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Obama Wants to Build an Alliance with Brown Bloggers; Or Does He?

Sunday night, I climbed into my bed after a wonderfully exhausting weekend in Washington, DC. I ventured to our nation’s capital to attend the 2010 Blogging While Brown (BWB) conference, a national conference for minority bloggers. It was my first time visiting DC and everything was perfect! I stayed at the Renaissance Hotel, eat a number of exquisitely prepared meals, drank good wine, met many of my favorite bloggers, and oh yeah… did I mention that little meeting that I had with White House?

Yes! I and about 45 of the 200+ BWB conference goers received a special invitation to attend a White House meeting! We were absolutely clueless about the nature of the meeting. Would we meet the President? Get a tour? Have a luncheon? What about Bo?

Well, we found out soon enough that the answer to each of those questions was ‘no’. Once we made it inside the Eisenhower Building, Corey Ealons, the Director of African American Media Relations and Jessie Lee (who was all but responsible for President Obama’s social media campaign) spent about an hour and a half appealing to us on behalf of the President to “help ensure a more active engagement” with the public. Corey Ealons said that the administration not only wants to project out, but to bring in. He said the White House has “embraced bloggers” because we have “great relevancy to their audiences.” Well, I know that, but based on our welcome, I’m not sure the White House does.

The BWB group didn’t get a tour; a sandwich; not even a glass of water. Now, if the White House recognizes the the impact of bloggers, (which is growing even beyond that of traditional journalists), then why weren't we treated just a little better? I’m just asking…

If I recall correctly, VP Joe Biden had a number of traditional journalists and their families out to his mansion  for a pool party. Mind you now, journalists aren’t supposed to be biased. They were taught in J-School to never give their personal opinions; to never show any semblance of favoritism; and to never put themselves in a predicament where their impartiality could be questioned. I know this, because I graduated from USC’s College of Journalism and Mass Communications. But, if that's the case, then why were they there?

It is completely acceptable for bloggers to have an opinion. That’s the beauty of it all; we don’t have to pretend to be unmoved by our emotions and personal feelings. Perhaps that’s why blogging is on the rise and journalism isn’t really growing. The thing about blogging is that when we print something, you know it’s our opinion. When Wolf Blitzer and Ed Hardy of CNN (who were in attendance at the pool part) report on something, it is supposed to be based on facts only. Do you really think they can be critical of VP Biden after playing Marco Polo with his grandchildren? Let’s be real... How unbiased can they be after splishing and a splashing with HNIC #2 (Opps, I meant HMIC!)

I admit that I can be swayed. I’m a blogger; I’m supposed to be. Many of our readers relate to us because we live the same lives they do. Many live vicariously through us; they trust us. Furthermore, bloggers are the closest thing to investigative reporting now… that’s one reason why the respect for us is growing. No longer do bloggers throw an unfounded opinion and hide their hand. We say who we are, how we feel, give reasons why, and encourage others to think like us.

The Republican Party has long recognized the value of bloggers and utilized them to get their message out. As a matter of fact, Rush Limbaugh, the leader of the Republican Party, awarded Ed Morrissey with the Blogger of the Year Award at the Conservative Political Action Conference. But the Director of African-American Media Relations couldn’t even give us a glass of water? Please.

Corey, Jesse (Lee, not Jackson), President Obama: If ya’ll want me to promote your message, you’ve got to win me over. As excited as I was to be at the White House, I really wasn’t very impressed. You need to step up  your game for the next group of bloggers, that is if you are serious about having us on your team.

Corey: I heard you loud and clear when you said that you have all of our blog and email addresses. I guess you were giving me a fair warning that Big Brother is watching. But also, let me remind you that you said while you appreciate the pats on the back, you also want the other conversations. Consider this the ‘other conversation’.

PS. If something happens to me, Corey did it!

Dear Mr. Chick-fil-A

Dear Chick-fil-A on Two-Notch Road

Believe it or not, there is such a thing as over service. Some people call it overkill. I call it aggravation. Know what? My workplace actually has a very large, nice cafeteria. I go to Chick-fil-A because I need to get out the office; away from the aggravation. As soon as I think I can relax, here you go…

I don't know about anyone else, but That Teowonna: 1) does not want people who don't know me calling me 'sweetheart' and 'darling'; 2) don't want to have my name announced when my food is ready; 3) don't even want you to know my name; 4) don't want you to take my tray to my table for me; 5) don't want you snatching my cup away to refill it 6) nor do I want you stopping by my table every 2 minutes to make sure everything is still ok.

When I go to Chick-fil-A, all I want is to: 1) order my food in anonymity, 2) sit down at my table in peace, 3) eat without interruption, 4) catch up on email, facebook and twitter, (again without interruption), 5) get my refill of sweet tea or lemonade and 6) go back to work.

Now, if you really want to make me happier, 1) get rid of those damn flies that were buzzing around my legs and head; 2) fill up that hollow space in middle of my large ice cream cone; and 3) make the lemonade the same price as the sweet tea. That will definitely improve your service, in the eyes of That Teowonna!

Mr. Chick-fil-A, you are already the tops when it comes to fast food customer service. There is nobody better than you; no one can compete. But I'll be darned if you ain't trying to screw it up!

Sincerely,

That Teowonna!

P.S. The tomatoes on my sandwich today were the best I've had all season! Where did you find those?

Unpopular Truths According to That Teowonna!

Unpopular Truth #2: Mothers are the reason there are so many single women

To the Virgins, To Make Much of Time By Robert Herrick

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying;

And this same flower that smiles today, Tomorrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, the higher he’s a-getting,

The sooner will his race be run, and nearer he’s to setting.

That age is best which is the first, when youth and blood are warmer;

But being spent, the worse, and worst times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time, and while ye may, go marry;

For having lost but once your prime, you may forever tarry.

I hope you didn’t loose patience and skipped the poem to get to why I think mothers are the primary reason there are so many single black women. If you did, please go back and read it. I’ll wait. This poem is key to my theory.

I recall the first time I read this poem in the 10th grade. It had a completely different meaning to me then. I thought Robert Herrick was an overzealous young man who was just trying to lay his best rhymes down so a young maiden would feel that “we don’t know what tomorrow will bring; we better live today”. In other words, I thought Herrick was using this poem to coax a young woman into getting their groove on.

But today however, I see the poem in a different light. Not only that, I agree with Herrick 100%. Young women should not put off marriage; they should get married while they are still young, pretty, and marriageable. Getting older does nothing for increasing your chances of being married and having a family.

There are a number of theories as to why young women, especially black women remain unmarried. There aren't very many suitable partners; too many black men are in prison; blah, blah, blah. But let’s talk about root causes here… MOTHERS!

The reason there are so many unwed/never been married/never will be married women in their 30’s and  40’s is because when they young and marriageable, being a wife was the last thing on their minds. They were more career-focused than family-focused. Any why were their priorities all scrambled up? Because of their mothers!

Mothers, especially black mothers, do not train their daughters to be a wives. They no longer teach their girls the value of being a mother. They tell them that there is plenty of time to get married and have children. But guess what mothers, you were wrong. Women don’t have forever to get married and have children. Men do, but women don’t!

Have you noticed that white mothers raise their daughters to go to college to attract a better man to marry, whereas black mothers raise their daughters to go to college to get an education “so you won’t need a man”. Huge mistake. In that statement alone, mothers downplay the importance of men in our society. They are instilling the value of independence. And what a horrible thing to teach your daughter… that she doesn’t need a man… that a degree and career are more important than raising a family. And then when she is 39, not married and you still don’t have any grandchildren, you wonder what’s wrong with her. What’s wrong with her is that you raised her.

I understand why mothers encourage their daughters to be independent. They want them to be successful, and happy, and all the other things that they feel like they missed. But guess what, mamas, when 11:00 pm comes, you have a husband to go to bed with. You have a family. Why should your daughter not have the same? How happy do you think she will be when she is 45 with two or three degrees and no husband, no children, and no prospects for either?  Don’t overplay the value of education, especially at the expense of family.

Don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing wrong with going to college and getting an education. I highly endorse education. But I denounce education over family.

It’s time for mothers to retrain their own thought process so they can properly train their daughters to have balance in their lives. To get an education but also seek a suitable life mate. Teach them the value of a good man. That is how we start to reverse this negative trend.

So mother, when you send you daughters, and sons, off to college, in addition to encouraging them to get an education, encourage them to meet someone special and fall in love. Happiness and success can still be found within the walls of marriage and family.

As much as I love Robert Herrick, his poem needs a 2010 update. Who should we ask to update it? Hmm. Me? Really? No, I can’t! Ok, since you insist. Here it is, That Teowonna style!

To The Sistahs, To Make Much of College By That Teowonna!

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, times ain’t like they used to be

Chase a career like your mother say, yo’ ass gonna end up free

Your mother sent you off to school so you can get an education and ‘won’t need no man’

She’s trying to live her dreams through you, but a family, she already has

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no hater; Getting an education is alright

But keep in mind that piece of paper sure can’t keep you warm at night

I’m not saying settle or accept less than you deserve

But don’t wear ‘independent woman’ like a medal; To black men, that’s the new ‘N’ word.

Blair Underwood Answers Why Black Men Don’t Like Tyler Perry

On Tuesday, Blair Underwood held a book signing at the Books-A-Million at the Village at Sandhills. A book signing? Since when did he become a writer? I must admit that this is the first time I’ve ever seen anyone who did not write a book go on a book signing tour… except for ‘authors’ like Steve Harvey and NeNe Leaks who used ghost writers. As wrong as it is, that’s pretty common place. But this?

Underwood actually described himself as the ‘producer’ of the book, “From Cape Town with Love” which is the third installment in the Tennyson Hardwick series. The writers are actually the husband and wife team, Tananrive Due and Steven Barnes. Underwood says that the duo writes the book and sends him three or four chapters at a time. He reviews them and gives creative direction and feedback. He said, “Basically because my name and face are all over, I have a lot of input and a lot of creative ideas.” In other words, he’s the front man to boost sales… Ok. Well, at least he’s honest!

Legitimate writer or not, Underwood’s appearance in Columbia would be the perfect time to ask him about this ‘vook’ idea. A ‘vook’ (spoken with exaggerated contempt) is a visual book; I saw Underwood discussing the new medium on Today last week. The idea is you would read the written portion of the story on some kind of electronic device like a Kindle or an iPad. Certain scenes of the ‘vook’ (don’t forget the contempt) would be acted out as in a movie.

What? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of. And the scariest! Are writers today so unimaginative and incompetent that they must rely on moving pictures to tell a story? People don’t read enough already as it is! Well, I was gonna tell Mister Underwood about himself… promoting this asinine, literacy-decreasing idea.

When I stomped into the Books-A-Million, I was all geared up to tear into Mister Underwood about this ‘vook’ thing… further diminishing the value of the real literature and the written word; helping the paper medium find it’s extinction even quicker. I mean, who does Blair Underwood think he is anyway; promoting this blasphemous electronic poison? Pushing this new-age crack into our communities!

As you can imagine, I had worked myself into quite a tizzy. To maintain my anger, I kept rewinding those thoughts in my mind and repeating them aloud from time to time; I didn’t want my rage to decrease or to forget what I was mad about!

After a few minutes, I was told by the organizer that Mister Underwood was in an interview with Brandi Cummings, the host of WISTV’s Awareness. She told me that perhaps I could get a 5-minute interview if time permitted. While I was on standby, I paced and repeated to myself… “pushing this new-age crack into our communities…” When he emerges from that back room, I’ll be waiting for him, I thought.

And I was! When Mister Underwood walked out, I glared at him with the same hatred that I have for snakes and cheaters! Then, when Blair (notice the change to first name) saw me, he smiles, reached out and grabbed my hand. His eyes said, “Hey, baby. Here I am. Sorry I kept you waiting. ”

And with that, the vook made perfect sense.

Since my pointed questions about the vook (spoken much softer, now) no longer applied, I had to think of an intelligent, yet provocative question to ask Blair. I got my opportunity when a woman in the audience asked him about his role in the Tyler Perry’s movie, Madea’s Family Reunion. That question served as the perfect segue to ask him something I’ve asked many black men before: Why do you think black men hate Tyler Perry and the whole Madea phenomenon?

Blair tried to dodge the question by saying, “I can’t speak for them. You have to ask them.” Now who does he think I am? Some second-year journalism student or something? I’m That Teowonna!

I probed a little further and Blair finally relented, answering, “You know, I really can’t [speak for them] but I can say what I’ve heard. I think for men, when you see a man dressing up in a dress, a lot of us don’t want to see that, necessarily. I tend to look at the big picture. I tend to look at the success he’s had and the money he’s made; the actors he’s employed; the crew members he’s employed. And like anything… to me… [unintelligible] he’s like a family member. So I’m not going to attack Tyler for what he’s doing. I want him to keep growing and getting better.”

Well said, Blair Underwood! Now about this vook…

What Happened and How Was It - Columbia Black Expo Main Event

The 13^th Annual Columbia Black Expo, held at the Colonial Life Arena, proved to be one of the best events this spring, and the best expo ever. Thomas Media, who hosted the event, found the perfect balance of information, business-promotion, youthful energy, talent, and celebrity. Like any good media/marketing firm, Thomas Media knew exactly who their audience was and gave everyone what they wanted.

Information. Early in the day, various business seminars were held, including Finding a Career in Today’s Society and Let’s Get Energy Wise. It was a smart move to make the seminars the first event of the day so that attendees and business owners could get the structured portion of the event out of the way and enjoy the rest uninhibitedly. It’s kind of like going to the 8:00 am church service so you can enjoy the rest of your Sunday guilt-free.

Business. If you are a large or small business-owner, public service entity, or strive to have any kind of public presence and missed the Black Expo, what a tremendous mistake you have made. This was the best possible opportunity to get up close and personal with one of the fastest-growing consumer markets in Columbia. There isn’t a single business in the Midlands that could not have benefitted from the exposure and networking opportunities that this year’s Black Expo afforded.

The businesses that faired the best at the expo were those who got up out of their chairs and stopped texting long enough to engage with attendees in a meaningful way. And having something interesting, tasty, or free to offer helped also! Cake South, which is opening a store at Sparkleberry Crossing, proved to be very popular at the event. They sold huge slices of red velvet cake that had to be shared with three others just to finish it.

While Cake South showed how to debut a business with an awesome product, Shonna Williams of Jaas Jewelry and Things, demonstrated that personality and customer service, coupled with a great product, are an unbeatable combination. Having walked out of the house without my earrings, I vowed to purchase a pair at the first vendor I saw once I got inside. That vendor was Shonna Williams. She greeted me warmly and showed me the last pair of earrings she had for sale. When I searched my pockets, I found that I was $2 short of the purchase price. Since I had already put the earrings in my ear, Williams told me to keep them and bring the money when I come back through. That was a smart business move as it earned her a spot in my article and a loyal customer that will spend far more than $2 on my next visit.

Youthful energy. PYNK Signature Salon and Spa proved to be another popular booth. They not only provided salon services on the spot, they also had the prettiest girls parading around, drawing both men and women to their booth! That’s what I call out-of the-box thinking.

Talent. This year’s addition of the Gospel Best Competition proved to be one of Thomas Media’s smartest moves. Similar to BET’s Sunday Best, the competition started off with 50 groups competing for a $10,000 prize. After a final performance on Saturday, judges awarded the huge cash prize to John Lakin.. The gospel competition drew thousands of attendees who not only got to see all of Columbia’s gospel superstars under one roof, but witnessed the wild antics of David Mann, more commonly known as Mr. Brown. That brings me to the last component on the 2010 Black Expo magic formula.

Celebrity. The oddly-successful couple, Tamala and David Mann, was the perfect hosts for the Gospel Best competition. Mr. Brown (David Mann) was out in full effect with his signature mix-matched clothes and over-the-top behavior while (Cora) Tamala Mann was as beautiful and graceful as ever. Those who were patient enough to stand in a line that snaked half-way around the Colonial Life Arena, were paid with an autographed church fan.

Tasha Smith and Doc Shaw, both of Tyler Perry fame, also had their fair share of fanfare with impressive autograph lines. In case you are wondering, Tasha Smith is even more beautiful in real life than on TV.

Chrisette Michelle was the last celebrity to perform at the Saturday event. And quite the celebrity she was. In fact, I think I saw a woman get a little upset when her boyfriend pushed her aside to get a better peek at the powerhouse beauty. While Chrisette was a vision for the men to behold, she performed to the ladies. She sang a song for every phase of a woman’s love. She sang of love’s evasiveness and sweetness, as well the loss of love. She gave a man permission to blame it on her for the benefit of ending the relationship just before she begged another not to leave her because she was fragile. She truly told a story for every woman in the audience.

The numbers 13 and 2010 should go down in Thomas Media history. That’s because the 13th Annual Black Expo is the one that they got it exactly right and 2010 is the year they found the magic formula. Good luck 14 and 2011.

What Happened and How Was It - The Black Expo Gala Concert

For the second year in a row, I scored two VIP tickets that afforded me and a selected guest an opportunity to attend the Black Expo Gala in grand fashion. When I say grand, I mean delicious food and free premium liquor. Side note: If you thought Crown Royal was good, you haven’t tasted anything until you have a run with Crown Black. If you are a mixed drink kind of a guy/gal, do yourself a favor and do this one over ice. Don’t ruin this good liquor with a mixer.

Anyway, after helping myself to all the delicious offerings, I found my seat and braced myself for the show. The show was supposed to consist of Will Downing and Boney James. When a car accident on Thursday rendered James unable to attend, Thomas Media group skillfully filled the opening with the legendary Roy Ayers and the uncompromised Lalah Hathaway. As revered of a jazz artist Boney James is, the final lineup of artists actually was the better combination.

Roy Ayers, serving as the opening act, expertly played the xylophone. If your memory faltered for a moment and you forgot the jazz force that Ayers is, you were quickly reminded when heard the ‘doo-be doo, run, run, run’ of “Running Away” and the heavily sampled “Everybody Loves the Sunshine”. Ayers, his band and his lead vocalist John Pressley, had everyone wiggling in their seats. You know you are at a mature concert when you leave an event sweat-free and you still had a wonderful time.

I definitely had a wonderful time when Roy Ayers hooked a sista up with some sugar on her cheek. Don’t hate!

Next up was Lalah Hathaway. She entered the stage in a tiered sequin number that I didn’t care very much for. As laid back as her stage performance was, she could have come out in something much more casual and comfortable and it would not have taken away at all. But when she opened her mouth and uttered her first musical sounds, I thought: ‘how can the human voice do that?’ Hathaway’s voice was uniquely melodious as it went from floating on an ever-so calm wave to leaping, jumping and dashing over the river and through the woods with extreme ease. She sang many of her most popular tones, but clearly not enough for her fans. Her jazzy rendition of George Gershwin’s “Summertime” not only displayed her talent but that of her background singers and musicians as well. And when she crooned Luther Vandross’ “Forever, For Always, For Love” (which was her first number one hit) everyone believed that love could last forever.

My final thought about Hathaway was that she did her deceased father, Donnie Hathaway, proud. She’s living the dream we all had for him.

And finally, it was time for the headliner, Will Downing When Downing glided on the stage, all the ladies simultaneously sank down four inches into their seats.I wonder how the men felt to see their women (s)cream over another man.

Back to Will… Beautiful. Immaculately dressed. Charismatic. Fine… all of that rolled into one. He sang his most popular songs including the one that made me fall in love with him my senior year in high school, “Crazy”. He didn’t sing “I Try” another of my favorites. But, I unlike others, understand that an artist can’t sing every single one of his hits… they just can’t! So don’t complain; just enjoy what you got.

It is clear that shows like Downing’s are primarily for women. Few men would claim to be such a fan that they would go to this kind of show alone. But there were a ton of single women there by themselves or with girlfriends. Any woman that didn’t go with a man got cheated because her ticket price should have guaranteed her some good loving that night. But for men who went with a date, trust me, I think they will agree, that that was the best money they’ve spent in a long time.

What Happened and How Was It – The Columbia Black Expo Opening Reception and Auction

On Thursday night, I attended the opening reception and auction for the SC Black Expo. Since this was an invitation-only event, I’m sure many of you did not attend. But that’s what That Teowonna! is here for… to answer the questions: What Happened and How Was It.

First, let’s talk about the auction. There were a number of items and ‘packages’ put together by area entities and businesses up for bid. The types of items were: Art by Ernest Lee The Funky Chicken Man and packages for services like: HVAC, pest control, dental services, carpet cleaning and many more. Other packages for spa services, and week-end get-a-ways were also auctioned off. There was even a package that consisted of two Maxwell concert tickets and an overnight stay in the Columbia Marriott. Nice. The proceeds of the event went to support Palmetto Health Cancer Research.

The reception also served as the unveiling of the Columbia Edition 2010-2011 Black Pages. To be honest with you, when they said they were going to ‘unveil’ the new who’s who book, I thought they were unveiling some kind of a masterpiece. Actually,.it turned out to be just more of the same ole’ same ole. It highlights all of the 'top' movers and shakers in Columbia… the current and rising stars. But what is conspicuously missing are sections like: Who in Public Service; Who’s Who in Community Activism; Who’s Who in Volunteerism; Who’s Who is Mentorship. I know some people who are doing some great work for the people of Columbia who should be recognized. Man, what does it take to get recognition for good deeds in this publication? A $1000 ad?

Now that that’s been said… let’s talk about the event itself… off the chain. I can’t even lie; I had a fabulous time. Here are the best things about the evening:

1. The Music. From the moment you walked through the door, you were engulfed in the smooth jazz sounds of the Phase of a Pulse band, featuring an outstanding lead vocalist. The music helped to set the mood for the evening that ensued. When the vocalist broke out in George Gershwin’s “Summertime”, I knew I was in the right place. But I do have one thing to say about the music that is neither a compliment nor a criticism… just an observation: Can black people ever have a single event without the electric slide? I mean damn.

2. The Venue. The event was held at 701 Whaley Street in the historic Olympia district. For those of you who don’t know, 701 Whaley Street isn’t only the address, it is also the name of the building. This artsy venue was the best possible location for this event as it had just the right combination of space, swagger, upscaledness, down-to-earthness, and culture. The atmosphere that this place created propelled this event into the memorable category for me… memorable good, not memorable trifling!

3. The Food. Absolutely delish . Everyone I talked to was raving about the cuisine that was expertly prepared and served by Houston’s Enterprise Catering. I mean, Frank and Millie Houston really put their foot in it. As the meeting planner for the best insurance company in the whole southeastern region, I have been to some swanky receptions. Heck, I’ve planned some swanky receptions. But that was without a doubt some of the best reception food I’ve ever had…absolutely superb. Houston’s will definitely be hearing more from me.

4. The Art. In addition to the art being auctioned off, there were excellent pieces displayed on the walls of 701 Whaley Street. No offense to Ernest Lee The Funky Chicken Man, but I wish there were more of a variety of art up for auction, like that of local artists Keith Tolen and Schring Khaka, both of whom I had the pleasure of meeting. There was one piece by Keith Tolen that literally jumped off of the wall. When you are in the area, go by 701 Whaley Street and take a look at it… you will know exactly which one I am talking about. The other piece of art that got my attention was a paint/varnished wood piece by Schring KhaRa. (It’s times like these that I wish I had not dropped Art History in college.) That piece has my name written all over it! As a matter of fact, I’m certain that Schring channeled That Teowonna! when she working on it. That piece is so me that I’m not going to talk about it anymore for fear ya’ll might go scoop it up before I can raise the money to buy it.

5. The Crowd. This invitation-only event managed to muster up some of Columbia’s finest. Seeing as how I didn’t get a formal invitation, I think the event host, Thomas Media, needs to update their who's who list. But much to your amusement, as a bona fide member of the media, I was there by default. Ha-ha. Anywho, I saw local who’s who: doctors, lawyers, politicians, businessmen… blah blah blah. All those who make an event an event. All those who always receive recognition, therefore, I don’t need to do it today.

But much to my delight, I ran into Columbia’s #1 Who’s Who right now: Mayor-elect Steve Benjamin. Mayor-elect Benjamin and I had a brief but confirming conversation. He said he read and loved the blog I wrote last week, Columbia’s Play Play Elite Fired Chief Tandy. Now, to keep him out of trouble, he didn’t say he agreed with my assessment. But he didn’t say that he disagreed either! What our conversation confirmed for me was that I have a voice worth listening to and write words that are being read. Thank you, Mayor-elect Benjamin. I appreciate you and look forward to a brighter Columbia under your leadership. Just know that when I write about you, which I will eventually do, please remember that I have a voice worth listening to and write words that are read.

Columbia’s Play-Play Elite Fired Chief Tandy

Earlier this week, I was floored when I got a text message from WLTX alerting me that Columbia’s city manager, Steve Gantt, had fired the city police chief, Tandy Carter. Say what? Hasn’t Tandy only been serving the City for six months? Actually, it’s been more like two years, but after paying a search firm $10,000 to find him and paying him a more than 100k a year, it may as well be only six months.

After I picked my bottom lip up off the floor, I logged on to see what the reason was behind the termination. Did Tandy kill someone? Steal something? Deal drugs out of his SUV and extorted money from drug dealers? Run off with his mistress and not tell anyone? Federal tax evasion? Get his mama to take out a loan for city funds? What? Surely not because he refused to turn the investigation of the Benjamin/Rubens car accident case over to another agency. Surely not. But that’s exactly what it was!

Well, I’ll be…

It appears City Council members wanted the investigation to be turned over to another agency to avoid the appearance of a conflict of interest. Tandy refused to turn over the case because he said that his police department was more than capable of running an honest and unbiased investigation. He further said that the departmental investigation was well within his scope of his duties. After all, Mayor-elect Benjamin is still a regular citizen until he takes office in June.

Makes perfect sense to me. But that rationale wasn’t good enough for City Council members… they wanted Tandy to jump when they said jump. They wanted Tandy to do what they wanted him to do, rather than what was within his professional discretion.

That’s the problem with Columbia, and it has been for quite a while. In Tandy’s press conference, he made reference to a report released by a community panel, led by SC Supreme Court Chief Justice Ernest Finney. The report was critical of Police Department operations, saying that many of the problems of the department resulted from City Council members meddling in police decisions. And it seems the firing of Tandy proves the Finney Report right.

The Columbia Police Department needs an outsider who doesn’t have any of the good ole’ boy alliances and ties. The search firm found exactly what Columbia needed when they found Tandy Carter two years ago… a strong, experienced, professional, well-credentialed police chief who could do his job without feeling bullied by City Council. Unfortunately, the Council is just too full of itself and its elitist status to recognize it!

Elitist status? Yes! Elitist status. You see, South Carolina (Columbia, in particular) does not have a real elite class. We do not have a professional sports team. No NBA team. No NFL franchise. No large cultural scene. No significant presence of the Arts. No rap stars. No reality show stars. Nothing. We are smack dab in the middle of Atlanta and Charlotte, both of which have all of those things, yet we don't. We couldn’t even sustain the Three Rivers Music Festival. We can’t even get the NCAA to bring their tournaments here; much less bring a professional sports team here!

So, in absence of high-profile athletes, rap artists, business tycoons, and cultural artists, the Columbia professional became our elite class. That includes our media personalities, local politicians, young lawyers and doctors, House of Representative members and City Council members.

In larger cities where there are professional athletes and other ‘bona fide ballers’, it is common to come in contact with those oversized personalities and egos… those that have a false sense of entitlement; want something for free; want the room to stop when they walk in. But since we don’t have the real thing here, our play-play elite takes on that role. Have you ever noticed how when certain members of the House, Bar and media walk into a room, they stop and look around to see who is watching them? Play-play elite.

That’s why Chief Tandy was fired. Because Columbia’s play-play elite wanted him to dance to their music. And he refused. And if we continue to allow the city to be run this way, that’s all Columbia will ever have; play-play elite.

Man versus Man

For the most part, I’ve always dated older men. Well, while I was in high school and college, I dated high school and college guys. But after college, I started dating men who were at least ten years older than me right away. It wasn’t something that I sought; older men just seemed to be more attracted to me… or at least more willing to approach.

After years of dating older men (and marrying one), I recently made the contentious decision to start dating younger men. Why after so many years would I make a lifestyle change? Well, as I get older and start contemplating getting married again (and making babies), I figure the closer the man is to my age, the better. You know, its natural to want to have someone to grow old with instead of someone who will grow old a season or two ahead of you. And another reason, (probably just as compelling) now that I’m 37 years old, I think 40-year old little baby-making organisms are better than 55-year old little baby-making organisms.

Did you notice that I called it a lifestyle change? That’s because dating younger men seems to be just that different me. Since I’ve been dating younger men (and by younger I mean men who are 2 to 6 years older than me) I can see a tremendous difference in dating the two different age groups of men. Just this weekend, for example, I had a get together at my house to watch the Mayweather-Sweet Daddy Sugar Shane Moseley fight. I guess you can tell who I was rooting for. An old friend of mine came by with a couple of his buddies. He brought several cases of beer and bags of ice with him. Since I had not anticipated beer, I had not cleaned out my cooler in advance. So he got the cooler from the back deck and started cleaning it up. When I chipped in to help, he said, “No Sweet Tee, let me take care of this. You go on around there and entertain, I will handle this.”

That made me feel so good! Even though I haven’t dated this man in years, when he came over, he had no problem seeing something that needed to be done and just doing it.

The following day, a friend from college swung by on his way back home. He came by to say ‘hello’ since we have recently gotten reacquainted through the miracle of facebook.(Thank you, facebook!) Now, this dude and I are not dating by no means, but I know he is scoping a sista out... that is until he reads this blog!

Well, dude and I caught up and talked about things of yesteryear as we grilled a couple of NY strips on the back deck. Even though my girlfriends had helped me tidy up a bit the night before, there were still a ton of beer bottles and other party remnants that needed to be taken to the curb for trash pickup. I asked my friend to help me take the trash to the road. When I asked for his help, I exoected to hear, “Ok.” Instead, I got, “What? I came here to rest!”

Needless to say, my radar went up and I must admit I was a little turned off (and teed off) by that. I’m just not accustomed to hearing that. The men I’ve dealt with or should I say the age group of men that I generally deal with, would never say that to me. I honestly believe older men felt it was their duty, honor and pleasure to help me. The older men that I dated NEVER complained when I asked then for something. Even more so, with all the trash and bottles that were left from the night before, I wouldn’t have had to ask for them to help. They would have seen the trash and would have asked, “Where is your herbie curbie?” I’ve NEVER asked an older man to take my trash out, or mow my lawn, or check the oil in my car… they just did it.

So, now that I’m dating younger men (and there are many advantages to that), I wonder, am I going to have to trade in chivalry and being treated like a lady and feeling like I’m not out here alone for some healthy sperm? Dang… that’s quite a tradeoff.

So below, I’ve put together some real life examples of older men and younger men that I had dated.

Older man: Had a key to my car since I have a special knack for locking the keys in the car. When I walked out of my building after work, I often found a sparkling clean car with a full tank of gas waiting for me.
Young man: ‘Borrowed’ my car and stayed gone all day. And then brought it back on ‘E’. Punk!

Older man: “Baby, where is your shovel? You really need to get your grape vine up off the ground so that your fruit won’t rot. It won’t take me but a minute to dig a hole and put your post back in the ground.”
Younger man: “You ate up all the grapes?”

Older man: “Baby, I’m gonna call my yard man and send him by here tomorrow to mow your lawn.”
Younger man: Just ignored the foot-high grass. Punk!

Am I expecting too much? Do older men have me spoiled and I just need to accept that younger men don’t do those kinds of things unless I ask… or beg? Or maybe not at all!

Now, there are a lot of positives to dating younger men. I want all the positives of dating younger men and to be treated like the superstar that I am. Or do you have to be 50 and older to recognize a susperstar?

Mo'Nique: The Actress Who Can't Pretend

Last week, the brother of comedienne and award-winning actress, Mo'Nique, admitted to Oprah and the world that he molested his younger sister. The abuse started when she was only seven years old and continued for more than a year.

I watched the show with awe and familiarity. Mo'Nique's story is one that is shared by millions of girls and boys. The disturbing and sad story of the youngest and weakest being molested, touched, raped by someone they admire and look up to; the sad story of being crept up upon by someone with whom you share blood; the humiliating story of the perpetrator being allowed back into the family without being chastised or ostracized; the demeaning story of being forced to live as if nothing ever happened.

During the show, I was struck by something Mo'Nique's father kept questioning. He asked, "What happened?" He said he thought they had resumed life as a regular family. And now, out of nowhere, these old wounds were opened back up. I guess to him, it seemed that old family skeleton had found its way out of the closet. Mo'Nique's father was genuinely confused. He thought they had dealt with her abuse years ago… so where did all of this come from? Why now?

Well, Daddy Imes, I will tell you. The reason Mo'Nique is sharing her story now is because she doesn't have to pretend anymore. It's just that simple… she doesn't have to pretend that everything is ok. Mo'Nique feels comfortable and secure in herself and her life that she doesn't have to 'go along to get along'.

Why now, you ask Daddy Imes. Well, sir, not only does Mo'Nique feel she doesn't have to pretend anymore, she can't pretend anymore.

Mo'Nique said during her interview with Barbara Walters that after she had given birth to her twins, her brother visited them in the hospital. She explained the moment she decided that she couldn't pretend anymore. She said, "and he held one of the twins. And at that moment, I had a conversation with my brother. And we have not spoken since then." Like I said, not only doesn't Mo'Nique have to pretend anymore, she can't pretend anymore.

I know how Monique feels. I understand when you reach a point in your life that you feel you no longer have to pretend. When I was about 12 or 13, I was inappropriately touched by a male relative. He was not a boy a few years older than me; he was a grown ass man feeling me up… someone who knew better. This time, I will spare you the details of the repeated molestation but suffice it to say, while it was not to the extent of Mo'Nique's abuse, it was violation none the less.

Like Mo'Nique, I managed to put that unfortunate period of my life aside and moved on. To everyone looking at me, I was a well-adjusted teenager, young adult, woman. (In my eyes, I was super teenager, super young adult, super woman!) But then when it came to my sexual being, there were things I never allowed boyfriends, and later my husband, to do to me… things that were 'supposed' to be pleasurable. But to me, it felt like violation, like disgust. And I never knew why... until it all came crashing down on me in a book club meeting. During the discussion of a book about sexual abuse, everything suddenly became clear. It was an emotional revelation, but I later recognized it as a freeing revelation. So, that's why I didn't like this; that's why I couldn't stand to be touched there; that's why my husband couldn't do that to me. That's why. That revelation was freedom.

I recall going home back to North Myrtle Beach and seeing the person who touched me when I was younger. There was a point in which I'd sit down and have a conversation just like nothing had ever happened. Then, there came a point in my life in which I just didn't have to pretend anymore. I didn't have to say 'hello'. I didn't have to be polite. I wasn't angry… I just didn't have to pretend anymore. I was a grown woman with a career, and a husband, and a good life. I just didn't have to pretend anymore.

So you see, Daddy Imes, years may have passed and your family carried on as if nothing had ever happened. But when Mo'Nique became an adult and felt safe and secure in herself, she realized that she didn't have to pretend anymore. And the moment Gerald Imes picked up her child, she realized, she couldn't pretend anymore. Maybe you and the rest of the family should stop pretending too.

The Power of Mild Admonishment

Tiger and Nike are back! Instead of abandoning the man when he was down, Nike stood by Tiger’s side. And I’m glad they did. The release of their latest bold, collaborative advertising effort showed that advertising doesn’t have to be pretty, bright, and cheery to be effective.


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Pure advertising genius. Without a doubt the absolute best piece of advertising that I have seen in years! The mere fact that every blogger and his mama were talking about Tiger’s and Nike comeback commercial proves the ad’s effectiveness.

I’ve read a number of fb posts and blogs that all but dogged Nike’s effort. Black bloggers were the worst. One of my fb friends said: “It’s awful. Allowing frigging slave-wage paying Nike to pimp his daddy."

What? Pimp his daddy? Exactly commercial what were you looking at?

Part of what makes this ad so effective is that it would have been easy for Nike make yet another boring, fist-pumping, golf ball balancing television commercial. Instead, they attacked the Tiger Wood controversy head on. Courageous and ingenious. If Nike had come out with the syrupy-sweet commercials of the past, it would have been construed as out of touch; insulting even. Instead, they used the voice of Tiger’s father and mentor, Earl Woods, to connect to Tiger in a way no one else ever could.

This commercial was like full-frontal nudity for Tiger. The grainy, black and white image of him looking at the camera dead-on is the picture of a man staring at his own soul. The stoic image of Tiger, absent of his dazzling smile and flawless complexion, coupled with his father's calm, almost silent admonishment, decreased Tiger to his most basic form... nothing more than a man. A man… a son… a child; each of whom had disappointed his father.

When a child does something wrong, parents sometimes act out of anger. This may lead to physical punishment. I am a proponent of spankings, whippings, beatings… whatever you want to call it. Talking works to a certain extent. After a while, for some children, it takes a little more than talking. (If you don’t agree, that’s fine. That’s why this blog is called That Teowonna!)

But when a child reaches a certain age and level of maturity, the moral infractions they commit bring about disappointment more than anger. That’s when a calm admonishing becomes much more effective than a physical spanking.

On the commercial, Tiger received a very mildly spoken, yet effective dressing down by his father. A dressing down appeals to your integrity more-so than your physical being. Spankings affect the physical; dressings down impacts your spirit. If you have any integrity at all, a dressing down can actually be worse than a physical punishment.

Here’s the thing with admonishment and dressing down… anyone that you respect can effectively admonish you. I recall an incident when I was a senior in high school in which my first cousin, Travis, effectively dressed me down in a way that I will never forget. And he did so without even saying a word.

It was spring time and my friends, classmates and I would go to a young adult dance club called Freeman’s. We used to have a ball at Freeman’s… it was all about dancing and having a good time.

One Saturday night, the club was having a shortest shorts contest. The lady with the shortest shorts would win a hundred dollars. Say what? Strut some short-short and win a hundred bucks? I was down for that. Easy money. Or so I thought.

The day of the contest, I cut off my best pair of jeans and made them into daisy dukes. Not only that, to give them a little extra bling, I decorated them in colored rhinestones. They were cute! (Just like my little 17-year old self!)

When time came for the contest, I ran into the bathroom and changed into my daisy dukes. The music started and they called for all the girls to come to the floor. I rushed onto the floor to be the first girl in the spotlight. I strutted around, like I was in a high school beauty pageant. Little did I know, they weren’t interested in my poise; they were interested in my dancing… dirty dancing… freaky dancing… the kind that girls do at Freak-Nic, Daytona and Black Biker’s Week.

Well, that was NOT gonna happen with me, because That Teowonna! was not that kind of girl! I was a party girl, but I wasn't a freak. So, I kept it simple and did something like the butterfly or Atlanta Jam. Needless to say, they moved on to the next girl rather quickly. One of my classmates was up after me. She was more than happy to give them a show. And give them a show she did! She really worked it. I just stood aside and watched. Then one of the guys said to me, “Don’t let her outdo you!” So, I returned to the floor and started to imitate the movements that my classmate was doing. I had to show her that That Teowonna! would not be outdone.

Just as I my behind was nearing the floor as I was preparing to ‘drop it like it was hot’, I glanced up and saw my cousin’s eyes staring down at me. He just looked at me and shook his head.

And that’s all it took. I came back to myself. Before my butt could ‘get low’, I stopped mid-squat and just walked off the floor. In an instant, my cousin had admonished me with nothing more than a look of shame and disappointment.

Ever since that day, I’ve tried to make sure that I am never pressured to compete against another woman, especially for a title that I wouldn’t be proud to wear. I bet Trav doesn’t know the impact that night had on making That Teowonna! the lady she is today.

Just as Trav’s silent admonishment put me on the right track the being the woman that I am today, I hope Earl Wood’s calm admonishment through Nike’s commercial will help Tiger return to the man he was raised to be.

Maturity Brings Beauty (and Ugliness) to Light

Today, I had an oceanfront lunch at The Dunes Club in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. As I sat in front of the glass wall looking upon the beautiful Grand Strand seascape, I couldn’t help but take several deep breaths and wonder, how could I have ignored the beauty of the ocean for all these years.

Here’s the thing, I grew up in North Myrtle Beach, a mere 10 miles north of the hotel that I’m staying in this week. But I don’t remember anything of this vast beauty from my childhood. Did the seagulls just choose today to start crying out as they run from the rolling waves? Is today the first day the sea breeze decided to blow? Did the sun wake up this morning for the first time and decided to glow over the horizon? Surely not. Then why is it that, at the age of 37, am I just recognizing the true beauty of the ocean as if it has never existed before?

There is something about maturity that makes you see beauty where you’ve never seen it before. One of my fb friends said that now that he is older, he sees how beautiful the relationship his parents had was. “They really worked as a team, feeding off each others strengths and covering the other's weaknesses.”

Another fb friend said now that he is older, “I am glad I take time to know a person and to see that he/she is so much more than the physical being.”

Here are a couple more things that are beautiful that I didn’t recognize when I was younger: the blooming of flowers every spring; waking up refreshed after a good night’s sleep; getting a clean bill of health; having someone to confide in completely without fear of judgment; fresh peaches from the tree in my front yard; red wine; a simple, genuine smile from someone you admire; getting an apology you felt you were owed, rendering an apology that you owed someone.

Remember that person that you hated to see coming your way? There was something about them that just didn’t appeal to you. They were square; had no style; just plain boring. Now that you are older, you recognize beauty in the ordinary. You are not impressed with the flash and glitter. You’re just glad to have the calmness and stability that you need.

Remember that old car that was too loud; the one that you didn’t want to be seen in? Today, you’d be happy to drive a car that’s not very pleasing to the eye, but only takes $25 to fill up the tank, $220 a year in insurance, $13 in property taxes, and $0 in monthly payments.

Remember the huge, fairly-tale wedding that you just had to have? The one that cost you thousands of dollars to put on? Eight months later, now that you and your spouse are separated, you privately envy your friend who go married at the courthouse, has a wonderful marriage and is still in love.

Just like beauty, there is also something about maturity that helps you see ugliness where you never have before.

Remember that person that you admired and looked up to? The one you wanted to be just like? Now that you know them, you use them as an example of who not to become.

Remember that man/woman that you made you glow just to be in their presence? The one that you wanted so desperately to acknowledge you? Now that you know them, you wish you would have just admired them from afar because you see their confidence was a huge façade for their deep insecurity and neediness? They just ain’t the person you thought they were.

Remember that coveted career that you deserted your friends and lovers for? Now that you’ve reached your goal and have no one to share it with, you wish you could trade in a peg or two for the comforts of friendship and a family.

Growing up is funny, isn’t it? All the things you valued when you were younger, you find out have little value at all. And the things you took for granted are now the things that hold the most value. I guess maturity helps you see beauty in the simple things. It also helps you realize that everything that glitters ain’t gold.

Question: What object of beauty (and/or ugliness) did maturity reveal to you? Feel free to answer anonymously. If you are feeling bold, answer both questions about yourself!

Ode (or should I say owed) to the South Carolina Student Loan Corporation

Today, as I do most months (lol), I wrote out a check to the South Carolina Student Loan Corporation. As I added the two final zeros (trust me, degrees ain’t cheap), I couldn’t help but wonder some of the things I could do if I didn’t have make my student loan payments. I could:

Get the oil changed in my car ($125); Get my hair done by a real loctician ($85), Get some cosmetic dentistry ($250); Pay my credit card bills (too much to even think about writing down); Pay Tee Dee to give my house a good Spring cleaning; ($150); Replace the broken glass in my sliding glass door ($75); Go grocery shopping ($55); Take Chi Chi to the vet; ($125); Take Chester to the vet ($125); Go to Mint Julep’s for a few drinks and tapas; ($35), Go play golf ($45).

Although begrudgedly, I wrote out the monthly payment anyway and put it in the mail, because if I didn’t have the student loans, I would probably:

Be hunting a ride to go renew my bus pass; Be rocking a bright red weave that my cousin ‘them did; Be taking my gold grill out to brush my teeth; Not even care about the credit card bills; Spring cleaning? please; Hang a sheet over the sliding glass door; Be going grocery shopping with my EBT card; Be taking my children Chi Chi and Chester to the health department; Be going to Mr. Brown’s Seafood for a $5 fish sammich; Be hanging out at some ball court.

Not to mention: Be dumb, unemployed, and knocked up right about now.

So each month, I write that check, for this education, and all the success, opportunities and confidence that goes along with it, has a price.

God Bless the South Carolina Student Loan Corporation.

Are You There, Men? It’s Me, Teowonna.

This morning, I was almost on time for work. I've really been working on my timeliness ever since my manager gave me a soft reprimand during my annual review about three weeks ago. Since he didn't ding me for it, I feel like I owe it to his good spirit to try and change my bad ADHD, where-the-hell-are-my-keys, rush-out-the-house-at-the-last-minute habits. So far, I've made it to work on time a total of two times in the last three weeks. But today, I was almost on time… until I heard the flub, flub, flub of my flat tire.

After I pulled to the side of the road, I got out of my car with extra care as I had chosen today to sport my new, bold, crisp, bright white pant suit. So what we have four whole days before Spring begins; I've always walked to the beat of my own drum. When I walked to the back passenger side of my car and confirmed my suspicions, I let out a sigh. No chance of making it to work on time today. At least this time I have a valid reason.

I walked back to the driver's side, pulled completely off the road and popped my trunk to make sure my spare tire was in good shape. Just as I was doing that, I noticed a man approaching in a pick up truck. Great! My rescue was coming only within a minute or so of this damsel crying out in distress. Or so I thought. The man in the black work truck drove right passed me. My hopes rose when I saw him break his speed… only to diminish once again when I saw that he had slowed down to make a left turn. Wait… there goes his brake lights again. Maybe he's coming back. Nope…. Just making another turn. Dang it!

I put on my emergency flashers so that the next passersby will know that I actually need help. Within seconds, a man in an SUV drove by but he didn't even break his speed. Didn't even look my way.

Ok. Since the men aren't lining up to rescue me as I thought they would, I decided to go on to Plan B: Daddy. I called my stepfather who assured me he would be there within a few minutes. I thanked him and stood behind my car in my pristine white suit, looking pretty… waiting… hoping. Almost pleading with the men that were passing to stop and help me. About 12 cars passed, many of whom were men. But not a single one stopped.

Like all good daddies, my stepfather came and changed my tire. Within a few minutes, I was on my way to work, armed with a valid reason for my tardiness. But as I drove down the highway, I recounted my unfortunate experience. It really shook me. What is going on in this world where a man won't even stop to check on a woman who is obviously in need of his assistance? What is up with that?

Are you there, men? It's me, Teowonna. I am a woman. I am a lady.

I know I am awfully independent these days. But I am still a woman; I am still a lady. I do a lot of the things you normally would do; many of the things you should do. Yet I do them. Never the less, I am still a woman; still a lady. Even though I can and do take care of myself, that does not relieve you of the basic responsibilities of a man.

Is it so commonplace for a woman to take care of herself that you no longer have the desire to take care of me? Do you, in fact, not look my way for fear of being asked to help? I'm confused. So very confused. And scared!

Yes, I work… very hard in fact. Yes, I own a home and a nice car (which needs an oil change, by the way). Yes, I take a couple of trips throughout the year that I pay for myself. But guess what? I still need you. I still want you!

I want you because there is no one else in the world for me but you. There never has been nor will there ever be a substitution for you.

I need you for all the reasons women have traditionally have needed men. I need you for the love that only you can give. I need you for the protection that no one can provide like you. I need you for that spark for add to my life. I need you for the joy that your love adds to my heart.

But more importantly, I need you because God made me just for you. For no other purpose was I put here but to be a companion to you. So regardless of how much I money I make; how successful I become; how many times you hear me on the radio; how I strut my stuff like I'm the Queen of Sheba; please know my first and deepest desire is you; my most important job is to be a help meet for you.

But in that deal, you have a responsibilities too. You have to love, respect, and protect me. You have to be my provider. You have to come to my rescue when I need you. You have to kill the black snakes in my yard; change my flat tires; lay me down and hold me tight; defend me against those who speak ill of me. You have to save me from my own crazy, talk to much, way-over-the-top self. I need you to help me be the woman I'm supposed to be. I can't do it without you. Please, don't let me down.

Getting My Religion

Have you noticed that people don’t ‘shout’ in church like they used to? Remember when people used to ‘get happy’? I have very fond memories of my grandmother and all the older ladies in the church (and when I say older, I mean 50 or so) doing their dance almost every Sunday. I remember Aunt Flossie in particular. Aunt Flossie used to get the church crunk every Sunday with her own uncontainable exuberant dances that included heavy foot stumping and rhythmic clapping. For us children, that entertainment was reason enough to go to church.

Getting happy came in many forms… from jubilant dances in the aisles to pew-rocking jerks will sitting down. From audible cries with flailing hands to silent tears being wept in as a young mother swayed from side to side. I remember witnessing my mother dabbing her eyes with a tissue many a Sunday morning. One Sunday, I asked her why she cried. All she said was, “You will know when you get older.” She was right.

I remember church revivals being an electric time of the year. Where I grew up, young people were expected to ‘go down and get their religion’. For those of you who do not understand that old time Southern Baptist vernacular, ‘going down to get your religion’ was a very important time in a young person’s life. It figuratively meant you were old enough to recognize the importance of religion and God. It meant you were ready to proclaim yourself a Christian; ready to submit to the Lord. It literally meant going down to the altar. While on your knees, you prayed for forgiveness and invited, asked, begged the Lord into your heart and life. You asked the Lord to save your soul.

At my church, this happened usually during the annual revival while a crowd of other saved people gathered around you, praying and singing... kind of encouraging the Holy Spirit to come into you. And if he came, that was usually demonstrated by a jubilant dance, called shouting or ‘catching the Holy Ghost’.

I was 13 years old when that happened for me. I remember when my best friend, Erica Dewitt, and I decided that it was time for us to ‘go down’. And I prayed, confess, cried and invited the Lord into my life. And he came. It was quite a spectacle to behold.

My grandfather was the only person there to witness my getting my religion. I didn’t tell any of my family that I was doing it. I remember when my cousin Michael Lee went down; he told everybody! I can recall when he announced decisively and confidently to my aunt Vanessa, “Van, I’m going down tonight!” “Really, Mike!” She congratulated him with pride and satisfaction because he had officially come of age; he was old enough to make the decision for himself that he wanted to be a Christian.

I said all that to say this: Where is that good old-time religion? What happened to that good feeling of joy and gratefulness that lead you to momentarily leave yours senses and allow a higher spirit to control you to the point of dancing unabashedly?

When has the last time you heard a child outside of your household proclaim they are going down to the altar tonight, or going to join the church? It’s probably been a while. Do you even have a relationship with a child outside of your own in which they would share such with you?

A lot has changed in the modern church. Instead of driving a few minutes to church, now we drive 20 to 40 minutes because we don’t live in the same community in which we go to church. When we look around the church, we see familiar faces but we don’t know the names. And when church is over, we go home. There’s no more gathering around the front steps fellowshipping. Now we get in our fancy cars and go to Lizard’s Thicket for breakfast for fear of looking like gossips. Remember when there is an event at the church and the entire community came out? Now, mostly members come. The church used to be the center of our community. Do we even have a community anymore?

So, what’s the point of this week’s column? I don’t know. Maybe there isn’t one. I guess I’m just longing for the good old days. Thank you for strolling down memory lane with me.

Why Are We Still Color-Struck

I came across an article in the NY Times a few weeks ago that featured a picture of the ever-lightening Sammy Sosa. Have you noticed that over the past few years Sosa has gone from a rich mocha-brown complexion to a pale, sallow pink? According to the NY Times article, Sosa used a cream to ‘soften’ his skin but it also bleached it. Really Sammy, really?

The article said “creams that offer lighter skin may also bring risks.” Doggone right it does. In addition to the risk of thinner, more sensitive skin, it brings the risk of perpetual ignorance. Lightening your skin perpetuates the same slave mentality that ‘light is right’ and ‘black is whack’. I really thought that line of thinking was played out. Clearly, it isn’t.

Remember when the New Yorker published a front page political caricature of Mrs. Obama as a militant, fist bumping, black panther-like, AK47-toting mama? If her complexion had been more like that of Alicia Keys, would she have been portrayed as such? Just curious... And what about President Obama? I've heard men (usually darker-skinned black men) say that if he had been darker, he never would have been elected. Think about that. If Barack Obama's complexion looked more like Wesley Snipes, would white people have felt comfortable voting for him? Probably not, huh? But what about black people? Would the espresso Barack have had to work twice as hard as the cafe' au lait Barack to get the black vote? Clearly, America, both white and black, is still color struck.

Unfortunately, it is us darker-skinned people who perpetuate that 'light is right' school of thought by altering our looks to comply with this Anglo standard of beauty. Now, Michelle and Barack Obama have not (as far as we know), but Sammy Sosa, Lil Kim, Vivica A. Fox and millions of other unnamed people have.

Here's the problem, we have been so brainwashed by our pasts as slaves and images in the media, that we now think the lighter we are, the more accepted we are. When actually, the more comfortable we are with who we are, the more accepted we are. Read that sentence again and think about it.

Back in slavery times, the house slaves were treated far better than the field hands. They also had a tendency to be lighter. The conclusion was drawn that house slaves were treated better because of their lighter complexion. This caused a great divide among the slaves on the plantation widely based on skin tone. While the field slaves got scraps, poorer living conditions and more frequent whippings, the house slaves got better food, better clothes, better housing and more respect. But the real reason house slaves were treated better was not because of the fairness of their skin, but because they were probably Massa’s children. And quite naturally, people treat their own a little better than they do others. (Is your light bulb going off?)

Needless to say, the better treatment of house Negros caused a chasm among the slaves; a chasm that still exists today even after the ‘Black is Beautiful’ and fist-pumping ‘Black Power’ rally cries of the 60’s and 70’s. And now today, we are resorting to harsh skin-lightening, nose jobs, relaxers, weaves and wigs trying to be something we are not; trying to be more like them and less like us. Why can’t we just be happy with who we are? Round noses, kinky hair, rich deep skin hues and all.

On Monday, January 18th, many of us observed Martin Luther King Jr. Day. It has been almost 50 years since King delivered his famous “I Have Dream” speech in which he fancied a world in which people were judged on the content of their character and not the color of their skin. Forty-seven years later, we still are not there.

Instead of working to build a more positive character, we are changing the color of our skin. What if instead of fighting for equality, King just lightened his skin so he could be more accepted? What if instead of marching, he just got a relaxer and a thinner nose? Don’t you see, when you change your features to match the world, you are not changing the world… just the world’s response to you. That may make things a little easier for you, but it does nothing for your children and others like you.

My challenge to you is to take bold defining steps to change the world, instead of merely changing yourself to be of world. (And I guess I can do the same since someone had no problem pointing out to me that I probably wasn't born with this golden blond hair.)

Wise up dark-skinned people. Accept and love yourself for who you are. The rest of the world will follow.