That Teowonna!

I've Moved!

2010-07-11T10:08:00.001-04:00

I've Moved! Bigger and Better.

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

2010-06-23T07:30:00.001-04:00

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

2010-06-22T14:42:00.001-04:00

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!

2010-06-07T21:43:00.001-04:00

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

2010-05-27T06:55:00.000-04:00

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

2010-05-23T22:10:00.006-04:00

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

2010-05-23T20:23:00.003-04:00

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

2010-05-22T08:21:00.006-04:00

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

2010-05-11T18:35:00.006-04:00

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

2010-05-05T05:54:00.006-04:00

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

2010-04-27T22:03:00.009-04:00

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

2010-04-12T21:50:00.009-04:00

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.

Watch CBS News Videos Online

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

2010-03-25T10:26:00.000-04:00

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

2010-03-23T19:58:00.002-04:00

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.

2010-03-16T17:08:00.009-04:00

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

2010-03-03T11:27:00.002-05:00

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

2010-02-26T01:06:00.007-05:00

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.

Why Tiger Owes the World an Apology

2010-02-23T19:24:00.009-05:00

Tiger shouldn’t apologize; he doesn’t owe us anything.
Tiger Woods does not owe us an apology.
Even with his indiscretions, Tiger doesn’t owe us anything.
Lies!

Those are all headlines from well-known sports columnists and other social bloggers. And to them in all their infinite wisdom, I again say, lies!

Here’s the problem I have with all the people who say that Tiger’s affairs are nobody’s business but his and his wife’s. They are basing their opinion on the premise that the only person affected by Tigers indiscretions was his wife. When Tiger cheated on his wife, he hurt and betrayed more than just Elin. He hurt and betrayed his children; his mother and father (even in his death); her mother and father; his friends; her friends; his acquaintances; her acquaintances; everyone who sang his praises; everyone who believed the façade he portrayed.

And Tiger is a public figure, whether he wants to be or not. His business partners paid him millions of dollars for him to be an appropriate, responsible representation of their brands. If it were widely known that Tiger was a womanizer, having indiscriminate and seemingly random sex, do you think Nike would have used him as their front man? What about Gatorade? And Buick? After having collectively paid him billions of dollars, are you telling me this is only between Tiger and his wife? Lies!

And what about his employees? What about the people who worked for his foundation? What about the people who volunteered with his foundation? Are you telling me they were not impacted by Tiger’s affairs? Are you telling me they don’t deserve an apology? Wake up and help yourself to a huge slice of humble pie!

This is what I think. Those of you who feel that Tiger doesn’t owe anyone an apology but his wife probably have wronged the people in your own life in some significant way. You’re probably a cheater too and was too arrogant to apologize to everyone who deserved an apology. If Tiger had failed to offer an apology, that would have validated your own arrogance and irresponsibility; you would have felt a level of solidarity with him; he would have been initiated into the ‘boys club’. But the fact that he did apologize should have shamed you into acknowledging your own shortcomings. But rather than rethinking your actions, you argued that he shouldn’t have apologized. Don’t hate because Tiger was man enough to apologize and you weren’t.

Now, while you are still being held in bondage by your arrogance, Tiger has made the first step in a gallant way to making amends with the people whom he has offended. Now he can pick up the pieces of his shattered ‘golden boy’ persona and start to move on.

Speaking of moving on, that’s the other reason Tiger owes us all an apology… because he felt he does.

Ok, here’s something about me. I have a very sharp tongue. I know it is hard to believe but I have been known to slice and dice people’s feelings up in a matter of seconds and not even blink an eye. Today, the older and wiser Teowonna is a little slower to offend and a lot quicker to apologize. Wanna know why? Because I am no match for my conscience; it wins every time. After a couple of rounds of black eyes, I learned that the quicker I sincerely apologize, the quicker I felt free to resume life without the burden of guilt. There were times in which I apologized even when the other person did not feel offended. I apologized because my actions and my words offended me; offended God. I imagine that’s how Tiger felt. He apologized because he had to.

Here’s something else about apologizing, when you apologize, it forces you to humble down long enough to feel the pain you caused other people. Remember how pitiful Tiger looked as he gazed into the eyes of the people who love and respected him? Do you think he ever truly felt their pain the way he felt it right then? His mother hugged him after the press conference, but did you notice that she never even looked at him during the entire 14-minute speech? Oh yeah, he owed more than Elin an apology.

And one more thing. If the rehab program that Tiger is in is worth its weight in peanuts, apologizing to those you have wronged is a requirement. The primary benefit of coming clean is not just for the people you offended, but for you, the offender.

So, I suggest you rethink your standing. Does Tiger owe us an apology? You better believe he does. But not for our benefit; for his.

Does He See You

2010-02-12T15:48:00.010-05:00

Last week, I finally made it to see the blockbuster movie, Avatar. If you don't have the time or inclination (in other words, money) to go see it, take my advice and just do it. It will be well worth it because Avatar is the type of movie that you MUST see at the theatre.

There’s one part in the movie in which Jack Sully says to his alien-like love interest Neytiri, “I see you.” Of course he sees her. I mean, she’s standing right there in front of him. But that’s not what he meant. He meant, “I see you; I feel you; you are as much of a part of me as this heart that beats inside of my chest.” Although I saw that line coming from a mile away, it nevertheless had a significant impact on me.

While I was driving home in silence after the movie, I couldn’t help but think back to a past relationship that I admit, took me for a bit of a spin. That was one guy that I thought really saw me. But here, years later, it is clear that he didn’t. When a man sees you, he will do what Jack Sully did… give up the things that are comfortable and familiar to him to make things work with you. Now I know Avatar is just a movie; a fairy tale, no less. But the overall message still rings true. When a man really sees you, he will move mountains. I’ve seen it happen. How many men do you know who were living the life… I mean parties, women, fun, rock and roll… only to let it all go when he met her.

Sometimes it’s a struggle to let go of old things that are not conducive to a new positive relationship. But when he finally meets her, it’s not that much of a struggle after all. It just becomes a necessary step to do what he knows he has to do; which is be with her.

But when a man does not see you, there are always reasons and excuses for not ending other relationships, for not coming home; for not calling; for not keeping his word. When he doesn’t see you, there is nothing you can do to make him see you. In short, if you ain't the one, you just ain't the one.

On February 18, I will be a guest on the BlogTalkRadio show, The Black Authors Network Radio Show. I will be a part of a panel of five who will discuss a topic that many of my blogs posts are centered around: The State of African American Family and Culture. I will be the only panelist who is not a published author. But we all know, I am a writer and I definitely have something to say the subject. In researching the other guests to get an understanding of their points of view, I came across Kim Brooks’ Web site. Kim is a licensed minister and an author who has a passion for single Christians. On her site, she has a number of blog posts that caught my eye. But there was one paragraph buried within her posts that made me see things in a way that I never have before. In talking about God’s creation of Eve for Adam, Kim wrote:

As you read the text, you’ll notice that it was God’s idea to create a help meet for Adam, and not Adam’s (Gen. 2:18). God presented Adam with his mate, and Adam recognized who she was. Also notice that God did the presenting, and He knew exactly what Adam wanted (physical attraction) and needed (help).

The moment I read the second sentence in the paragraph, the years that I’d spent in a fog over my past relationship all of a sudden became crystal clear. This is what I surmised from Kim’s interpretation of the passage and what I read for myself: When God presented Adam with Eve, Adam recognized who she was, his mate. No one had to tell Adam that she was for him. Eve didn’t have to help Adam see it; she didn’t have to compete for his attention and affection. Adam just knew for himself that Eve was made for him and there was no one else (literally and figuratively). I also realized that perhaps the reason I had been so conflicted during my past relationship was because he did not recognize me as his mate. When I say recognize me, I don’t mean ‘acknowledge’ me as his mate. What I mean is, he didn’t see me as his mate; he didn’t see that I was his mate. And if he didn’t see that I was his mate, then perhaps, I was not his mate. And that would mean, he was not mine; I just wanted him to be.

“Ding” went the light bulb as it went off in my head.

I released a long sigh as I marveled at the freedom, relief and peace that I felt at that very moment; the freedom to release myself from the internal anguish that I had carried far too long; the relief in knowing that I am not the one that God has selected for him; and the peace in knowing that God has selected me for someone. I just have to wait for him to see me.

And when he does see me, it won’t be a chore to relinquish old strongholds; it will just be something that has to be done in order to more forward in the destiny that God has laid out for him… for us.

So ladies, that man that your heart desires so; the one who said he would come but didn’t; the one who acts like he’s ready to move forward but keeps one foot in his old life, ask yourself: does he see me? If the answer is ‘no’, I want you to know that it’s ok. You just are not ‘the one’. And that means, neither is he.

Do Black People Still Have Something to Prove?

2010-02-09T21:14:00.002-05:00

Last Friday, I was privileged enough to attend the opening night of Black Eagles, a stage play written by Leslie Lee and produced by Twin Productions . The play, which was held at the Patriot Hall Performing Arts Center in Sumter, SC, sang the praises of the Tuskegee Airmen. I say I was privileged to attend the event because in addition to the performance of 12 fine community theatre actors, was a real life Black Eagle, Leroy Bowman. Mr. Bowman still lives in Sumter and I was honored to be in his presence. I wish more people had been there to witness the tribute that was paid to him.

We all know the story of the Tuskegee Airman, right? In case you don’t: the Tuskegee Airmen were the first African American military aviators in the United States armed forces. During World War II, blacks in many U.S. states were still subject to Jim Crow laws. The American military itself was racially segregated. As a result, the Tuskegee Airmen were subject to racial discrimination, both within and outside the Army. Despite these adversities, they flew with distinction. The Tuskegee Airmen were particularly successful in their missions as bomber escorts in Europe.

The play was featured three actors who portrayed aging Tuskegee Airman who reminisced about the 'good old days' and how they overcame the common thought that black airman were not capable of being military aviators. Throughout the play, there was a common thought that guided the young airman’s actions… they were not only representing themselves in their endeavors to integrate the US Army Air Corp; they were also representing their families, their communities and the entire black race. They had to prove to white people that they were just as good, smart and capable as they were. As a result of carrying the burden of an entire race on people on their shoulders, they had to try harder, study longer and be better. Their resolve was tougher; their work ethic was stronger. They did all this because they had to prove that black men could pilot fighter jets just as well as white men. In doing that, it would prove that black people were good enough. In fact, one of the characters exclaimed to a fellow flyer who had been slacking off, “Man, this just isn’t about you. We are doing this for our families; our communities; for all black people!” Wow. That’s a lot for one black airman to bear.

That line reminded me of stories my mother told me about her youth. She told me how important public presentation was. So much so, that her home economics class in school was more like a finishing school. Their teacher didn’t only teach them how to run a house, she also taught them how to enter and exit a room; how to dress appropriately. Basically, how to be a lady. My mother told me that when she and her sisters left the house, they had to be ‘girdled down’, because they could not be seen in public with their bodies shaking and wiggling all over the place. That would have reinforced white people’s thoughts that black women were loose, unkempt and not respectable. When she walked out of the house, she didn’t only represent herself, but her entire family, as well as the entire race of black people. That’s a lot for one woman to bear.

I’m sure many older black people have tons of stories just like this; how they had to go above and beyond just to prove that we, as a race, were good enough. My question to you is: do black people as a race still have something to prove?

I don’t think so. My theory is that we have effectively assimilated into the culture of white America to the point that individually, we no longer feel we represent the race. We only represent ourselves now. That eases the burden on our young people today, but I contend that as a race, we are suffering as a result.

When we had to work twice as hard to get opportunities, we cherished the opportunities more. And as a result of the opportunity, we worked harder to prove to the world that we are good employees and we deserved the opportunities. Now that employment opportunities are more equal than ever before, our work ethic has diminished significantly. We go to work late and do less work while we are there… if we go to work at all. If we perform poorly or get fired, no longer does it look bad on the entire race of people. It only speaks to the kind of person we, as individuals, are. That’s a good thing, right? I’m not so sure. Now, it is a lot easier to be a slacker because there is no pressure from the race to be a good representation of us all.

When young girls leave the house now, they use little to no discretion about their dress. Whereas my mother took extra care not to allow her body to jiggle inappropriately, young girls today seems to wear as little as possible and the most non-restraining fabrics that actually facilitate the jiggle. The more the jiggle, the better. If young girls represented the entire race of people with every step, would they wear Lycra and spandex, or something a little more controlling?

You know, I think we all will agree that as a race, integration was a major step to the empowerment and betterment black people. But seeing the camaraderie and the desire to prove the world wrong about our race that the Black Eagles play displayed, I must wonder if integration is really all that it cracked up to be. Because now that we have proven that we are just as good, we are also proving that we can be just as bad.

Columbia Event Breakdown: The 2010 AKA Pink Ice Gala

2010-02-02T20:21:00.004-05:00

One word: Bravo! What more can I say? On Friday night, the Gamma Nu Chapter of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Incorporated managed to present another exquisite affair that brought out Columbia’s most noted citizens, as well as, the just-as-fabulous lesser-knowns.

I was truly fascinated by the parade of youthful, buff-shouldered, bronzed back-baring beauties that strutted unabashedly down the red carpet, as well as, the refined elegance of the more mature ladies in their sequined gowns and authentic mink coats. No faux fur for them!

I, somehow, fell in the middle of the two generations of ladies… not young enough to brazenly dash around the room disregarding decorum and proper presentation, and not old enough to sit elegantly aside and turn all the fun over to the younger ladies. So what do I do? Make an appropriate number of well-executed runway twirls with Pink Ice aficionado and radio talk show host, Cynthia Hardy.

First item on the ‘must do’ list: the food line, of course. I sashayed to the buffet service table and put a minimal amount of food on my plate. I couldn’t stand the risk of getting an unsightly stomach bulge; thus ruining my silhouette in my perfectly-suited backless black dress. Never that!

The food, which was catered by the Brookland Banquet and Conference Center was good. (Since the catering was overseen by the church, which is under the covenant of the Lord, I’d better just leave it at that!)

Next item on the agenda, pictures. As the ladies of OnPoint! (Cynthia , Laura Elam and I) made our way through the crowd looking for a photographer, we were disappointed when we found none. So we ended up taking cell phone pictures by the backdrop at front entrance.

After I settled into the event and was able to see beyond the glam, I noted a few things that would have made the event feel more grand and formal. Like a chandelier. When I looked above, there was no chandelier. How wonderful it would have been to be twirled underneath a chandelier in a grand ballroom. I know the Pink Ice turns out more than 2500 people every year and it’s hard to find a venue in Columbia, other than the Canty Building at the SC State Fairground, large enough to accommodate that many people. But I really would have felt like Princess Tiana (complete with my new $125 rhinestone slippers) if I could have gotten a twirl under a crystal chandelier by my prince charming of a date.

It also would have been great to see more men in tuxedos. I admit there’s no way I could have seen every one of those fine men at the ball, but I only recall seeing a handful of men (more like three) in traditional tuxedos. Since the women were exquisitely dressed in everything from pink and green tutu-like dresses to fully sequined black gowns, I wish the men had dressed with the same enthusiasm as the women.

Ok. So the food was ok; there was no photographer that I saw; no chandelier and limited men in tuxedos. Why was this event such a hit? Simple. The Finesse Band and the sisterhood of the AKA’s.

The Finesse Band was absolutely wonderful. Lead singer, Eric Mayweather, keyboardist Byron Counts, guitarist and band leader Terrance Young and the other band members sang old school and new school better than I’ve ever heard before. They played the perfect mix of Frankie Beverly and Maze for the swingers, slow jams for the lovers, Motown for the older crowd and line dance music for the unaccompanied. Their entertainment factor contributed to the success of this event more than any other single component.

And now, the AKA’s. Since I’m a Sigma Gamma Rho, I’m well aware of this Greek superiority complex that AKA’s typically have. And every other Greek sorority will agree with me when I say, its all in their minds. But when you can a throw a gala affair like this year after year, I can see why their egos are so grand!

During the second half of the evening, I strolled around the room for my final mix and mingle. Who did we see? Roll call: I saw old boyfriends with their new women (who clearly don’t hold a candle to me). I saw old girlfriends with their new men (who nearly were glowing like candles). I also saw Congressmen and school board officials; radio personalities and talk show hosts. I saw doctors and lawyers; mayoral candidates and book authors. But mostly what I saw was scores of beautiful, well-dressed people, exquisitely adorned with broad smiles on their faces. People just like you and me who don’t always have a reason to get dressed up in formal attire.

That’s what the AKA’s do so wonderfully year after year… give everyone a reason to brave threats of ice and snow, to get their hair did and their nails done; to visit a professional make-up artist; to buy $125 rhinestone shoes; to break out the dress they bought years ago, just waiting for the perfect occasion to wear it. That’s why this event has come to be the premier event in Columbia, SC.

Kudos go out to the Gamma Nu Chapter of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Inc and especially Jolanda Hardy, who hosted the BOMB table. You ladies rock!

Upcoming events that will get the break down are: Beat to Hip with Amiri Baraka, on Friday, February 12 at USC’s Swearingen Engineering Center and Tyler Perry’s Madea’s Big Happy Family on Saturday, February 13 at the Colonial Center.

Bring Jaylen Home

2010-01-14T21:11:00.007-05:00

David Goldman spent five tireless years fighting to get custody of his son, Sean. But David Jackson won’t spend five minutes fighting for his son, JaQuan. David Goldman fought man and foreign institution to defend his God-given right to raise his child. But David Green won’t fight a bitter ex and a domestic court system for the right to raise his. David Goldman flew thousands of miles on nothing more than hope just to have a one-hour visit with his son. David Brown won’t even walk around the corner to spend five minutes with his.

David Goldman, in my opinion, is the epitome of what a father should be. He demonstrated the ever-burning desire that every man should have when it comes to his child. Without his child in his life, Goldman said he was not complete; he could not rest; he could not live; he could not progress… all he could do was exist. He refused to grow accustomed to life without his child.

Is this extreme desire to raise and be with his child exclusive only to David Goldman? From what the statistics regarding fathers who are not active in their children’s lives show, you would think so. But I don’t think David Goldman has anything innately present in him that every man wasn’t born with. He just acted more strongly on his desire instead of dismissing it.

Not only did Goldman believe that no one could raise his child better than he could, he also recognized what he would be missing if he didn’t have his child in his life. That’s what I think many men don’t give enough consideration to… when your child is not in your life, not only is the child missing out of something that no one else can provide, so are you. There are so many moments, good and bad, that the two of you should share together. No other person should have the privilege of sharing those intimate and unique moments with your child above you.

Take Action. Buck up. Go get your child! No one can raise your flesh and blood better than you. The new husband/boyfriend can’t. And even though they think they can, the mother certainly can’t do it alone. There is NOBODY in this world better equipped to give your child what he needs than you, the biological father. Furthermore, there is no relationship that you can engage in that will ever give you the same pleasure and satisfaction than your relationship with your natural-born child.

David Goldman’s friends said that now that Sean is back, they now have David back. Without Sean, David was not the man he was meant to be. Men, that’s how you are without your child in your life… you are not who you truly are supposed to be. Do you recognize that? Without your child in your life, you are far less the person than you are meant to be.

Yes, the courts are biased against you. Yes, the mother is crazy. Yes, her new boyfriend is stupid, thinking you are there to see your ex instead of the child. But you can overcome all of that. You are a man. And that child is yours.

David Goldman has a foundation called Bring Sean Home. Today, start your own foundation; a foundation in your heart and mind. Bring Jaylen Home. Bring JaQuan Home. Bring Briana Home. Bring Arielle Home. Bring Kaila Home. Bring Ashley Home.

Go get your child. Fight to raise your child. Nobody can do it better than you. And no other relationship can give you what a relationship with your child can. Your child deserves a relationship with you. Be the complete, whole person you were intended to be.

*Note: If you don’t know who David Goldman is, good grief! Go look it up!

We Shall Overcome… Our Own Ignorance

2010-01-03T19:57:00.007-05:00

Racism exists. Let me say that right now. And unfortunately, it seems to be spreading like wildfire amongst a most unlikely group of people; black people.

I believe that racism is steadily coming to a halt in the traditional American sense… and by that I mean, black/white racism. But because of this new breed of terrorism against America, I’m noticing a disturbing trend. While Americans continue to move beyond the black/white racism that has long plagued us, many are transferring that cancer to other ethic groups. And the funny thing about it is that black people, who used to be the victims, now seem to be the perpetrators.

Case in Point #1: A few of my co-workers and I were standing around our cubicles chatting when a fellow employee of Middle Eastern decent came into our area. We all chatted a few minutes before he moved on. After he left, a white female co-worker made a silly comment, one that I do not recall verbatim, but ultimately relating the employee to terrorism. The rest of the group laughed, including a black male co-worker. I was horrified and disappointed. I tried to admonish them by saying the comment was inappropriate and unfair to our co-worker who has never given anyone a reason to doubt his intentions. They completely disregarded my attempt to shame them into discontinuing the conversation. It was like my lone voice of reason was overridden by a mob of stupidity. So I turned my back to them, put my ear buds in and refocused on my work. There was NO way I was going to be associated with that foolishness.

Later, I wondered how hard it must be for honest people of Middle Eastern descent living in America after the September 11 attacks. I also questioned why it is so easy for this magnitude of ignorance to rear its head after we've tried desperately to stamp it down. I think when it comes to racism fueled by fear, we Americans are especially hypocritical. Even though I didn’t say it, I wanted to ask my white female co-worker, “When Timothy McVeigh killed 168 people when he bombed the Alfred P. Murray Building in Oklahoma City, did you then begin to question every white man that you know? Did you go home and all of a sudden look at your husband suspiciously because he too is a white male? What about your estranged brother who always acted like he didn’t quite belong? Did you question whether he was laying out bombs throughout downtown Columbia?”

If Timothy McVeigh’s heinous actions did not make her question every white male she knows, why would the actions of a relatively small number of extremists, who happen to be of Middle Eastern descent, make her question a whole race of people? Talk about hypocrisy. And to the brotha who stood there skinning and grinning with the rest of the crew, I am especially disappointed in you. Twenty years ago, that conversation of solidarity would have been about you.

Case in Point #2: A few days after the failed Christmas day terrorist attack, I was chatting with a Nigerian friend. After I hung up the phone and turned my attention back to my friends at the table, one of my black female co-workers made a comment that disturbed me. She cautioned, “You better be careful with him.” Did I say that comment disturbed me, I meant it infuriated me. How dare she! After decades of white people holding every black person accountable for the sins and crimes of one or two, how can she invoke that same ignorance on another group of people? It hasn’t been very long since we’ve been judged on the content of our character instead of the color of our skin. Do Nigerians not deserve the same consideration?

When John Allen Muhammad spent days driving around with a young John Lee Malvo in the back of his trunk randomly killing people, did she go home and question her husband, who is also a black male? What about the man that her daughter dates? Did she caution her daughter to ‘be careful with him?’ Furthermore, since her nephew is a young black male like John Lee Malvo, should he automatically be considered a suspect of crimes? As a black woman over 50 years of age, I'm sure she has firsthand knowledge of someone close to her being racially profiled. How dare she impart that same judgment on someone else simply because of ethnicity? Lest she forget from whence she has come. We ain’t but two steps outside of segregation ourselves.

So, to my brothas and sistas who are so inclined to question every person of Middle Eastern or Nigerian descent because of the actions of a few, don’t forget where you come from. We are overcoming, but trust me; we haven’t come that far yet.

You Heard it First from That Teowonna!

2009-12-17T10:58:00.004-05:00

Last week on my blog, I wrote:

I'm willing to bet that Tiger Wood's father cheated on his mother. And Tiger actually knew about it! And he kept his father's confidence.

After reading my blog, someone asked me, "Do you really think Tiger's father cheated on his mother?" My response to her: "Without a doubt!"

Well, this morning during the NBC Today's daily "Tiger Woods Briefing" (how ridiculous is that!) there was a report from one of Tiger's teenage girlfriends that said Tiger often confided in her how distressed he was over his father's infidelity. Aha! Earl Woods did cheat on his wife. Told ja! Even though Tiger was distraught over his father's infidelity, as most young boys are, he grew up to do the exact same thing.

While the world applauded Earl Woods for raising a world class athlete, it seems he didn't do such a great job raising a man. In fact, he raised a man who is just like him... driven, determined, focused and a cheater. When Tiger wrote an earlier statement saying that his behavior isn't demonstrative of his family values and upbringing, actually it was. He just repeated the behavior that he observed (and detested) in his father. Unfortunately, Tiger has a much larger audience to observe his 'Woods Family' behavior than his father had.

Theory: Men who cheat raise men who cheat.

Advice to Men: It's bad enough that you are disrespecting your wife and reeking havoc on your family with your infidelity, but ultimately, you are teaching your son to follow in his father's footsteps.

Advice to Women: The best indication whether your man will cheat on you: His Daddy! Believe that!

With the recent report coming out, today would be a great time to read or reread last week's blog. And I caution you against ever doubting That Teowonna's theories again! Like I say, "You can disagree, but we both know I'm right."

Until next week, ciao'

The Three Types of Men, according to That Teowonna!

2009-12-07T17:27:00.010-05:00

Men behaving badly... in the news again. This time it is Tiger Woods. I tried to wait to post my Tiger Woods blog after some of the media and opinion hoopla settled down. But now that the number of women Tiger allegedly had an affair with has risen from three to six, I figured I’d go ahead and join to rest of the bloggers and render my opinion on this earth-shattering revelation.

Earth-shattering, you ask? Yes, earth-shattering. Earth-shattering to his wife and children. Earth-shattering to my 80-year old white friend who can’t believe ‘her boy’ would do that. (After all, he has a beautiful wife and two wonderful children.) "His little pee-pee just got confused," she said.

This Tiger Woods realization is not earth-shattering for many of us, but it is definitely disheartening to know that even the men that we thought were good examples are proving to be nothing more than typical… ordinary. Yes, I know, I know… Tiger Woods is just human; he is not perfect. But since when does being human have to mean being a man whore? Does imperfection make it acceptable to cheat on your wife and children? Oh yes, he betrayed his children just as much as he did his wife. Speaking for women and children everywhere: Can we please have a man/father that we can believe in? Is that too much to ask?

OK… enough of my personal Tiger Woods ranting. Here is my theory. There are three types of men when it comes to fidelity. The Driver, The Rescue Wood and The Putter. I’m sure you know, are or love one of these guys.

The Driver
Definition: In a set of golf clubs, the driver gets all the fanfare. The driver is the club that is usually used to tee off with. Therefore, there is much pomp and circumstance surrounding the almighty tee shot. In the tee box, that’s when the men and boys are separated. Some hit it long but to the right or left. Some hit it straight, but not long. A true golf aficionado hits is straight and long. The driver and the tee shot are all about show… all about ego; just like driver men. The man who is a driver is so full of himself that he thinks he doesn’t have to be faithful; he is going to cheat no matter what because driving is how he defines himself. Fidelity, honesty and all other relating concepts just are not in him. When he got married, he knew from the start that he was going to cheat. He never had any intentions of being faithful. He got married simply to have some stability between his various other relationships. Tiger Woods is an example of a driver. Unfortunately, there are a million others but I refuse to waste my keystrokes indentifying them… or recounting my personal affair(s) with them for your reading pleasure. They are so yesterday!

Root Cause: Why is the driver the way he is? Probably because his daddy was/is a driver. And his friends are drivers too. Remember my blog post about co-conspirators of cheating men? Add 'sons' to this list of unspoken co-conspirators. Think about it… fathers indoctrinate their sons to the whole concept of cheating by exposing them to their girlfriends even though they are still with/married to the child’s mother. I don’t think men realize how despicable that act is. That whole ordeal is such a confusing paradox for the child. This builds up contempt against his father for cheating on his mother, while forming some convoluted boys-club bond. But most importantly, this passes down the cheating disposition to an innocent boy. I’m willing to bet that Tiger Wood’s father cheated on his mother. And Tiger actually knew about it! And he kept his father’s confidence. And Tiger’s friends are probably cheats too! Golfers have groupies just like ball players. I bet many of Tiger’s golf buddies are drivers, just like him!

Advice to Women: First thing’s first… this ain’t about you. This is about your man. If your man is a driver, he is a driver. There ain’t nothing you can do about it. You can’t be a better woman; you can’t make yourself more sexually appealing; you can’t be a better mother or housekeeper. That is not going to keep him at home because it is not about you; it is about the driver and his ego. That's just who he is! So know this, if you stay with a driver and you value fidelity, you will be miserable! Period… pointblank. He is going to seem regretful and ashamed only long enough for you to settle down; to get you to stay with him. Then he will be back at it again. His primary goal is to wear you down until you don’t care anymore. Then he can have the faithful/stupid wife at home and his women in the street.

Ladies, one more thing you should know about the driver - he very well may stop driving one day but only when he gets tired of the course. So you can have a faithful husband in a driver. But that probably will come only after he has robbed you of your esteem and dignity. The question then becomes, what kind of a woman will you be after that?

Advice to Men: Grow your dumb ass up!

The Rescue Wood
Definition: In a set of golf clubs, the rescue wood is usually a little utilized, yet dependable club that can be used to get you out of a tight spot. It is often forgotten until you find yourself in a spot in which no other club will do. Only then do you go searching for your rescue wood. Sometimes, it has been so neglected that you find that you took it out of your bag and replaced it with a newer, sleeker hybrid. A man who is a rescue wood is one who has stepped outside of the marriage, but only did so painstakingly because he was ultimately cast aside, like the rescue wood. He wasn’t out hunting a new woman. His extra-marital relationship was more like a slow simmer than a hot, rolling boil.

Root Cause: The rescue wood man most likely has been neglected at home... taken for granted, much like the club in a golfer’s bag. He has tried everything to bring joy (and sex) back to his marriage but his wife isn’t responsive; she just doesn’t want to play anymore. She may be more interested about raising the children or her career than she is her husband; therefore, she has neglected his most basic emotional and physical needs. The rescue wood often complains of feeling unappreciated… like someone merely in the house rather than an actual part of the household. He complains that his wife just expects him to be there to pay the bills and clean up the yard. He may actually feel that she would be happier if he would just leave… but keep paying the bills and doing the chores, of course. In this case, the wife basically ran her husband to another woman.

Advice to Women: Extramarital relationships for rescue woods can be very dangerous because the relationships have a tendency to be more emotional than physical. These men fall in love with the women who are giving him the physical and emotional attention he feels he is not getting you. It is one thing when your man checks out on you physically, but when he checks out on you emotionally, you just need to give up. The best example of a rescue wood is Governor Mark Sanford. Governor Sanford is in love with that woman in Argentina and Jenny needs to go on about her business.

Advice to Men: I understand that your woman is acting a fool. I suggest severing your ties legally rather than having a relationship outside your marriage. Don’t let her or the situation turn you into a man you don’t want to be. You are far too good for that. And trust me, there are a ton of women just waiting for a man like you. Don’t believe me? When you get free, just let me know. I will have a list, sorted to your specifications, of women who have been waiting their whole lives for a man just like you!

The Putter
Definition: In golf, the only club that you MUST have on each hole is a putter. You can tee off with a driver or an iron. You can use a hybrid, fairway wood or iron in the fairway. But for the most part, you must use a putter on the green. Putters are heavily depended upon. A good putter and proper proficiency can get you out of tight spots when your approach was off. It can make a good golf day even better, especially when you've made it to the greens in two strokes and sunk a putt in one. That makes for a great day of golf. Putters come in all shapes and sizes. While some are pretty, others are interesting. And others are ugly and old-timey looking but extremely functional. But good putters help you to be steady, solid and focused. A good putter brings out the best in you. It gently corrects your wayward strokes. Thrusting it in the air demonstrates a celebration of your accomplishments. But more importantly than what the putter brings out in you, is the characteristics of a good putter itself. It steadies you when you squat down to read the greens. It serves as a guides as you check your line of putt. Just like a good putter, a good man is a God-send. He may not be the prettiest or most popular club in the bag, but the game just isn't the same without him.

Root Cause: The putter man is not a cheat; He was raised right. What I mean by that is he was raised by a man who didn’t cheat. His father led by example. Furthermore, he taught his son the value of women and the sanctity of marriage. Therefore, he just isn’t going to cheat because it isn’t in him to do so. He just ain’t that kind of men. Yes, he is tempted just like every other man. But he actually thinks about what it would do to his wife, family, career and life if he were to cheat... and even worse, get caught. He also thinks about what kind of man that would make him. Unlike other men who brag about their conquests, he thinks it is admirable that he has only had sex with his wife since they’ve been married. He isn’t impressed by the stories the boys have to tell. He may laugh, joke and wonder ‘what if’, but that’s as far as it goes. The driver lifestyle just isn’t for him. He just knows that he is a much better man than that.

A man can be a putter also if he was raised by a cheater but saw the havoc infidelity wreaked on his mother and the family. As a result, he vowed to NEVER cheat on his wife. And fortunately, he kept is word rather than repeating the pattern. Perfect example of a putter man: President Barack Obama.

Advice to Women: Cherish this man. You have a gem on your hand. Since this man is not predisposed to cheat, he’s not going to run off seeking a smiling face and opened legs simply because the two of you are going through a bad spell. He is in there for the long haul. But because no one is infallible, you can turn a putter into a rescue wood. But you’d have to be a special kind of fool to do that. Make sure that you are worthy of this man.

Advice to men: Thank you, thank you, thank you! You are constantly defying the odds, especially when statistics say that somewhere between 50 and 70 percent of people in marriages cheat. We thank you for being the man that you are. We thank you for being a true representation of what a real man is supposed to be. Please raise and correct your sons so they will be the same kind of man you are. Maybe then, we’ll have more solid and wise putter and less flighty and whimsical drivers.

Her Education Makes Him Live Longer, but Happier?‏

2009-11-18T19:32:00.002-05:00

A few weeks ago, a study by the Swedish Institute for Social Research and published in the Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health stated men married to highly-educated women have a longer life expectancy. When I read an article summarizing the study, 2 thoughts came to mind. The first was: not in my case. Those of you who read my recent post know that my husband passed away 6 years ago at the tender age of 47. Since I am one of those ‘highly-educated women’ with my Master’s degree and all, (tongue planted securely in cheek), I immediately chalked the study up as turkey baloney.

The second thought that came to mind was: How does her education level impact his longevity? The synopsis of the study that was published did not speculate as to how a woman’s education level positively impacts her husband’s lifespan. But a fellow blogger, Mason Jamal of Mason Says, dissected the study for me and offered an explanation.

Mason said (and I’m paraphrasing): Marriage helps to stabilize men. Left to their own devices, men would self-destruct. “We’re aggressive. We’re relentless. We’re stupid (at times).” He further explained that highly-educated women are full of knowledge that they share with their husbands. (Or assault their husbands with, I say.) Somewhere in this plethora of “good information along with some erroneous unchecked factoids,” there is bound to be something in there that may save his life.

Thank you Mason for drawing the connection. Without your explanation, the study itself would have been a useless factoid. After I took Mason’s explanation into consideration, I gave the study a little more credibility and upgraded it to beef baloney.

From the beef baloney study, I developed my own theory: the men married to highly-educated women may live longer, but I doubt they are happier.

Those of you who know me personally or have been following my blogs may have gathered that I am not really a proponent of the ‘educated, independent woman’. I personally think their ‘independence’ is disadvantageous to black men, black families and the black community. But that’s a blog for another day (and trust me, it is coming!)

To further expound upon my theory, highly-educated women, whom I define as Master’s degree and above, think they know everything. There is something about a Master’s degree that makes a women think she doesn’t need a man; she can conquer the world without him; that she is the head of the household instead of the helpmeet. Highly-educated women can often be full of themselves, finding it necessary to let every man she meets know she is degreed. (Which is different from pedigreed… but you can’t tell them that!)

And to be married to one, oh my God! She has to be the one in control of the bills, because he can’t be trusted to pay them on time. She has to be the primary decision-maker, instead of the decision supporter. She has to be heard and just won’t listen. She has to be the chief and not the Indian. And please don’t let her make more money… he may as well turn his man card over to her (and his credit card too), because she will proclaim the title breadwinner, and refuse to be the bread baker.

See men, if you get yourself a nice ,humble, smart, little lady with a high-school diploma or a bachelor’s degree, you might not live longer, but you sure might live happier. These women don’t think they know everything because somebody’s university gave them an oversized plaque to hang on the wall. They are satisfied being your helpmeet; supporting you and the family in your collective endeavors. They are happy to grow with you; they don’t have to be the leader of the pack. They are happy being the woman and allowing you to be the man, actually promoting your manhood… which is exactly what the Lord intended!

Consider this: If a woman’s high education level makes her husband live longer, then the reverse would be true also… the wife of a highly-educated man would live longer. Right? Wrong! The study didn’t find that. But that makes perfect sense. Think about it! Unlike women, men of higher education don’t feel the need to unleash their wealth of knowledge onto everyone around them. They don’t feel the need to let everyone know how smart they are, how educated they are, unlike us women. They are happy to live and let live (Wow… I sound just like my husband). But not us women… oh no! We gotta let the world know how many degrees we have. How much education we have… what the statistics say… how many studies we’ve read. (Oops, kinda like I’m doing right now!)

Prime example. On the Mason Says blog in which Mason discussed the study, one of his readers, Carla, posted a comment: “I'm familiar with a similar statistic (see, quoting statistics) about pet owners living longer. If you don't find a smart wife, at least get a smart dog.” That’s a cute comment. I didn’t have a problem with that comment. It’s the way she signed her comment that got my attention. She signed: Single with an MBA and Master of Arts!

Aha! See what I mean? Was it necessary for Carla to let us know that she had 2 degrees? She hasn’t even met a man yet and she’s already wearing her education on her sleeve. Singlehandedly, Carla has proven That Teowonna! right.

So men, word to the wise: Marry a woman with a high school diploma or a Bachelor’s degree. If you are uncertain which one is best for you, use the That Teowonna quick reference guide: Marry a woman with no more than 1 education lever higher than yours; preferably one with the same level. If you have a Bachelor's degree, marry a Master’s degree or lower. If you have a high school diploma, a Bachelor’s degree is as high as you should safely go! If you marry a woman with 2 or more levels of education higher than yours, you may live a few years longer, but you probably won’t be happier! Follow my marriage reference guide and you get to actually be the man in the family!

Food Stamps: Hand Up Versus Hand Out

2009-11-04T21:41:00.004-05:00

Earlier this week, a study that analyzed 30 years of national data shows that nearly half of all U.S. children and 90 percent of black children will be on food stamps at some point in their childhood. Researchers also say those numbers could be pushed higher due to the current recession. The study further suggests that almost everyone knows a family who has received food stamps, or will in the future.

The lead author of the study, Mark Rank, a sociologist at Washington University, said, “Your neighbor may be using some of these programs but it's not the kind of thing people want to talk about.”

In what community? That’s my question. I agree that people may not be talking about it, but it is far from a secret in many of our communities. It is actually an expectation in some social circles.

When I read the statistics, it made me wonder if my family received food stamps when I was growing up. I didn’t think so, even though my mother was a single mom with two children. For a moment, I thought that perhaps she could have been getting the supplement and my brother and I just didn’t know about it. After further consideration, I found that to be highly unlikely because if we had, we certainly would have noticed a bi-monthly food windfall!

Just to be sure, I called my mom and asked her. She confirmed what I thought… we never got food stamps when I was growing up. She did, however, acknowledge that during Hurricane Hugo, we got a one-time ration to replace the food that had spoiled in our freezer due to the lack of electricity.

I asked my mother why. Why didn’t we get food stamps when so many around us were getting them. Surely she would have qualified since she was raising 2 children on her own. My brother’s father died before my brother was born and while my father was alive, he didn’t always help like he should have. So why did she not take advantage of the program, I wanted to know. She said, “I don’t know, Tee. I guess it just wasn’t in my plan. It never was in my thought process to get food stamps. .”

You know, at that moment, I felt a huge sense of pride in my mother for working hard to raise her children with limited, if any at all, assistance from the government. Even though there was a system there to lend a helping hand, she was determined to do it on her own. That got me to thinking. The people who were on food stamps when I was growing up, probably still get them (or some other form of government assistance) today. Hence my theory: there are two kinds of food stamp recipients: those who need a hand up and those looking for a hand out.

Let me say this right now: there is nothing wrong with people receiving food stamps or any other form of government aid. That’s what it is there for. But I do have a problem with people living on government aid. Instead of using it as a ‘hand up’, many are gladly accepting the ‘hand out’ and making it a lifestyle.

Here are some characteristics of 'hand up' recipients versus 'hand out' recipients.

Hand up recipient: Shopping cart primarily has staple items in it. Hand Out Recipients: Shopping cart is full of steaks, shrimp, lobster and other high-end delicacies.

Hand Up Recipient: Conserves some food stamps to go shopping for fresh produce between allotments. Hand Out Recipients: Spend every dime in one fell swoop because they know in 15 days, they will get more.

Hand Up Recipient: Values the benefits and use them as intended. Hand Out Recipients: Bombard you at the grocery store trying to sell their food stamps for cash money.

Hand Up Recipient: May discretely slide the food stamp card through the reader. Hand Our Recipients: Slap their card down with pride like it is an American Express Platinum card.

Again, I want to say there is nothing wrong with getting food stamps. Everyone experiences rough times… I am the first to admit that. But are government programs helping to sustain people during difficult times, or are they making people more dependent? I think these programs are very beneficial for people who need a little help during times of difficulty. Unfortunately, for others, it simply robs them of their amibition, decreasing the desire to climb out of a tough spot, limiting their vision to see past that temporary brick wall.

With this crazy economy, it is no wonder more and more people are taking advantage of the food stamp system. Let’s just hope they take it as a temporary hand up, instead of a life-long hand out.

A Sex Addict or a Bad Seed

2009-10-28T23:26:00.004-04:00

She’s back. The brazen, big-mouthed, too smart for her own good, I hate that I love her, That Teowonna! returns this week.

If you read my blog last weekend, you caught me in a brief moment of public weakness. If you didn’t catch it, good! (My image with you remains intact!) Nevertheless, I’m back. And the object of my attention this week is ESPN sports analyst, Steve Phillips, and any men who get caught with their pants down and are too punk to accept the consequences of their actions.

Dudes, when will ya’ll get it? Sometimes sex just ain’t worth it! The brief moments of pleasure aren’t worth your family, your job and certainly not your reputation and self-respect. Nothing is more disgusting than a man who is so carnal and short-sighted that he will jeopardize everything he holds dear for a piece of tail. Not even good tail… just different, convenient tail. Bill Maher said, “Women like new shoes; men like new sex.” That is so true. But I have never jeopardized anything I value for a new pair of Manolo Blahniks.

But here is what’s even worse… when a man is caught with his pants down, instead of just saying 'I was wrong, please forgive me' (for the 28th time), he tries to blame his lack of self-control on an addiction. Addiction to sex? Gimme a break! I don't buy the whole sex addiction thing, not for one minute. My theory is it is just a convenient excuse for being promiscuous; for being a bad seed.

I had a conversation with a man today and he said he believes that sex can make men do some foolish things but questions if there is really a dependency on sex like there can be on alcohol and drugs. I found that interesting and it made me think: if someone does anything excessively that society looks down upon, is he an addict, or something much simpler... a deviant? A bad seed? Think about it this way...

I had a cousin, whom I will call Tony, who was a straight up thief. As I recall, Tony started getting in trouble early on. His crime of choice: theft - robbing - stealing. And from what I understand, he was pretty good at it, too; it was years before Tony got caught. When he finally did get busted, he was sentenced to life in prison. Can you imagine that? Life imprisonment for stealing!

After ten years of serving his sentence, Tony’s mother spent a thousands of dollars on a lawyer who took his case back in front of a judge for review. While he was guilty of the crimes, it was determined that the sentence was too harsh and Tony was released.

Initially, Tony was on house arrest. He was confined to the house and could only go a few feet into the yard. One of my relatives asked him if he thought he could stay in the house for the required period of time. He said lightheartedly, “After what I’ve been through, I can stay in the bathroom if I have to.” My family and I were satisfied that Tony had learned his lesson and his life of crime was over when we frequently heard him say that he would never go back to jail. That’s why I was shocked and scared when I heard rumors that he was ‘knocking people in the back of their heads and robbing them’. Say it ain’t so!

Months later, I recall being at work when I got a call from my mother. She said she had some bad news; Tony had robbed a bank. “Oh no!” But that wasn’t all. After Tony was cornered by the police, he put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. (Gasp!) I guess Tony meant what he said… he was never going back to jail.

Consider this: after 1o years of 'rehab', my cousin just couldn’t leave the life of robbery and theft behind. Was he a crime addict? Or was he just a bad seed?

Steve Phillips is admitting himself into rehab because he just couldn’t resist sex with other women, even with all he had to loose. Is he a sex addict? Or just a bad seed?

Steve Phillips is no more an addict than Tony was. Both are bad seeds that good women threw good money (and time) away on.

Ode to Edwin Clifton - A Young Wife Grows Up

2009-10-23T22:03:00.007-04:00

Today makes 10 years since I said 'I do' to Edwin Clifton. Ten years! Unfortunately, my husband died 6 years ago. On this day, I can't help but wonder what my life would be like if he was alive. I'm sitting at a high school football game with friends watching their sons race up and down the field. (Actually, they are watching; I'm blogging, hence any errors you may see). I wonder, if 'Pop' were alive, would we be cheering on our own little player or cheerleader at a Little League game. Or would we have our little one at the movie theatre watching 'Where the Wild Things Are' tonight? Would there even be a little one?

Would we be home relaxing or arguing? Would we be making love or in bed with our backs to each other? Would we be celebrating our milestone or cursing the day we met? Would we be in a happy season of our lives or in a challenging one?

Here is the state of Teowonna Clifton today: I have a job that I love, a communications specialist for an insurance company. I have a number of extra-curricular activities and projects that are growing and displaying my best qualities. I produce a radio talk show; I have a blog; I am a newspaper and book editor; I will even launch my own BlogTalkRadio show next year. Not bad, if I say so myself. (As you can see, I don't have a modest bone in my body). Many of these things I know probably would not be a reality if Pop were alive, but I wonder what other wonderful things would be replacing them. A marriage? A husband? Children? A family?

I really wish Pop could see the woman that I am today; the woman that time, maturity and experience has created. The woman who used to rebel against his authority now recognizes the value of a strong man. The woman who saw career as a way to distinguish herself now sees career as a way to advance the family. The woman who felt his words of caution stifled her creativity now craves his guidance. The woman who was too tired at night now longs for his soothing touch. The woman who had the attention of many now would love to only have his. That 26 year-old young wife is now a grown woman.

Time has brought me wisdom that money can not be purchase. Time has shown me there is nothing like a man who is ready to be a husband; a man I can trust and count on; a man who would rather die than lie or cheat. Funny how I didn't recognize what I had until I didn't have it anymore; until I experienced the alternative. My husband was far from perfect, but at least I knew what I had. Nowadays, there are façades of men... few real men actually exist.

My husband was so right about so many things. I regret he is not here to tell him.

Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

Unspoken Co-conspirators of Unfaithful Men

2009-10-10T17:01:00.011-04:00

Today, I’m going to tackle the whole David Letterman thing. I am a Conan fan, so I wasn’t tuned in the night Dave made his announcement. But I did see it on the Today Show the next morning. What an ominous feeling that was for me, hearing yet another man of power and position confess his indiscretions… multiple indiscretions, might I add. Even though I was shocked and disappointed in Dave, I must admit that I was not disappointed in him the same way I was in Governor Mark Sanford, Bill Clinton and other elected officials. While David Letterman has a pubic position, (oops! I meant public) I did not elect him to his position. I hold those I elect to represent me to a higher standard. Forget that ‘he’s just a man’ crap. He [an elected official] is a man that should know and do better.

The moment I heard Dave admit that he’d had several indiscretions with women who work for him, I felt several distinct emotions pouring from me. Perhaps the most significant was the emotion of sorrow… for his wife, Regina Lasko. While Meredith Vieira and everyone else focused on Dave and the jokes he told in attempt to minimize the fiasco, I focused on his wife. How sad, angry, humiliated and betrayed she must have felt… and is still feeling. While all were focused on Dave, my heart went out to his wife.

I know first hand the humiliation Mrs. Letterman felt when she realized that everybody except her knew that her man was cheating on her. It must have felt like a conspiracy among everyone against her. How could they look at her at the Christmas party and smile in her face? Wish her Merry Christmas with a kiss on the cheeks? Hold the mistletoe for her and Dave to kiss underneath when they all knew he was cheating on her. Trust me; it is not a good feeling.

But I’m not going to talk about the betrayal of the men in the affairs. I’m not even going to talk about the other women who enable the men to cheat in the first place. Today, I am talking about the little-acknowledged co-conspirators in extramarital and other elicit affairs… the friends of the victim.

Question: Ladies, if you see your good friend’s man out with another woman, do you tell her? Unfortunately, many of you are going to answer 'no'. But guess what, That Teowonna does not feel that way. That Teowonna tells! You've heard of the 'Don't ask, don't tell' policy, right? I have a strict, 'I'm gonna tell' policy. If fact, you never have to question if I will tell; you only need to wonder how fast I will tell. I might tell today, tomorrow, or the next day… but I will tell. And you better believe it will be sooner rather than later.

I know many of you may say that is none of my business; my friend might get mad at me; she might not want to know; he might just be out with a co-worker; blah blah blah. All that is well and dandy. Valid points. But I am still telling. And here’s why: the moment I keep his confidence, I am conspiring with him against my friend.., and trust me, that's not happening. He is not my friend, she is.

So you say it isn’t any of my business? I beg to differ. Anything that is not in my friend’s best interest and I am aware of it, is my business. Anybody trying to do her harm, is my business. I would feel like a heel if I knew her man was cheating on her and didn’t tell her.

She might get mad, you say? Let her. I don’t care. I am a friend… we get mad from time to time. I will still be her friend when she realizes that I told her because I love her.

She might not want to know, is another popular excuse. Well guess what, whether she wants to know or not, she NEEDS to know and it is my DUTY as a friend to tell her. Anything less are the actions of an enemy, not a friend.

It just might be a co-worker or a friend. Might be. Might not. First of all, I know the difference between a date and two co-workers grabbing a bite to eat. And if you are honest, you do too. If they are just friends, then my girlfriend already knows her, right? If not, she will, because I’m going to tell her. If I misjudge the situation, what’s the big deal if it is innocent? Women know their men. If it is innocent, then it won’t register on her radar… but if dude is already prone to cheat, my warning might just be what she needs to put her antenna up a little higher.

Just so you know, I think my friends have a different theory than I do. I don’t think they would tell me. They used to tell me when something didn’t look too kosher. Now I don't think they would because I might ask the guy about it. You doggone right I am going to ask him. (I really want to say ‘confront him’ but that sounds a little too combative!) I don’t think they liked the fact that I may say "Michelle said..." or "Pam saw..." Well, I can see how they may have a problem with that. But I don’t have a problem if they say “Teowonna saw you.” In fact, I want her to tell him that I said it. Because he needs to know that I ain’t his friend…I am her friend and she is getting her info from a reliable source! The moment I fail to report his dealings, I am acting as a co-conspirator against my friend… and the true-blue friend that I am will not let me do that.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to go running, tattling like a little child… “Uhh I’m telling”… “Giiirl guess what I saw.” That's silly and irresponsible. I will find an appropriate way to mention what I saw in a mature respectable manner. After I tell her, I've done my duty as a friend. Now what she does with the information is completely up to her. If she wants to confront him, she can. If she doesn’t, that’s fine with me. If she just wants to keep a closer eye on things… that's ok. If she forgives him, I’m cool with that too. I trust her to make the best decision for her. I’ll standing by her 100 percent either way.

Bringing this full circle back to Mrs. Letterman, I’m certain someone she considered as a friend knew about the affairs and didn’t tell her. In my opinion, that person was not her friend; but indeed her enemy plotting against her.

Note: When writing this, I generalized men as the cheaters and women as the victims. This was done for ease of writing (and because more often than not, this is the case). I know women cheat too. No need to write me a comment making that point. Just so you know, I feel the same level of loyalty to my male friends... I'd tell on a woman just as quickly.

The Woman Speaks of Letting Go

2009-10-06T21:27:00.009-04:00

Like Langston Hughes’ The Negro Speaks of Rivers, here is That Teowonna’s The Woman Speaks of Letting Go.

I’m no poet… certainly not one of Langston Hughes’ caliber. But I am a writer… again, not one of Hughes’ immense talent. When I went out to my car today on my lunch break, instead of taking a little siesta (as I’ve been known to do when I don’t sleep well the night before) I used Nino Brown, my beloved Crackberry, (Nino Brown, crack, get it?) to pull up Langston Hughes’ poem, The Negro Speaks of Rivers. I don’t speak of rivers and I can’t pen prose like Langston. But I can speak of letting go.

Funny thing about me is no matter what other projects I have going on (paid or unpaid), everything else takes a distant second to what’s going on in my heart. Cynthia Hardy is waiting for me to send her an outline of this weekend’s radio talk show; I have two book-editing projects waiting to be edited; a newspaper that needs to go to the printer tomorrow before 12. And I am thinking of a Langston Hughes poem. So to get what’s on my heart off, (so I can earn my paycheck and keep Nino Brown from being temporarily disconnected so I won't have to go cold turkey), I decided to speak of my own river; the ever-flowing river of letting go.

Why is it so hard for women to let go? Many of us care very deeply and continue to hold on way after it is clear we should be long gone. My theory is that this is by God's design. The Lord designed us to be more softhearted and more forgiving because men are so heavily flawed. Men have an uncanny knack for screwing up a good thing. As carnal (and stupid) as men can be, relationships and society would be in a far worse state of despair if we women were not as forgiving as we are.

In these days of gross role reversal, women are letting go a lot quicker than they used to. This is not a good thing. How many of our grandmothers got a divorce verses our mothers? How many of our mothers divorced versus us? Women of old, hung in there. Women of new, let go. Again, not a positive trend.

But here is the thing… men are going to do their dirt; there is no getting around that. Some men are a little dirtier than others. Some are just a little dusty while others are down right grimy. But each of us (women) have our own tolerance level. One woman may tolerate a little more than another. We tolerate more from one man than we would another. But one thing every smart woman must learn is when to cut her losses and let go.

In my estimation, women have three basic needs. To be provided for, protected and fulfilled. Men were created to fulfill those needs. It is innate. But when we find ourselves getting less and less of those needs met, it is time to consider letting go. When we don't feel safe, our hearts and spirits are not being fulfilled, and our emotional and physical needs are not being provided, it may be time to step.

But here is the thing… when we finally do decide to ‘roll out’ we often feel compelled to come back in... as if we didn't get enough the first time. That again, I believe is by God’s grand design. We women MUST be forgiving and willing to give it yet another try; that’s the only way mankind will survive with men being as heavily flawed as many of them are.

And men count on that. They count on us to forgive. They count on us to take them back when perhaps we shoudn't... try to make them be ‘the one’ even though it is clear they are not. They count on our soft hearts to let them back into our souls, lives and beds time and time again. And we do.

Until… until all free tokens have been spent… until all get-out-of-jail-free cards have been pulled from the deck. Then and only then, is it really over. The problem is men and women don't always know when the last song has been played. Sometimes it sneaks up on both of us. We’ve forgiven far bigger sins. We’ve let greater transgressions slide. But when ‘it’ happens, it happens. Until then, he can come and go; he can hurt, lie, cheat and steal. But when we finally have our fill, we are full.

Like the negro who knew of rivers, I’ve known of letting go. And by God’s grand design, I’ve known of forgiveness and giving it many more tries. But God’s grand design is for my soft heart to forgive… not to be a fool.

So, this time, the same heart that made me come back time and time again, now says it’s time to let go.

Unpopular Truths According to That Teowonna - Truth #1

2009-09-29T22:53:00.003-04:00

Unpopular truth #1
When old people die, racism will die.

A very close older white friend asked me the other day why everything seems to be about race. She asked why we (all of us as a people) just couldn’t get over the racial thing. I told her just as calmly as I am telling you, “When old people die, racism will die.”

It’s no secret that I feel a little differently about racism than many other black people. If you catch the PA Bennet Show, a daily radio talk show on 620 AM on any given day of the week, you will hear me say in no uncertain terms that I think black people perpetuate racism just as much as white people do. Even more so, I think that old black people and old white people are the main catalysts of enduring racism. While both deny it, both carry hatred in their hearts and BOTH refuse to let racism die. That’s why I believe that when old people die, racism will die!

Younger people, and I define younger as 36 and below – because I am 36 – have a different perspective and outlook on racism. That is primarily because we are younger… we have not lived and experienced the same things older people, like my mother and her mother, have experienced. Therefore, we do not see racism in many of the things that older people do. For example, when the New York Post chimp cartoon compared the stimulus author to the primate Travis that was gunned down days before, I was one of only two people at my birthday party that felt the political cartoon was not racist. The other person who shared my feelings was a 23 year old.

Each of us is a product of our past. I understand why older people, black and white, feel the way they do… especially black people. It is completely understandable. But the problem is even though many may not recognize it, they propel their feelings and experiences onto the younger generation, saying they are “enlightening us!” Actually, what they are doing is trying to skew our perception based on their experiences. That’s not fair. That’s not fair to the innocence of younger generations.

Older generations: you should not expect the younger generation to live our lives as if we have lived yours… as if we have experienced what you have experienced. Think about that for a moment… that's rather profound. Yes, I agree that I am completely blind to a lot of the hatred and discrimination that you have experienced. But isn’t that why you fought, and marched, and sat in... so that I wouldn’t have to experience that hatred and discrimination? Now that I live as if I haven’t experienced it, many of you are angry and call me ignorant and an ingrate. Neither of which could be further from the truth.

Because older people on both ends of the racial spectrum (black and white)have come out of an era of unabashed racism, once they pass away (and I really do mean that in the absolute most respectful manner possible), the younger generation, who have not experienced racism in quite the same way, will begin to impart their views and ideals onto the world, without the looming veil of racism.

Have you noticed that young children do not see race? Have you noticed the increased level of interracial dating that is going on today? Have you noticed that America is getting browner and less black and white? When is the last time you went to a high school sports game and observed young people? When you go, you will see young people, black and white, co-mingling in a way their parents never had the luxury of experiencing. This is proof that younger people do not see race like older people do. This is proof that as older people pass away, the racism of the last 200 plus years will slowly pass away as well.

Now, don’t get me wrong… there will always be discrimination. But I believe it will be based on class, and not race.

I know racism is a hot topic these days, especially in this day of Professor Gates/Sargeant Crowley, Joe Wilson, town hall meeting, and the blatant disrespect of our first black president. But I am very optimistic that in my lifetime, even more significant changes and progress regarding race relations will be made. I am even more hopeful for the future of our children.

Are Men the Reason Women are so Unhappy?

2009-09-22T00:00:00.006-04:00

Last week, The Huffington Post sent me my daily dose of news, politics and blogs. Some I read, many I didn’t. But that day’s lead blog got my attention. It was a blog from Arianna Huffington titled, The Sad, Shocking Truth About How Women Are Feeling. Arianna’s blog ultimately said that women around the world are generally unhappy. She then passed the ball to a leading expert in personal strength. That goes to show, you can be a self-proclaimed expert in anything. In his blog, Marcus Buckingham basically outlined the evidence the United States General Social Survey has found since 1972… women’s overall level of happiness has declined relative to where they were 40 years ago and relative to men.

I was so intrigued by the findings of this study that I almost read the whole thing. I immediately did a self-assessment to determine, if that were true, why I was unhappy. I thought about all the instances in my life in which I was unhappy and quickly determined that MEN were the cause of my unhappiness. All the times in my life in which I felt burdened, down-trodden, pained, unhappy, and right down miserable, a man was somewhere around.

When I was 16 years old, I had a seriously unhappy spell. That was my first broken heart. Here’s the thing, I broke up with him yet, I was the one that was completely miserable.

I recall another serious bout with unhappiness and damn near depression when I was living in Dallas, Tx. That was my first experience living with a man. Again, I had to give him the boot because I didn’t think he was as true as my man should be. So, he met the same fate as many before and after him… but again, I was the one moaning and groaning. What’s with me? I remember my grandfather T-Bo saying, ‘Teowonna, I’ll be damn. You the only woman I know to break up with a man and cries more that he does.’ I’m still working on that, Granddaddy. Trying to toughen up!

Years later, I experienced a more advanced level of unhappiness brought on again by heartache and feelings of abandonment when my husband passed. His death was so untimely and unfair. Just as we were finally finding our footing in the marriage thing, he passed away. Talk about unhappiness, confusion and disappointment.

Five years after my husband’s death, I experienced another bout with unhappiness and downright misery. I would tell you about that but I was asked not to discuss our relationship in my blogs anymore. As if you know or even care who he is. So to honor his request, I’ll just say that was a period of unhappiness in my life. Punk!

Just as I thought I had an explanation for all the unhappiness of the women of the world, it dawned on me that all of my experiences with unhappiness, a few of which I listed above, were situational. Anybody, man or woman would probably be unhappy during times of death, heartache and heartbreak. But the study specified women overall are unhappy. That is more like an internal discontentment with our general state of being, not in response to our current situation. So, I then had to abandon my ‘men are the root of all things evil’ theory.

An hour or so later, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Women are generally more unhappy than men, but WE are the blame for that. Nobody else. Just us. Here is why.

The Huffington Post article laid out an example of a woman in the 1969. Even though she probably would have thought that in 2009 we would be traveling in futuristic space cars, she probably could not have fathomed that the number of women receiving bachelors and masters degrees would outnumber men. She probably would not believe that a woman came very close to being elected President of the United States, Vice President, or that women are currently serving as Secretary of State and Speaker of the House. Like the Huffington Post article suggested, the 1969 lady would have found it difficult to believe that by 2009, four out of the eight Ivy League universities--Harvard, Brown, Penn and Princeton--would have female presidents. In other words, it would have been more realistic for a 1969 women to believe that we would be travelling in cars that hover in air than having a female as President of the United States.

What great strides we women have made! We should feel like we are on top of the world! What do we have to be unhappy about? Everything, that’s what! All of the advances that we have made is the problem. We have accomplished and done so much that we don’t know our roles in life, marriage and relationships anymore. We have taken on our roles and duties, as well as that of men, and now we are unhappy.

I can already hear women saying that I am setting women’s liberation and achievement back by 50 years. I’ve already been accused by a very close girlfriend of ‘just wanting someone to take care of me.’ But that’s so not true. What I’m saying will bring us great relief if we just recognize and accept what I am saying.

I think back to my grandmother. I recall her, Havana Cox, generally being a happy woman. She worked a little job cleaning this white family’s house and raising their children after she had raised her own. Even though she worked outside of the house, she knew her role in the family. She was T-Bo’s help meet. She cooked, cleaned, went to the grocery store on Saturday and fried chicken and baked cakes on Sunday. Even though T-Bo drank too much on Fridays, it never seemed to faze her. She went on to her prayer meetings and just enjoyed her life and her grandchildren. She sat on the front porch snapping beans for dinner or hanging loads and loads of laundry on the line as Granddaddy chopped and brought wood in for the wood-burning heater. My grandmother was happier because she new who she was and her role in the grand scheme of the universe. She was a mother, grandmother, wife, and helpmeet.

Nowadays, we turn our children over to the daycares to raise while we run off and slay the dragons, which used to be the man’s job. We override our husband’s decisions; we make the money; we have to write the checks to pay the bills because we can’t trust him and his judgment; we are the heads of the household instead of helpmeets. And now, studies show our happiness is steadily decreasing, while the man’s is increasing. That’s what we get for trying to be the woman and the man.

And for that same reason, men are getting happier. In our quest to be superwomen, we are lightening their loads significantly. And their expectations and responsibilities are quickly and easily adjusting to our new-found manliness. They have absolutely no reason to be unhappy! We are taking on more and more and they are being required to do less and less. We are bringing home the bacon, frying it, paying the electricity bill that powered the stove, washing the plates we ate out of, paying the mortgage that houses the stove and the dishwasher, and trying to out-screw every other woman that we think might be looking at our men. No wonder we are unhappy… and exhausted too. And the men are sitting back enjoying the benefits of our self-induced tragedy. As much as I am fan on equal opportunity, I think it is becoming clear that women’s lib has screwed us!

Ladies, listen up. I believe the findings of the United States General Social Survey; we are an unhappy group of fools. It is a bitter pill to swallow, but we are the sole reason for our discontentment. We’ve made our beds… you know the rest!

Williams, Wilson, West: Whose Reprimand was Most Effective?

2009-09-15T23:14:00.023-04:00

Outbursts. That seems to be the new ‘it’ word to describe the loud, unruly release of emotions from people that we expect better behavior from. But in my opinion, outbursts are just people being who they really are. That’s pretty profound, if I do say so myself. But society has a way of whipping the deviants back in line with several levels of reprimands. Some , more effective than others.

The Financial Reprimand
Serena Williams. Can you believe it? The golden girl (or should I say bronze girl) of tennis lost her cool, in a most unattractive way. On Saturday during the U.S. Open, Serena berated and badgered a tennis official who called her on a foot violation. Williams stared the official down, spewed words that I’d dare not repeat here, just before threatening to shove the tennis ball down the official’s throat. Not cute at all… even more inappropriate and unattractive than the catsuit she flaunted a few years ago.

What happened to sportsmanship? What happened to couth? What happened to manners? I guess you can take the girl out of Compton but…

For her disturbing outburst, Williams was fined $10,500. To rate the effectiveness of her reprimand, I’d give it a Least Effective. When you are worth millions, a few thousand mean nothing. If you really wanted to punish her, tell her she can’t ever wear the catsuit again!

The Written Reprimand
Joe Wilson. Like many of you, I was flabbergasted when it became clear that the audible words in the middle of President Obama’s congressional address were ‘You lie!’ I was even more stunned and a little ashamed to find out those now famous words were yelled by a US Representative from my state. I was even more ashamed that I actually voted for him!

Here’s the thing. I was conflicted when I voted for Wilson. Everything in me told me to vote for the newcomer, Rob Miller, who struck me as a respectable non-politician with whom I could trust my vote. But Wilson had my vote with a single letter from Congress.

When I was working with the Carolina Panorama newspaper, I was the primary writer for a special newspaper tribute to America’s combat vets. To complete the publication, I interviewed about 30 combat vets and wrote almost every one of their stories; a painstaking task. But it was well worth it when I saw the gratitude on the veterans' faces having had their stories finally told and recorded in history. And when I received a personal letter from Joe Wilson, addressed to me on bona fid congressional letterhead, my pride was incontainable. I said that I would cherish that letter forever. Funny thing though, I couldn’t find it to when I wanted to refer to it for this blog. But anyway, with that signed letter from Joe Wilson, my vote had been won.

Now, a week after Wilson’s outburst, Congress has passed a Resolution of Disapproval. The final count: 240 to 173. I applaud Congressman Jim Clyburn for heading up this action. Under no circumstances should a breach of decorum this significant be tolerated. It sets a precedent that would diminish the respect demanded of the Presidential office.

Now, for the big question. Where does this formal reprimand fall on the barometer of effectiveness? Initially, due to the financial sanctions and votes of support that Wilson is experiencing as a result of the outburst, it would appear that the reprimand would get a Least Effective. rating It seems to be nothing more than a formal slap on the wrist, a note of disobedience in his personnel file. But years from now, history is going to show Joe Wilson in a far more unfavorable light. Just like years from now, history will likely show President Obama as a hero. So, while Wilson is experiencing a brief moment of afterglow, history will not be quite as kind. When his life story is written, this reprimand will be a more than just a blemish. It will be a history-altering, irremovable stain. At that time, the reprimand will graduate to More Effective.

The Internal Reprimand
Kanye West. Picture this. You are a young sweet 19 year-old winning your first MTV Video Music Award. Even more, you just beat out one of the most well-known performers alive. Before you can even say all your ‘thank-yous’, like a flash, here is a fool snatching the mic away from you and basically saying you didn’t deserve the award. What do you do? Cry? Run off the stage? Both?

That’s what Taylor Swift tried to figure out when Kanye West bombarded her onstage at this years’ MTV VMA’s. Thanks to the gracious and classy actions of Beyonce’, Taylor Swift later received her moment in the spotlight.

The world and their mama were outraged at West’s actions. What had come over that man to make him do something so grotesquely disrespectful? One year, he threw a tantrum because he didn’t get an award. Another year, he all but gave his award to someone else that he said actually deserved it more. And this year, he gave someone else’s award to someone else. What is with this guy? Does he have an allergic reaction to award shows?

Well, as far as I know, Kanye West has not received a written reprimand. Nor has he received a financial reprimand. His reprimand came by way of a shameful, contrite moment delivered by Jay Leno. When Leno asked West what his deceased mother would have thought of his actions, I think West finally realized just how deplorable his actions truly were.

On the effectiveness barometer, the internal reprimand gets a Most Effective. When who you are and all the money you have can't erase the memory of what you have done, you have seriously violated the established social mores. When just the thought of your mother's disappointment in you brings you to near-tears, you have committed a major infraction against a truly undeserving soul.

The internal reprimand. When your actions against another keeps you up at night, steals your appetite, makes it difficult for you look stand the sight of yourself, makes you question your own being, you have truly committed a major offense. Man, what a price to pay.

A good man, a good person would think long an hard before ever hurting someone like that again. One who has some deep-rooted issues, delusions of grandeur and narcissistic tendencies will continue to do it after the initial discomfort has worn off. I hope Kanye West isn't the latter of the two.

Wives forgive Husbands, South Carolinians can Forgive Sanford

2009-09-09T06:25:00.005-04:00

Last week, I sang the praises of Vickie Kennedy and how she saved Senator Ted Kennedy. It is true that Senator Kennedy was buried a flawed yet reformed man instead of a disgrace and an old fool. I gave much of that credit to his wife, Vickie. But I also recognize Father Time and God had a lot to do with Senator Kennedy’s transformation.

In my Kennedy blog, I outlined many of his flaws… from cheating on a test while at Harvard to cheating on his wife. These are the more mild offenses. But even after many of a transgression, Kennedy was forgiven time and time again. He went up on ethics charges twice; both times, the charges were dropped days later. Why were the American people (and the Senate Ethics Committee) so willing to forgive Senator Kennedy? Is it simply because he was a Kennedy and many revered the family even though oftentimes their actions were beyond reverence? Or are we really a forgiving people who look for the good in people? We love a comeback story, don’t we?

Remember Bill Clinton and the Monica Lewinsky scandal? I remember that situation very vividly because I was living in Dallas, TX and had just broken up with my boyfriend whom I suspected cheated on me. I didn’t have a very high regard for men at that time… so President’s Clinton’s poor discretion didn’t do very much to renew my confidence. But ultimately, like I did my ex-boyfriend, the American people seemingly forgave Bill Clinton and moved on. In spite of his transgression, President Clinton will still go down in history as one of America’s favorite and most effective presidents… especially among black people.

I know woman after woman who have forgiven men who have wronged them in the worst way. Myself included And men have been known to forgive women, depending on the nature of the crime, of course. Cheating, probably not. But lesser crimes that don’t shake their faith in the woman, the chances of forgiveness are higher.

So having said that, as a people, we have forgiven political leaders time and time again. As individuals, we have forgiven those we love even more often. So why, please explain, can’t or won’t we forgive Mark Sanford?

I agree that what Manford (my new abbreviation for Mark Sanford) did show a huge lack of judgment. It was inexcusable. So was leaving a drowning woman in a car for eight hours. So was performing any sexual act in the White House with any woman other than your wife. But we forgave.

Just yesterday, House Speaker Bobby Harrell joined other Republicans who said that Manford should resign because the state would get “bogged down” in the embattled governor’s distractions. He is right… the state will get bogged down, especially since people like him and other high-ranking republicans will not let it go!

Have you noticed how there seems to be more Republicans calling for Manford’s resignation than Democrats? Why is that? You would think Manford’s own party would be backing him… more willing to forgive him. Well, the reason is simple… the Republican party wants to cut ties with Manford as soon as possible so they can have as much of a fresh start as possible in the next election. They want to say, “Yes, we voted Manford in for two terms, but when he did wrong, we cut him loose with a quickness!” By denouncing Manford, they can continue to claim to be the ‘moral majority’ and send a message to any future governor who takes that notion to flee the country to get a little foreign nookie.

Now why aren’t Democrats making more noise to have Manford thrown out of the Governor’s Mansion carrying trash bags full of clothes? Because they know what (or should I say who), would be coming down the pike… Andre Bauer. Trust me when I say, the state is better off with Manford for the next fifteen months than Andre Bauer. I mean, do we really want the state to be run by the likes of Andre Bauer? At least with Manford, we know he will walk the straight and narrow with the spotlight on him. Who knows what Bauer will do? Who knows what might happen the moment he walks across the threshold of the Governor’s Mansion. I might wake up the next morning and not have running water… the whole state might just crack off from the rest of the nation and drift out into the Atlantic Ocean. And since most black people can’t swim… I think we need to let Manford spend the remaining few months in office.

Ultimately, this blog is about forgiveness. Why are some more deserving of forgiveness than others? Because of their family name? Because he has done a lot for a nation and a race of people? A sin is a sin. We all do it. Everyone deserves to be forgiven. When I have forgiven those who have wronged me, sometimes the relationship can be mended; others, we just have to move on. In my relationship with Manford, I am willing to not only forgive him but not support any efforts to impeach him. This is a relationship I am willing to mend.

I agree with Manford, this is pure ‘playing politics’ and he still has some work to do. Remember the last time your husband or wife slipped up and did something wrong? Sometimes the things they are willing to do and go through to make it up to you was worth the screw up. I think Mark Sanford has learned his lesson. History was been written and he will not be remembered politely. So I say let him do his best to rewrite it. Let him spend these last 15 months trying to make it up to us! South Carolina may be all the better for it.

In Defense of Strong Women – How Vicki Kennedy Saved Ted Kennedy

2009-09-01T23:02:00.006-04:00

Our American media is like none other in the world. When something significant happens, we pick the bones dry, examining every square centimeter of every angle, until there is nothing left to the imagination. During this past week of Senator Ted Kennedy's memorials, every aspect of his life was exposed and up for discussion. I couldn’t help but take note how imperfect a person Senator Kennedy was.

I must admit that I didn’t know very much about Senator Kennedy’s early days and the events that lead many to describe his life as ‘flawed’. Through interactive timelines and the magic of the Internet, I was able to read many original New York Times articles that described the less than ideal events in Senator Kennedy’s life. Here are the incidents that seem to have particularly checkered his legacy:

May 1951: Ted Kennedy is caught cheating on a Spanish exams and leaves Harvard College. He enlists in the Army for 16 months and later re-enrolled in Harvard.

November 1958: Ted Kennedy marries former model and New York debutante, Virginia Joan Bennett.

March 1962: Ted Kennedy runs for Senate less than a month after he turns 30.

November 1962: Ted Kennedy is elected to the Senate after a bitter fight with Edward J. McCormick.

July 18, 1969: Accident at Chappaquiddick – Senator Kennedy drives his car off of a bridge at Chappaquiddick, Ma. and manages to escape. His passenger, Mary Jo Kopechne, drowns. Kennedy waits eight hours to report the accident, explaining he wandered about in apparent shock. Others said Kennedy waited until he sobered up the next morning before calling the police. Kennedy pleads guilty to leaving the scene of an accident.

July 25, 1969: Kennedy seeks forgiveness – After mounting controversy, Senator Kennedy delivers a television address to explain his actions and ask voters if he should resign. He conceded that his actions were ‘indefensible’ but denied any intentional wrongdoing. A year later, Kennedy is reelected.

December 1982: Senator Kennedy and wife, Joan, divorce after 24 years of marriage. Mrs. Kennedy said her husband was a womanizer. After the divorce, Senator Kennedy is said to have often drank and caroused in Washington with a fellow senator and chased women.

1989: European paparazzi photographs Kennedy having sex on a motorboat.

March 1991: A woman accuses Senator Kennedy's nephew of rape at the Kennedy family estate in Palm Beach Fl.

June 1991: An ethics complaint is filed against Kennedy alleging his conduct in the rape case against his nephew violated Senate rules. The complaint also asserted that the Senator initially failed to cooperate with the Palm Beach police. Eight days later, the complaint was dismissed.

June 1991: Ted Kennedy and Victoria Reggie meet at a party celebrating her parent’s 40 wedding anniversary. Ted Kennedy said of this meeting, “I had known Vicki before, but this was the first time I think I really saw her.”

October 1991: Kennedy Apologizes to the Voters. In a discussion of his future in politics, Kennedy said: “I recognize my own shortcomings – the faults in the conduct of my private life. I realize that I alone am responsible for them, and I am the one who must confront them.” He added, “I believe that each of us as individuals must not only struggle to make a better world, but to make ourselves better, too.” Kennedy vows to clean up his life and do better.

July 1992: Kennedy marries Victoria Reggie.

This timeline of the life of a public servant is like none other I’ve ever seen. I can’t imagine how a public figure could embarrass himself and his family time and time again as Senator Kennedy did. I’m sure Joan Kennedy was a good woman and wife. Before she met her husband, Joan was high-society debutant and a model. She bored Senator Kennedy’s three children and stood by his side as he recovered from a broken back which he sustained in a plane crash. She even stood by his side through the Chappaquiddick accident and through his public promiscuity and blatant disregard her feelings and public perception. Senator Kennedy basically drove Joan to drinking and she finally divorced him.

Why couldn’t Joan and Ted Kennedy make a go of their marriage? Simple: Joan just wasn’t the one and Ted just wasn’t ready.

I also think Senator Kennedy suffered from survivor’s guilt. After all his older brothers had tragically preceded him in death, I think the guilt of surviving hindered him from recognizing his potential and the vision of who he was to become. Guilt kept Senator Kennedy from realizing the man he was called to be.

Then, Senator Kennedy rescue came when he met Vicki Reggie in 1991. Vicki was the daughter of Senator Kennedy’s close friend. She had graduated magna cum laude from Tulane University, then summa cum laude from Tulane University Law School. Vicki was an accomplished lawyer and had been raised in a political family. When she and Ted emerged as a couple in September 1991, it was clear that she was the one and Senator Kennedy was ready.

During my research, it seems that after 40 years in politics, all of a sudden, Senator Kennedy’s personal life stopped stealing the glory of his political career. It seems after Kennedy’s marriage to Vickie, his private life stabilized and his life as a public servant began to flourish. He accomplished some of his best feats after he married Vicki.

On the Saturday morning that Senator Ted Kennedy was eulogized, ABC News’ Chris Cuomo asked Vice President Biden: [When Edward M. Kennedy was elected to the Senate, the New York Times wrote a scathing review, saying the only thing he had going for his was his name. Today, he has one of the most decorated obituaries the paper has ever done. What happened to change the perception of Senator Kennedy?]

Vice President Biden said, "Every mistake he made in his life, he made a lie out of the mistake by the way he lived the rest of his life."

Vicki Kennedy is the reason Senator Kennedy outlived his mistakes. Vickie Kennedy is the only reason Ted Kennedy is going down in history as a champion rather than a disgrace. When Senator Ted married Vicki, he found his redemption. At last, Senator Kennedy had found someone strong enough to stabilize his personal life.

Strong women, women who hold their own, women with strong personalities and opinions are often looked upon with disdain. Some men feel threatened, saying a strong woman would not let him be a man. I’ll admit it: strong women are not for everybody. Every man can’t handle the standards they set; they can’t clear the bar over which they are required to leap. But sometimes, it takes a strong woman to tame a wild-spirited, heavily flawed man. Sometimes, it takes the strength of a woman to help a man realize his full potential. Sweet, pretty women are good. But sometimes it takes a strong woman to save a man.

Time to Come Clean

2009-08-24T19:06:00.005-04:00

Today after I’d finished my lunch, I decided to pull my car into a shady spot and relax for the remainder of my lunch break. I had a ton of things that I should have been doing, (like editing the articles for this week’s newspaper) but I opted to enjoy the rare cool breeze that was coming through my opened car windows. As my lunch hour winded down, Nino Brown delivered an email from The Huffington Post to me that got my attention. It read: Study Shows Massive Rise In ADHD Drug Abuse Among Teens. Since I admittedly don’t read things thoroughly, I thought the article was going to be about an increase in the number of children being diagnosed with ADHD. But it wasn’t about that at all. It was about teens using ADHD medication to get high.

The article said there has been a surge from 1998 to 2005 in calls to poison control centers from panicky parents and children relating to children’s misuse of ADHD medication. It said calls relating to ADHD drugs in particular have increased from 330 to 581, with four teens having died from misuse of the drugs. That frightens me. Perhaps because the medicine is FDA approved, the children think it is safer than doing some type of illegal drug. But we know that is not true; any drug can be deadly if it is misused.

This brings me to my drug use. Believe it or not, I have NEVER used drugs of any kind. NONE! No weed, no x, no acid, no nothing. Even in college, I managed to graduate with a joint having never kissed these lips. I came pretty close once though… My sorors and I were hanging out with a ‘wild and crazy fraternity’ and the weed was being passed around liberally. I got very curious because everyone seemed to be enjoying it. I had it in my hand getting ready to give it a puff when a soror looked at me and said, “Uh-uh, Tee. If you’ve never done it, don’t start now.” That pretty much ended my curiosity right then and there. I don’t think I ever thanked my soror for that, but if she had not been the true sister that sorors are supposed to be, I wouldn’t be able to boast today that That Teowonna! is and always has been drug free!

That brings me to another point. Those of you who have meet me or have had friendships or some other type of relationship with me, may have thought was a little kooky and high strung; I must be on something. Well, I wasn’t on anything; I’m just naturally kooky and high strung. But I have been harboring a secret for about four years now that may explain my kookiness. Very few people know and those who do know, I forbade them from sharing. So here it is, once and for all. Here’s my big secret:

That Teowonna! has been diagnosed with adult ADD.

There, I’ve said it! I’m sure my friends and former paramours are saying, “I know something was wrong with your crazy azz.” As you will see from the symptoms below, I am a classic, text book case.

Symptom: Difficulty getting and staying organized.
Teowonna: My house and desk are always a little unkempt. Ok, a lot unkempt. I count on TeeDee (my cleaning lady) to keep me organized at home. Unfortunately, I don’t have a TeeDee in the workplace.
Symptom: Frequently misplace things.
Teowonna: I loose my keys or debit card almost on a weekly basis.
Symptom: Chronic procrastination or trouble getting started.
Teowonna: Nothing seems really important until 5 minutes before it is due. I never pack for trips in advance. NEVER.
Symptom: Trouble in going through established channels and following proper procedure.
Teowonna: They just trying to control me!
Symptom: Many projects going simultaneously; trouble with follow through.
Teowonna: Here are my projects/talents – blogger, copywriter, communications specialist, newspaper editor, book editor, radio talk show producer, and plenty more. The things I get paid for are the things I am more likely to follow through on. Sad, but true.
Symptom: A tendency to say what comes to mind without necessarily considering the timing or appropriateness of the remark.
Teowonna: I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking!
Symptom: A frequent search for high stimulation.
Teowonna: Hence my recent bad, drama-filled relationship.
Symptom: An intolerance of boredom.
Teowonna: Going back to the bad, drama-filled relationship, even after I kicked him to the curb.
Symptom: Easy distractibility; trouble focusing attention.
Teowonna: That’s why I’m writing this blog right now instead of doing something that is far more important.
Symptom: Tendency to tune out or drift away in the middle of a page or conversation, often coupled with an inability to focus at times.
Teowonna: I can’t stand long conference calls or meetings. I have no trouble tuning people out who are saying something I don’t want to hear.
Symptom: A sense of underachievement, of not meeting one’s goals (regardless of how much one has actually accomplished).
Teowonna: Don’t let this confident façade fool you. I constantly replay things over and over in my mind, searching for things I’ve done wrong.
Symptom: Impatient; low tolerance of frustration.
Teowonna: I’m quick to kick a fool to the curb. Did I say good night? I meant good bye!
Symptom: A sense of insecurity.
Teowonna: Nobody loves me.
Symptom: Impulsive, either verbally or in action, as an impulsive spending of money.
Teowonna: Impulsive in action and verbally, for sure. In spending money? If I had it, I’m sure I could spend it impulsively.
Symptom: A tendency to worry needlessly, endlessly; a tendency to scan the horizon looking for something to worry about, alternating with attention to or disregard for actual dangers.
Teowonna: This is the worst for me. Even when things are good, I find something to worry about. All the things I worry about seldom happen… and usually never as bad as I imagined.
Symptom: Chronic problems with self-esteem.
Teowonna: I maul things over time and time again in my head. I replay conversations constantly.
Symptom: Mood swings, especially when disengaged from a person or a project.
Teowonna: If I don’t have a ton of projects falling off my plate, I feel useless and confused. Did I already say no body love me?
Symptom: A tendency toward addictive behavior.
Teowonna: That’s why I’ve never taken any drugs, weed, nothing (other than a little red wine). I might like it too much!
Symptom: Inaccurate self-observation.
Teowonna: Most people think they are better than they actually are. I usually think I am worse that I actually am.
Symptom: Family history of AD/HD or manic depressive illness or depression or substance abuse or other disorders of impulse control or mood.
Teowonna: On my paternal side.
Symptom: Often creative, intuitive, highly intelligent.
Teowonna: This makes everything else 100% worth it!

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Waiting on My Sargant

2009-08-20T22:32:00.004-04:00

This concludes my three-part blog series. Needless to say, this was very therapeutic. Thanks for your feedback and wish me luck.

Part III: Waiting on My Sargant

Last week, Eunice Shriver died. Am I the only one who was completely clueless about how wonderful this lady was? She single-handedly started the Special Olympics when she held the first contest in her own back yard. She did all of this when mental retardation was considered a family dishonor. Mentally-challenged children were often kept in back rooms and treated inhumanly because people simply didn’t know better; they didn't understand the condition. Now that I know the foundation on which the Special Olympics were built, I am even angrier about the off-handed comment President Obama made on the Jay Leno Show earlier this year.

But anyway, as I listened as daughter, Maria Shriver, eulogize her mother, I couldn’t help but be fascinated with the person Maria described as Eunice’s partner in life, R. Sargant Shriver. Just like the saying goes, 'Behind every great man is a great woman', R. Sargant Shriver demonstrated that behind every great woman is a strong supportive man. Here is what Maria said about her father’s impact on her mother’s life:

She had a husband who was totally devoted to her in every sense of that word. A man who marveled at everything she said and everything she did. He didn’t mind if her hair was a mess, if she walked around in a wet bathing suit, if she beat him at tennis, or challenged his ideas. He let her rip and he let her roar and he loved everything about her.

When I heard Maria say those wonderful things about her father, I couldn’t help but note how rare that truly is. Many men don’t know what true devotion is. Many denounce instead of support and uplift. Many are threatened, fearful that the woman will take her success and leave him behind. There are a lot of ladies out there who are really doing it and could do it even better if they had a support system at home. My personal belief is 'When I succeed, WE succeed.' Because when you succeed, I am certainly claiming that success as my own!

When I was married, I wanted to go back to school and get my Master’s degree. My (now deceased) husband didn’t see the benefit in that; it wouldn’t guarantee more money at my job and it would keep me out of the house a couple days a week. When I wanted to apply for different position at work or at another company; he discouraged it. My husband believed that since I had a good job, I should be happy with that and just wait to be promoted through the system.

My husband was 17 years older than I and he was old-school all the way. When I cut my relaxer out of my hair and flaunted a low natural fro, my husband had a fit, even though we dicussed it beforehand. He said he couldn’t stand a ‘nappy–headed woman’. I still laugh at that one to this day! To his credit, after he got used to my curly low-cut fade, he admitted that it was very becoming on me.

The tv game show, Jeopardy, was our daily competition. My husband never went to college, but he was extremely intelligent. When he beat me in Jeopardy, he wouldn’t gloat or dance around; that wasn’t his style. But he made sure I know that he beat me and he didn’t 'even have a college degree.'

My husband and I met Christmas Eve at TG’s, which was a popular club years ago. You know I was looking hot the night we met, right? I don’t recall what I had on, but I am sure it was the standard club attire. I was 26 years old at that time and my body was something to be feared. (Don’t you just love my confidence?) No wonder he wouldn’t let me out of his sight! Well, after we got married, he wasn’t all the excited about the way I dressed. He had other ideas about what was acceptable. So, being the young girl that I was, I went along with his program; he took me shopping and bought me clothes that were more befitting ‘his wife’. I didn’t resist; it was all good. But that matronly get-up was so not me!

When I saw Maria talk about R. Sargant Shriver, I couldn’t help but acknowledge how lucky and blessed Eunice Shriver was having found and married him. Having a man who supports you, encourages you, isn’t threatened by you, isn’t angry when you challenge him, promotes you and just plain 'ole loves you for who you are is almost unheard of. Is it ok to admit that I am a little jealous?

February made six years since my husband passed away. While we loved each other very much, I can see why we had some of the stresses in our marriage that we did. While my husband was a wonderful provider and a wonderful, handsome man, R. Sargant Shriver gave me a few more characteristics to seek in a husband.

So today, I am waiting for a man who is devoted to me in every sense of the word; will marvel at everything I say and do; doesn’t mind if my hair is nappy; if I walk around with clothes that draw another man’s attention; if I beat him at Jeopardy; or challenge his ideas. Someone who will let me rip and roar and love everything about me.

The End.

What a week this has been for me! Thank you for joining me through my emotional, yet healing journey. I have declared that I have Forgiven My John, Moved Beyond My Bobby, and Waiting on My Sargant. What a week it has been indeed.

Moving Beyond My Bobby

2009-08-19T17:45:00.008-04:00

Part II: Moving Beyond My Bobby

Whitney Houston and her mentor, Clive Davis recently announced that she is dropping her comeback album on September 1st. Her highly anticipated CD (is it really highly anticipated or am I just prone to flowery words) has released the title cut I Look To You, and I must admit she sounds pretty good. I wasn’t sure if her beautifully smooth voice would hold up under years of alleged drug abuse and lifestyle stress.

I saw Whitney on some tribute show years ago and I thought her iconic voice had left… along with every ounce of healthy muscle she once had on her body. Remember the 2006 interview she had with Diane Sawyer in which she told Sawyer, “crack is whack?” She denied crack, but that statement alone admitted to a lot more than it denied. Most of us experienced a brief moment of shock and shame when we heard that statement; right before we laughed our heads off.

For a moment there, it seemed as if Whitney Houston would never return to the beauty and talent we fell in love with when she debuted in 1985. Hit after hit, song after song; I thought nothing could stop her. But something did stop her… or should I say someone stopped her.

Houston met Bobby Brown at a Soul Train awards show and they subsequently married in 1992, catching us all by complete surprise. Why would someone from such a well-respected background marry a self-proclaimed bad boy? (When you boast about being a bad boy, do you then have to do more and more extreme things to live up to your proclamation?) Well, shortly thereafter, it seemed as if Whitney Houston’s career and image took a nose drive and she kept ignoring the flashing red sign on the control panel that said: ‘Pull Up, Pull Up, Pull Up’. And soon, her space-bound life was plunging to the ground.

But now, it seems as if my girl is really back! Her voice doesn’t have the clarity of You Give Good Love, but it is undeniably Whitney Houston. I hope she goes the Clive Davis route and make songs reminiscent of the Saving All My Love and I Will Always Love You and not the post Bobby Brown route. Remember Heartbreak Hotel and It’s Not Right But Its OK? Not very becoming. Nevertheless, it looks like Whitney is finally getting past the Bobby Brown influence in her life.

Have you ever had a Bobby in your life? Someone or something that caught you completely off guard and took you for a ride you didn’t deserve or ask for? I think we all have. My Bobby didn’t derail my career or anything like that, but he certainly derailed my confidence and sense of self-worth. With him, I endured things I never thought I would or could.

I played a third (or maybe even a fourth) in a game that was already too full. That was such an uncomfortable time in my life because I knew I was settling for far less than my worth. To this day, I am extremely embarrassed and ashamed to even admit it.

What finally made me recognize the destruction I was allowing? I’d love to say I finally woke up, but honestly, he finally made the ultimate display of disrespect and contempt. It was so blatant that I couldn’t spend another single moment being less than the person I know the Lord intends for me to be. I could no longer be less than who I am in order to be with someone who is less than who he should be. (You may have to read this sentence a couple of times, but you will get it!)

And at that moment, the light bulb went off and That Teowonna was back! My mother and friends jumped for joy and celebrated my comeback with me!

What or who is your Bobby? What are you going to do to move beyond your Bobby? I’m sure there is someone waiting to celebrate your comeback with you!

Check back tomorrow as I wrap up this blog series with Waiting for My Sargent.

Forgiving My John

2009-08-18T08:28:00.006-04:00

This week’s blog is going to be a three part series. Forgiving My John; Moving Beyond My Bobby; and Waiting for My Sergant. I thought I’d be able to put them all together in a concise manner, but as I started writing, the stories are far too deep for that.

Part I
Forgiving My John.

It looks like John E dwards is finally ready to admit his love child. After months of suspicions, according to sources, (like The Enquirer) Edwards took a DNA test that confirmed he has fathered a child with Rielle Hunter, the film producer with whom he had an extramarital affair a couple of years ago. Here is my question, who didn’t know that the baby was John Edwards’? We all knew. Why did he deny the child was his? He wasn’t fooling anyone, no one but Elizabeth.

That senseless paternity denial made me wonder, why do men deny their children? Paternal denial has been going on since the first affair, I would venture to say even though I don’t have any proof. What I think about is how detrimental and unfair it is to the child to be denied, especially publicly. What a legacy baby girl Edwards has to face when she comes of age. She will eventually find out that her daddy denied her. Just like I found out that mine once denied me.

Even though my parents were married, my father denied me also. I found out how serious his denial was when he came to live with me for about a year. My father was ill, not doing well at all. He is a Vietnam veteran and was suffering from various complications brought on by the constant reliving of the war. I brought him here to Columbia to get the help he desperately needed from Dorn VA Hospital.

While he was with me, my mother saw how it altered my life. I had to make arrangements for him to get him back and forth to the VA; I had to take time off from work; and I had to chill out with some of my dating (that was the real problem!) She later admitted that it hurt her to see me doing so for him when he had denied being my father before I was born. She said, “He even paid a lawyer to send me a letter saying you were not his child.” She still has that letter today.

I told my mother that I understand why it bothers her. But the fact is, he is my father. And if I would do all of this for him, when he hasn’t always been in my life, can you imagine what I would do for you?

I’m speaking to men: What makes you deny your child? The child is your own flesh and blood. That child is just as much you as you are yourself. Is it fear of loosing a current relationship? Is it fear of bringing reproach to your marriage, family, or other children? Is it fear of having to finally face the music of the lies your told, secrets you kept, people you hurt? I think that is the case for John Edwards. He didn’t want to loose his wife, his political career, his social standing. But even that really doesn’t make sense. By the time the affair came out, his political career was already in the dumps. His wife already knew. So why disgrace the child be denying her?

While I asked these questions of John Edwards, I found myself growing more and more curious about why my father denied me. So, I called his up. After a few minutes of chit-chat, I got to the point.

Me: Daddy, when you and my mother married, you denied being my father. Why did you do that?
Daddy, with very little hesitation: Crazy. Because I was crazy.
Me: Did you have any doubts that I was your child?
Daddy: No. Not a single doubt. I told you I was just crazy.
Me: But why, why did you do it? Was it that you were young and didn’t want to take responsibility?
Daddy: No, it wasn’t about the responsibility. See, all that happened when we were going through our divorce. I went to see a lawyer who told me I should say that. And I went along with it. I guess I was young and stupid.
Me: Do you regret it?
Daddy: Shine yeah! I regret it every day of my life. I think about that or something like that every day. That’s why I’m here by myself now. Remember you said your Ma said I was the only one who ever broker her heart? That tears me up every day. But I guess I have to pay for my actions. We all do. They come back, one way or another.
Me: Do you know that I forgive you?
Daddy: I sure hope you do.
Me: I do daddy. I forgive you.

As I sit here writing about this exchange I had with my father just 20 minutes ago, I think about all the children whose father denied them at one point in their lives or another. Regardless of what you believe is at stake, your child does not deserve to be denied. You did it. Accept it. Live up to it. Your child is not a lie.

Today’s I have forgiven my John. I forgave him a long time ago. The best part about it is, today he finally knows. And I hope his days and nights are now much easier to live.

Tomorrow: Part II - Moving Beyond My Bobby

Important Note: No daddies were hurt in the publishing of this blog. My daddy gave me his blessing to print OUR story. Even though he is not proud of what he did as a young man, he is man enough today to admit it, apologize for it, and is trying to move on.

A Ghetto Moment

2009-08-12T06:44:00.020-04:00

Ghetto moment: An exhibition of behavior that is uncharacteristic and extreme, usually driven by intense emotion – That Teowonna!

The Jenny and Mark Sanford saga continues. Last week, the Sanfords returned from a two-week European vacation. According to T he State newspaper, Governor Sanford said the vacation was an opportunity for him and his family to get away from the media attention and mend their relationships. I don’t know if the trip was a success or not, but the following Saturday, Nino Brown told me that Jenny Sanford packed her and her sons’ belonging, and left the SC Governor’s mansion. Jenny released a statement saying that after careful and prayerful consideration, she and her boys are moving back to their home in Sullivan’s Island for the upcoming school year. She further stated that she would return to Columbia often to carry out the duties required of her in her role as first lady.

While I want every marriage to be successful, I am glad Mrs. Sanford is taking a stand against the hypocrisy of infidelity and doing what is best for her and her sons. She is not playing the role of the ever-dutiful wife standing by her man after he humiliated and embarrassed her in front of the entire nation. But the problem I have with Mrs. Sanford is the manner in which she left. Jenny Sanford has all the money in the world and can easily afford to hire a moving company.

Instead, she called 3 of her friends and early Saturday morning, they met her at the governor’s mansion and literally carried her belonging by the armfuls out to their vehicles. They had clothes on hangers and packed in plastic bags, making trip after trip from the mansion to the SUVs parked out front. Clothes in plastic bags? SUVs loaded down? How ghetto is that! That is a scene you would typically see in the hood any given weekend.

While the term ‘ghetto’ has a negative connotation, as a woman, I understand why Jenny Sanford moved out the way she did. I understand how emotions can get so high that you behave completely out of character. Now, there are some people who are just straight ghetto. They do jacked up stuff like that every day of the week simply because they don’t know any better. Others of us, just suffer for a 'ghetto moment'.In Jenny Sanford’s case, I can only imagine what transpired that Friday night or early that Saturday morning in which she said, “I’ve had enough! I gotta go, and I gotta go NOW!” All her money, etiquette training, education and family prestige didn’t matter at that time. She was just the wife of a philandering husband who had finally reached her limit.

Jenny Sanford is an example of a rich, privilege lady suffering from a ghetto moment. Most of us have had them. I have, my girlfriends have, famous people have, and you probably have too. Here are a couple of ghetto moments that I came across during my research. The educated, independent woman, and the devoted, holy-ghost filled wife both found themselves having a ghetto moment.

Story #1: She is a strong-willed lady. She works hard for what she has. A homeowner at 28, a couple of degrees, and a career that was starting to take flight. Then she met him. They both fell hard, or so she thought. During their two-year relationship, she broke up with him many times… and every single time, he deserved it. But he always managed to come back, and she always took him back. After the last break-up however, she started to get suspicious hang-up calls. One night after a precarious set of events were set in motion, he finally came clean with her about who had been making the hang-up calls. He said “You know her; you’ve met her before.” He continued to say the girl calling was his employee and they had been having an affair for more than a year. She was devastated. Angry. Hurt. She knew the relationship was over; it would never be the same. She got even angrier as she thought about all the times he had brought the girl in her face. He actually had brought the girl to her home. Despicable. everybody knew about the affair but her. His family, his friends, his office staff. Everyone. They all continued to grin in her face and pretend to be her friend while letting her be made a fool of. She felt bamboozled.

After a day or so passed, she actually thought she was getting over it. Then she was on her way home from work one day. As she had to pass the road that leads to his house, she began thinking about how he humiliated her, played with her feelings, betrayed her, disrespected her. The enragement she felt mounting was unlike anything she'd ever felt before. Physical harm, possibly even death, was the only thing that was going to cure her wrath. She scanned her car for a suitable weapon; any weapon, but couldn’t find one. She wanted to sit in his yard and wait for him to come home and make him feel the pain she felt. When actually visualized herself taking his life. That terrified her. She called her close friend and begged her to talk her out of her plan. Immediately recognizing she was in an altered state, her girlfriend talked to her in a way no other woman could have. About 30 minutes later, her emotions began to settle down and she was able to think rationally again.

She had heard of stories in which woman did crazy things like cut tires, bust car windows, even killed men. She used to think they were crazy; ghetto. At that moment, she understood.

Story # two: The God-fearing, devoted wife. She was head of the deaconess board, bible school teacher, choir leader, and every other role a woman could serve in the church. She and her husband, who was also active in the church, had just moved into a new home. Everything was sparkling! Pristine. Their dreams were coming true; their hard work and prayer were paying off.

It was a typical Saturday morning. She was doing house chores and her husband was doing yard work. When the lawn mower stalled, he left the house to run to the store to get some gas. When night fell, and her husband had not returned, she started to get worried. Panic, actually. She scouted the neighborhood. She called his mother, his brothers, his friends, the hospitals... everyone she could think of. No one had seen him; no one had heard from him. Terrified of what could have happened to her husband, she called the police to complete a missing person’s report. She went to bed, but she didn’t sleep. She and her children had a restless night. Her husband wasn’t home; their daddy wasn’t home.

The next morning, she called in to work. Around lunchtime, she was sitting in her dining room at her new extravagant dinner table, staring at the walls. Then out of nowhere, in walked her husband. As he rounded the corner to the dining room, he emerged with a grin on his face and exclaimed in a silly Martin Lawrence voice, “What up!” She gasped when she saw him. Couldn’t say a word. Then she realized, all her worriment and dread had been for naught; his disappearance had been a silly hoax. An excuse to get out of the house. She calmly got up from the table and walked to the kitchen. She found the largest kitchen knife they had and charged back through to dining at him. When he saw the fury in her eyes, he dashed to the bedroom and locked the door behind him. She stabbed the door time and time again. Three minutes passed, five minutes passed. Eight minutes passed. She was huddled down in the corner of the doorframe, weakly, but still knifing the door, in a vengeful trance. After what seemed like forever, she regained her senses. He eventually emerged from the room. When they both realized that she could have and would have killed him, they cried. Weeks later, he disappeared again. Today, they are divorced and she hasn’t had that feeling since.

Sound like crazy women? They are only crazy if you have never been driven by emotion the way they were. A ghetto moment can happen to any of us. It varies from woman to woman. Remember The Color Purple? The dinner table scene when meek and mild Celie held the carving knife to Mister’s throat? A ghetto moment. In Why Did I Get Married, when the overweight, passive, and desperate to save her marriage Jill Scott smashed her husband over the head with a wine bottle? A ghetto moment. There are many more. Will these women ever do anything like that again? I doubt it. Unfortunately, they probably would never give a man that much of themselves to where they could be pushed to that point. The men who follow will never know the true devotion those women were once capable of.

So ladies, don’t automatically pass judgment on the girl who just bust the window out your son’s car. And men, let this be a lesson to you: No matter how rich, refined, holy, independent, or in love she may be, you can drive a woman to have a ghetto moment. Let’s just hope there is a heavy wooden door to protect you, or she has a friend to talk her down. I'm glad I did.

How Censorship is like Kryptonite

2009-07-23T22:59:00.002-04:00

I’ve lost my mojo.

Ever since my girlfriends forbad me from posting my ‘Good ‘Ole Boy System’ blog, I haven’t had an original idea. I’m scared… terrified, actually. What if they’ve ruined what makes That Teowonna! Teowonna? What if censorship is my kryptonite?

Where did That Teowonna! go?

Black in America 2 is on. President Obama called somebody stupid. The NAACP just screwed SC and my home town of Myrtle Beach out of millions of dollars. I’ve met a wonderful man who has my complete attention (but he doesn’t know it). I have a new gig at OnPoint! with Cynthia Hardy. So much material… and I am still silent.

Am I melting like the Wicked Witch of the West? Am I shriveling like a raisin in the son? Is my color fading like Michael Jackson? Is my voice lost like I’ve had too much to drink the night before?

What happens when you tell the wind it can’t howl? When you tell the trees they can’t sway in the wind? The waves they can’t roll? Flowers they can’t bloom? The sun it can’t shine? A smile it can’t laugh? Eyes they can’t sparkle? What happens when you tell cheeks they can’t blush?

Do tears begin to fall? Do throats begin to moan? Do hearts begin to sink? Do souls begin to die?

Boy, I hate CENSORSHIP!

In these Tough Economic Times, Is a Black Man with a Job an Anomaly?

2009-07-13T22:01:00.014-04:00

“Tee, I’m an anomaly.” This is what an ex-boyfriend said to me. I looked at my (now former) paramour with raised eyebrows and head cocked to the side, kind of like Chi Chi (my dog) does when he doesn’t understand what I am saying. How can a man with 5 babies (none from me, thank God) and 3 baby mamas call himself an anomaly? He is more like the stereotypical black male, if you ask me. Maybe he doesn’t know what an anomaly is, I thought. But he knew the definition… he knew all too well to what he was proclaiming. “I’m an anomaly because I am a black man with a job.”

The economy is having a significant impact on many of us in ways we have never before experienced. More and more, I find myself going without some of life’s little luxuries, and some major necessities, too. A few of my friends have confided in me their economic woes due to the economy; that is, my friends who are not too prideful to admit they are struggling a little. Trust me; there is no need to be ashamed around me… I’m going through the same struggles they are. Don’t let this blog, my new gig at OnPoint! with Cynthia and my BMW fool you… times are hard!

No longer do I pop a fresh bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon every other night like I used to. Eating out on a daily basis has now turned into a weekly or bi-weekly event, usually on paydays or when I get a treat from a suitor. And on occasion, I have even passed the collection plate to my neighbor without putting an envelope in. (He knows my heart!) So like I said, times are hard.

I woke up this morning and rolled over to kiss Nino Brown ‘good morning’. (It’s mighty funny how I stiffed the Lord but Nino Brown still gets the royal treatment). Instead of a kiss of good news, Nino greeted me with a text alert from the New York Times. The headline read: Job Losses Show Wider Racial Gap in New York. I said to myself, this isn’t just in New York; this is everywhere. The New York Times article said while unemployment rose at a steady rate for white New Yorkers, the unemployment rate for blacks in the city was four times higher. That is tremendous. I imagine this statistic is representative of any US city with a large African American population.

I then came across a few more articles that discussed how the economic downturn is disproportionately impacting black men. The Center for American Progress (CAP) recently held a panel on Black Men and the Recession. During the panel discussion, Stephanie Jones, the executive director of the National Urban League stated the unemployment rate for black men is 11.4%, compared to 5.5% for white men. Wow, that’s double! In a summary of the panel discussion, the CAP quoted published data from the Bureau of Labor Statistics that indicates black men over 19 are twice as likely to be unemployed as white men of the same age. Again, amazing. If unemployment is running amuck among black men, imagine how black children and black families must be struggling… just like me and probably many of you too.

As I read various articles about the gross unemployment disparities, the conversation I outlined above came back to my memory… even though it has been months since I kicked that fool to the curb. But it made me wonder the impact the economy is having on marriages, unwed families and the dating world. "I’m an anomaly because I am a black man with a job." Arrogant fool. Or was he?

Maybe Mr. Anomaly was just a man who recognized his unique selling point in this troubled time and utilizing it for his personal benefit. So I ask you, is a black man with a job such a rarity that it makes him a valuable commodity? A commodity that should be shared by multiple women, taking turns having him as their bed partner? Is this like renting a designer handbag until you can afford one of your own? If the man has a job and pays the bills, are women more likely to turn their heads on his absent days and nights? Clearly, I don’t have the answer to these questions. But it is something to think about.

With the recession in full swing, and it doesn’t seem to be on the upswing, can we expect crime to increase? Can we expect identity theft to increase? Can we expect churches to collect a little less tithes on Sundays? And can we expect black men with a job to commit moral contempt against women simply because they can?

As for Mr. Anomaly, admittedly, my finances are tighter since he is no longer in my life (and SC Student Loan Corporation ending my deferment status didn't help much either!) I mean, I could count on the brotha to hold things together when they got a little tough. But, since he’s been gone, I’ve slept soundly and peacefully every single night. My life is coming together in a way I couldn’t imagine when I was distracted by him and the drama that came along with him. So, I traded a little financial assistance and an illusion of love for peace of mind and real self-satisfaction. Getting rid of Mr. Anomaly proved to be my greatest strategic move yet… dumping penny stock and funding an investment that will is guaranteed to pay off one-hundredfold: Teowonna. The real anomaly. (Even if only in my mind!)

Pronunciation is Important to President Obama; And to me, too. Why Not You?

2009-07-07T23:54:00.002-04:00

It is 7:15 in the morning and I am in an Atlanta, Georgia. hotel room pounding this blog out practically in the dark. My mother is asleep in the next bed and I don’t want to disturb her with my early morning antics… you know, facebook, blogging, Politico, CNN, and the like. From the sounds of her heavy breathing (I dare not say snoring), I think my consideration is having its intended impact.

As I scrolled down the top stories of last evening on Nino Brown (my beloved Crackberry), I saw that in the late evening hours, Sarah Palin announced her resignation as governor of Alaska. What is she thinking? As I went to retrieve the story from Politico.com,another headline caught my eye: Obama, A Stickler for Pronunciation. I eagerly read the story. It basically spelled out the reason Obama say’s PA-kih-ston instead of Pa-ka-STAN like all his predecessors. And Moo-slim, instead of Muz-lim. Tal-e-bon, instead of Ta-li-BAN.

This is President Obama’s way of being respectful of others, by pronouncing their names and where they live correctly. It shows he tries to see the world from other people’s point of view. Whether you are the head of a small agency or the head of a state, President Obama requires phonetic spellings of names and places to be included in his daily briefings. He considers correct pronunciation to be baseline diplomacy which is important, especially foreign affairs. But not just in foreign affairs, but also right here, with Teowonna.

I love my name. I’m so glad my mother was ingenious enough to come up with Teowonna. Therefore, it is extremely important to me that it is pronounced and spelled correctly. I remember giving my primary school teachers a fit because they tried to tell me my name should be spelled T-e-o-w-a-n-n-a, instead of the way my mother spelled it. That conversation went on for a few days, but ultimately, they lost that battle.

But all educators were not as disrespectful as my primary school teachers. In fact, I recall my high school principal coming to me and asking how to pronounce my name correctly. She wrote it down phonetically on her flash card so that when she called me to walk across the stage and receive my diploma, she would pronounce it correctly. What great consideration Mrs. Blanton had!

But everyone isn’t quite as considerate as President Obama and Mrs. Blanton. Not everyone recognizes the impact and power of something as simple as name pronunciation. Reading the story on President Obama’s concern about pronunciation, reminded me conversation I had just a few nights ago.

It was the first (and only )conversation (so far) I had with a guy that I’d never met before. A mutual friend thought we’d make a nice couple. As a matter of fact, my friend said, “Teowonna, you are the only person I know that could truly appreciate the breadth of the man.” Wow… this man has breadth… I was excited, needless to say. So, I called the guy up, since he was expecting my call. Within moments, the conversation was off to a great start. We both had excitement, intrigue, and interest in our voices. He was articulate, and worldly, and everything else I love in a man.

We went through the whole name thing. His first name is a little unique so I asked him to pronounce it for me. Throughout the conversation, I made sure I was accurate in my pronunciation. And when I felt ‘iffy’, I called him ‘Mr. Johnson’; I couldn’t possibly go wrong with that. We went through the same drill with my name. No, it’s not Tawana or Taiwana or Tawanda. It is Teowonna. But my friends call me Tee, and you can too.

As the conversation progressed, I found myself becoming a little more stand-offish. I wasn’t as amused as I was in the beginning of the conversation. I think my new ‘friend’ recognized that and politely ended the conversation.

I reflected back upon the conversation (as unrelentingly I do of most conversations – a major flaw of mine), to determine why the conversation had gone sour for me… why my mood had changed. I narrowed it down to two things: he never really asked me anything about myself (even though I inquired about him) and he kept mispronouncing my name.

Why, after I corrected him a couple of times, and even gave him permission to call me Tee, would he not make the effort to pronounce my name correctly? My name, Teowonna, is the absolute foundation of who I am. The premise. If you know me, can you see me being called Michelle? Or Patricia? Or Shaniqua? Absolutely not, I’m Teowonna Clifton, dammit!

Didn’t he see my facebook profile? I’m a for-real sista!

Anyway, like Jenny Sanford, I am willing to forgive (but not that Mark Sanford foolishness’!) So, if Mr. Johnson were to call again, I’d put his past transgressions aside (as serious as they were) and we’d move forward and really get to know each other. But if he doesn’t, that’s cool too.

I sigh as I think about our president. Simple things like his being a stickler for pronunciation really build my admiration of President Obama. His compassion and concern for others is so genuine, that it is almost foreign to many American politicians. This just adds to my ever-growing list confirming that Michelle has quite a man on her hands. I want one just like that!

Jackson, Fawcett Dead; Sanford, Not So Lucky

2009-06-25T21:20:00.003-04:00

What a week this has been. What a 24 hours this has been.

About an hour ago, I got the news that Michael Jackson has died. I must admit I almost cried when I read the news that scrolled across my Blackberry aloud to my fellow Toastmasters at our dinner meeting. If I had been alone, I probably would have cried.

To be honest, I haven’t been a true Michael Jackson fan since “Beat It” and “Billy Jean”. Thriller is arguably the greatest CD ever made, and it still holds the title for best-selling album of all time (according to CNN). It was nominated for eight Grammy Awards and has been certified platinum 20 times. Bad followed Thriller five years later. I must admit, even though there were some awesome cuts on that album (“Dirty Diana”, “Bad”, “The Man in the Mirror” and “Smooth Criminal”), I found my interest starting to drift by that stage in Michael’s career.

Now that I think about it, the lighter Michael’s complexion became and the thinner his lips and nose got, the more my enthusiasm for him seemed to wane. Maybe that’s why by the time “Dangerous” and “HIStory” were released, I had metaphorically sent my fan card back in. Does that make me racist? Hmmm… That’s another blog.

About six hours ago, I got a text from WLTX saying Farrah Fawcett had passed away. Even though I knew she was ill, I was still sadden to hear she had succumbed to cancer. I’m only 36 years old, so Farrah really wasn’t a part of my generation. I don’t have much of a recollection of her, other than “Charlie’s Angels”. Wait. Didn’t she do a made-for-TV movie about domestic violence ? “The Burning Bed”, I think it was called. Ok, it’s all coming back to me now.

Anyway, I had a great deal of sympathy for Farrah and her condition. No one deserves to live with or die from cancer. On May 15 of this year, a special broadcast aired on NBC called “Farrah’s Story”. I didn’t watch it because it was too maudlin. I’d heard enough of her sad story already that week. The day after the show aired, Meredith Vieira interviewed Farrah’s long-time companion, Ryan O’Neal on The Today Show. When I heard O’Neal say Farrah’s first question was, ‘How were the ratings’, I was glad I had not watched the show. What was her motivation for airing that heartbreaking story? To feed her superstar ego? Sad. Very, very sad; trying to hold onto the spotlight even as life slips away. And today, the very day Farrah passed away, Michael’s death upstaged hers.

About 24 hours ago, I got word, again, courtesy of WLTX text, that Governor Mark Sanford admitted to an affair. While the state and country thought he was in the mountains licking his wounds about the stimulus bill issue, he actually was in Argentina with his ‘woman’. And on my dime!

Dang. Another decent man fell victim to lust and the mystic and allure of sex with someone other than his wife. I was dismayed at the realization that even the most stand-up men can fall prey to temptation. Scary.

Articles, blogs, commentary and surveys are all over the internet asking why do politicians cheat. I can answer that for you. Politicians cheat because men cheat. Politicians are no different from any other man. If your man is a cheat, then he is going to cheat; it doesn’t matter if he is a politician or not. So ladies, what can you do to keep your man from cheating? Simple. Don’t marry a cheat!

Back to Sanford, can you imagine when he stepped off that plane to make his way to his ditched SUV and was bombarded with reporters from around the country? Then he realized, “they’re onto me”. May as well come clean.

The humiliation of it all. In a matter of hours, all your personal business and affairs are public knowledge. Your marriage, career, good reputations, and self respect all vanish as cameras flash in your face. Sanford must have wished he could die.

Today is Thursday, June 25, 2009. What a day it has been. Michael is gone; Farrah is gone; and with all of his political hopes and dreams in the toilet, Sanford probably wishes he was.

Black Bike Week 2009: STAY HOME

2009-06-21T13:27:00.001-04:00

An Original Beach Girl Speaks Out

I am one of the few people who actually remember when Black Bike Week (BBW) was something special. It was a reunion; it was a festival; it was FUN. Now, it is a freak show. Just horrible. It seems the rule is: the more naked, the better.

I am a native of North Myrtle Beach (now living in Columbia). I grew up going to Atlantic Beach for BBW. Remember Punk’s Patio? Remember meeting that special guy and walking along the shore until you saw the sun coming up over the horizon? I do. What a time we had.

Now, BBW is full of nudity, noise, violence, and controversy. As such, the City of Myrtle Beach has banned both the Harley Davidson Weekend and Black Bike Weekend. And I say, “Good riddance”. Not so much to the Harleys. I hate to see them go. But as for the black bikers, you won’t hear a single complaint from me.

Yesterday as I was leaving my primary gig and going home to my second gig (which includes a myriad of activities, like writing this blog and the such), I caught the tail end of the PA Bennett Show on 620 AM. She was saying that the NAACP is going to be in Myrtle Beach to make sure things go well. She also said that since MB does not want our (I guess she meant black people) dollars, to stay away. Find another place to spend ‘our’ money. I called in quickly and was lucky enough to be the final caller of the day. I told PA that I agree with her. Black bikers should stay home, but for different reasons. Here they are.

Reason 1: Your money really isn’t that great.
People seem to think that BBW brings millions and millions of dollars in a single weekend. Well, I don’t know the exact numbers, but I am willing to bet that it is significantly less than you think. The people who benefit the most are the hotel owners. They are guaranteed to sell every room in their hotel that weekend. Other than that, restaurants don’t make any money. Many think that is because they close their doors. True, in the past, many have closed for the weekend. And with good reason… they don’t make money! Black bikers seldom go and sit down in a restaurant and have a steak, or a seafood dinner. Some do, but most grab hot dogs, grilled sausages, BBQ, and rib dinners from street vendors. Therefore, street vendors make great money. Full scale restaurants, do not.

Furthermore, if the restaurants were to open, who is going to cook the food? Let’s be real, the majority of the kitchen personnel are black. And guess what, on the BBW weekend, they want to be out in the streets having fun too. So they call in, take off, and sometimes, just don’t show up. How do I know? Because I LIVED it. I did it too, when I was young and didn’t have a mortgage. So I ask again, who is going to cook? The manager can’t do it all himself.
When the NAACP went running down there complaining that it is discrimination because the restaurants closed, my thought was, go fight a real discrimination battle. Unless you live there, you just don’t know!

Reason 2: BBW is too problematic.
The nudity is disgusting. The profanity and provocation are intolerable. The violence is barbaric. The shooting is ghetto. The litter is trifling! I guess when you are about 19, you consider all these things to be fun. But when you get to be 30, 35, 40… that is a disgrace. People drink too much, take stupid risks, and people die. It just isn’t worth it! I don’t know about you, but I like clean, pretty Myrtle Beach. Not ghetto, trashy Myrtle Beach.

Reason 3: There isn’t overt racism and discrimination like many think there is.
For the past few years, I’ve been hearing about the NAACP going down there and making a fuss, saying BBW is handled differently than Harley Week. Yes it is… because it IS different. Just because black bikers are not treated the same as the Harleys does not mean the black bikers are treated wrong. I had absolutely NO problem when traffic was redirected on BBW and not during Harley week. When the Harleys came down, bikers came down in droves, perhaps with a woman on the back … on their BIKES! During BBW, bikers came down with SUV's, huges trucks with trailers towing their bikes, and droves of people who don’t even own a bike. The dynamic of the two weekends are completely different. During Harley week, the majority of the people are on bikes. During BBW, there are far more spectators and car drivers than bikers. So the rerouting of traffic is completely necessary, not discrimination.

Year after year, the same topic comes up on local talk shows, like Cynthia Pryor Hardy’s and now national talk shows, like Michael Baisden’s. But each host speaks as an outsider looking in. Take it from someone who has lived the Harley Davidson Week and the Black Bike Week. The Harley were OK. But black bikers HAD to go!

This is the opinion of one North Myrtle Beach native. I'm sure there are many who feel differently. Feel free to let me know how you feel.

And yes, I am black.

Are you President and First Lady? Or Are You Rock Stars?

2009-06-21T13:16:00.002-04:00

My 100 Day Assessment.

I am so proud of President and First Lady Obama. I absolutely LOVE them. I can’t think of a better couple to represent everything good about black people and America.

First Lady Michelle Obama is my hero. She shows how an educated woman can be strong, accomplished, and still be appreciated and loved by her man for her strength and just being who she is. And the fact that she is more chocolate than vanilla makes me beam with pride!

President Obama shows how even the unlikeliest of men can be president. A black man born to a white woman. A black man stereotypically raised without ever really knowing his father. A black man with a name that, post 911, almost sounds anti-American. But he did it. He harnessed America’s desire for a change, a new day. And here we are, celebrating his first 100 days in office.

Donna Brazile gave a comprehensive assessment of President Obama’s first 100 days in office. She gave President Obama a B+ on the stimulus plan. On the 2010 fiscal budget that will create jobs with investments in education, health care, and clean energy while cutting taxes for middle-class families, she gave him an A-. Finally, for handling of national security, foreign affairs and our image abroad, she graded our president an A+. I am in compete agreement Brazile's assessment. She is one of the sharpest political minds America has and I am proud to claim her as a sista’. But to further her assessment, I add a category called public exposure. For that, I give President Obama a D+.

What is my public exposure category? Public exposure accounts for how much non-political exposure the president gets. And in my opinion, he has been getting entirely too much.
When was the last time you have walked into a store and did not see President or First Lady Obama on the cover of some magazine? I know they are the new ‘it’ couple, and rightfully so, but my concern is that all of these interviews they are granting will hurt them in the long run.

I understand that “everything Obama” sells. This is reminiscent of the Bee Gee’s craze of the 70’s; Michael Jackson of the 80’s; Madonna of the 90’s; Beyonce’ of the new millennium. But the Bee Gee’s, Michael Jackson, Madonna, and Beyonce’ are rock stars. That is their job. They don’t do anything else, really. But President Obama has a real job; a serious one at that. And being on somebody’s cover every week diminishes the respect of his position.

Here is a list of magazine covers the Obama’s have graced and/or interviews they have given: Men’s Vogue, US Weekly, Essence, People, Ebony, Time, Vibe, GQ, Newsweek, Jet, Rolling Stone, Women’s Weekly, Wired, Life, O Magazine, Ladies Home Journal, Vanity Fair, and tons more than I can possibly name. Now, with this month’s issue of Essence, they are dragging Mother Robinson into this thing. Mrs. Robinson, please don’t fall prey… don’t get bitten by the rock star bug!

I know the Obama’s can’t control the magazines that run their image without their consent. But they give an awful lot of interviews with their consent. Is that what we really want from an American President? A rock star- like following? I personally prefer my president to be a president and not a music-less Michael Jackson.

And remember President Obama’s appearance on ‘The Tonight Show’ with Jay Leno? The only thing that came out of that was the gaffe he made about the Special Olympics. Keep in mind that it is the objective of those shows to get you to relax, let your guard down, and talk freely. President Obama did that and see what happened? Is there really prestige around being the first sitting president to appear on a late night talk show? I think not. I think there are some firsts that President Obama should not aspire to be.

Donna Brazile said, “Considering that he still has 1,360 days to go, I'm fastening my seatbelt. It will be a bumpy ride. But I will thoroughly enjoy watching Obama's journey of restoration and revival. Our 44th president may not be perfect, but he's in the game, scoring wins for America while the opposition still figures out how to play.”

With the coming and going of President Obama’s first 100 days, what would I like to see from him in the next 100 days? Actually, I’d like to see less on him… on the magazine racks, that is!