20May / 2013

La Vie en Rose

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Wow, time flies! It’s been a while since I’ve written, but so much happened! In the months since I’ve written I’ve been working, been in a car crash, began learning a new language, and went on vacation. Life’s been a bit of a whirlwind, but for now I’ll focus on my vacation.

For the longest time I’ve wanted to visit Montreal. I can’t say exactly why, but it’s been on my list of places to go for some time. Fortunately a friend of mine has a serious case of wanderlust (*waves to her*), so off we went!

Traveling is always interesting and definitely something I think more people should do. Often, we think we don’t have the time, money, energy, etc. to travel, but it just isn’t true! Traveling is all about living on purpose and making deliberate choices. We make time for what we want, so finding time for travel isn’t bad if you just look! Saving up those vacation days at work or planning a weekend trip doesn’t take that much effort. Neither does money! I find a lot of people complain that they don’t have the money to travel, but that isn’t always the case. Spending money on eating out and daily habits (i.e. coffee) costs a lot. Firing up the stove at home or making your own coffee can save you hundreds of dollars a month. Why not trade that daily cup of coffee for a weekend trip cross-country? But I digress. . .

So off to Montreal we went! Neither of us is fluent in French, so I was excited to see how we would fare. Luckily enough, “Parlez vous anglais?” and “Je ne pas compris” got us pretty far and most people were willing to converse with us in English. I should note that the people were incredibly nice in Montreal. Everyone was so willing to help. It was refreshing to be greeted with a smile, as opposed to suspicion. People seemed a tad less jaded there. Public transportation was fairly easy as well. If you’ve seen one subway system (especially NYC’s) you’ve seen them all. Between Google Maps and common sense, we were able to traverse most of Montreal.

My favorite part of Montreal was the food. It’s been my experience that food makes (or breaks) the experience. That said, everything in Montreal was delicious. No, really, EVERYTHING! The croissants, the wine, the smoked meats . . . it was amazing. (Quick side note: Did you know Montreal was known for its smoked meats? I didn’t!) I highly recommend La Banquise for their poutine and Au Pied de Cochon for their foie gras! Note: If you don’t know what foie gras is, don’t look it up, just eat it! Though a bit pricey, the meals were definitely a highlight of the experience.

My second favorite part of Montreal was the shopping! Although those living there definitely had their own style, the boutiques were amazing, albeit expensive. I was able to find great deals on dresses in Boutique Onze and Nu-i Fashion by Vickie. If you ever visit Montreal, definitely look up Nu-i, Vickie is amazing and had so many original styles! I loved the originality of the boutiques, but I also loved the tradition and elegance of places like Ogilvy’s and La Baie d’Hudson. Another thing I loved about Montreal? They have an Underground City! No, they aren’t mole people, but there are miles and miles of tunnels, restaurants, and shops underground, which must prove advantageous during the winter months.

After exploring Montreal, my friend and I traveled to Quebec City. Known as the “Paris of the Americas,” walking through Old Quebec City definitely felt like I was going back in time. Everything was so quaint and decidely European. The fortifications that flank Old Quebec City are lovely and the many turrets of Chateau Frontenac are simply breathtaking. Know what else took my breath away? WALKING. If you’ve been to Old Quebec City, you know just how steep some of those streets are. My friend and I huffed and puffed back up the streets after taking the ferry around the city. It was a bit embarrassing (especially since neither of us are that out of shape), but I was slightly mollified to see other people walking slowly and breathing heavily as well. Once again, the food didn’t disappoint. We went to an Italian place where the drinks were strong and the portions were huge! Shopping on Le Petit Champlain was nice, I especially loved the chocolaterie I found there.

All in all it was a beautiful trip. At night I was exhausted by all the walking, but I loved that the day was filled with so much sight-seeing . . . and food.

“Live on Purpose” is a saying that is a driving force in my life. For me, living on purpose means that I am an active participant in my life and that I create unforgettable moments for myself. Traveling, I think, is an important part of that. “La vie en rose” (made famous by Edith Piaf and Louis Armstrong) literally means “life in pink.” A better translation is to see life through “rose-colored glasses.” Ever the optimist, I choose to live on purpose in la vie en rose. What about you?

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11Feb / 2013

The Ties That Bind

The start of the year’s been eventful, but certainly not how I imagined.  To start, my grandmother died a few weeks ago.  What surprised me most was not her death, but my feelings about it. She’d been suffering a long time, so I felt more grateful than grief.  I thought it selfish to want her trapped inside a body that betrayed her long ago.  The death, however, was the easy part.  Dealing with family turned out to be the true test.

Most funerals are the same, I think.  Extended family comes together to mourn, to reminisce about the good times, try to ignore the bad, and lament about not keeping in touch.  People make grand gestures to demonstrate their success in life, while others clam up to hide their own lack thereof.  Everyone talks about what they should have done, would have done, and will do going forward.  No one really means it, but it feels good to say at the time.  Families band together awkwardly since most of the time they aren’t used to being together.  People keep to the safe topics-children and grandchildren-while the rest of the family fawns over pictures and toddlers too young or tired to speak.  Some posit delicate inquiries about the family business, but most of that is saved until after everyone returns to their own lives.  There are plenty of tears and plenty of food, as if those grieving believe the pies and cakes can fill the void recently felt by all.

After all is said and done and the family member is safely in the ground, most families go back to what they were before: a disjointed band of people commonly linked by a few alleles of DNA.  Despite differences in race and religion, many families seem to be the same.  For one, you never get to choose which you belong to.  Even adopted children are chosen.  You are tied to people you may never share anything in common with, like it or not.  Many familial relationships are bruised or severed due to adolescent slights, whether real or perceived.  Children born a generation later harbor these same prejudices and preferences after a lifetime of hearing what “so-and-so” did or how “so-and-so” acts.

We are defined by our families very early in life and rarely do we get the chance to start over, to start fresh.  Who we are and what we do at a certain point will largely determine how the rest of our families perceive us forever.  Sometimes, it is hard to “grow” in families.  In the real world, your friends and interests grow and change as you do.  With families, that stays static.  You can hope that you are accepted for who you are at that time, but many family members feel better going with what (and who) they used to know.

That isn’t to say that families are all bad, of course.  That consistency is important in a world that constantly changes.  It can feel good to know that your crazy uncle will always be your crazy uncle.  That your sister will always be a control freak and your cousin a bit of an air head.  It’s nice to know that this group of people can band together against challenges from the outside world, despite our own idiosyncrasies within.  It is wonderful to come back and share your progress with people who will always be what you need them to be.  As complicated as it seems, these relationships are what ground us. These are the ties that bind.

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04Nov / 2012

Three Things Sandy Taught Me

This past week the Northeast was pummeled by Hurricane Sandy. Thousands lost power and many even lost their homes. I’m glad to say that my family was barely touched amidst all the devastation, but times like this do make you stop and reflect. So below are three lessons Sandy taught me:

1. Be Prepared!

Although reports of Sandy were widespread (remember “Frankenstorm?”) most didn’t take heed. The Northeast can handle a snowstorm here and there, but a hurricane? If you were like me you laughed it off and went about your business. My family bought a few extra loaves of bread but none of us took steps to make sure we were ready. It just didn’t seem necessary. This, however, was a mistake. While I wasn’t personally devastated by the hurricane, many were. So many lost their homes and those that didn’t were left without essentials because they weren’t prepared. Whole lives documented in papers, pictures, and mementos were simply washed away. It really makes you stop and wonder what you need in times like this. Where do you keep your vital information? Is it easily accessible in case of an emergency? Is it organized? If not, perhaps now might be the time to rethink that. Be prepared!

2. Be Thankful!

When I finally came into work,  everyone shared their survival stories. I was shocked! Some fumbled around in the dark without power. Others made do without running water. I myself had to find alternate routes around the fallen trees and roadkill (gross, I know) so that I could get to work. BUT-I didn’t lose power. I didn’t lose water. I sat at home comfortably with plenty of food and drink and entertainment. Indeed, it wasn’t until I saw the photos on news websites that I realized the true extent of the devastation. Although I make it a habit to say “thank you” for at least 5 things everyday, I cannot help but utter a few extra “THANK YOUs” since the hurricane. Even if you were affected, you are alive and can bounce back. Be thankful!

3. Tune IN and Turn OFF!

Although I never lost power, I did take time to turn off my cell (for the first time in weeks…no, seriously) and stay away from my computer. I’m a bibliophile and it felt good to return to that. It’s weird, but I love the scent of books. It felt great to turn an actual page and not wonder who was calling/texting/tweeting me. I realized the world wouldn’t end if I took a little time to get centered and really tune in with what was going on around me. I noticed I don’t even exercise without electronics and it is a little much. So, I’ve committed myself to tune-ing in and turning off once a week. No phone, no computer, no tv (le sigh)- just me with my own thoughts. 

I hope that nothing this disastrous hits us for quite some time, but in case it does, I think these lessons will certainly come in handy. What did Hurricane Sandy teach you?

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04Oct / 2012

My Post-Graduate Identity Crisis

The past few months of my life have been fraught with change. I’ve graduated from law school, sat for the bar in two states, moved back from Boston, and continued searching for a job. While I don’t yet know the results from the bar, my move was successful, my degree is intact, and I was able to find a job. Not just something to pay the bills, but a job I think will really move me forward in my career. While I’m immensely grateful for all that’s happened, I couldn’t help but feel lost among all the change!

So much of what I do defines who I am. I can’t help it. Some people prefer not to let what they do define them, but I relish that thought. For seven years after high school, I was a student. It’s what I did. Sure I was a daughter, a sister, an officer in various organizations, but I most identified as a student. I had dreams of holing myself up in the ivory tower for the rest of my days, pontificating about whatever I saw fit. (Yes, I know, I’m a nerd.)

However, I eventually grew tired of that role. I don’t think I’ll ever stop learning- I don’t want to- but I was eager to be “done.” I was ready for a milestone, some sort of marker to demonstrate all that I’ve accomplished. So, I graduated and asked myself, “What’s next?”

It takes an immense amount of courage to follow your own path and can be pretty frightening when you have to venture into the unknown. During the time I faced unemployment, I received so much unsolicited advice. Family members, none of them attorneys, suggested I talk to this person and that. They offered vague remembrances of distant contacts who had something to do with law. While I appreciated their good intentions, I knew I had to tune out the “noise” in order to stay focused on my goals. It would’ve been easy to pigeon-hole myself into others’ expectations of me. I have no doubt that my father (and many others) envisioned me as a DA, cool and collected, like something out of the latest Law and Order episode. But that isn’t who I am or what I envisioned myself doing when I exited law school.

So who am I? Well, a notorious optimist, for starters. I believe that thoughts become things and I find it easy to envision the very best for myself. So, when I graduated without a job, I wasn’t as upset as my peers. Sure, I was aware of the looming due date of my student loan repayment. Sure, I was aware that only about 29% of 2011 law school graduates were working in law firms. Sure, I was miffed when family and friends asked me what I was doing after I graduated. But it didn’t send me spiraling into a pit of despair. Why? Well, I knew I didn’t want to work in a firm when I entered law school, so not having a firm job did little to phase me. I stopped reading articles about joblessness and a bad economy. I knew I was intelligent, talented, and well-trained. Plus, all I needed was one, so, what was all the fuss about? I could scream and cry and panic, or I could set about finding myself a job of my choice. Clearly, I chose the latter. As expected, opportunities showed up. The first opportunity would have me overseas working within a company. The latter, the one I chose, was stateside but had a very similar set up. I was overjoyed, but not at all surprised. Thoughts become things, remember?

I suspect many new graduates experience a similar feeling. For many, there is a sense of apprehension or fear of no longer relying on academia to define their role in life. I have too, but ever the optimist, I believe it is a beautiful thing. No longer a student, I am embracing the re-invention of myself. I am a young woman eager to begin her career and excited to explore the possibilities presented to me. I expect I’ll experience similar “crises” as I reach various milestones in life, but for now, I’m glad to say the crisis is over.

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12Apr / 2012

Dear Nicki…

Dear Nicki,

Congratulations on the release of your second album. You’re transcending more barriers than probably any female hip hop artist before you. Sure there have been numerous comparisons, but I think it is safe to say that you are truly an original. Your exposure has grown drastically in the past three years and I have to say, folks can barely recognize that girl from Queens with the pink and black ‘do. Speaking of colors…what’s up with all of yours?

See, I was talking to a friend the other day and she mentioned your use of just about every color known to Crayola. While I certainly give you props for being daring, it seems to go past creative expression. Like, maybe you think your use of neon greens, pinks, and blues will make your fans forget the one color that could present an issue: brown. Is that what’s going on? Are you hiding in plain sight? Is the use of vibrancy an attempt to make your fans forget that you’re a black woman?

I suppose I could understand the intent. You’re crossing over into the pop world. You’ve got little blonde girls singing your songs on Ellen for goodness sakes. So maybe you think that your blonde hair and bubble-gum pseudo-Barbie appearance negates that fact that you’re a rapper. A black female rapper from an urban area. Did you forget that you’re a black female rapper from Queens? Because we haven’t. “We” of course being black women. We know what a “kitchen” is, Nicki. You were referring to at least a few black women when you said, “These nappy headed ho’s, but my kitchen good,” right? Oh Nicki, did you forget that blonde mop isn’t yours? Neither is the green one. Or the pink one.

But wait, I get ahead of myself. You haven’t totally forgotten you’re black. You still have that fat ass like a black girl, right? Have you ever heard of Sarah Baartman, Nicki? She got paid to show off her figure too…at the circus. “Pop”-ular culture fans traveled far and wide to see the Hottentot Venus. Do you know what they did with her when they were done, Nicki? Put her in a museum and her vagina in a jar. You get paid a hell of a lot more than she did, but you parade an exaggerated version of the black female form like she did as well. Are you to be put on display in a museum, Nicki? Will you be replicated in the “Hip-Hop” section of the Smithsonian?

Nicki, you are talented. I’ve listened to your mixtapes. I’ve seen you freestyle. You’ve got it. But…what are you doing with it? See there are a lot of young black women in Queens that want to be just like you. They want the money, the figure…they want their “kitchen good” as well. Have you forgotten about them? Fame is addictive. Your label-mate has written quite a few songs about the allure. Far be it from  me to say that you can’t be creative, Nicki. Far be it from me to say that all you are is just some black woman from Queens. But be accountable, Nicki. You have the ability to change the perception of black women and female rappers. You’re no less talented without the blonde hair or the “Barbie” moniker. Barbie was white…Christie was the black one, remember? Is that your goal? To be white, Nicki? If so, you’ve got a long way to go.

Love Always,

Nobody’s Darling

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28Mar / 2012

Living on Purpose

“Living on Purpose.”

It’s one of my favorite quotes. For me, living on purpose means living, acting, interacting, breathing, moving…deliberately. Making focused choices. Being present and having a blast doing it. You know, just living on purpose.

That’s really the point, right? Why we blog, tweet, update statuses, join groups…we’re hoping that it will further define our purpose. Even if that purpose is to have no purpose. We all participate in various ways to express ourselves and show off who we are. Being deliberate in my actions has made me much more aware of myself and those around me. Making the effort to really be ‘in the moment’ can be tough, especially when you have technology all around, but it’s made for a richer life experience.

Following passions you think look good or sound good to others really doesn’t put you any closer to your true goals. It just makes for a lesser version of you. I think focusing on things that you really love and that really challenge you…acting purposefully…that’s what makes someone memorable.

Just a quick thought before I delve back into this never ending pile of outlines.

Whatever you do, do it with purpose!

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06Mar / 2012

Just Friends, Right?

So this weekend I had one of the most awkward interactions that a woman can have with a man. “The Conversation.” You know, the whole, “I like you as a friend, just not that way…” followed by awkward silences and empty promises to talk to each other later. I won’t pretend that I haven’t had this conversation before. But it does make me sad. Why? Well, obviously because I’ve lost a friend. But also because that conversation seems to reveal a sort of duplicity on his behalf. He was perfectly fine being my friend, til I told him that’s all he would be. What changed?

Is it because I cleared the air? I only stated exactly what we were: friends. I don’t think that is so wrong. Honesty is best, right? To say you want to be friends when you’re really hoping to make your way up to being with me is kind of…a lie. I feel like guys make this mistake all too often. Chances are, if you approach her with friendship knowing you want to be something more, you’ll be disappointed. Why? Because she won’t think you think of her in that way. Which frees her up to date other people while you sit on the sideline waiting for your chance that might only come as a bad post-breakup decision. Now of course it’s reasonable for friendships to develop into something more, but I think that requires a mutual discovery by both parties.

In the interest of full disclosure, I am pretty oblivious when it comes to love. Usually works best for me when a guy clearly makes it known that he’s interested in me. Otherwise he’ll be waiting a while and I’ll be none the wiser. It’s just that (for me at least), a friend is a friend. I don’t think of my guy friends that way and attempts to turn things into a relationship can seem pretty awkward, especially if I’m concerned with losing the friendship. I have had people in the past be quite upfront about their intentions. To say they wanted to get to know me but with the intention of dating. Although it’s pretty blunt, I think I prefer those situations to the discomfort and disappointment that comes with some friendships.

Typically I don’t believe that women and men that find one another attractive can be friends without at least one person feeling or wanting something more. If they are there’s probably a good chance that they’ve tried to be something more, failed, and decided to be friends instead. It’s true in my situation and a number of my other friends’ situations. Guys I know that have female friends that they’ve never tried to be with (in one way or another) are friends with them because the girls are typically less than their aesthetic ideal. That or she’s crazy. Even still he might try. Everyone likes a little excitement right?

What was most interesting about my interaction this weekend was his response. Although he seemed disappointed he made a point to say that he wasn’t the type to “stick around and just be friends.” Just made me think our conversations, mutual experiences, etc. meant nothing if he didn’t have a chance to be romantically linked. I respect having to move on to find your happy, but I thought it a tad bit dramatic.

Nothing wrong with being just friends, right?

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14Feb / 2012

Cupid, No Means No…I Mean It.

“Valentine’s Day is tomorrow. Are you ready?!?!?”

I really wish the person on the other end of the g-chat could see my face. The closest resemblance was something  like this: o_O. Ready? Does Valentine’s Day warrant “readiness”, or at the very least the excessive use of punctuation marks? I’m going to go ahead and say no. The extensive amount of waxing, tweezing, plucking and polishing that might be deemed “preparation” is already incorporated into my regular routine. *cue music* I enjoy being a girl. But otherwise, is there anything else to be ready for?

Those that know me know I’m not big on Valentine’s Day. If I’m dating you, please regard this statement. Why?  I’d never pass up an opportunity to inflict unneeded anxiety on my love interest du jour. (Ain’t I a stinker?) But yeah, I’m not a fan. Why? It’s just not me. It’s not because I’m bitter. Or angry. Or single. Or because my heart is two sizes too small. It’s just not my thing. I prefer tulips to roses, milkshakes to assorted chocolates, and a sci-fi flick to a rom-com. I don’t really need (or want) the pressure that goes with the day. I’d rather not go out with a sweaty-palmed, blazer-clad gentleman who’s enduring my conversation in the hopes that this dinner and those drinks will win him a night in my boudoir. It won’t. Nice try, though.

If being a valentine means expressing your appreciation and or gratitude toward your love interest, I dig it. But I think demonstrating that appreciation needn’t be rolled up into a day of expensive dinners and gifts. Pause. Rewind. On second thought, lets keep the gifts. I’m all about that. But can we spread that gratitude out throughout the other 364 days? Like…leave the toilet seat down after you use the bathroom. Sit and watch a game with me. Indulge my histrionics. Coo at the 574th picture I’ve showed you of my dog…and be convincing. Bring me takeout when you know I’ve had a long day and don’t feel like cooking. BE with me, you know? Just link lives with me for a while and let’s enjoy one another. I’d rather we do that for the year and take a day off on Valentine’s Day than to do what the other 87% of the world is doing. (The other 13% accounts for those in the second and third world and singles).

So, to answer the question put before me, no. I’m not ready for Valentine’s Day. Never was and probably never will be. If Cupid wants to try me well, just know Cupid, I shoot back. And it isn’t with a bow and arrow. Keep your assault to yourself.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

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02Feb / 2012

My Love Letter to My Exes

My astrological sign is Cancer. According to the zodiac I have trouble letting go of the past, especially in relationships. In a way that’s true. Sometimes I think about why things went wrong and how things might be different. That isn’t to say that I’d rather them be different. I am appreciative, grateful even, for their varied entries and exits in and out of my life. I’ve often wondered what I would say to them all if I had the chance. If I could write a love letter to all of my exes. I suspect it would go something like this…

“I love you all. Which is another way of saying, I suppose, that I love none of you. You all were so different. Alike only in your attraction to and admiration for me. A curious thing in itself, since you all connected with a different part of who I am…

For you, it was a happy coincidence. Who knew standing at a bus stop would inspire you to write poem after poem declaring your love? We bonded over long bus rides and summer walks through our neighborhood. I really do hope you name your daughter after me, or at least think to.

I knew we’d be a ‘we’ before you realized it, and even though I let you go to revisit the past, I’m still glad to have linked lives (however briefly) with you. Our Cosby dreams will have to wait til next time.

And you…one act of chivalry sparked a meeting of the minds. You turned me on to Dead Prez and Assata, Nikki Giovanni and Fred Hampton. You were the first that could keep up (and even surpass me) with my verbal sparring. My instincts told me not to trust you and I’m glad I listened. Thanks for the DMV love.

Then there was you. Not quite like the others. Meeting you was a bit of a fluke, but a good one I think. I admired your playfulness and ambition. Loved your determination to break down my walls even more. You fought hard, but my resistance fought harder. Miss those walks by the river, though.

Oh, you. You were a distraction, but a beautiful one. Why? You were trouble. But the best kind. We had a blast living in the moment. You taught me never to look back, but I knew you couldn’t be a part of my life going forward.

I suppose it isn’t very fair to say I didn’t love any of you. I did. Well, pieces anyway. Even the ones too brief to mention individually. I loved the experiences I had with you. Laughing. Traveling. Doing things I’d never done before. Each memory made led to a greater me and for that I’m thankful. I wish you all happiness because, whether you know it or not, I couldn’t be as happy as I am without you. You see, as much as I liked the idea of you, I loved the idea of me.

Love All Ways,

Nobody’s Darling”

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01Feb / 2012

Torn: Is Being Black Enough Anymore?

I’ve been tempted to write about this for a while, but given Octavia Spencer and Viola Davis’ recent SAG wins, coupled with the release of Red Tails, I thought now might be an appropriate time.

The black experience in America is unique. It is what unifies us across state and economic lines. An upper middle class black woman from New York may very well be treated with the same scorn and disdain as a poverty stricken black woman from Mississippi. Color negates a lot. It can, however, validate us as well. We can take heart knowing that we belong to a group who has triumphed in spite of it all. And yet, I wonder if that is enough.

In the weeks prior to the release, my emails, Twitter account, and Facebook wall were assailed with messages about going to see Red Tails. Television told me that George Lucas put up more than $90 million of his own money to finance the film he’s been trying to produce for 20 years. Actors featured in the film echoed Lucas’ sentiments and spoke about what portraying such heroic men meant to them. I was told to go support the film and fly in the face of Hollywood, which believed that a major film with an all black cast wouldn’t profit. To go to see the film so we (well, really, Lucas) can “tell our story.” So, I did.

I will be honest. I did not care for Red Tails. I found the plot a tad too thin and the lack of black female actors surprising. I felt disappointed. What’s more, I felt embarrassed. Ashamed. Why? Popular opinion told me I was wrong. Twitter told me what a great job the actors did, how great the movie was, how we should support it. Any commentary outside of that was criticized and dismissed as “hate”. When I told friends what I thought about the movie, they shrugged and ended the conversation with, “We should still support it, though.”

Recently, a friend asked what I thought of Davis and Spencer’s wins at the SAG awards for their roles in the movie, “The Help”. Again, I paused. I have not seen “The Help”. I refused. Despite being lauded as “inspirational” and “heartwarming”, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I read the book. I know the story. I couldn’t bear to support the author’s tired recantation of the goings on between the long suffering black maid and her haughty white mistress. I couldn’t sit through 2 hours of black women keeping white women’s secrets, exacting their revenge by making their employers eat shit (literally). I asked questions. What about the maids? What happens when the “missus” finds out the maid’s been flapping her gums? She’s out of a job. Who will help the help? Yet again, I’m told that I’m being too critical, expecting too much…that I should hold my tongue and instead be thankful that Spencer and Davis are receiving awards at all. That doesn’t sit right with me. It’s 2012, when do we (black people as a whole) get to be more than just grateful?

A quick glance over past Oscar winners will prove a bit….monochromatic. Look to past Oscar winners that are black and a theme begins to form. We see that black actors are rewarded for portraying many of the archetypes expected of black people. The evil drug dealer (ahem…Denzel), the lusty dusky temptress (hello Halle), the evil black mammy (here’s looking at you, Monique). I am not discounting these actors’ talents, but I am asking whether it is enough. Hattie McDaniel’s role in Gone with the Wind was racist, the archetypal mammy, but that was 72 years ago. Blacks weren’t even true citizens in the eyes of the law. You mean to tell me 72 years later we’re still winning Oscars for playing the maid?

Neither Spencer or Davis has won an award yet, but should they win (which it seems likely that at least one will), I hope it will prompt people to ask, is this enough? Should we support without comment because they’re black? Should we buy tickets to films with black actors and weak executions simply because they are black? Shouldn’t we be in an age where we expect more from black entertainment and, quite frankly, from ourselves? Shouldn’t we support because they are black and good? I would think so. But that leaves me torn. I just wonder, is being black enough anymore?

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