I grew up, like many of you, watching Disney movies. And the one thing I took from my beloved childhood films was that love wasn’t hard to find; in fact, it would find you. It wasn’t always perfect or planned, but worth it in the end. After all, what woman could say no to her happily ever after? But as I sat with my niece over the weekend and attempted to re-watch a few of the classics, I struggled. I found myself pausing the films, explaining away demeaning diatribes, delivering disclaimers as the characters carried on. What were these movies teaching my niece, I asked myself? …
My father didn’t have to see race in a country occupied by tribes, but America made sure she saw him and highlighted the part he couldn’t hide.
I can remember the day my Dad discovered he was Black. It was a gloomy Sunday afternoon, which is standard for the city of Pittsburgh. My mother washed my sister’s hair in the kitchen sink while my younger sisters and I played pretend on a Disney kitchen set in the basement. In the middle of our make-believe, a loud crash startled us all. We raced up the stairs to see what the commotion was, and there we saw my Dad standing in the doorway, coat soaked and covered in dirt and debris. “Goan’ get Mommy,” he said sternly. He slammed the door behind him as we scurried into the kitchen. By then, my mother had also caught wind of the commotion and threw a towel around my sister’s soapy coils. “Mom, something’s wrong with Dad!” we yelled in unison, racing ahead of her to rejoin him in the entryway. “These people!” He began abruptly. “They stop me just as I was walking toward St. Mary for mass. Just grab me, push me down without one word! Held me down like this!” He exclaimed while twisting his arm behind his back. “I yell out, ‘Whas the meaning of this?!?! Whas the meaning of this??!’ They keep doing me this way with no answer!” He continued to bend down with his arm behind his back as we tried to decipher the situation. “What people, Ilo?!” My mother asked anxiously. “Police!”, He yelled. …
It’s not Lori’s worth we should be discussing; it’s why we don’t see ourselves as being equally owed the same.
Less than 24 hours ago, People Magazine’s reigning Sexiest Man Alive, Michael B. Jordan, went public with his rumored romance with model and influencer, Lori Harvey, sharing a couple of candid photos of the pair all close and personal. The two stayed tight-lipped as whispers swirled this past November after the pair were spotted together during the Thanksgiving holiday. But in the age of social media, an Instagram post pretty much seals the deal, leaving inquiring minds stunned at the confirmation the two were indeed an item. And people were pissed. Not with the pair, and most certainly not with Michael B. Jordan, despite it appearing to be his decision to go public. Nope. People were mad at Lori, and Lori alone. Before God got the news, the blog backlash began. Comment sections flooded with peeved people’s opinions. Memes featuring f*ck boy favorite, Rapper Future Hendrix, were thrown around the thread. Black men left their typical misogynistic comments about genital wear and tear and community cooter, and as always, pretended to commend the women who had more “self-respect.” …
When 28-year-old Brianna Tierra Johnson met 35-year-old Fresno native Victor Campbell Jr.; she probably thought he was an attractive, albeit troubled Black man. Over dating app Plenty of Fish, the pair exchanged stories and past lives, and despite Victor’s troubled past, the two decided to move their casual dialogue to more serious subject matter; a relationship. Victor, who had recently served time for family violence, had little to leverage, well, other than being a man. But Brianna had accomplished quite a bit at her young age.
Leaving family and home far behind to pursue a degree in criminal justice, Brianna graduated from Texas Southern University at the top of her class. Making Houston, TX her home away from home, Brianna would quickly begin a college administration career, simultaneously building a buzzing around her beauty and lifestyle blog, where Victor occasionally made an appearance. According to friends and family, Brianna had a lot of good going for her but felt something was missing: a man. And as loved ones gathered together on November 29th for a tearful memorial in her memory, they questioned if, perhaps, Brianna was wrong. We haven’t said Brianna’s name, and for the most part, we’ve stopped saying the others too. …
Fatherlessness is not a generational curse, but it might be a psychological one.
I hate to say it, but my brothers are bad dads, and by bad, I mean perpetually absent from the lives of their children. Granted, I love both my brothers dearly. I was even idolizing them at one point in my adolescence, which led me to make a couple of questionable decisions of my own. But in the clarity of my adulthood, their decisions have become much harder, at times impossible, to defend. And you won’t hear me making a defense for them here, because there is no defense for fatherlessness. I do, however, understand my brothers. And it is because I understand them that I’m able to see their behavior beyond its’ brashness, past the point where it perpetuates the silent cycle of the dysfunctional family and crosses over into toxic and traumatic territory. …
There’s nothing noble about self-neglect.
When Life Coach and Personal Trainer Sabrina Parr announced the end of her one-year engagement to retired NBA All-Star Lamar Odom, half the internet let out a hearty, “Told you so!” Given Odom’s very public and very problematic marriage to Keeping Up with the Kardashian’s star, Khloe Kardashian, people appeared apprehensive when the pair made their very public engagement announcement. You could say they saw it coming. …
At what point does cultural exploration become cultural exploitation?
This conversation will not go over well with many, dare I say most, but I have made my peace with that. In an attempt to dodge the vitriolic, and sometimes violent, feedback that often comes with having an adverse opinion on the work of this artist, I believe it’s in my best interest to preface this piece with a few statements.
◙ The first being that this is not a critique of Beyoncé Giselle Knowles-Carter as a person, nor as a Black woman, nor as a musician.
◙ The second being that this is not an attempt to discredit the obvious amount of work and the brilliant minds that have contributed to the cultivation of her two most recent visual creations; Lemonade and Black Is King. …
Truth Teller or Pulpit Predator? You Decide.
#9. Dr. Immanuel immigrated from Cameroon to the United States in the early 90's
Despite being repeatedly misidentified as a Nigerian immigrant by American media outlets, Dr. Stella Grace Immanuel hails from Bali, Northwest Cameroon. A graduate of Cameroon Protestant College, a High School located in her hometown, Immanuel attended the University of Calabar in Calabar, Nigeria, where she claims to have completed her medical training in 1990.
#8. Dr. Immanuel is a woman of many monikers
Immanuel has made use of multiple aliases throughout her personal and professional career upon arriving in America. More than 20, to be exact. Of them, the most commonly used were Stella Gwandiku-Ambe, Stella A. Gwandiku, Stella Gwandiku-Tita, Stella Grace Immanuel, Stella A Gwandiku-Ambe, Stella Gwandiku Fondong, and Stella Anwi Gwandiku Ambe. …
We all sat bug-eyed around the living room of my sisters’ tiny two-bedroom apartment, shocked at my father’s unexpected outburst. “I would rather die!” he shouted again. “Go on ’head, leave me here to die!”
My sisters and I sat frozen around my father in fear; I could count on one hand how many times I’d heard the man raise his voice. “Wow, all of this over some french fries,” I thought to myself before my father suddenly began to sob right there on the living room sofa. …
Talk to your kids about sex, or the internet will
I never got the supposed “sex talk” from my parents, I strongly doubt I’m the only one. Like in many other minority households, sex was a sensitive subject around our house, despite ten kids being evidence of a ton of it happening. I learned about sex from a friend in the fifth grade, her name was Mara Greene. We went to summer camp together and waited at the same bus stop in the mornings, overtime, she and I became friends. And as familiarity formed, we began spending all of our free time together. We grew more comfortable with one another as the summer months passed. …
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