybe it ain't all about you. And that is, in Insecure vernacular Vague As F***, Hella Vague, Vague-Like, and Low-Key Vague as I can be without spoiling the plot.

C - Yes, that is still my favorite meme to come from this show.

Miscellaneous Blackness
There were a few other reasons why this was no ordinary Mother's Day weekend, aside from the pandemic which kept all of us out of church on Sunday (unprecedented, and worse than missing Easter). Michelle Obama's documentary version of her best-selling memoir Becoming started streaming on Netflix. Uncle Kenny pulled out his guitar, grabbed three of our play cousins, and dedicated A Song for Mama on SNL. And if that didn't make you cry, then it was the back to back to back losses of Andre Harrell, Little Richard, and Betty Wright on Saturday--three distinctly Black musicians from three distinct genres who just crossed over.

All of that in three days. And I think Beyonce sneezed and ended up on the Billboard charts that are slated to come out this weekend, so between that, birthdays for Stevie Wonder and Janet Jackson this week, regular Club Quarantine with D-Nice and Questlove, and Prince concerts from the Purple Rain era streaming on YouTube for the next few days, I think that means we're about to snap up every weekend in May, including Memorial Day weekend. Thanks to Black Music Month, we also own June.

You're welcome.