The Busy Black Woman Holiday Gift Guide (2019)

One never knows how a seemingly random idea can turn into a major project. On Christmas morning last year, I decided to take a few photos of the gifts I had bought from some local and small businesses, just on a whim. I thought I had gotten some cool stuff, and wanted to share those finds with my friends and followers. Then I posted some photos and this index to the blog, with no real plan for any next steps.

Then at some point during the past year, I decided to make my personal support of small, Black, women-owned, and local businesses a theme of the blog and on its Instagram page. If you happen to follow me on either my personal or blog pages, then you know that I have a seemingly endless supply of tee shirts (not including the ones associated with this blog, but I digress). In addition to the usual randomness, I use the IG page to follow many entrepreneurs, and have been blessed to connect with several of them in real life.

So as the 2019 Holiday Season comes to a close, I wanted to take time again to provide an index of gifts and companies that were featured in the Busy Black Woman Holiday Giving Guide. As always, whenever I have big plans, life happens, but what else is new? However, this year I thought ahead...What would the Oprah do (#WWTOD)?

Well, without my own magazine, staff, or an unlimited budget, I began posting my finds in on my social media in November until I was done with my shopping. The fact that I didn't finish posting until Christmas Eve notwithstanding, my hope is that you will use this as a year-long reference to answer the elusive 'how-do-I-support-Black-businesses' question. .

Get Your Paper Together
At some point this year, the major retailers finally got the notice that families of color might like to see Santa rendered in our likeness. I know that probably annoys some folks (Meghan 'Santa-is-white-and-Jesus-too' Kelly), but check it, Santa is whomever dons the suit. If you were lucky enough to score a roll or two of mainstream retail Santa paper, that's great; otherwise, place your orders now with Copper and Brass Paper Goods or Midnight Reflections. You will note that both Santas made appearances throughout the Gift Guide this year. I plan to add Clarence Claus from Greentop Gifts to my stash for the sake of variety, and you can also check out Etsy to see a few other whimsical multicultural options.

You Get a Box!
I still roll with the Izzy and Liv Brown Sugar Box, which expanded this year to include two children's boxes and a men's box. I haven't signed up with any other subscriptions yet, but the Because of Them We Can Box is topping my list for my now tween Niece. If you are a sorority sister, there are the Ivy Storehouse Box, the Dear Delta Box, and the Finer Things Box...and now that this has become a thing, I'm sure you will find something therein to fit your needs accordingly.

Stylin' and Profilin'
I featured hometown shirts on the IG page since DC finally hit the big leagues by winning the Stanley Cup, the WNBA Championships, and the World Series this year. I have always been proud to showcase hometown pride, so here are a few of my favorites: Ask Me Tees, Bailiwick Clothing, Check It Enterprises, CrankRock, I'm So DC (the hardest working sister in the urrea), and On Us Tees. Get one (or more)!

I want to shout out my Spelman Sisters who helped me to *bling* it during my Reunion weekend: Ourglass Apparel, SpelHouse Swag, and DiviniCo (who designed our class tee).

Lighting the Way
Candles are the new thing in small business, so now that the Kid is a little older, I have been excited to discover new and unique scent combinations. On our holiday trip to NYC, I discovered the honey-rich scents of Lomar Farms made from beeswax. I received some incense from the Posh Candle Company in an Izzy and Liv box, so I decided to try the candles, and in addition to the intense scents, the names are most intriguing. I also shopped with KSM Candle Company in Baltimore and Isabis this year.

Books, Puzzles and Notes
After attending the East of the River Book Festival last year (so sad to miss it this time), I have been excited to collect books from new and emerging authors for the young people in my life. I also made a point of shopping at the independent bookstores, such as Mahogany Books in DC and Grandma's Place in Harlem, which yielded some offerings I might not have found otherwise. Some highlights include The Nutcracker in Harlem, The Undefeated, Hair Love, She Stood for Freedom, and A is for Ancestors.

I stocked up on some puzzles for the upcoming Winter birthday party season from Puzzle Huddle, but I also discovered Little Likes Kids, so I can change things up a bit with games now. For the preteen girls, I think these stickers and journals by Oh So Paper are cute. For the folks who are organized and like to plan things, might I recommend the Arrivista Planner, and my cousin who can teach you some techniques for using it.

Looking Good Girl
Continuing with the tradition that began with Madame C.J. Walker, the market for Black-owned hair care products has expanded from online retail and neighborhood beauty supply to the mainstream. I know that people feel some kind of way about the ethnic hair care aisle, but thanks to brands like Jane Carter, Oyin Handmade, Design Essentials, and Thank God I'm Natural, there are companies like The Lip Bar on the cosmetic aisle at Target. Mented Cosmetics is now available at the Herald Square Macy's and of course Fenty Beauty and Pat McGrath are available at Sephora.

Great products and tools are still available online, such as the Grace Eleyae sleep cap, the Felicia Leatherwood detangler brush (or one of the knock-offs), and the Puff Cuff. Of course, local stores and small pop ups are great for finding products such as Hunny Bunny, Play Pits, and Oasis Soul.

You Wear it Well
What is a pop up without jewelry? This year, I have been breaking out of my comfort zone to embrace new textures and bolder patterns, so Beaded Souls, Hair Free Girl, and Me Two Designs happen to be a few of the jewelry designers whose pieces I've added to my daily rotation. I just discovered Amber Poitier this holiday, so I will be looking to add a few of her pieces in the future.

Miscellaneous
Here is an index of the other businesses I patronized at some point in the year:
Anna + Pookie
Bags by Sistah PG
Bases Loaded Authentic Clothing and Kaps (B.L.A.C.K.) 
Brown Girl Beauty Co-op
BZB International 
Capital City Mambo Sauce
Chat's Liquors
Crowned Charms
Diggin Her Roots Boutique
Heeey SugaFoot! 
Here's the Scoop Ice Cream
Homemade Healing
Ivy's Tea Company
Jacq's Dolls
Jaida A Photography
Jazzabon Creations 
NiLu Gift Shop
Petals, Ribbons and Beyond
Sweet Mossie's Stew Pots
TruGlory Greetings
Unique Aksents
Vegan Skin by Paul Joseph 
Vintage Glam Tea Party & Co.
Yvonne Ex

The Nile List is an effort that was started by one of my Spelman Sisters this year to provide an online guide of Black Businesses, so you should assume that my list isn't nearly as comprehensive...but you get the point. Happy Shopping!

The Only Life You Have

Nothing impacts your perspective on life like having a close friend or relative die. This year, I've lost one of each within weeks of each other. So I am ending this year in a place of emotional turmoil.

I will dedicate some time to write about my friend in a separate piece. I can say a little about my cousin here, and then expand on how all of this has left me reeling at a time when I feel like I am on the precipice of something big. I had hoped that for all of the unrealized promise of 2019 (projects that I started, but didn't complete), I could simply get back on track and take off. I could return to my #HBCUJustGive interview series and publish those articles in February. I could schedule the photo shoot that I kept rescheduling because I didn't have enough models or creative imagination. I could revisit the #BlackonBroadway series that I didn't finish last March. I could plan to go to my college Homecoming, right after I help plan my 30th high school reunion. I could make some progress on getting rid of the clutter that has engulfed my house.

I could get to everything because tomorrow is another day. So I thought.

My cousin used to be very close to my Mom because she was only a few years younger when she came up to DC to live with my grandmother and attend high school. Her son and I are six months apart in age. She came up from the country (Fredericksburg VA) to family gatherings and sang at my parents' 40th Anniversary Party. She was a prolific Facebook poster...much like the older people we joke about who unwittingly spread viruses by challenging us to share memes about Jesus. I never minded that though. She was the sweetest person, and I will miss her sense of eternal optimism.

When she passed the week before Thanksgiving, it was a shock, especially since I found out on social media. Sadly, that is how we announce tragic news these days. If you're lucky, someone might include you on a group text in advance. Which is how I found out about my girlfriend--no less shocking, even though I had been prepared to face the unimaginable with a 9th hour flu shot and a summons to her bedside while she was still conscious.

I am NOT okay. I have played the straight woman for days, stoically relating the news because doing so while bawling my eyes out seems unnecessarily dramatic. I hadn't allowed myself to cry because Black women know better...our tears don't influence judges, juries, police officers, public opinion polls, or Senate committee members. So we save them for the shower or for church when someone gets the spirit.

Instead, we indulge in destructive personal behaviors like emotional eating, solitary drinking, not talking, and excessive spending. Therefore, at this, the worst time of year, I am guilty of all four. I had ice cream earlier, and I just finished off a bag of chips. I am drinking whisky by myself while my family sleeps, and I don't know how much I spent on Christmas presents. I don't want to talk to anybody about how I feel, even though I know that I should. And for added TMI, I haven't showered. I'm sleeping too much. My solution for trying to find some form of consolation is to write a rambling piece about my grieving process, such as it is.

I am not okay. I am thinking about my cousin, whom I just lost last month and I am trying to wrap my head around what that means. What does it mean to lose someone who has known you since the day you were born, someone to whom you promised to post a picture of from your parents' hippie Afro-centric wedding but never got the chance to do so because you assumed that you had tomorrow...until you didn't. What does it mean to visit your friend on her deathbed, knowing the ultimate outcome of her situation, but not believing it because you just cannot bring yourself to accept the truth? What does it mean to have plans in your head to make sure that she wouldn't be alone for Christmas, then to learn that you were too late?

I will pull my shit together eventually, but right now, I AM NOT OKAY.

Yet, I am fortified by the faith that my grandmothers sang about from the old-school mourners bench and those never-ending prayer circles. My hope is built on nothing less. My all is on the altar. For every mountain, I will lift up mine eyes and shake myself out of this (sleep it off). I will reach out to my cousin's siblings and find the words that I have been searching for and maybe those will be comforting or incredibly awkward enough to be hilarious so that no one walks away feeling some kind of way. I will do whatever task I am given to honor my girl, because she was my sister, and not just someone I've known since I used to look up to her when we were kids. This ain't nothing more than I can bear.

But more importantly, I will tackle my undone or incomplete projects, not only because tomorrow is not promised, but because I don't want the world to know how messy I really am unless I have no other choice (that is my vanity expressed through my tipsiness). I got a world to conquer in this next decade. I am not sad about whatever I didn't get to do in the 20-aught-teens, because I accept those were the choices I made, and in some cases the cards I was dealt. Everything in its season...so whether it is more traveling, cleaning my house, raising this headstrong girl-child, drinking more water/eating more salad, or really seeing this Busy Black Woman project become a profitable business venture, I pray that I am blessed with more time.

This is it y'all. My cousin's gift was singing, which she got to do in different parts of the world. My girl's gift was being a badass and brilliant and bossy (I've got stories). But we've only been given a lifetime to share ourselves with the world, so what are YOU waiting for?

Kiss Lizzo's Fat Azz

Now that I have your attention, let's talk about the subject that set the Twitters all ablaze this week. Lizzo went to an L.A. Lakers game and caused quite a stir with her outfit. (She also was named TIME Magazine's Entertainer of the Year, but we'll address that later.)

Some of you didn't like it seeing her booty out, so you shared that displeasure with the world via social media. Then others of you felt the need to call out that first group for fat-shaming, which they denied, so then the rest of the day was spent thinking out load about fatness, Blackness, and loudness in public spaces... instead of the topic du jour (which is what Nancy Pelosi really had for lunch).

So let's discuss this in a civil manner: Should Lizzo have gone to the game wearing an outfit that exposed her buttocks? Should she have been more sensitive to the presence of children in attendance? Should she have brought some kind of cover-up to protect the seat from her butt sweat? Should she have performed a more tasteful adagio instead of twerking when her song came on? Should she give a flying fig about what any of us think?

Lizzo is gonna do Lizzo whether that is at a Lakers game or giving a Tiny Desk Concert at NPR or walking the red carpet carrying an expensive coin purse to hold the precise number of fux she should give about our opinions. This is the same woman who posed like this for her album cover:

Shoot, she was over-dressed for that NPR performance, given that the only dress code for public radio is whatever the hell is clean and doesn't need much ironing (just like college) since no one but the doorman is going to remember anyway. So why would anyone expect her to wear jeans and a tee shirt to a basketball game?

There were kids present. Yes, but that's not much of a concern when the Laker Girls hit the floor, or is that NOT an ass-cheek I see peeking out from under that teeny-weeny skort?

You don't see Rihanna dressed like that at a game. No, you tend to see folks dressed like Spike Lee at these games. On the other hand, we have seen RiRi dressed in as little or less than Lizzo and nobody ever has time to blog about that...

What about her bare ass on that dirty seat (or is it her dirty ass on that uncovered seat)?

Of course she was doing the most. But as I have come to suspect that Lizzo is as much performance artist as she is a performer, this stunt ranks up there with Lady Gaga's drunken panty raid at the Yankees' clubhouse back in 2010. Whenever a celebrity is going out to be seen at a public event, the point is for them to be seen. We are supposed to see them get escorted to their floor seats. We are supposed to wonder who the people are seated near them. We are supposed to notice what they are or aren't wearing. Appropriateness is not really the point.

But let's pivot to the subject of fat-shaming and how predictable it is to denounce it publicly even as we privately talk shit about people's weight, how they look in their clothes, or try to make polite excuses about our discomfort. Last month we were cheering Lizzo on for being so bold and brash and unbothered. This summer she performed on stage in prime-time at the VMAs with an inflatable ass in a thong (backed up by several dancers dressed leggings with the butt cheeks cut out). I don't know if this backlash means that the novelty has worn off, but it does suggest that we aren't quite as evolved as we claim to be about body positivity.

Thus, I will start by addressing my own hypocrisy. I have laughed at fat jokes, especially when the fat person is telling the joke and playing the clown. But it is wrong, and I cringe whenever I think back on my own casual cruelty. In the moment, however, it felt more like a reprieve from my own insecurities--for being too smart, too weird, too tall, too high yellow, too whatever made me vulnerable to ridicule. To the extent that Lizzo became our unapologetic heroine and role model of imperfection, we were here for it. Until we weren't. We're uncomfortable with Lizzo prancing around like some skinny hot chick because fat people are not supposed to feel good about themselves--we want them to make us feel good about ourselves.

So cut the crap, because Lizzo has been showing her ass all year. Listen to this interview she gave to Terry Gross (which I heard in real time when it aired) and tell me if this sounds like someone who isn't deliberately attempting to prove a point. No different than what Megan Thee Stallion or Normani have been doing this year, and I can't imagine that they would face the same level of criticism (because they wouldn't). And if you sit through the entire 8-minute response she posted on her Instagram (ignore the headline), trust she ain't crying from humiliation. She did what she did and I'm not mad at her.

50 Years of Sunny Days

Note: I began working on this piece last month when the 50th Anniversary special aired, but I got busy with a few other projects and had planned to return to it before the end of the year. Sadly, the death of puppeteer Caroll Spinney is what prompted me to finish it today. This piece will serve as an appreciation of his wonderful work as well as my nostalgic homage to the show. Enjoy.

We watched the Sesame Street 50th Anniversary special last month and I will just confess up front that at first, I was WAY more excited than the Kid. Of course, she was into it for all of the characters that she loves, but was unfazed by my random call outs and tweets at seeing favorite veteran Muppets and humans until a certain frog appeared:

The highlight of the night came when I tweeted this picture to Holly Robinson Peete and she responded! After the Kid watched the special again the following weekend, she has been a tad obsessed: watching the new season and learning the new songs; forcing us to listen to their version of kid songs in the car to and from school; and binging classic clips on YouTube. She re-enacted this memorable cartoon by going to our refrigerator to 'buy' a loaf of bread, a container of milk, and a stick of butter. (She has also been hovering over me as I try to write this because she likes to see Kermit dance.)

In case it wasn't clear by now, I LOVE Sesame Street. I grew up watching it on PBS along with The Electric Company and Mr. Roger's Neighborhood in a dedicated block of weekday morning programming. Even after I outgrew the show, I found reasons to watch it until I went away to college. If you wanted to ruin my day, preempt any one of those shows for a pledge drive. Another way was to be at someone's house with a poor UHF signal or whose parents weren't into public television.

There is so much to say about this beloved show, so many wonderful memories to share, and then there is the bittersweet realization that with the show reaching its 50th season, many of the people who helped to bring the magic all of these years are passing on. The most painful indicator of this fact came with the death of Caroll Spinney, the puppeteer who brought Big Bird and Oscar the Grouch to life.

When I received that news, my heart sank...then it burst. My initial reaction was sadness because we had just seen Spinney in the Celebration special. I know that he had retired but it was not clear until I saw him in a wheelchair, just how physically demanding it had been for him to portray Big Bird for all of these years. (Please, take the time to watch this fascinating documentary about his career and keep the tissues handy.) He had developed a condition called dystonia which I can only imagine was exacerbated by the decades he spent in that costume. However, my sadness melted away when I reflected on the fact that his life's joy had been this work, so on the same day that the show was honored by the Kennedy Center, it was fitting that he slipped away to where the air is sweet.

The Hub and I have differing opinions about the value of nostalgia. He isn't all that contemplative about the past while I am clearly game to revisit memories of my youth whenever the spirit hits. I had been waiting all year for some kind of spectacular salute to the show that literally has touched millions of children around the globe. I expected more than an hour of blink-and-you-missed-it cameos and walk-ons. I wanted to see the now-grown children who actually appeared on the show (no offense to Joseph-Gordon Levitt, but I checked his IMDb). I wanted an In Memorium segment like the award shows. I would have even settled for an imaginative behind-the-Muppets spoof (it would have been great to reveal some of the 'real' personalities of certain lesser characters like the angry blue restaurant patron).

I wanted more, but that has been my lament since the show moved to HBO. I love the old Sesame Street; I appreciate aspects of its current incarnation. While the move to HBO makes fiscal sense, it has resulted in a dialing back on the educational content in favor of more entertainment. Sure, kids still can get the basics, but there was a lot more substance to the show when it was an hour long. I get that there is a lot more competition in children's programming and a limited window of time to make lasting impressions on young viewers, but I'm not sure that it has been wise to rely more on non-human characters to illustrate very human problems and situations.

Take death, for example. I was a kid when Will Lee, the actor who portrayed Mr. Hooper, died. I had a vague understanding of what death meant at the time, but it was definitely much clearer when the show took the time to explain it. Ironically, it was this unforgettable segment with Big Bird engaged in a discussion with the humans who calmly and deliberately take the time to explain the concept to him. It is hard to look at that clip and not get a little dust in the eye, especially in light of Spinney's death. The actors who portrayed David (Northern Calloway) and Olivia (Alaina Reed) are also deceased, and all of the other now-older humans apparently moved off the street (presumably into a retirement home somewhere up-state).

And I guess that's why the Hub will shrug if when he reads this because change is inevitable. The Kid loves Sesame Street exactly as it is. She has no idea that there once was a time when there was only one female Muppet that was not a fairy named Abby or when everyone thought Snuffleupagus was imaginary. It is possible that her sensitivity to other children was made possible by Julia, the Muppet depicted with autism. In her world, no one debates the living arrangements or the sexual orientation of Bert and Ernie. She probably won't even notice that Big Bird sounds different.

No, it's not her Busy Black Mama's Sesame Street, but that is a good thing. This is her childhood, and hopefully she will be able to share her love for this show with her children some day. In order to remain relevant, the show has had to evolve to appeal to its core audience. Just like the retired cast of humans, some of those old Muppets like Herry Monster, Sherlock Hemlock, and Roosevelt Franklin moved into the Furchester Estates (storage) to make way for Rudy, Gonger, and Segi. As much as we love the typewriter guy and the pinball machine 2-D animated segments, we can't expect for kids born in this century to understand those references. If they get lost, they know how to use GPS. Yet, the very technology that necessitated changes to the format and pacing of the show are what keep it alive and appealing to both of us--so thank you HBO, YouTube, streaming on demand, and digital music downloads.

And thanks again to Caroll Spinney. It will be emotional for me to watch the new season knowing that my Big Bird is gone. But it is heartening to know that to my daughter, who happens to prefer Oscar, his beloved characters will live on.

Stale Wonder Bread

For the past few days, I have been thinking of an analogy to help me describe my frustration with mediocrity offered up as imperial, moral, physical, and intellectual superiority. And suddenly, I had a random recollection of the local Wonder Bread factory and how as a child, my parents refused to let us eat it.

Most of you know that my parents were righteous hippies, so along with our African names and inner city sensibilities, it should not surprise you to learn that even their food choices were radical. We ate yogurt and granola and wheat germ and carob and my Dad had a vegetable garden at some point. My Mom had a philosophical opposition to processed foods, so we never had Spaghetti-ohs, American cheese, margarine, Spam, baloney, cakes or brownies made from a box, or sugary cereal. Most importantly, my parents were big on wheat bread, which meant no one EVER wanted to trade sandwiches with me at lunch. And when you are already considered to be the weird kid...

Of course I thought I was missing out until I actually tried Wonder Bread. It was terrible. It was mushy and bland. Anything that was spread on it soaked through and altered its texture and color. You could literally roll it into a ball and it would keep that form. But I thought I liked it because everyone else did. Yet, whenever I was given the choice, I never opted for white bread.

Wonder Bread is the edible embodiment of mediocrity. It is basic and boring. Because sliced bread was once thought of as innovative and extraordinary, on the spectrum of bread offerings, Wonder Bread is merely more convenient and cheap.

Sean Spicer is Wonder Bread. I have never been a fan of Dancing with the Stars, primarily because it is the 21st Century equivalent of Circus of the Stars, but the twist is that this show resorts to bland stunt-casting to maintain interest. Why else would anyone care if former Rep. Tom DeLay, Bristol Palin, Tucker Carlson, Geraldo Rivera, or Rick Perry can dance when we know better? First of all, and I mean this in all caps: THEY ARE NOT STARS. Second, because no one expects any of them to be truly competitive, the network just wants people to tune in to see how long they can keep the gag going. And third, ridiculing their lack of talent feeds the narrative of liberal elitism, even though plenty of non-political hacks have appeared on the show and have been just as terrible.

Mayor Pete Buttigieg is Wonder Bread. And that's why he is suddenly surging in the polls in Iowa despite the fact that he is the least dynamic person running for President, ever (and that includes John Delaney). You can tout all of his accomplishments and proclaim that he is perfectly qualified to be the nominee, but that is only because he reminds a lot of these folks of when their eldest son ran for student government president. For what it's worth, Sen. Amy Klobuchar should also be gaining traction since they are cut from the same bland loaf, but apparently she's Sunbeam Bread...

Kate Middleton and Prince William are Wonder Bread. Yeah, I said it.

There are a bunch of Wonder Bread celebrities who garner lots of attention in the tabloids for doing mundane shit like venturing out sans makeup to walk their dogs, and then bravely buying pumpkin spice lattes in public just like us, and I just don't get it.

FOX News is Wonder Bread. Every person nominated or appointed to serve in this Regime is Wonder Bread. The Federalist Society and the NRA are Wonder Bread. Hosting weddings on plantations is Wonder Bread. The NFL owners are Wonder Bread. Until Lil Nas X, country music was Wonder Bread. Chick-fil-A is Wonder Bread. Nostalgia for the 50s (and certain aspects of the 80s) is Wonder Bread. Gentrification is Wonder Bread topped with avocado.

In a world full of almost unlimited bread options, it makes no sense to designate Wonder Bread as the default loaf of choice. There's sourdough, pumpernickel, rye, whole wheat, multigrain, potato, pita, challa, corn bread, buttermilk biscuits, croissants, baguettes, bagels, focaccia, naan, roti, pretzel, tortilla and so many more options that are too numerous to name. Of course, there is nothing wrong with sticking with what is most familiar, but it kinda defeats part of the reason of why y'all went around colonizing the world in the first place.

It defies logic to presume the superiority of Wonder Bread simply because it once occupied more shelf space in the supermarket. Wonder Bread wasn't better than any of the aforementioned varieties of bread--it just had a bigger marketing budget. It could exaggerate its nutritional value, hire high-profile spokes-puppets to promote it, and make bogus comparisons of its benefits. And because some people have convinced themselves that their nostalgia for the good old days of their youth trumps the reality more marginalized people endured, Wonder Bread has simply re-packaged the same bland, tasteless, squishy fluff.

In case you missed my point, we do not have to settle for more of the same intolerable stuff that we outgrew so long ago. Our palates, preferences, and politics have evolved. There is a bread basket full of options--you don't have to like them all, but it won't kill you to taste and see.

Retro Black Sitcoms

An ongoing theme for the blog this year has been nostalgia and as we approach the last few weeks of the year, I figured I would keep that going with a piece that I first hinted at writing this summer. You may recall that I uncovered a clip from Charlie & Co., which was a short-lived family sitcom that starred R&B Diva Gladys Knight. Finding that clip got me to thinking about a few other shows that I vaguely remembered, which of course led me down quite a fascinating Memory Lane...

Clearly, I watched a LOT of television which explains why I am a repository of random pop culture trivia. Whenever we think of classic Black sitcoms, we revisit the same handful of shows that happen to stay in regular syndicated rotation, such as Sanford and Son, Good Times, and The Jeffersons (which all happen to have been produced by Norman Lear). However, there are many more shows that made it onto the small screen, even if for a brief moment. As you look through these clips, you might be surprised to see several familiar faces before they achieved mainstream success. And if we're lucky, maybe one year TVOne, Aspire, or some other retro TV network will acquire the rights to air a marathon of one or more of these shows so that we can have a more diverse pool of reruns upon which to binge.

That's My Mama (1974)
The Hub did not believe this was a real show--he thought it was a joke based on the reference made to it in at the Black Awareness rally scene in Coming to America. So imagine his amazement when it aired for a brief time back in the early days of TV One (and FWIW, there was no 'Joe the cop' or a 'What's Going Down' episode). Growing up, this was the other Black Mama show (What's Happening is better known) and my random trivia is that both Theresa Merritt and Mabel King appeared in The Wiz.

Baby I'm Back (1977)
I did not remember the premise of this show, which was probably a good thing considering...this was definitely not the kind of show that would get a hard pass in today's contentious social media climate. Even in the late 70s, this seems like the type of show that would have garnered protests for promoting negative images of Black fatherhood. On the bright side, there are several familiar faces that reappear in subsequent sitcoms, including a very young and clearly gifted Kim Fields. Demond Wilson would star in a remake of the Odd Couple that also lasted for about 13 episodes, Helen Martin would return to sit in the window at 227,  and Denise Nichols would also continue to appear in various projects through the years.

Getting to Know Me (1980)
I am SO glad to have finally found a clip of this show on YouTube! This aired one summer on PBS, and I remember watching it with my Mom. Seeing this entire episode after all of these years made me emotional for so many reasons. Let's start with how that theme song has been in my head for nearly 40 years, and then how I just assumed that this show was lost forever somewhere in a dusty library archive. In hindsight, it makes sense that it only lasted one season and that it aired on PBS given the times, but this needs to be restored and made available at the Blacksonian or for a February programming binge. Priceless!

He's the Mayor (1986)
What I remember about this show at the time was how it seemed like such a ground-breaking concept despite the fact that there were Black mayors in several major US cities in the mid-80s. Even Chicago had elected Harold Washington as its first Black mayor, although it would take few years for New York City. Perhaps it was Kevin Hooks' youth and maybe the fact that while plenty of Black people were used to the idea of a Black mayor, this would have been a definite cultural shock outside of a Chocolate City. Even though it only lasted half a season, this show clearly provided some inspiration for The Distinguished Gentleman (1992) and Head of State (2003).

Charlie & Co. (1985)
This show attempted to clone the success of The Cosby Show, which was on a rival network. It didn't work for a variety of reasons. They seemed to be a nice enough family, so maybe on another network in a Friday night lineup of other bland shows it might have worked better. Which is what happened for Jaleel White, who went on to become Steve Urkel (imagine how different his career would have been). And of course it was one of many acting credits for Kristoff St. John, whom we lost earlier this year.

What's Happening Now (1985)
This was one of those syndicated shows that attempted to pick up several years in the future after the end of the first show. And it was terrible, which should provide some context for why nearly every sitcom reboot is a bad idea. However, it did introduce us to a young Martin Lawrence and Regina King's younger sister, Reina (just the type of random factoid that would win on Black Jeopardy).

Frank's Place (1987)
In the list of great Black sitcoms, this show is always mentioned in high regard. Unfortunately, I did not watch it regularly enough to know that on my own (which might explain why I was so ill-prepared for my transition from Atlanta to New Orleans). Nevertheless, there is a good reason why this show is remembered so fondly and I think that audiences need a better reason to remember Tim Reid and Daphne Maxwell Reid than as corny Ray Campbell (Sister, Sister) and as the second Aunt Viv (Fresh Prince of Bel-Air).

Out All Night (1992)
When I was putting together the R&B Divas playlist, I knew Patti LaBelle had been in a sitcom that I watched, but that it only lasted for about a season. Beyond having up-and-coming talent that included Morris Chestnut, Duane Martin, and Vivica A. Fox, it was generic and forgettable. The younger actors would go on to become big screen stars throughout the decade, and of course Miss Patti would continue to be her larger than life self.

Thea (1993)
If you recognize a young Brandy Norwood before she dropped her last name, released an album, and got her own sitcom, as well as a young Jason Weaver, one of the hardest working teen actors in the 90s, then you might be wondering how you forgot about this show. Well, because sometimes the stars are the kids, and not the eponymous name in the title. My question: what happened to Thea Vidale?

Me and the Boys (1994)
Before all of the kid-friendly sitcoms shifted to Disney and Nickelodeon, there were a few that managed to make it onto the major network schedules, and that would include this show with Steve Harvey. It was cute and might have lasted longer if not for the unfortunate illness and death of co-star Madge Sinclair. Harvey reportedly did not want to continue the show without her, so he got a different show for which he is better remembered.

At some point in the 90s, maybe right in the middle of the decade when new networks were launching, certain programming became more expendable and the landscape of situation comedies also changed. As I mentioned above, most of the shows that were designated as family-friendly migrated from the networks to cable, and Black sitcoms were relegated to the fledgling networks UPN and WB. Then my TV viewing habits changed, so it is quite possible that I missed something notable from early 2000s. I know that streaming services made some shows not mentioned here available to current audiences, such as Smart Guy. And it is possible that some of these shows might air on one of those platforms.

But for those of us who haven't cut the cord and who are not sure what to think about Good Times live (at least it isn't a reboot), a couple of these shows deserve to pinch hit one of these holiday weekends.

BBW Tea Party: Harriet

This piece will contain a few spoilers, so if you have not seen the film, I strongly encourage you to do so unless you have been convinced that it is a waste of time, in which case, I urge you to read this and then reconsider. Please and Thank You.

In the weeks leading up to the release of Harriet, I saw a lot of chatter on Twitter and I am sad to say that I read far too much of it prior to seeing the movie; however, I ignored most of it. It was a good movie, I recommend it, and if you are weighing whether to see it, I implore you to do so as soon as possible!

I sat in a theater that was partially full of senior citizens for a matinee showing, which is not surprising for the middle of the week, but a little disappointing when I think back to not yet two years ago when I first tried to see Black Panther a few days after its release. It was a midweek morning and I specifically chose an out of the way theater, but showings were sold out for the entire week. I lucked up and saw the movie a week later at a multiplex in New York where there were shows every half hour and the theater was still packed with people, many of whom were seeing it for the second or third time. I mention this at the outset not to shame anyone who saw Black Panther multiple times (because that was a great movie), but to point out that this movie should have done better than fourth place this weekend.

I also felt that it was important to reference Black Panther in response to the concerns about Cynthia Erivo being British. Chadwick Boseman is American, and yet I don't recall any misgivings about him taking on the role of an African King. And there weren't any complaints about Boseman's co-stars Angela Bassett, Forest Whitaker, Sterling K. Brown, or Michael B. Jordan, also American actors. Nor a lot grumbling that the Black Panther had been written by an old white guy (the late great Stan Lee). Yeah I know Wakanda is a fictional place, but it was purported to exist on a real continent as an independent and thriving utopia that had been unspoiled by colonialism...which goes beyond the realm of fantasy into delusional. Not a word or a whiff of outrage.

I read a few of Cynthia Erivo's past tweets and yeah, a whole lot of y'all say problematic shit on Twitter. That doesn't excuse her statements, and she deserves the appropriate dragging. And maybe there was another American actress who could have filled that role, but it isn't as if British and American actors don't ever cross the pond and switch places. Meryl Streep was Margaret Thatcher. Sir Anthony Hopkins was Hannibal Lector. Idris Elba was Stringer Bell. Renee Zellweger was Bridget Jones. Naomie Harris is currently an American cop in Black and Blue. And do you know why we rarely notice? Because they are actors and that is their job.

But since we are apparently keeping score, Black Brits have been getting a lot of American roles lately so be sure to boycott the next film or favorite project that stars Lupita Nyong'o (Us), Daniel Kaluuya (Get Out), Gugu Mbatha-Raw (A Wrinkle In Time), John Boyega (Star Wars), Chiwetel Ojiofor (The Lion King), Thandie Newton (Westworld), David Oyelowo (Don't Let Go), and Carmen Ejogo (True Detective). Remember, those are roles that could have gone to Americans, so let's stay righteously mad Every Single Time. And why stop with Black Brits when there are Black actors throughout the diaspora who are infringing on the rights of American-born actors: Winston Duke and Lorraine Toussaint (Trinidad and Tobago), Letitia Wright (Guyana), Sidney Poitier (Bahamas), Grace Jones and Sheryl Lee Ralph (Jamaica), Danai Gurira (via Zimbabwe), Uzo Aduba (via Nigeria), Tatyana Ali (via Panama and Trinidad and Tobago), Laz Alonso (via Cuba), and Harry Belafonte (via Jamaica).

America First! Send them back! Build the Wall! That's how you sound.

As for Erivo's performance, she was excellent! Leslie Odom, Janelle Monae, Vanessa Bell Calloway, Clarke Peters, Vondie Curtis-Hall, Daphne Maxwell Reid, and my line sister (I saw you girl :) also gave noteworthy performances. I am unfamiliar with the other white actors, and their presence on screen was one of the weaknesses of the movie. White actors in these historic pieces can either come off as cartoons or ciphers if not used adequately, and unfortunately the performances of Joe Alwyn and Jennifer Nettles fell short of the brilliance we experienced with Michael Fassbender and Sarah Paulson in Twelve Years A Slave. But, I also recognize the desire to elevate this narrative above the condition of enslavement, so it was an interesting creative choice to marginalize the white characters.

Which is why the rumors of a white savior was such a reach. Mind you, there are benevolent white people in this movie, because there were white abolitionists, who sheltered runaways, provided them with food, clothing, and safe passage. Not to be confused with the slaveowners, overseers, and bounty hunters...so yes, there are depictions of good white people because that's how the Underground Railroad worked. Additionally, there is no need for all of this ruckus over the existence of a Black bounty hunter. Don't be that naive and willfully ignorant. Some enslaved people did not leave the plantations; others found the means to survive the best way they could. In a biopic, creative license is what makes the narrative interesting and engaging. If you prefer the straight-forward factual story, then watch a documentary or go to the Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad National Historic Park. Otherwise, I need more of you to learn your history from reading books, not an #ADOS twitter/instagram rant.

Or you can revisit one of the previous movies made about Tubman's life. I was recently reminded of this gem that I saw back when I was in elementary school. Thanks to inclement weather, indoor recess, and what passed for being 'woke' in the late 70s and 80s, I had the memory of these stellar performances by Ruby Dee and Cicely Tyson. The current movie dramatizes Tubman's life, which is what a biopic does.

Thus, I really appreciated the treatment of John Tubman's story because it offered a perspective on the complexities and tensions on marriages between free and enslaved people. Instead of the commonly accepted story that her husband was a scared man who did not support his wife's desire for freedom, we get a sympathetic portrayal of a man who sought it for her. His choice to move on was presented as practical, not out of spite or from a lack of love for a woman he never thought he would see again. I also appreciated the nod to the earlier films where Harriet's parents would not look at her in order to truthfully say that they had not seen her. It highlighted another emotionally challenging component of relationships among enslaved people--the illusive structure of enslaved families and the extraordinary effort she undertook to reunite hers.

There were a few scenes that I thought were gratuitous and unnecessary, but nothing egregious. The greatest flaw was an omission, so I agree with the criticism that Tubman's later work as a Union Army spy got the footnote treatment. That is the one aspect of her life story that most people know the least about. The Combahee River Raid, which is referenced in Glory (one of my favorite movies), would not have been successful without Tubman's leadership. Yet, it isn't included in Ken Burns' Civil War series either, so that might also reflect a lack of serious historical scholarship on the vital role of women and enslaved people in the war.

I have had some time to reflect on the sexist nature of the backlash, fueled at least in part by the ashier elements on Black Twitter. These are the same dudes who never pass up an opportunity to bash Black women whether it is Oprah, Kamala Harris, victims of sexual assault, and now a film about a real-life American shero directed by a Black woman. I expect conservative movie reviewers to dismiss the film as ideologically driven because they regard any critical examination of slavery as revisionism. But when there are Black people denouncing as trash a movie that they haven't seen (or when they have an obvious agenda in disparaging it), then that is the exact opposite of wokeness.

We're boycotting because Comcast is the distributor and look at their role in the Byron Allen case. The same Byron Allen who calls himself a protege of Rupert Murdoch and works in partnership with Sinclair Broadcast Group. Did he call for the boycott of this movie because he plans to produce an alternative on the Weather Channel?

We're boycotting this film because we're tired of seeing slave movies. In the same year that we commemorate 400 years of the African introduction to this continent in bondage, we are ashamed of the condition that was imposed on our ancestors? Y'all better stop listening to Kanye West...

You ain't woke if you would rather see another stale installment of The Terminator franchise, but at the very least that would be honest. I am not saying that Harriet is the best film or that it doesn't have shortcomings. But we have flocked to the theaters to see all kinds of movies, even Kevin Hart movies, so surely this is better than Night School. At the very least, see it and judge for yourself.

Double Down

I had not paid close enough attention to the scandal that engulfed the promising career of former California Congresswoman Katie Hill until I saw this political ad for one of the local State Senate races in Virginia. The ad exploits the circumstances of the sexual assault allegations that have dogged embattled current Virginia Lieutenant Governor Justin Fairfax. As I was doing the research to find that link, I learned that similar content is being used against another candidate in another part of the state.

For what it is worth, I have already shared my concerns about the allegations brought against Fairfax, but that was eight months ago. Since then, another accuser came forward and for that along with various other reasons, my feelings about his political future are no longer as wishy-washy. He needs to go. He comes from a well-connected family, has a good private-sector job, and in the best interest of everyone involved, stepping away from the limelight spares us the agony of watching him transformed into a modern-day Willie Horton. It makes me sad, BUT not sad enough to acquiesce to the suggestion that the good he could have done in public office could not be accomplished by someone else.

In that same vein, it's outrageous that the accounts of his two accusers have become part of a cynical political narrative intended to disillusion voters. One candidate even bolstered the impact of the ads with mailers that allude to the allegations, but that feature someone else's image, which I find both disturbing and deeply offensive. Mind you, Justin Fairfax isn't even on the ballot and I am pretty sure that these women did not consent to use of their image in this way. And I am also 1000% sure that neither of the campaigns that produced these ads give one whiff about what these women endured by coming forward. Just ask Christine Blasey Ford.

Someone famously quipped that politics ain't beanbag; for women it can be dodgeball with live grenades. From what I have observed throughout my life, but definitely in the last three years, women are the collateral damage in most political scandals.

Consider the scrutiny that accompanies the wives of political office seekers. The traditional role of a political spouse was that of a smiling, well-coifed homemaker. Then along came modern women with their own opinions such as Hillary Clinton and Teresa Heinz, who when pitted against the likes of Cindy McCain and Laura Bush, were regarded as liabilities. It is a perverted Mrs. America Pageant, especially for FLOTUS, where every aspect of a contestant's life is dissected and mounted for public display. Not even the useless Melania Antoinette evaded being slut-shamed for having taken nude pictures in her past (yet, somehow that worked in her husband's favor).

Women who pursue candidacies of their own face a Ms. Congeniality competition that pits appearance against intellect and ideology. Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is a popular conservative target, not because she is a ballsy millennial upstart, but because she is young, attractive, and smart. Her detractors get a lot more mileage from mocking her alleged intellectual deficiencies than they would by going up against fellow freshman Congresswoman Katie Porter (even in this Batgirl costume). Liberals had our fun back when Sarah Palin and Michelle Bachmann were trending, so the ridicule cuts both ways. And if we aren't directly disparaging a woman's looks, then the next line of attack is her age which is also a sideways insult on her appearance, so there's that.

And if we aren't attacking or maligning or deriding the women who are married to power or who are seeking it for themselves, then our issues are political fodder. Abortion might be the most explosive and polarizing, but pay equity, family leave, public benefits, minimum wage, and healthcare fall under that umbrella of kitchen table issues used to describe and then dismiss domestic policy that disproportionately impact women. Every policy change debated in that space turns on the financial impact to employers or taxpayers, which is just another way of saying that we give lip service to equality and fairness but we don't want to pay for it.

All of this makes the rapid rise and fall of Katie Hill so perfect for the Lifetime movie treatment. She hadn't even finished a full year of her term before she self-destructed. Her hasty departure could have been the stuff of another Helen Fielding sequel--Bridget Jones Goes to Parliament or perhaps we should go back and watch The Contender.

The problem I have with her resignation isn't that it happened, but that she won't get any credit for sparing us the tawdry details of her private life. While I agree that she was subjected to a double standard (because men have been accused of much worse and managed to hold on), she went down for more dubious reasons. Instead of being the purpose-driven, dutiful wife caught up in a love triangle with a philandering husband in a long-distance commuter marriage, she was the sexy siren who was seducing her staff to join in their threesomes. By proclaiming her bisexuality as part of her political biography, she left her blinds wide open.

Of course her untimely resignation seems unfair. Of course the very idea of a sex scandal that takes down a female elected official is so on brand for the bizarro world in which we live (because it requires a lot more hubris to take out a male politician). Of course the revenge porn allegation has merit, because the outlets that published her nude photos were partisan. Of course her once promising political career is done even though one would have thought the same thing about the dude who sent dick pics to underage girls. Of course she was sacrificed on the altar of political expediency because Mama Pelosi doesn't have the bandwidth to protect a reckless freshman who can't keep her slip from hanging.

Whether we are the reluctant protagonists of a negative ad campaign; the wives who are paraded as props for political advantage (Madonna and whore); the candidates who smile past the insults and belittling by pundits; advocates for issues that are deferred as expendable; or the rising star that suddenly goes supernova, life ain't been fair for women since Adam blamed his downfall on Eve.

Our only recourse is to press on in spite of the double standards. And to close the blinds.

PS: Those ads didn't appear to have worked in Virginia this time.

BBW Tea Party: Sweep the Leg

Last weekend, I was in bed with some advanced mutation of this cold that been dogging me since the Kid went back to school, so I had time to catch up on a few old movies. I watched When Harry Met Sally again and yes, it is still the gold standard for romantic comedies. I also watched Soul Food again, and yes I stand by my declaration that it is a bad Black movie (not the worst, but still no good). And I had a chance to watch The Karate Kid (the 1984 original) and noticed quite a few things that I missed the first 100 or times I watched it previously.

For example, I didn't notice that the set up for this movie--a single Mom and her adolescent son moving across country is similar to the premise for Alice, the sitcom. I also didn't know that show had been based on the movie, Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore. (And for what it's worth, I cannot explain why this was all so fascinating...)

Nevertheless, the reason why Daniel LaRusso ends up in California is less important than what happens to him, which is the real story. He makes a friend, but we quickly realize that he is not to be Daniel's real friend (since no one else would let his boy get his ass beat in front of a girl by a bunch of surfer dudes). Hence the May-December/East-meets-West bromance with Mr. Miyagi. Of course, this movie is terrible in every 80s way imaginable (movie soundtrack notwithstanding), but we loved it because it is a classic underdog story that just happened to indulge our interest in martial arts.

I didn't think that was much more to notice about this movie, other than the faint nod to West Side Story, but then I got to the big tournament at the end and something struck me. It has become a familiar sight these last few years:

More specifically, if you were to zoom into this scene:

Which provides a partial answer to one of the most willfully naive questions I often see posed on social media: who are these people? Well, if you look close enough, you might note their resemblance to these folks:

Who, as it turns out, are really not that much different than these folks:

And I know that for some who tried to make the moral equivalency argument that these folks weren't much better:

I beg to differ. Because to begrudgingly accept the free speech/assembly rights of one group while denouncing as un-American the incivility of another group is arguably more offensive and distasteful in my eyes. I digress...

When I first considered all of this, it was in response to the erroneous presumption that the support for this DESPOTUS and his policies were some kind of aberration. Well, they ain't. Throughout our history, large groups of people have proudly chosen to be on the wrong side of it. Some Americans were ardent British loyalists, Confederates, fascists, racists, and folks who voted for Ralph Nader. I'm sure that none of them believed that they were wrong at the time. Or perhaps they did know, which brings us back to the lesson of The Karate Kid.

Kreese, the sensei of the Cobra Kai, was clearly that dude who thought he should have been the shit after high school, but for whatever reason, he flamed out. So he channeled that bitterness and resentment into ventures that allowed him to remain the same tool he had always been--the kind that people only interacted with by choice. And he figured out that being an unrepentant jerk came with certain advantages, such as cult-leader status among other like-minded assholes. (Describe anyone else we might know?)

Thus, the kids who chose to follow him did so because his ex-Hollywood stuntman bravado enabled them to terrorize others. Hardly a bunch of disaffected outsiders, these spoiled rich boys were already atop the social food chain, but that was not enough. Why else would a bunch of guys from Malibu go out of their way to pick on a kid from the Valley? Because the Cobra Kai were the angry mobs that burned down the Greenwood District in Tulsa, Oklahoma. They were the crowd that stood with Gov. George Wallace when he blocked the door to the University of Alabama in 1963. They were the Wall Street bankers who crashed the economy in 2008. They were the school officials who threatened parents with unpaid lunch balances. They don't lose any sleep over children sleeping in cages.

No mercy. Sweep the leg.

So instead of scratching our heads about what motivates their sadism, let's just stay in the fight. I noted a lot of allusions to Rocky, so go the distance. Focus. Find your balance. Put in the work. Stop complaining. Seek the wisdom of the elders who have experience and learn from them. Don't ever assume that a win in one tournament is a knockout that permanently ends the fight (as there is a new show about the next generation of Cobra Kai on YouTube right now). Much like sitting through the third movie, expending time and energy on appealing to their better angels is pointless because they are trash. Finally, in the words of Mr. Miyagi:

It's okay to lose to [an] opponent. It's never okay to lose to fear.

HBCU Just Give: Love Thy Neighbor

It was Homecoming at the Mecca this weekend, and for half a  minute I considered making an appearance on the Yard...because for the umpteenth time, I probably won't make it down to Atlanta to my own Homecoming festivities in two weeks. When I say that it lasted for about 30 seconds, that is an exaggeration, because that would be 29 seconds too long. But y'all know that I'm kidding because I love all HBCUs.

And that is not an exaggeration. I LOVE ALL HBCUs. So it irritates my SOUL when fellow HBCU alumni post booshay like this on their social media. ➨➨➨

I had a hard time deciding whether a response was even necessary, because there are times when it is best just to let others have at it, but then a few other offensive images/posts popped up on my timeline this weekend so I resolved to use this as an opportunity to put my $18.81 on the table. It also gave me an opening to re-introduce a project that I have been working on since the summer, which is the official re-launch of #HBCUJustGive.

It was just a few weeks ago that a friend sent me a rather upsetting article about his beloved Dear Old Morehouse. Then this local news segment was posted in our FB group, accompanied by various questions and then some earnest discussion about how we, as alumni, can intercede to make a difference. The announcement and celebration of Oprah's $13 million came a week later; yet, there was no announcement regarding a suspension of the furlough. So I'm betting that the cost-saving measures will remain in place because the gift from Oprah is restricted. For anyone who needs some translation, Morehouse still has to do some belt-tightening in order to make it through the 2019-2020 school year. Oprah's gift will benefit the students who are enrolled in the scholarship program that bears her name, but it won't pay salaries or keep the lights on in the dorms.

Allow me to break this down a little more for those who aren't understanding this--even Morehouse has financial woes. I don't know all of the details, but knowing that one of the most recognized HBCUs has to furlough employees means that times are hard for Every Blessed One of our schools. Perhaps then, our energy is better spent on thinking of solutions instead of airing petty grievances.

I have addressed this point in the past, and maybe it's hard to believe coming from a Spelman alumna, but these are the facts: We are not in competition for celebrity donors if there are only a handful who are opening their wallets. We are not in competition for celebrity donors in the age of Operation Varsity Blue when Aunt Becky is bribing the crew coach at USC to save a spot for her insta-famous daughter. We are not in competition for celebrity donors if college-bound athletes don't even bother to visit our campuses. We are not in competition for celebrity donors if we have to accept money from the Koch Foundation. We are not in competition for celebrity donors if we are being encouraged to participate in a PR campaign in order to 'win' a few thousand dollars from Home Depot.

We are in survival mode. Some of us are on life support. And some of us might not make it to the end of the fiscal year.

Just to illustrate this point, take the donations that have been made to HBCUs by none other than Queen Bey herself. She gave $50,000 to be split between Spelman and Howard in 2017, followed by another $100,000 donation in 2018 that got split four ways among Tuskegee (AL), Bethune-Cookman (FL), Wilberforce (OH), and Xavier (LA) Universities. Folks were hyped even though those donations went to scholarships that benefited six students, one at each school for about a semester's worth of support. Mind you, our exuberance was rightfully attached to her highly celebrated Coachella performance, where she paid homage to the HBCU Homecoming experience. Compare those donations to the amount she and Jay might have paid to rent out the Louvre for a music video...

Still hating? Are you mad at those six students, or mad enough at Beyonce not to buy another one of her $200 concert tickets?

And speaking of over-hyped performances, let's discuss Kanye West, who decided to bring his gospel concert pop up to Howard University this weekend. From all accounts, it was well attended and inspiring and uplifting, and as usual, Yeezy courted controversy with a few of his remarks. And it was free, as was the event that was held later in the day at George Washington University across town. I also saw a rumor that West donated $1million to Howard as well, so I shouldn't have a complaint in the world about any of that, right?

Well, except I do. Because operating in survival mode causes us to compromise principles in order to make a few dollars. When we compromise our principles, we accept invitations that we should decline (Talladega at the Inauguration). When we compromise, we extend invitations that are indefensible (Betsey DeVos at Bethune Cookman). When we compromise, we endure unnecessary humiliation (that Howard v. Maryland game). When we compromise, our proud traditions and values become props for someone else's benefit. Of course, Howard's Homecoming might seem like the perfect venue for a sunrise gospel service, and maybe Kanye isn't just a tool of distraction, but as long as he's out here quoting Blexit talking points, that's the headline.

Not that thousands of alumni and their families returned to their alma mater without incident this weekend. Not that Howard just entered into a partnership with Amazon that will provide a pipeline for more opportunities in Hollywood for creative talent. And so far, no confirmation that Kanye gave Howard anything other than a warm up for his show at GW. So instead of pushing Taylor Swift aside, he hijacks Homecoming. But at least his kids were dressed for the occasion.

Howard has been operating in survival mode for some time, selling off external properties such as the divinity school and the hospital. Just this spring, some dude suggested that the university should accommodate his gentrified dog poop or move. But some of y'all would rather be pissed that Howard ended up as the punchline of a Blackish episode. (Yeah, how about you call Kenya Barris out for not mentioning Clark Atlanta University--his own alma mater!)

We've got Black college students at PWIs emulating us to the point that they will claim an HBCU-ish experience, and y'all are mad at them. Instead of engaging in that foolishness, how about we get mad with them about the various microaggressions they endure at those institutions--the very reason why they need to create silly hashtags and why they are posted up at our Homecoming festivities...

As for how this all relates to #HBCUJustGive, my hashtag campaign that encourages All HBCU alumni from Every School to give back to their institutions in Any amount? Well, that's it.

I had grand plans for a splashy big relaunch, but sometimes when things fall apart, it is a sign that you need a plan B. I will spare you the details, but right now I am working through Plan C or D, which will include a new series of articles and profiles that will be released on the blog and social media in the coming weeks. But I am also pleased to see that I am not alone in the effort to increase awareness and support of HBCUs via social media. Great minds think alike, so even if I didn't get to execute my initial idea, it's okay as long as the message is out there. Because we are in survival mode, this isn't about who did what and when and whatnot. Not every blessing comes from a celebrity. Worry about the checks you're writing that keep the lights on at your alma mater. And if you haven't written a check yet...

#HBCUJustGive