The Scandalousness of Scandal – Part 1

I love Scandal! I tune in every Thursday to be a voyeur in the life of Olivia Pope and her team of Gladiators. It’s been a long time since I’ve planned my evening around a TV show. I used to do it years ago when the Thursday night lineup included The Cosby Show followed by a A Different World. Then Living Single became my addiction, but since that time, I had given up TV watching until now.

It seems that the more popular Scandal becomes, the more embroiled in controversy it becomes. I understand the controversies; I simply don't agree. There is this notion that Olivia’s affair not only condones the Sally Hemmings Thomas Jefferson illicit love affair, but that those who root for Liv and Fitz condone extra marital affairs. Really?  

I won’t even comment on the racial aspect, except to say that the idea of the black woman in an interracial relationship can only be used for a white man’s pleasure, is probably the thinking of some angry, whiny black men who are strangely tight-lipped when nearly every leading black man ends up with a non-black love interest. Can you say Denzel in Flight? I rest my case.

The women who are making the biggest stink about Olivia’s relationship with the president are probably some of the biggest hypocrites. The idea that women who root for Liv and Fitz’s relationship support home wreckers is so amusing because I know of so many instances where the woman was the mistress before she became the Mrs. They did it in real life. Olivia does it on TV. Which of these scenarios is more cause for harm? Hum!

Then there’s this idea that Keri Washington’s character is nothing more than a stereotypical trope who’s no different than the women on the reality TV shows. What a stretch! Most of the women on reality TV are more stereotypical than the fictional Olivia Pope. All these women do is sit around and pretend to be mature and then pretend fight to boost the ratings because no black woman I know who spends that much money on weave is going to risk it being messed up! Realty TV is Fantasy TV, and people are mad at Olivia Pope like she's a real person! I'm confused.

I recently read a piece on how Olivia’s character upholds patriarchy and white supremacy. And it's also bee written that Olivia is not a breath of fresh air, but a remix of same old stereotypes plaguing black women since we got here. I get this whole idea of the racialized and sexualized body of black women; I live in one. And to be weighted down by weight and gender EVERY day is exhausting! Every characterization of black women has been dissected into minuscule pieces of nothingness. We’re never satisfied with the characterization of black women – not on The Cosby Show, in The Color Purple in The Help, any Tyler Perry movie, or even the little girl in Beasts of the Southern Wild. You name it and somebody has a problem with it.

Yes! Olivia Pope is a black woman, but she is also a woman, and she reminds of women that I know. We fight hard get to where we are, we think we can do it all; fix it all. But we seldom understand that the same drive and tenacity that got us to where we are doesn’t work with the human heart.

Even though Liv and Fitz are at the center of Scandal, the cast of supporting characters intrigue me just as much and sometimes more than the two of them. Huck is a trained killer, and I love him! But no one is saying that if you like Huck that you support assassins. So why do I have to have some subconscious context for my appreciation of Olivia Pope? Does watching Scandal make me a race traitor and husband thief or co-supporter of infidelity?

So for everyone who has their underwear in a bunch over Scandal—ouch! The show is called Scandal for a reason. It’s not going to be pretty; it’s political, it’s dirty; it’s backstabbing and it’s messy. While I’m screaming at the TV, I am both emotionally wrenched and intellectually stimulated. And when I finish telling the cast of Scandal how to fix their lives, I can return to mine.

Forgive me Father for I have. . .

Wow! 2013 came in like the Chicago Hawk on the lakefront in the middle of winter. January was a flurry of activities that were plucked right out of of R& B artist Usher’s Confessions CDs. It’s been said that confession is good for the soul, and so it seems it was at the start of the year.

It started with the revelation that college footbal star Manti Teo’s girlfriend was not real. Seems that the woman that he was in love with was nothing more than an internet hoax. She was born on the internet and died on the internet. So, Teo had to come clean that he’d never met the woman that he professed his dying love for, and that their relationship was exclusively online.

Speaking of coming clean, following on the heels of  Teo, was the confession of Lance Armstrong, for mer poster child for the Tour de France cycling event. In an exclusive interview with talk show guru Oprah Winfrey, Armstrong admitted publicly that he had used performance enchance drugs throughout his reign as cyclying champion. After vehemently denying that he was using drugs, Armstrong was found guilty, but had not talked openly about it. So, Armstrong decided to have a sit-down with Winfrey and discuss his doping days.

Although Armstrong was forth coming, Beyonce was initially tight-lipped following the discovery that she lipped-synced the national anthem during President Obama’s second presidential inauguration. Lip syncing the national anthem? A crime no less than treason it seemed for all of the attention the incident got. But Beyonce silenced the critics when she called a press conference before her Super bowl performance and belted out the national anthem accapella. After she finished singing, she addressed any lingering questions about her lip syncing incident.

And if that wasn’t enough for one month, it was discovered that football great Dan Morino admits to fathering a child during an extra marital affair with a CBS employee. Seems that Morino paid his Baby Mama a large sum of hush money, but the story was leaked.

Though I’m not generally a trend follower, I do think that confession can be good for the soul especially when it's volunteered on the behalf of the confesser. So, I am going to join my co-confessors and fess up to my dirty little secret. I didn’t watch any of the inaugural activities. I had the day off and I didn’t even tune in. I just sort of piddled around the house. OMG! This is bad. I’m black, so I’m confessing and hoping that my black card is not revoked. Because we all know that 100 percent of African-Americans love us some Saint Obama. Wow, now I know how Teo, Armstrong and Beyonce must have felt to lift that ten-ton burden off their chests because I feel better now and. . .

In the words of Usher, this is my confession.

Remembering a King

Remembering a King

When we hear the words king, we think of grandeur, magnificence and royalty. Such words are fitting to describe the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., a man lauded for his bravery, his personal conviction, and his dedication to not only the civil rights struggle in America, but his desire for peace and equity for all.

He has been called a prophet, a martyr and a saint. He generates as much interested today, 45 years after his death, as he did during the height of the civil rights movement. Though his birthday has become a national holiday, it was a long hard fight before the King Holiday Bill was signed into law on November 2, 1983 by President Ronald Reagan. The road to this day of celebration was not without its hurdles to honor a man who did great things for mankind.

Though we hear King being spoken of in glowing terms today, that was not always the case. He was referred to as a communist when communism was a dirty word. The “content of his character” has been under attack amid charges of infidelity and plagiarism. He has been depicted as a simple man, a dreamer, but his vision for humanity was so much larger than that. The one-dimensional King that is idolized and presented to the world is a far cry from the complex, humane man that King was before he was anything else.

The love we have for the man called King today is not the love we had for King the man back then. During his lifetime King was highly criticized by many—black and white. He was criticized for being too passive; criticized for wanting too much too soon; and criticized for finding fault with the American government and its policies of economic distribution. He understood not only the evils of racism, but of capitalism as well.

We must be careful not to allow the rewriting of history and selective amnesia to whitewash the legacy of Dr. King. He was a man who faltered. A man who made mistakes. A man who didn’t always get it right. But he was a man called to action, and he acted even when it was unfavorable for him to do so. Yes he was a dreamer, but he was also a visionary. Yes he pushed peace, but his thoughts were radical then and they are radical now. He became increasingly vocal against the status quo in his later years.

And more than 40 years after his death, his image emerges unscathed to those who knew and loved the man we know as King.

Yes! . . . There is a Santa

 We had all gathered for our annual Christmas Eve festivities. The house was decorated with the sights and sounds of Christmas – a green tree with ornaments and decorations in shades of beige. Garland adorned the railings and the walls. Christmas music floated from iPod dock. We were laughing and talking, stuffed from eating enough food to feed the block. There was the traditional fare of turkey, dressing Mac & cheese & string beans & so much more. There was something to please even the pickiest palettes.

While we were anxiously waiting to play what we’ve come to expect as a hilarious game of the white elephant gift exchange, my sister and her friend, both retired teachers were weaving this elaborate tale of how Santa manages to see children all over the world in a single night! The adults were laughing at the absolute absurdity of their story, but the children were enraptured! They had been tracking Santa on the iPad, and he was in Canada headed to the United States.  My nephew told us that Santa sent him an email. I shook my head because even Santa had to get with it and move into the digital age.

Their bizarre story had something to do with Santa being able to protect the reindeer as he traveled through the sound barrier. And because he traveled through different time zones it was possible for him to see all the children in one night! It didn’t hurt that he also traveled faster than the speed of light, and that he had the help of an elf in every state.  I laughed at the silliness of my sister’s story, and went home with it in my head. I woke up with the story on my mind-- thankful for its true meaning. Their story represented innocence. It represented faith. It represented good will.

I thought about the various ways I saw children preparing for Santa’s visit. There were of course the numerous pictures of children posing with Santa, but there were also the Official Zay Zay and Jo Jo videos, a picture on Facebbook of siblings praying over the cookies they baked for Santa, and of course the tracking of Santa on the iPad. 

Every year the postal service actually gets hundreds of thousands of letters to Santa, and there are people who adopt children to make their Christmas wishes come true. This year marks the 100^th anniversary of the Letters to Santa program. In lieu of Christmas gifts this year, my family chose to sponsor a family in need. This whole week I’ve been constantly reminded of the countless ways that people bring joy to the less fortunate during the holiday season.We may not be fat, white men with beards in red suits, but we are Santa. 

In a time when there is so much ugliness in the world, children deserve to have something magical. We all do. What's wrong with that?

Sandy Hooks Elementary

Friday, December 14 started out like any other day. I'd been tired all week, but I knew at the end of this school day that I'd be on vacation until the new year. We were having holiday parties, and middle school students were either going on a field trip (6th grade) or going to a dance in the afternoon (7th & 8th grade).  The energy in the building crackled like a November bonfire.  

 

Students in my 8^th grade writing class were bouncing off the walls. So I had them decompress by journaling while listening to soothing music. Everybody was smiling. Happy. Excited. Little did I know that in a small town in Connecticut, a deranged gunman was spraying six and seven year-olds with bullets.

During lunchroom duty, while I was making sure that meatballs didn’t take flight or cupcake icing doubled as make-up, murder and mayhem was erupting in Sandy Hooks Elementary School. When I first learned of the shooting, I couldn’t watch it or read about it. It was too close to home, and unbelievably scary. I teach in an elementary school prek to 8th, and I know the vulnerability of being in a public space charged with the safety of children. 

So while I was ushering children out of the building for winter break, I didn’t want to know what went so horribly wrong that some depraved person would open fire on children in classrooms. I couldn't wrap my mind around the reality of it as I scanned the faces of the students that I see every day. I couldn’t imagine me or my colleagues being gunned down in our school—a place that supposed to be a safe haven.

We do disaster drills of all types, and I’m constantly stressing to my students the importance of following directions and taking the drills seriously because I take the safety of my students seriously. Parents send their children to school in good faith that their children will be there waiting for them at the end of the day. But on Friday a sicko in Conneticut shattered that faith. 

About two years ago, I was in a school where we were doing a lockdown drill, and it was ironically on the same day that there was shooting outside a school in Mexico and the teacher kept the children safe and calm singing the Barney song. The gunman that seemed so far away that day is too close for comfort now.

I have been to the funerals of my students and it is heart wrenching. Earlier this week, I asked my students to write about where they see themselves in 10 years, and one wrote dead and another said in jail. My students are in 7^th and 8^th grade. They see no future. The students in Connecticut were in kindergarten and first grade; their future was snatched before it even started. Children deserve the chance to grow up, but how do we prevent our children from becoming part of the carnage in an increasingly violent and dysfunctional society?

Friday, December 14, was our last day before break, a time to enjoy family friends and refresh for the new year. But for the families of 27 people in Connecticut it was their last day of life. Can someone tell me how to deal with that?

A Little Spice in Your Life

I am my mother’s child; I love food. I am not my mother's in that I do not love to cook good food. I grew up on freshly prepared meals made from scratch. So, I appreciate the rich, savory taste of food well-cooked food. But I’m happy with someone else being in the kitchen.

When I got in high school, I fell into the habit of eating fast food. And my mother warned me about always eating out of a greasy bag. I slowed down on the fast food, but not dining out. I just upgraded my dining experience. I spent lots of money on meals. Hung out with my friend Denial and thought I could eat whatever I wanted as long as I worked out. Wrong!  I remember this guy telling that if I was working out I, but I wasn’t eating right I was fighting myself. His words found a permanent parking space in psyche. It didn’t change my dietary habits, but the words didn’t budge.

I was loving some food and it was loving me back! So much in fact that it wouldn't leave me. And truth be told, I didn’t want it to go anywhere because I wasn’t doing what I needed to do to part company. But back in the spring, I decided it was time to make a change, and I needed an intervention. So, I joined Weight Watchers. I’ve lost more than 30 pounds, and I still like to eat out! And lo and behold, the God of Good Food was listening to my prayers. She said that I didn’t have to starve myself all day to dine or nor did I have to stick to the b-o-r-i-n-g bland low calorie options. She knows I like to taste of food on my tongue.

So, she led me to Bombay Spice Grill and Wine – a restaurant devoted to healthy Indian food. A friend and I went before I joined WW, and I enjoyed it. A group of us were going out one evening, and I suggested Bombay Spice. Since joining WW, I have gotten into the habit of planning my meals. I know what I’m going to eat, and how much it’s going to cost me. So, you can imagine the size of the smile on my face when I found out that not only did Bombay Spice boast a healthy menu, they had the Weight Watchers point values listed online. I was in heaven!

The food is satisfying especially if you like a little spice in your life. The appetizers are great to share which means I use even fewer points. I love the chef’s surprise where you choose ingredients and a sauce and allow the chef to prepare your meal. There are vegetarian options. It has nice ambiance and is perfect for a Girls’ Night or a couple's outing. I have a new attitude about food, and Bombay Spice Grill and Wine fits perfectly into my new lifestyle.