Bethenny Frankel, I Love You

Every now and then, a woman comes along and you think, FINALLY! That, ladies and gentlemen, is how I feel about former "Real Housewife" Bethenny Frankel. Is she crass? Yes. Spoiled? Yes. But she does it with such glamor and wit that it's actually endearing.

Upon hearing her new husband call her Mrs. Hoppy on her television show "Bethenny Getting Married," she asked him "Are we doing that now?" And then jokingly explained to the camera crew and audience that she's Bethenny Frankel and her husband thinks he owns her like some slave. Really Bethenny?!?! Girl, you should just be happy you're married. At least that's what most would say, but I, for one, get the joke.

And then there is Ms. Frankel, I mean Hoppy's, fabulous wardrobe. And her obsession with being in charge. And her belief that everyone else is a moron.

And finally there is her acknowledgement that she can be one crazy bitch. And that is what makes her and the show so great. At the end of the day she knows who she is (Bethenny Frankel, born into privilege), and appreciates what she now has (the Hoppy part) but she's still adjusting and growing. And she knows that when you can't do that with grace, you do it with humor. So I say bravo, Bravo, for exposing this Real Housewife as a super duper woman with an assistant, money (old and new), and a pretty great life.

You Don't Know Me, But I Know You

There's been a lot of talk in the past few days, weeks, months, about race in America. Now I know, you will say I talk about race a lot. Well, I don't have the luxury of not having to deal with it so briefly, here goes, I am going to sum up my feelings on race.

Whereas, black people, heck all minorities, know about white people, minorities remain somewhat of a mystery to whites. No, white person, you MAY NOT, touch my hair. Not because I'm afraid you'll mess it up, but come on, what am I? A dog???? But it's not always such simple lapses in knowledge. I've met people who didn't know HBCUs existed and then questioned why it was needed, there weren't white colleges. Well, colleges in general are white. They cater to white history and black students are often sparse. Please note I said black, because Asians, Africans, and whatever else are getting theirs. Believe it.

Also how many of your white friends go see Tyler Perry movies? How many buy their kids black barbies? How many read black authors? Hell, how many cook greens? Yeah. Not many.

However, I do see movies with predominantly white casts. I do read white authors. I cook asparagus.

So, there's the difference America. The average white person, no matter how educated, is no more in tune with black culture than his or her grandfather was. Sure some watched the Cosby Show, they listen to rap, they even date blacks. But they don't know the culture the way blacks and Hispanics know theirs.

I blame it on them never having been invisible in the homes of blacks. Who knew Scarlett O' Hara best? Mammy. Who knew Benji best? Dilsi. That's just how it is. So we shall live, as we always have. In fear and total awe of one another.

Bravo Tea Party! You've succeeded and I'm scared

Tea parties used to be a favorite of mine. Getting dressed up, putting all of my manners to use, sipping tea. But then, out of nowhere, the words tea and party were joined with movement and now I can barely stand to look at a cup of tea.

I mean, is it going to jump up and take away my birth control? Is it going to draw a Hitler mustache on me while I'm asleep? Deep sigh. Maybe it will just make my life miserable by reinforcing what I already knew, that there would be huge consequences to pay when Barack Obama was elected president.

And what are those? That America isn't half as civilized as it would have you believe and most sadly, that I'll have to watch the president of the United States reduced to nothing but another lowly black man by backwoods hicks though he is leader of the free world.

Now, I'm not going to sit here and lie. I called George Bush stupid. I said he was a moron. But I didn't draw on pictures of him. I didn't compare him to socialists and dictators. I still had respect for the office of the presidency. But now, the hate for PRESIDENT OBAMA has reached a level that actually scares me. Republican lawmakers hate him so much that Congressional hearings no longer have any purpose. They just divulge into rants about administrative issues when they have nothing to actually complain about in his policies.

Tea partiers hide under a thinly veiled guise of being "patriotic," which, if you ask me has always been a nice way of being racist. Most policies that are truly "American" don't favor women, minorities, or the poor.

Yet, the movement's defense is that it has all of these groups in its arsenal. And it does to a certain extent. Women are on board because apparently Sarah Palin is well, Sarah Palin. Those who consider themselves "Mama Grizzlies," (you know the type, annoying ass kids who don't do their own homework, moms who act like crazies at sporting events) identify with this woman. The poor are on board because in hard times they never want those niggers and spics taking their jobs. And blacks are on board because they've been sucked in as tokens who will stand by and watch and not say anything.

But why does it scare me overall? Well, I'm black! And for blacks during economic hard times groups focused on getting rid of the economic problem always arise, whether it's the Klan or the Tea Party. And one is the evolution of the other if you ask me. So yeah, I'll keep my distance and sadly I'll wait. Wait for what you ask? Wait for some crazy to attack. Wait for some hate crime to finally go down.

It's sad but it's true. And making it even worse are hate mongers such as Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh. Who cares if they mean what they say? The average person watching and agreeing in my hometown isn't smart enough to know it's all about the money for the talking heads. And whereas Beck isn't going out to participate in actual violence, the young man who's been raised to fear blacks, who has been laid off, and who sees "them" as taking "his" job, money, food for his family, will.

I'd say that the Tea Party leaders in Washington and Glenn and Rush know not what they do, but they know, and could care less. So bravo America, you have managed to scare me as the Klan once scared my ancestors. There has been no progress, except I am now able to watch the crap from the front of the bus.

The Problem with Hollywood's Acknowledgement of the Fat Girl

For years plus-sized women were nonexistent in Hollywood, or any other venue in the public eye for that matter. Can you think of any plus-sized Congresswomen? Any fat female news anchors? Hard isn't it? But now, in 2010, there is change afoot.

First, there was Drop Dead Diva, which debuted on the Lifetime network in 2009. Then there was the movie Precious, and now there is Huge on ABC Family.

So, should us chunky girls be jumping up and down, glad to see "ourselves" on television, entering that elusive, fickle world that is Hollywood. Not so fast.

Drop Dead Diva is the story of a skinny girl who dies and comes back to life as a plus-sized, lawyer. Oh the horror! Precious is an abused, obese, ugly, illiterate teenager. And then there is Will, the main character on Huge. Will, played by Nikki Blonsky, is sloppy, has a chip on her shoulder, and plagued by questions of her sexuality...all of this while at fat camp.

The fact is all of these characters serve to remind everyone that it is hard being large(er) than Kim Kardashian. While the two TV shows and movie are quality - Precious was nominated for various Oscars and Nikki Blonsky, who also played Tracy Turnblad in Hairspray, is a good actor, they're still serving as extremes.

Plus-sized women are still shunned from being the love interest of a leading man, still confined to mediocre wardrobes, and still more of the assistant than the top-notch detective or the embezzling partner in crime.

In short, Hollywood is saying, "It's okay for you to get in the car, but sit your big ass in the back." And I'm not talking about Queen Latifah or Monique because it's easier to sell them, as they're established in various aspects of Hollywood and have a very targeted audience. What I want is a beautiful plus-sized woman who is a real actress to come out in some lingerie and seduce Brad Pitt, get a role that would normally be given to Nia Long, or play the buddy of some mundane character played by Seth Rogen.

Until I see that, I'll acknowledge that progress has been made over the past few years, but will not say Hollywood has accepted any different body type, it's simply taking advantage of a trend that could rake in huge profits and ratings.

Black Girls Want to Hold Hands Too (and other things Helena Andrews wants you to know)

As a journalist extraordinaire I feel it is long overdue that I try my hand at this blogging thing. So what if I'm a couple of years late? What better way to inaugurate my very own blog, than with a look at what is currently singing black women's lives with its words, yet killing us softly - Helena Andrew's memoir Bitch is the new black.

Though I'm not sure Ms. Andrews, who has written for publications such as The New York Times and Marie Claire, is old enough to have a memoir, the book made me laugh, made me want to punch this woman, and ultimately made me sigh with relief. Relief in knowing that I am not alone. Relief in knowing that there are others out there like me, and relief in knowing that mothers seem to be the one universal good.

So how is Helena like me? Why, she's a woman after my own heart. Aside from the fact that we chose the same career (obviously we hate money...), she also apparently walks around cities alone at night with no fear, has had overnight visitors who sing songs inappropriately (hers sang "Are You that Somebody" by Aaliyah and I've had one sing "Put it Down" by the Dream, but then again is that ever appropriate?), and most of all she's not afraid to admit that "Hey, black girls need love too." She won't admit it willingly at first, but she does.

Why is it so hard to say? Well, maybe because people (especially those of the black male variety) find it so hard to believe. I believe it was Sojourner Truth who asked, "Ain't I a woman?" Well, in 2010, I'm asking the same thing, "AIN'T I?"

Yes, yes, I am able to do for myself. Do I have a choice? Yes, I actually like my work! Yes, I am involved in the community! But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate good manners, cologne, and dinner. I'm not dutch, so why would I go that route on dates?

Now I'll admit Helena was messed up, but she also hit the nail right on the head. She and her friends lived a fab single life, but they would have traded it in for normal un-single lives if asked. The problem is no one's asking. Well, no one but bustas. You know the type. And what's a girl like Helena Andrews to do with a busta? Ride him till the wheels fall off and that's it. Yes, I said it!

However, what would Helena Andrews do with a nice, well-mannered, educated, witty, maybe even shy young man? Why, love him of course. Give him cough syrup. Remind him to bring his inhaler along. Cry at his graduation (cause hey, baby worked for it!) . Be his biggest fan. And gasp! We even want to hold hands. Because as our white counterparts are holding hands being being all in love, we're well...not.

So, what about this books makes it worth reading? The very last paragraph in which she says of her mother:

"And that size 12-months baby prom dress on her wall? The one she seriously said was for her 'granddaughter,' after I finally had the guts to ask about it it? It still creeps me the fuck out. But then again, it gives me something close to hope."

So I say BRAVO MS. ANDREWS, because while I'm out saving the world (I'm convinced that's what I'm doing) one lying Congressman at a time, one child at a time, one homeless person at a time, my mama applauds my superwoman mentality but she also prods me to get over my height complex and get on some wonderful horse with a short prince charming.

So to recap, Ms. Andrews is acknowledging that we now officially have that "more" that our grandmothers and mothers longed for and fought for us to have, but what we're missing is that good, extra loving, as Jill Scott would say.