Arrogant, Uppity and Not Here to Perform Tricks

Imagine being the kind of person who suggests that a man who expresses somewhat delusional opinions deserves an audience with the sitting Vice President of the United States. And upon being rebuffed in that demand, his decision to back her opponent is thought to be justified because she was too "arrogant, uppity."

Noting that the man with this kind of audacity happens to be the nephew of a former President and until recently, was also one of her opponents in this most extraordinary election year, you might be forgiven in thinking that she at least owed him a return phone call. I mean, getting tapped to take on the biggest role of one's life, maintaining a hectic campaign schedule, having to vet and announce a running mate, and attending a convention to formalize the process in the span of a month is NO EXCUSE for not taking the time to listen to whatever Master Robert Francis Kennedy, Jr. has to say (if you're willing to wait an hour for him to get started, right around the 1:02:30 mark). How dare she?

In choosing not to meet with Master Robert, it appears that Madam VP forfeited her chance at his endorsement. To be clear, he was never going to back her even if she had acceded to his demand, so it would have just been a stunt for the cameras. And she's too smart to be played for a fool by a guy who thinks we're naive enough to believe that story about "finding" Baby Bear on the side of the road (because now we've got a whale of a story to top it). Yeah, looks to me that unlike Trump, Harris dodged an actual bullet...(not saying he wasn't shot at; I'm saying the man was hit in the ear by flying glass from the teleprompter and until he produces a credible medical report that proves he is the luckiest SOB to be nicked by a bullet that should have blown his ear off his face, NO I don't believe the alternative facts version of what happened.)*

I was going to share some of my initial thoughts about RFK, Jr.'s decision to join the dark side on the Busy Black Woman Facebook page, but the spirit has been moving in me of late to get back to writing here in this space. And as the day unfolded, I had more of a chance to absorb some of the reactions to his endorsement of Trump. Then I almost got baited into one of those pointless "debates" on social media over staged rage engagement, so let's just see where this rabbit hole leads. Shall we?

It is not my intent to devote much more time or energy to assessing the unseriousness of Master Robert Francis Kennedy, Jr.; rather, it is my belief that we ought to recognize this entire debacle for what it has and always will be--a con. That man has been wasting our time and playing in our faces ever since he declared his candidacy, and just so that we're clear about this brand of chicanery moving forward, there are a lot of other people on social media who are players at the same games. As I mentioned, I almost took time to provide a detailed response to some random dude on X who challenged me until I was reminded of my own warning against engaging in such foolishness. To sum up, most of these people who post these open-ended, seemingly innocent questions are actually cat-phishers. There is no good faith in their motives, so no need in giving them what they really want, which is attention/engagement. Take a hint from our Madam VP Harris and decline the invitation to meet them, engage with them, or even acknowledge that they exist. Stand your ground, on business and don't sweat being called stupid, arrogant, uppity or any other adjective intended to bait you into a fruitless exercise. 

You know what they say about arguing with a fool.

Last Friday in the afterglow of the DNC, I saw the breaking news announcement that Master Robert would be suspending his campaign and that he would probably be endorsing Trump. This was not much of a surprise as his running mate, Nicole Shanahan all but conceded that was the way forward for the campaign at the beginning of the week. I watched the footage of her statement with some vindication that I KNEW IT ALL ALONG because she seemed more sincere in her resignation to reality than their campaign had been. It's hard to believe anyone ever took either of them seriously--and not just because she is some random tech billionaire who barely beat out Aaron Rodgers for the job. Think about that...she prevailed in a veepstakes pageant between an anti-vax NFL player and former Minnesota Gov. Jesse "The Body" Ventura.

At least she's the prettiest.

Let's stay on the topic of Ms. Shanahan for a bit because I must admit that when I first took a more critical look at Master Robert's campaign earlier this month, I had only glossed over the existence of a running mate as non-consequential. I apologize for that oversight because I'm sure that she could have brought a sense of gravitas and credibility to the effort if they had continued in their quixotic quest. I would have enjoyed seeing her match wits with James David and the Coach because we already know that debate is going to look like an old-school wrestling match. And you know what...Imma stop lying because there is no way I would have appreciated seeing this woman on stage alongside Vance or Walz (and I mean that with respect to both men). Not that I am conceding or acquiescing to any of the arguments often made against a woman's qualifications or credentials for running because technically, there aren't any. I'm just recognizing these unserious PR stunts for what they are, and I am profoundly disappointed that she went along with this farce.

Which brings me back to a few of the issues I wanted to address with respect to Master Robert: his utter lack of seriousness and how it unnecessarily tarnishes his family brand. I am sure that he felt some compulsion to run for President because the weight of expectation to aspire to some elected or political office must have been drilled into every Kennedy man. At 70 years old, Master Robert needed to heed the call or accept his fate as the namesake who never felt compelled to go into the family business. He could have stayed in the private sector as an environmentalist or under different circumstances, he might have scored a cushy ambassadorship somewhere. Perhaps I can't appreciate what it must be like to be perceived as an underachiever or worse...which is why I don't understand why he didn't just continue to do his own thing out of the glare of the world's expectations of him.

I did write this mini post after the family statement was shared that notes how significant it is that his sisters rebuked him so loudly and publicly, and how that's gotta sting. Maybe he doesn't care, but I can only imagine the pain such a drastic choice had to be for them, particularly eldest sister Kathleen. As an eldest sister myself, we look upon our younger siblings as our perpetual charges because that's the role we are born into--watch out for your younger sister(s) and brother(s). My parents must have told me that a thousand times, so still at this age, that is a responsibility I take most seriously. Even when we disagree, my default is to protect them. Therefore, Kathleen Kennedy Townsend's name atop this statement reveals just how truly a heartbreaking moment this is for this family.

The salt in the wound must have been that Madam VP wouldn't make time to meet with him; yet somebody from her campaign had extend an invite to his younger cousin to come speak in primetime on their to-do list. Hence, Master Robert, the eldest Kennedy male with the name and the face, was passed over, again...

By an arrogant, uppity Black woman!

Now, I don't believe in my heart (and I am serious) that her race or gender are what motivated Master Robert to set off a San Andreas fault level rift in his family. Instead, I believe her race and gender are what compelled that slithery Donald Trump to exploit this schism to his advantage. As one entitled rich guy to another, I imagine the constant refrain in their conversation was who does she think she is?

Privilege is one helluva drug and even the most liberal leaning of old money/nouveau riche gazillionaires have been known to question the long-term wisdom of a We The People ethos. The same democracy that touts the ideals of one person one vote stands in direct conflict with the affirmative action of generational wealth that Michelle Obama alluded to in her convention speech. Men like Trump and Master Robert never had to work at McDonald's. They didn't go to college on the GI Bill or Pell Grants, nor did they have to piece together funds from various sources to pay for their advanced degrees. They never had to tailor a resume to apply for any previous jobs, since running for President is the first high-stakes job interview either of them has ever pursued. 

Take a moment to let that sink in. And then it becomes clear why their disdain for Madam VP is so intense. Who does she think she is, not sitting for interviews with the media as if she is Beyonce? Who does she think she is, being handed a nomination without a traditional process? Who does she think she is, filling two arenas with real people at simultaneous rallies during the DNC? Who does she think she is, refusing to kowtow to Trump's proposed debate schedule and preferred format? Who does she think she is, Black or Indian (because she can't be both)?

Every other person who runs for President is motivated by some over-inflated sense of self. And we wonder aloud that same question about traditional third-party candidates. What made Ralph Nader or Lenora Fulani, or makes Jill Stein or Cornel West think they can run this country if they only appeal to a fringe sliver of the electorate? I get that they want to shine a light on issues that won't receive priority attention, but that is a primary election strategy, not one that has yielded much change or reform on the national level. When confronted on the prospect of being spoilers, they typically respond that they don't care about the consequences. Ralph Nader has been particularly vocal, unapologetic, and defiant of late. Once the dust of their pie-in-the-sky Presidential campaigns clears, they aren't pounding the pavement to build momentum in the states for future contests. Therefore, it is fair to assume that the typical third-party bid is an exercise in toxic hubris.

If you need any further proof of that same inclination in Master Robert, look at how his campaign has strategically opted to stay on the ballot in states where it can inflict harm against the Vice President, but has taken steps to be removed in states where he might harm Trump. If he was so concerned about the right of third-party candidates to be treated fairly, he would have thrown some campaign resources behind Jill Stein or Cornel West, both of whom are still attempting to gain ballot access in various states. Why not righteously demand that they also deserve to be heard in debates against the two major party candidates? Why leave them without the funding and infrastructure that they sorely need in order to support Trump, who has the RNC infrastructure and his own personal fortune at his disposal?

Even though Drs. West and Stein are un-redemptive chaos agents (albeit in a more traditional fashion), Master Robert is on another level. He is on par with Kanye West, who launched a spoiler campaign in July 2020 to siphon votes from Joe Biden in service to Donald Trump. Nobody thought Con Yeah Man was serious, but he did succeed in helping to sow seeds of discord in Georgia, setting the stage for what will now be Ground Zero in the second Trump Insurrection. And make no mistake, there will be another violent attempt, and Master Robert just helped to make that prospect a guaranteed certainty. 

For all intents and purposes, Trump is just another third-party narcissist who executed a hostile takeover of the Republican Party in 2016. Bernie Sanders attempted a similar coup with the Democrats twice, but they caught on and foiled his plans. These egomaniacs assume no one is hip to their duplicity, so once exposed by sunlight, they retaliate by gaslighting us. How many times has Trump whined that a process that doesn't advantage him is unfair, even with all of the resources he has to thwart his accusers? What have the Bernie Bros accomplished in the last four to eight years except become louder and more obnoxious? 

Strategically speaking, while the Democratic National Convention was quite the party, Madam VP took to the stage on that final night to let it be known that not only was SHE the effing headliner, but SHE is also a woman all about the business, with no time for suffering fools.  Cognizant of how hard some folks had been working to undermine her for the past three years by second-guessing her intelligence and arguing that she was an albatross around Biden's neck, Harris clearly understands that she only has two months to win or lose. Two months to define and introduce herself to the voters on her own terms as her own woman. With a truncated campaign schedule, she has to prioritize and be strategic about how she spends her time, and no good can come from giving an audience to a clown. It's enough for her to have to debate the Ringmaster. Folks who want to entertain a circus can vote for one, but she ain't with the shits!

So NO, Kamala Harris don't have time for tea with Master Robert. He's not entitled to an audience with her any more than the other chaos agent candidates. I listened to part of his statement, and it is puzzling to me how he criticizes the media for engaging in anti-democratic tactics while questioning Harris' right to choose if and when to give interviews. Which is it? It must be maddening to encounter a woman who can't be accused of using him to gain access to power because she already has more power than he could possibly imagine. She ain't concerned with his bruised ego nor is she impressed by his name. He is just one Kennedy. The majority of the family already publicly endorsed President Biden back in April (and are transferring that support to her), so any lingering hard or bitter feelings he harbors aren't with the Vice President, but with his family. She's not the one who will be uncomfortable at the Annual Kennedy Labor Day BBQ Bash on Hyannis Port...

When I invited you into this rabbit hole with me, one of the flashbacks that replayed on the way down was the memory of another Kennedy who pulled a similar stunt in 1980, which might have inspired this present carpe diem/YOLO effort. Lest we forget, the late Senator Edward Moore Kennedy, the baby of the family, also took on a sitting President when he thought there might be a vulnerability he could exploit. The rivalry and animosity between Uncle Teddy and President Carter lingered for decades and provides an interesting example of the historical rhymes and bars that we should commit to memory. 

In his DNC remarks, former President Obama threw out a laugh line about the remake never being as good as the original, which probably prompted most of us to compare and contrast a mental list of movies or songs. And sure enough, there are plenty of examples that prove his point. Although that was a reference to Trump, in this instance, Master Robert must have thought that he could attempt a remix of history by succeeding where his Uncle Teddy had not. He saw in President Biden an old and war-weary general and gambled that a Kennedy candidacy could offer us the prospect of a 21st Century Camelot Returns. He must have forgotten that Old Man Biden was there in 1980, so the general knew how to out-maneuver his would-be adversary. In passing the mic to his protégé, Biden robbed Master Robert of his shot; and by refusing to meet with him, Madam VP only compounded his humiliation. Uncle Teddy died 15 years ago to the day of his defection...but President Carter is alive and eager to vote for Harris this fall. At this rate, the only way Master Robert's name will be anywhere near the resolute desk in the Oval Office is in the form of that bust of his father. 

* Just because I want to be respectful and recognize the seriousness of what I am suggesting, there are reasons for my skepticism. I taught a class on the John F. Kennedy assassination, and one of the most graphic details was how the bullet that hit Kennedy caused his head to explode. That was from a rifle shot in 1963. Technology has advanced considerably in 60 years, and we know that a bullet from an AR-15, the gun recovered from the shooter, has the power to pulverize human flesh. If Trump had been grazed by that bullet, it should have knocked him down on that platform; instead, he reacted as if he had been stung by a bee before he was tackled by Secret Service. A man who was hit by one of those bullets, Corey Comperatore, died so it is offensive to me that Trump minimizes that man's life by stunting: thrusting his fist in the air in defiance; parading around with a maxi pad affixed to his head; and refusing to My disgust is compounded by the narcissism of Master Robert in endorsing such theatrical nonsense. 

Women of a Certain Age

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Auntie Ray, Go Get Your Gun!

I had been waiting in breathless anticipation for the debut of Olympic Breaking. Okay, not really--anxious curiosity might have been a better way to describe it. Ever since it was announced that break-dancing would be included for the first time as an Olympic event, coupled with the ubiquitous presence of Snoop Dogg as an "ambassador" for the Games, I knew I had to see it to believe it.

With no expectations or assumptions, I tuned in to watch at the appointed hour. There were to be two days of competition consisting of a round-robin elimination tournament of dancers from various countries. The first day was for the women, known as B-Girls, so cool, I thought, let the ladies go first. Unfortunately, it was not the best roll out...

Since I watched from beginning to end, I'm not just reacting to viral clips or memes. In my humble opinion, the early rounds were cringe, but as the day wore on, the cream rose to the top and it definitely got better. I got my Dad to watch with me, and by the end of the day, we were invested to see whether our favorite, B-Girl India would win a medal. (Spoiler, she didn't.) The next day, I couldn't watch much of the competition because we were in a hotel where the channels only featured the main Olympic events. I only got to see a 10-minute replay clip of the B-Boys, and thankfully, their competition began with much stronger performances; therefore, I can only speak to what I saw from the women.

Opening question: does breaking need to be in the Olympics? I can't say. Having more familiarity with the traditional Olympic events like the team sports, swimming, gymnastics, and of course, track & field, it feels rather snobbish to question the inclusion of newer events such as skateboarding, beach volleyball, and rock-climbing. Yet, there is the argument that just because I can't get into it, that doesn't mean that others have the same issues. For example, while it is my humble opinion that golf and tennis are already popular tournament events with sufficient international appeal so there is no practical need to include them in the Olympics--that isn't my call.

I don't want to get bogged down by arguing the legitimacy of inclusion/exclusion because that undermines other important considerations, namely, that part of the Olympic ideal is to bring competitors from around the world together through a diverse variety of sport. Much of what we see every four years are the sports that don't get televised airtime but are no less interesting to watch such as wrestling, judo, fencing, and archery. A sport that I might disparage like table tennis (ping pong) looks a lot different on the Olympic level than it does in someone's basement. 

However, as a former dancer, I do have some concerns about the inclusion of dance as a competitive sport as opposed to encouraging more admiration of it as a multifaceted artform. Most of us agree that dancers are athletes, and that seeing dance performed in a variety of different formats might expand its appeal. Several Olympic sports, namely gymnastics and ice skating, rely on dance fundamentals to convey artistry. An ongoing concern for me as a Busy Black Dance Mom is that an emphasis on competition decreases both artistry and tolerance for any work that doesn't involve explosive tricks or stunts. Audiences become trained to expect theatrics, and performers become more prone to career-threatening injuries. There has been a movement to get dance onto the Olympic stage for years, so this was supposed to be an experiment. 

My curiosity was piqued by wanting to see if Olympic Breaking could become a thing. Because unlike other forms of dance that have a more ancient history and lineage, I'm old enough to remember some of the earliest days of break-dancing. Given that we just celebrated the 50th Anniversary of Hip Hop (and now the 51st year as of August 11), it was almost divine alignment that one of the art forms that had been integral to the global outreach of the genre would make its debut as an Olympic sport. In the words of Biggie Smalls (and I happened to be in the Bronx on Saturday to take this very picture outside of the Hip Hop Museum), we never thought hip hop would come this far...only to be undone by an Australian soccer mom dressed like a middle school gym teacher mimicking a wallaby that had been dinged by a boomerang!

However, let's come back to properly roast Rachael Gunn (B-Girl RayGun) after a few more paragraphs. Before I turn my ire on her, I need to give a shout out to a few cultural icons who deserve to be acknowledged for their role as originators. In the interest of paying proper respect to whom it is due, I will defer to the dance historians for the scholarly bits and focus on my recollections from the purely anecdotal perspective of a kid growing up in the late 70s and 80s. The first time I remember seeing the origins of what would become break-dancing was on the sitcom What's Happening (1976-1979), in syndication. It was called pop locking then, and while it chronologically overlapped with the nascent phases of hip hop, this was a popular dance performance style tailor-made for the disco era. 

Most people remember the late Fred 'ReRun' Berry from that show, and that part of his character's schtick was his dancing, as seen here. Anyone who has read this blog knows how much I loved Soul Train (1971-2006) while growing up, and that I alluded to one of Berry's earliest televised appearances on that show in this 50th Anniversary tribute. In it, I also made reference to the late Adolfo 'Shabba Doo' Quiñones, another iconic dancer who appeared with Berry on Soul Train (1976) and also on What's Happening (1976). Even if you don't recognize him from those earlier appearances, you do know Shabba Doo from Breakin' (1984). I finally learned the name of the man who brought these two together--the late Don 'Campbellock' Campbell, a visionary who founded the iconic dance group The Lockers, with ReRun, Shabba Doo, and Toni Basil (yep) as notable members. Though his name is not as recognizable, he clearly was the Godfather of Breaking.

I'm pretty sure that my first recollection of seeing break-dancing was on the Soul Train line. I also remember that around the same time, some kid at a school talent show did a spin on his back and ended in a pose, so whichever came first. Although I cannot pinpoint an exact grade or year, I can say that we engaged in dance battles as kids before anyone saw this scene in Flashdance (1983). Even if disco was dead, dancing was not, and we hit the floor to face off to songs like Dance to the Drummer's Beat (1978), Rapper's Delight (1979), Double Dutch Bus (1981), and DC's own Trouble Funk's party jam Pump Me Up (1982). I distinctly remember Afrika Bambaataa's Planet Rock (1982) being thee ultimate breakdance song, with Herbie Hancock's Rockit (1983) being the alternative choice. 

Somehow, without much fanfare, we went from pop-locking to breaking in an organic evolution, which was eventually reflected in popular culture. Of course, by the time mainstream popular culture caught up via the aforementioned Flashdance (with Jennifer Beales' grand finale audition for the Pittsburgh Ballet); this dance sequence from the TV show Fame in 1983, very reminiscent of MJ's Beat It video; Beat Street (1984) and a pair of Breakin' (1984) movies; and then finally the crossover success of Footloose (1984)...we moved on.

As per usual, once a cultural movement went mainstream, it lost its edge...breaking immediately became uncool the moment Cleo McDowell exclaimed he felt like break-dancing in Coming to America (1988). It was fun while it lasted! However, the truth was that breaking didn't fade inasmuch as we just invented new moves and other dance styles. Did you see all of our energetic and fancy footwork throughout the 90s? Shoot, by the end of that decade, we were older, tired, and our knees were bad! And while there was always someone at the party ready to dazzle us with some retro moves, most of us were content to stand back and watch, which brings us to the present moment.

Assuming that most of these modern performers, especially Professor Kiwi, knew some of this history then no one should have been surprised that the harshest critics of Olympic Breaking were going to be GenXers. We were checking in to see if these children we raised had any of our skills; what improvements or innovations they made; and if they were going to demonstrate the proper respect for what we created. No way were we going to respond well to that kangaroo hopping and her whack modern dance earthworm impression. Furthermore, we were bound to be salty at being overlooked yet AGAIN for our contributions to the culture and were left wondering why come y'all waited 45 years, searched the world over, and she was allegedly the best a country as big and diverse as Australia had to offer?! (And I know, ReRun, Shabba Doo, and Campbellock were all Boomers, so it's not just us the living who were pissed, but also the ancestors whom she displeased by this epic foolishness!)

I read this and this (and a bunch of other articles), and I don't care that we're supposed to believe that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. What she did out there was a mockery. It was not an overreaction to object to the inclusion of someone who wasn't even remotely on the same level as the talent that rose to the top and ultimately placed in the latter rounds. It wasn't creative; it was embarrassing. And the fact that she, her family, and the Australian officials were out here trying to gaslight and shame us for clowning her was peak privileged behavior. No wonder the Olympic organizers for Los Angeles wasted no time in axing this event, lest there be more of that BS on our home turf. (BTW, I know that decision had already been made prior to these Games, but trust, nobody would even think of reconsidering at this point.)

For what it's worth, we're not surprised by her disingenuous defensiveness nor her trolling, since that is in line with the times. This was her chance of a lifetime, and hers alone--the rest of the performers who actually worked and put their heart and soul into the competition be damned. Yeah, I saw that she has a PhD in cultural studies and wrote her dissertation on breaking, but degrees and scholarly papers didn't make her any more likeable or talented. Like WTF, I took ballet for years but my ankles never got strong enough for me to dance on pointe, so guess what I never effing did in spite of all my knowledge of the mechanics? Bish, write a book and give a TED Talk like every other academic--don't go to the Olympics and make a Tasmanian devil of yourself!

But what am I saying, because Gunn made a much more impactful statement for women than say Manizha Talash, the Afghan refugee who was disqualified for wearing a political message on her outfit. God forbid an athlete from a country where women are suppressed would forfeit her opportunity to compete for a medal by reminding the world that she escaped an oppressive regime...but let's reward Professor Kiwi with a participation trophy!

And if we dared to question her right to be at the Olympics on the Australian government's dime (or perhaps thanks to the largesse of some generous billionaire benefactor who made his fortune raising emus), then we're wrong? Sexist, ageist, or racist? Sexist, at these Games where gender parity was achieved and where the women's events were definitely just as, if not more, exciting than the men's events? Ageist, when 15 Olympians were competing at age 40 and older? Racist, because we're not rushing to bring the lady a handkerchief to dab her crocodile tears? Because we witnessed enough of the destructive power wielded by white women crying at these Games per the treatment of Imane Khelif, Jordan Chiles, and now all of the women who had to compete against this bandicoot?

Yeah, I said what I said. Calling Professor Kiwi out for being a terrible break dancer declares to the world that what we saw was simultaneously hilarious, ridiculous, galling, mediocre, worthless, atrocious, appalling, cringy, sophomoric, selfish...

As I put my thesaurus away, note that I did not accuse Gunn of cultural appropriation. In these Parisian 2024 Olympic Games, we just celebrated this inspiring and unprecedented visual of three Black women on the podium claiming medals in a sport that was lily white on the international scene until the 1990s. When I tell you that this was unfathomable to me when I was growing up, not because Black women weren't allowed to compete (as far as I know), but because I vividly remember that the primary competitors of gymnastics in my youth were white women with eating disorders. It took seeing Dominique Dawes compete and win on the international stage to inspire this current generation of champions. So, we don't need to challenge the right of others to participate, enjoy, and even excel in various athletic pursuits.

After these Olympic Games, Black women don't need to prove anything. We showed up and showed out to win medals in every other sport imaginable, so it was a turn of good luck that we sat this event out to give those other B-Girls a shot at some hardware. Black women in hip hop have gold and platinum RECORDS, so our contributions to the genre speak for themselves. We know our place in the origin story of break-dancing: singing on those disco tracks, keeping up with our male partners on the dance floor, and cheering on their agility from the sidelines. Speaking of cheerleaders, again I remind you that Toni Basil, yes her, was an original Locker, so that's partly why the cultural appropriation label doesn't stick. And at age 79, I bet if she had been up on that stage, she would have taught a master class!

Rachael Gunn deserves all the smoke for single-handedly ruining what should have been a marquee Olympic event. She thought so little of her competitors as to insert herself into a narrative that should have centered them as pioneers in a new Olympic venture, instead of all of the ink being spilled to justify and/or criticize her 15 minutes of infamy. It isn't cultural appropriation inasmuch as it is good old-fashioned Columbusing--typical colonizer behavior to insist that her studies of dance qualified her for a spot on this world stage. Great that she admires and emulates the culture, but she could have done that as a spectator. Her antics overshadowed the talent and hard work of the sincere competitors and medalists because every other article written on Olympic Breaking features her in a meme or captured in some Elaine Benes-like contortion. 

All of the reasons why I was ambivalent about dance being treated like a sport as opposed to an art form--Rachael Gunn is/was the embodiment of those concerns. No skill, no talent, just a gimmicky performance that humored an international audience as opposed to uplifting actual artistry. Meanwhile, some of the same people who were clutching their pearls during the Opening Ceremonies were cheering Professor Kiwi and the exclusion of breaking in future Games...

(Update: While I was editing this piece, I learned that there may be more to the story of how Rachael Gunn scammed her way to Paris...but if I devote any more energy assessing her shenanigans, this piece might never end. Depending upon when you read this, we will have learned that she did plan this massive farce with schemes to cash in on her notoriety while some other more deserving B-Girl from Down Under is waiting tables and donating blood to make ends meet. I'm not saying any of that is true, just pointing out how privilege is still the most addictive drug on the planet. Australia did not have to compete in this event. And watching an entire country go on the defensive is just as cringe as being tortured by watching her performance.)

Bear With Me on This: Another Opinion on RFK, Jr.

Of course, I should have plenty to say about the unbelievable O-M-G the stars are aligning candidacy of Madam Vice President Kamala Harris, because GAAAAH is it not the very raison d'etre for this blog in the year of our Lord 2024??? Especially after the year I've had so far?

Alas and alack...I do have much to say (and trust, I will), but first, I've got to vent about the insanity of Robert Francis Kennedy, Jr. and the saga of the baby bear carcass he left in a Central Park ditch 10 years ago...

(I actually posted about this the other day on the Facebook page. Apparently, the mental block I have when I post on that platform doesn't create as much anxiety as every attempt to write here on my own space since March, but I'm still trying. It's been a struggle and a minute, and I can't say for sure if this effort will be any more successful than my other futile attempts. But this is one of those times when the topic compels me to give it the old college try, because What the Entire FUCK??!!)

If everyone has already scrapped their ruined BINGO cards for the year, let's admit that between the 34 convictions and counting, the first debate, that brazen assassination attempt, and Biden's Hail Mary baton pass, this year in politics has been bonkers! We always have some lunatic fringe politicos on the sidelines, ably represented this year by Cornel West, Jill Stein, and Marianne Williamson, but NO ONE could have predicted that the would-be heir apparent to a prominent family dynasty, a freaking Kennedy no less, would provide us with thee most absurd fuckery to occur in this election cycle (and that is saying more than a lot). I mean, who goes out of their way to become the punchline of every late note monologue when JD Vance is right there, waiting to jerk off in your sofa cushions?

Can somebody leak the Kennedy family group chats because there's got to be more...

I have so many thoughts floating around in my head and as I already alluded to, as a woman hearing this story in this particular election year, given everything that brought us to this moment, it is maddening. If I were Kamala Harris, the way I would be cussing folks out from here to hell and back over the way they keep trying to slut-shame her, Nannygate Doug, and arrange marriages of convenience for her--while this Kennedy meaux faux gets away with a gotdamn prank on the City of New York, has a moth-eaten brain, is apparently besties with Roseanne Barr, and IS STILL IN THIS RACE??!!

Since I can't type this entire piece in all caps, do me a favor and imagine the voice of Jeffrey, Alfred, or Jeeves in your head to help convey how appalled and verklempt I am by all of this sexist hypocrisy. Shall we proceed?

Let's begin with the fact that Master Robert is a political nepo baby. I wouldn't normally embrace the use of that term as I think it minimizes the work of public service. We are a nation that was built on family businesses and that includes political family dynasties, dating back to the founding Adams family to the Roosevelts, the Bushes, of course the Kennedys. The fact that Master Robert is banking on his name to launch a political career in his 70s notwithstanding, there is nothing wrong with answering the noble call to serve the public in elected office. Heck, even the folks who marry into that family end up in the family business, Arnold Schwarzeneggar being the prime example. With the notable exception of Kathleen Kennedy Townsend, eldest of the RFK brood, most of the women choose alternative forms of public service--philanthropy, media, having more babies...

Since I mentioned her, it is important to highlight the career of Master Robert's older sister Kathleen, as she had her own bright moment in politics years ago as the sixth Lt. Governor of Maryland. I happen to know a little bit about that since I live next door in DC. From what I recall, she did a decent job of not dying while Parris Glendening served his two terms, but she didn't get to ascend to higher office, so we find ourselves in an interesting loop where history rhymes and spits bars. But we'll revisit that topic another time.

Let's now turn to the second point, which is given that Master Robert is the namesake son of a former US Attorney General, as well as the nephew of a former US President and long-time US Senator, his decision to finally enter politics in his 70s has been based on just that--being born a male Kennedy. He literally woke up one day and decided, hey what else am I doing for the next few months...maybe I should run for President. And with the arrogance of a dude who decided in his 70s that he could provide an alternative choice to the two other old white guys, it is only his name that he has to offer. I'm sure that he has strongly held opinions on a variety of policy matters, but other than his past vocal stance against vaccinations at the height of a global pandemic, I don't buy that anybody was asking him to run for anything.

In all fairness, Master Robert isn't just some random billionaire playboy environmentalist vigilante--he's an old money millionaire. Which is cool, because we want to see rich white guys pitching in to help save the world. And no knocks on arrogance since that is what it takes to get into politics in the first place. How else are we supposed to explain why the reality show con man keeps running for the same job?

Which brings me to my third point--all of the talk about qualifications. To be clear, Master Robert isn't unqualified to run for President, nor was pre-felon Donald Trump for that matter. Running for office usually doesn't require much more than meeting the minimal Constitutional requirements plus the self-delusion to believe that one might competent enough to do the job. The problem for me, as a woman observing all of this, is in watching people (y'all) come up with every excuse imaginable to suggest that Kamala Harris (or any other woman) has to be extraordinarily qualified just to throw her heel in the ring. As compared to whom: the guy whose uncle was President 60+ years ago or the guy who helped bankrupt Atlantic City?

All of the chatter and gossip about Kamala Harris only being a contender because of whom she once dated is exactly just that--chatter and gossip. Because if we aren't chattering that Master Robert is only worth paying attention to because of his name or gossiping about how many women had the displeasure of sleeping with Donald Trump to get nowhere, then these aren't serious conversations. 

Point four--are y'all serious? I mean, are you seriously thinking that a man like Master Robert, who has been living the life of Riley all of these years...wait, what am I saying since that's how we got Trump! Nah, Imma say it because some of you act like choosing the President is akin to buying shoes. Sure, anything that covers your feet is a valid consideration, but there are other reasons why you need to give the matter more thought than, oh well what the heck! Given the state of the world...or just the number of people who lost loved ones during COVID, tell me with a straight face that you trust Trump or Master Robert to guide us? To manage another pandemic, God forbid? Upon hearing his version of that bear story, this is the guy who ought to have the nuclear codes since his quick thinking is what got him out of the most ridiculous of sitcom-y scenarios that not even Roseanne Barr could have written it! (Side note: Remember how the original Roseanne [1988-1997] gave us the most absurd final season? She helped to write that...)

Finally, because I am a woman taking copious notes, I have to point out that it only takes one stupid mistake to disqualify a woman from major opportunities whereas missteps, outright lies, bankrupting corporations, conspiracies, felony convictions, etc., serve to burnish some men's credentials. How else do I explain to my daughter why South Dakota Governor Kristi Noem, who after admitting to shooting her own dog, was immediately disqualified from being considered for the VP slot? Or how Ambassador Nikki Haley, who made an impressive showing in her Presidential bid, wasn't vetted for the VP slot either because she dared to challenge Trumpelthinskin and lost. Should we revisit all of the petty reasons why folks were unenthusiastic about Secretary Hillary Clinton, and how their choice to stay home in 2016 got the schoolyard bully elected?

In this moment when our daughters are watching and listening, what are we telling them by demanding that a qualified woman has to prove her fitness to lead by debating a pair of spoiled frat boys? Because if you brush off that bear story as no big deal or just a harmless joke, then perhaps you aren't serious. Assuming that everything Master Robert alleged is true: finding a baby bear carcass that "another driver" hit; forgetting that it was in his car for an entire day; dumping it in Central Park; and then remaining silent for 10 years to avoid paying a $250 fine--what about that says you know what, that guy deserves a shot at being Leader of the Free World? $250 is probably less than what he dropped on dinner for himself at Peter Luger's Steak House. He spent more on that first-class ticket to wherever he flew off to that night, not including the overnight parking at the airport. The bike he left behind to help stage the murder scene cost more than $250. 

Thirty years ago, Kamala Harris (at age 30) dated an older man who helped her professionally. I'm sure that she would characterize that as a youthful indiscretion and knowing what she knows now, she probably regrets it. Ten years ago, Master Robert (age 60) killed that bear cub, didn't follow the state regulations for reporting it, and only came forward with this cockamamie story to get ahead of an unflattering magazine profile. To make matters worse, in his confession to Roseanne Barr, he didn't sound the least bit contrite for having caused a panic over the prospect of black bears running wild through Manhattan nor about the costs the city incurred to investigate his prank. Instead, his campaign forged ahead to submit signature petitions to get on the ballot in Maryland and four other states.

If you're reading this and thinking, lighten up Busy Black Woman, I have to warn you that is no different than telling a woman to smile. Or intentionally ignoring the harm of unchecked privilege by mischaracterizing my reaction as that of a humorless shrew. I've been accused of that enough times to know it is yet another form of weaponized sexism aimed at women who just want to be taken more seriously than these attention-seeking man-babies. Because if you could imagine what it must be like to be older sister Kathleen right now, watching her younger brother--the golden child blessed with the name, the face, and an endless reservoir of potential--squander it ALL because he's an effing idiot...

If you can imagine what that's like, then this bear story ain't remotely funny and you're annoyed beyond words that Master Robert Francis Fuckup, a gotdamn Kennedy man who doesn't even want to be President, is out here wasting our time and more taxpayer money with this masturbatory flirtation, helping to facilitate the end of democracy as we know it! What alternative viewpoints or issues does he bring to the table? What marginalized or historically disenfranchised communities does he champion by persisting in this quixotic lark given that he was willing to betray them all for a Cabinet position in a potential Trump Administration?

Look, I'm done venting. Because if you still think that 70-year old playboy who feels so entitled to do whatever whenever to whomever because of his name, his face, and his family's money deserves serious consideration for the most important job in the world, then you won't be convinced that this is just another elaborate prank.