Women Journalists

As someone who holds a degree in journalism, I have an unspoken responsibility to get to the point of it all. Like doctor's have a responsibility to save lives when they're in danger, it is my duty to find the truth and tell the world to save it from eminent mass destruction. Yes, my degree IS that important.
Somewhere down the line, my fellow, more accomplished journalists allowed watered down less than news worthy stories to not only make the news, but to make headlines. Even on the snapshot below, the ticker on the bottom is about Ev and Ocho...honestly CNN should not have them on their radar at all. How laughable is it that in the middle of a heated political debate, on CNN, Ev and Ocho creep across the screen?! I expect to know of them and their story, my homegirls, people in the "bar-bah" shop and salon can discuss them, people on my job...fine. However, CNN need not bring them up in discussion or give their nonsense any type of recognition.
But as usual, I digress.
As I was saying, most news stories today have more fluff than cotton candy. In my humble opinion, it seems like most journalists aren't doing too much homework. I wonder how many journalists, could do what Soledad O'Brien did with John Sununu? More specifically, how many female journalists are hard hitting enough to stand up to politicians like Sununu? I'm not talking about my loves Rachel Maddow, Gwen Ifill, or Mrs. O'Brien. They have proven their ability to take down heavy hitters. But how many female anchors could be thrown in the lion's den and come out with all of their appendages?
Recently, Soledad O'Brien interviewed John Sununu, former Governor of New Hampshire and chief of staff for George W. Bush. The topic of debate was the imploding similarities, disparities, and fallacies among the plans for Medicare between Obama, Ryan, and Romney. (Hit the link for the debate.)
Huffington Post Story
Besides me being simply sick and tired of the Republican Party in its entirety, one thing that annoys me the most is their overall tactics for winning debates. Which seems to be turning them into arguments and that seems to mean yelling the same thing repeatedly, like Sununu so eloquently exemplified in the link above.
Most Republican pundits, representatives, political leaders and so on, go into every debate with what seems like a chip on their shoulder. Like they're walking around with something to prove, for example, their intelligence.
With former President G.W. Bush still lingering in the rear view mirror, his antics still fresh on America's psyche, and the reoccurring nightmare that is Sara Palin ever fresh in our memory. Maybe they do.
The Republican/Tea/Conservative Party is out for blood. Whether that blood is represented by voting rights, women's rights, respect President Obama as PRESIDENT, or the right to demand equality, they're coming to get it.
Now before I begin to digress and go down the list of frustrations I have with the party, especially the control they believe the government should have over a woman's womb, I'll get back to the point.
As a journalist, it is our job the convey THE truth. Not our truths or our grandmother's truth, or the sugar coated truth. Get to the point. Under the make-up, and the hair, and the racially ambiguous features, women journalists owe it to themselves and all journalists coming behind them to take the opportunity to assert themselves intelligently and make the person being debated be responsible for their words and actions.
There's power in a pen. Even when the nails on the hand holding it are manicured.

dig and be dug...

Dear 4:46AM

So...4:46 AM. We meet again. I don't know why you like to see me like this. My hair is a mess. My mouth is dry. I have pimple medicine on my face to rid it of my new friend, Rudy the zit, who is very nicely situated on my brow line. And worst of all...I'm not wearing any earrings!
I can't count how many times I've seen you and had this overwhelming rush of disappointment charge through my body like the Immortals did the soldiers in 300. My mind jumps from 0 to 60 in .3 seconds and now I'm thinking about someone who most likely isn't thinking about me and is definitely ASLEEP right now. Why do you torture me like this?
What am I supposed to do at this hour? The only thing available right now are slurpees and you know I'm trying to cut back. There's no beautiful sunrise for me to gaze at. No friend for me to call. Did you know that I live with people now and if I go around banging pots and pans in the kitchen I'd wake them up and never hear the end of it? Do you want me to fight people?
Yes, I thank you for waking me from a bad dream every now and then, like you did tonight. But most of the time, you just do it for no reason! And then I'm here. Alone in my bed. Awake with my thoughts. Frustrated, a little agitated, and sleepy.
So 4:46 AM. Until I'm making money with you or at least cuddling making gangsta rap videos when you decide to show up, Stay away from me. You don't treat me right and I can't take this kind of abuse. Leave me alone. I'd rather be with your friend 7:30 AM anyway. He treats me right and can offer me good things like breakfast and by the time he shows up, I've had more sleep. And I think I love him. I've never wanted to be with any other time, like I want to be with 7:30 AM, especially since you started showing up around here.
He and I only have a problem when you're in the hood...or suburb.
Find someone who will treat you right and appreciate you. Someone who will give you everything you need in this time zone. I know you're good for someone, but that someone ain't me. And in the words of Angela Bassett as Katherine Jackson in The Jacksons: An American Dream, "nooooo I don't wan'cha...I don't wan'cha, I don't wan'cha, I don't wan'cha no mo'!"
Sincerely,
Me

dig and be dug 4:46 AM...dig and be dug...

We want Prenups?!

It has occurred to me that there is an overwhelming amount of people that I know, personally, who are not only in love...but they're married. Married. As in contractually obligated to go halfsies on life with another person. FOREVER.
But since my cousin Andre aka 3000 made the valid point that forever never seems that long until you're grown, it makes me wonder, are people thinking about all of the what ifs? Like...what if this doesn't work? And being that most of the people I know either didn't go to college or just graduated from college within that last two or three years...do they have enough money for 'just in case' papers? You know... prenuptial agreements...
Listen, as a woman/hopeless/hopeful romantic/firm believer in til death do us part, I do not want to ever have to consider divorce as an option, which means I also don't believe prenups are mandatory for every marriage. However, I do understand that a thug changes and love changes. People grow up and apart and what worked all those years ago, just doesn't work anymore.
I think the main reason I have a bone to pick with prenups and the men that demand them, is the vast assumption that the woman you are with is coming to the table with nothing to offer and only wants you for the money you've worked so hard to earn.
Are there gold digging women out there that will fight to win a mans affection and attention only to take parts of his bank account and social status? Absolutely. But I told y'all last month about those trying to "hold it down" with nothing but big butts and smiles. And if you get trapped with/by one of them...better luck next time playa.
However, there are members of the human female species who work just as hard as their male counterparts and aren't out to get your money. Some women just want to, dare I say, love you and all of what that entails. If your issue is you've been burned in the past, whether literally (wrap it up) or figuratively and you're a man scorned who can't really trust women anyway because of some deep rooted issues, then maybe marriage shouldn't be in your vocabulary just yet. If this is you, then that's fine! Some women are just as scorned, no one is out here judging you. Not until you assume that just because someone was born with a vagina and ovaries they are not to be trusted and therefore don't deserve respect or the time of day.
You know how you hate when girls say "all men are dogs", and "I hate men", and "men ain't sh*t"? Well it's a two way street. Shut up. You sound sad, scared, and lonely just like the angry women you complain about.
But I digress. Prenuptial agreements, right? Right. I say all that to say, if you shop in a store of quality, that's what you'll get. You can't go to Payless looking for Louboutins. You may get the look alike but they will fall apart once you ask them to do something they weren't designed for. If you're a man of standard, look for a woman of standard. If you're a woman of standard, look for a man of standard. If you do fall in love some day with the woman or man of your dreams and you both decide to sign a prenup, do it because you want to protect each other, not because you don't trust the person you're marrying. I've always felt like it's important to match your hustle. People always show you who they really are if you give them enough time and space to do so.
Basically, in my unmarried, single, yet to fall in love opinion, it's all in the reasoning.

dig and be dug...

The Hair Issue

Whether kinks or curls, locs, fades, tight waves or straight tresses, as a human being, hair helps define who you are as an individual. As a woman, doing your hair or having it done is part of helping you relax, decompress...makes you feel more like a lady. But as an African American woman, it seems more like a requirement. Some of my earliest memories as a child are in the hair salon, whether I was getting my finger waves poppin at age 7 or listening to celebrity gossip and Maury or Ricki Lake while my mama got her 'do popped for the week, the hair salon is as much of a tradition for Black women as the "Barbah shop" (in my Cedric the Entertainer Voice) is for Black men. Hair is part of individual expression for anyone of any race, creed or color. Like the long haired hippies of the 60s, dreaded Rastafarians, or gumbied, blonde highlighted, faded heads of today's hipsters, hair helps you identify with a group; or at least, identify you, with yourself.
But when you're 16, in Great Britain winning Gold Medals for your country, doing something no other Black woman has ever done ever in the history of the world, why do people care so much about your HAIR?!
Gabriel Christina Victoria Douglas, or Gabby as she is affectionately called across the country and around the world, was chosen as THEE U.S. hopeful for attaining a gold medal in women's gymnastics. And not only did she show up, she showed OUT, winning an individual all around gold medal and helping her team win a gold medal in the same Olympic Games.
My question is: How was she supposed to wear her hair? Box braids so they could slap her in the face? A fresh doobie so she couldn't see the bars? FINGER WAVES?!
C'mon son.
And since all of her team had their hair the same way like most of the gymnasts that didn't have a bowl cut, whattttt were you expecting? Were her hair clips excessive? Absolutely! And mine would be as well if  I had to fly across a balance beam, spread eagle, upside down. Last thing I would want is my pink oil moisturized bang laying in my eye and I'm out here chasing my dreams. If your grudge was with her edges, try working out for hours on end, perm or not, and get back to me about how your edges look. AND on top of that, when if I work out, both of my feet are on the ground and only come up for the occasional jumping jack, and though I may not have hair clips lined up across my head like a custom fit headband, I may start soon! The truth is my head is just too big for headbands and the fact that I still try to wear them is probably a sin somewhere.
But I digress.
Gabriel Douglas made history. She had a lifelong dream, created a plan, and saw it through at 16 years old. That in itself is more than most people including myself can say for themselves. The only thing that should be up for discussion is why she's the only woman of any color representing for us and how we can change that. (Recently engaged) Dominique Dawes and the Magnificent 7 were the dream team of gymnastics when I was little, now young girls can look up to Gabby and the Fab 5.
Before you work so hard to focus on someone's physical attributes or search for their short comings, look at what they are doing and how humble they are while doing it.

dig and be dug...