After the dance community went wild over the Free People ads featuring “non-dancers” in dance situations, Levis has teamed up with the Korean National Ballet to produce a commercial with professional dancers that is quite awesome. I doubt that the dance community will take issue with this.
Know your history know yourself!!!
Here is a clip from a documentary that tells the stories of how two Black women entered the world of ballet in the 1950s: Delores Brown, and Raven Wilkinson. Being from Philadelphia I had the pleasure of taking class a few times with Ms. Brown and one of m y first ballet teachers was Marion Cuyjet. In fact Ms. Cuyjet was the person who told my father that I should got to Pennsylvania Ballet School because I could be a ballet dancer, so I have been personally touch by this portion of history.
Marion Cuyjet
When you hear some of then things that Ms. Wilkinson had to endure as a member of the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo…it is maddening and amazing. To think of the personal strength and determination that it must have taken to go out on that stage every night, or travel through the southern states…They are both aspirational and inspirational…
I am a comedian. You may or may not find me funny, but the fact remains, that I am a comedian. This feels like a defensive start to a column but you will soon understand why.
Last year, I was nominated for a Bafta. Me. The quiet girl at school. The awkward girl at college. The funny woman at work. A Bafta. And in a genderless category too. Alongside the entertainment greats: Graham Norton, Alan Carr and Ant and Dec. It felt ridiculous but I was thrilled. I’ve been nominated for awards before (even won a couple) and it really is the best. If winning is chips and gravy then being nominated is still chips. Lovely, lovely chips.
On the run up to the ceremony, plans were made. This here smashing magazine asked me to present an award, someone asked if I wanted my hair and make-up done, my fella took the night off to accompany me, my friend asked if she could come shopping with me for my dress.
Yes, yes, all of this, yes. My friend and I danced into John Lewis knowing that a) they have lots of mini shops in there, and b) I can fit it into most of them. Fancy expensive designer shops are out for me as I’m a size 18, sometimes 20, and I therefore do not count as a woman to them.
We knew which one was the right one as soon as I swished back the curtain and both my friend and I oohed. At the till, when asked, I told the lady it was for a wedding as I was too embarrassed to announce I was off to the Baftas.
On the day, my fella and I drove to London, parked, I had my hair and make-up done while he read his book nearby. We got changed into our glad rags in the toilets of the spa. I don’t have any interest in shoes so just popped my comfy black patent leather ones on. He helped me with my new necklace and off we went to the Baftas.
The red carpet is very intimidating, although I garnered a few laughs when I replied to the “Who are you wearing?” question with “John Lewis” and the “Where did you get your dress?” question with “The Trafford Centre”. I had a few awkward photos taken by the wall of paparazzi. Awkward as I’m not a model (I’m a comedian), have never learnt how to pose on a red carpet (I’m a comedian) and I have pretty low self-esteem.
My husband wasn’t asked who he was wearing, which disappointed him. Mainly because he was dying to tell ANYONE he was wearing an Asda tux. Not one of the cheap ones, as he likes to point out, it was £60. The ceremony itself was a wonder. Everywhere I looked were the best in the business. Writers I’d admired, actors I’d cried to, comedians who’d made me laugh so much I got a headache. Amazing people being applauded for being bloody good at their jobs.
I’d heard the phrase “knees knocking” before but didn’t know it was an actual thing until I presented the Radio Times Audience Award. It went OK, I don’t think I messed up and I went back to my seat. After the ceremony, we had a lovely meal (apart from one of the courses that had soil on it, intentionally) with the RT lot and then I bullied Stephen Mangan into introducing me to Matt LeBlanc. Night made, we went to the car to drive home.
In order not to dilly-dally, my husband did the first stint of driving while I got out of my dress at various traffic lights in central London. Driving clothes on, I checked my phone. Loads of friends and family had texted the expected “You were robbed”, which I wasn’t but they’re my friends and family so they’re supposed to think that. Then I went onto Twitter and it was like a pin to my excitable red balloon. Literally thousands of messages from people criticising my appearance. I was fat and ugly as per usual. My dress (the one that caused ooohs in a department store fitting room?) was destroyed by the masses. I looked like a nana, my dress was disgusting, was it made out of curtains, why was I wearing black shoes with it. I cried. I cried in the car.
And that wasn’t the end. The next day, I was in newspapers pilloried for what I was wearing. I was discussed and pulled apart on Lorraine.
I’m sorry. I thought I had been invited to such an illustrious event because I am good at my job. Putting clothes on is such a small part of my day. They may as well have been criticising me for brushing my teeth differently to them.
Yes, there were lovely messages from my fans between the hate but the hate was dominant and made me upset at first and then furious. Why does it matter so much what I was wearing? Why did no one ask my husband where he got his suit from? I felt wonderful in that dress. And surely that’s all that counts. I made a decision the following day that should I ever be invited to attend the Baftas again, I will wear the same dress. To make the point that it doesn’t matter what I wear; that’s not what I’m being judged on. With the added fun of answering the red-carpet question, “Where did you get your dress?” with “Oh, it’s just last year’s, pet”.
And so I was invited back to the Baftas. Nominated again, indeed. But sadly I am working that night. But if you have tickets to see my show in Buxton on 18 May, you may see me making my point anyway.
The Sarah Millican Television Programme – Best of Series 1 & 2 is available to buy on DVD at radiotimes.com/dvdshop
This is a brilliant idea. I have to say that in my generation we didn’t even conceive of the idea that a princess (Disney or other) could be black. We were just glad to be able to have a black Barbie, Christie, who was really white Barbie in brown plastic. Her jet black hair was just s straight and shiny as her fairer counterpart her features just as fine… still the fact that you could play with something in your own image made a difference. I can’t image what it would have meant to me as a little black girl if I could have seen Cinderella or Snow White (despite her name) as Black, or of color.
Now artist T.T Bret and Disney fan of the Tumblr site called Let There be Doodles decided to take creative license with several Disney princess characters and created new portraits that were totally unique because she flipped the skin colors and cultures. The result is something really beautiful and interesting. She said:
I honestly just did this for fun. No political agenda, no ulterior motives, I just love Disney and chose a few of my favorite characters to alter. I feel like there’s beauty in every racial background, and this is honestly nothing more then an exploration of different races from a technical and artistic standpoint.
Check some of them out:
To see the rest click here
They say bad things come in threes and it seems that Carter’s have had two hits of late, the Solange elevator beat down of Jay-Z being the latest, and the first was feminist writer bell hooks calling the Queen B, a terrorist because of the over sexualized images she projects to young women. It all transpired at the New School during a panel discussion entitled “Are You Still a Slave?”. The group, which included filmmaker Shola Lynch, author Marci Blackman, feminist icon and scholar bell hooks, and activist and author Janet Mock. The talk focused on the images of women of color in the media and the types of messages that are sent to the public at large. When author Janet Mock, a transgendered activist and author wanted to discuss how inspirational she found Beyoncé’s new album Partition to be when writing her own book, Mock lauded the singer for ‘owning her body and claiming that space.’ It was then that the venerable feminist took issue with Mrs. Carter and unleashed her thoughts about the often scantily clad “drunken love” singer:
“I see a part of Beyoncé that is in fact anti-feminist — that is a terrorist, especially in terms of the impact on young girls. I actually feel like the major of assault on feminism in our society has come from visual media, and from television, and videos. Just think, do we know of any powerful man of any color who’s come out with some tirade against feminism? The tirades against feminism occur so much in the image-making business, and what we see.
What I’m concerned about constantly in my critical imagination is why don’t we have libratory images that are away from, not an inversion of, what society has told us?”
Of course that started the firestorm that was only slightly quelled by Solange’s buck wild attack on Mr. Carter at the Met Gala on May 4th. Some people might tie both incidents together using the fact that Beyoncé stood virtually idly by as her baby sister took it to her man in Love and Hip Hop style arguing that she was being submissive by holding her place and not getting involved…or it could be said that Jay did some dirt that Solange was privy too having had enough lashed out in protection of her sister. If (and this is all predicated the over heated gossip mill at work) there was some impropriety and Solange was taking the matter in hand because her sister was unwilling or un able to stand up for herself, then the feminists would have a field day with that…however we do not know what the cause of such rage and enmity, but I will take on what Ms. Hooks was referencing, the images that Beyoncé put out into the world that might be considered anti-feminist …
When Partition hit the world like the meteor that rendered the dinosaurs extinct and Beyoncé stated that considered this her “feminist” album, while admitting to researching feminism on “YouTube” I had a eye roll that left me crossed-eyed, she opened herself up to such scrutiny from the likes of hooks. The whole situation got me to thinking. I had ask myself “Do I consider Beyoncé a feminist? Then there was the Grammy performance that featured the Carters “drunk in love”, and Beyoncé on sexual hyper-dive. In case you are living under a rock, she wore black T-back briefs and jeweled black bando under a shear long sleeved black leotard under ribbed cut out corset over lay. It was hot, she looked hot as she “smized” slinked and slithered stripper style, legged spread eagle over a chair in the opening. The thin strip of crotch on her leotard held on for dear life, otherwise we would have see Blue Ivy private exit door! She delivered the sexy; she delivered the ass shaking, albeit via a track (for the most part). Personally I was shocked at how thin she was. Not skinny, I mean she will always have some meat on her bones but her legs were so thin. I suppose that was the result of her 22-day Vegan (while wearing fur) diet. Some were disappointed wanting the high energy, high voltage Bey, with the long legged stage strut, back up dancers, long wig whipping and the crazy bouncy eyes, others (probably straight men and some women) sat mouth agape trying to stifle the tingles that you get when watching the set up to a porn video. But hey! Put that thing away, this is a family show…or is it?
The Internet blew up; one of the topics that was reignited was the idea of this being the new “feminist” Beyoncé. Some argued that the hyper-sexuality was not in keeping with feminism, others argued that it, the performance and performer were indeed a self empowered, self possessed woman in charge of her sexuality…Ok I can see both sides but when Jay-Z pranced out and delivered the lines
Now for those of you who are not aware Anna Mae (Bullock) is the Tina Turner’s birth name, the reference was to a scene in the bio-pic What’s Love Got to do With It? In the scene Tina is being praised and Ike smashes cake in her face… it was a reference from an episode in an abusive relationship, an infamously abusive relationship. For a man, (a husband), to sing that, to a woman (his wife), and for her to sing along… I’m not sure how I feel about that…. Perhaps it is to be taken as mere role-play, hey we all have been there, some of our sexual fantasies are fantasies, however some should not be made public…even to your GG. Sometimes when you know what people do in private, it makes you think of them differently. But either way, something like this gives the impression that some how, and in some context, both Jay-Z and Beyoncé both are condoning physical abuse…. Insert picture of Rhianna’s battered face “Eat cake Anna Mae”
*Personally I think it is unacceptable and inexcusable, and if anyone cares, it is at the very least a bad example.
When her latest album hit the world like the meteor that killed all the dinosaurs, and the feminist buzz began, it got me to thinking. I had ask myself, “Do I consider Beyoncé a feminist? Does she in my opinion embody feminist ideas, and principles? I was left at a moral stalemate until what I am calling GrammyGate. Then eureka! The answer was a clear as day. I think that Madonna’s appearance during Macalroy’s performance help my to solidify my theory. Here is it:
Beyoncé is neither animal, vegetable, mineral nor feminist. She is an Entertainer she has no religion, she worships at the temple of fame and notoriety. She was raised in the church of the entertainment business, raised in its culture, and her values and morals have been shaped by its doctrine. Her parents had a master plan, kudos to them for setting their daughter up to dominate not merely the world stage, but the World at Large. Much like Richard Williams, father of tennis pros Venus and Serena, Papa Williams declared that this girls would be number 1 and they were, people thought he was crazy, and he was, like a fox. The Knowles had a similar plan for their firstborn. As similar as the situations might be, the world of sports is vastly different then the world entertainment. In Sports, it’s about wins, losses and rankings, the rules are clear-cut the person with the most points wins. In the Entertainment industry, success, or being “number one” it’s based on things that are both factual (profits, sales, Platinum records, box-office sales, ratings, etc.) and the ephemeral (bankability, popularity, visibility, buzz, hype, gossip) both are things that can be bought, manipulated and skewed. It’s far more mercurial equation then putting a ball in a hoop.
The entertainment industry is a Church that built on smoke and mirrors, and optical illusions are par for the course. Illusions are its corner stone, illusions of body, illusions of the talent, illusions of an artist’s whole private life if necessary. If a performer enters the Church of the Entertainer but is unwilling to be a part of the magic act, it can directly affect their level of success. Success in the Church can hinge on a myriad of things that have nothing to do with your talent or the quality of the by-product of it. “Success” can live or die on how much skin you are willing to show, who you date, who you know, who you have sex with, who you had sex with and if it was caught on tape. It can hinge on what a person is willing to do, how far they are are willing to go… and *that can be a broad list. At times an artist’s beliefs or values can impede what could be a meteoric rise, and if you want it, you have to relinquish belief in all other things and cleave solely unto it.
The Church of the Entertainer (COE) has large congregation, larger than Scientology. Time after time we see its members doing more and more salacious and ridiculous things in an effort to create visibility, buzz, to as they say in the industry “stay relevant” Madonna is the high priestess of the Church of Entertainment. In the eighties she re-wrote the doctrine. From her multiple re-incarnations, cultural appropriation, sexual exploits and outlandish statements, she has managed to keep us intrigued or at least guessing for the last 30 years. Recently she was raising Cain with her tweet of N-word towards her “white” son, and then as a buffer trotted her African son out to the Grammys in matching pimp outfits wearing gold and diamond grills… Then she performed with Miley Cyrus, bumping and grinding and sticking her tongue out like a tween. Perhaps this would be considered unacceptable behavior for your average 55 year-old woman, but its quite common for and entertainer. As always she left us not quite knowing how to feel about what we just saw, but for different reasons then in her early years. This time we were less intrigued and titillated but more disturbed and perplexed. *“Why would she that? She’s Madonna, she’s above that”, we ask. And the fact that we are questioning is the very reason she is so successful. It’s not always about being liked, being reviled can have just as many dividends as being the “Sweetheart”. In the C.O.E the doctrine tells us that it we must not only get people talking but keep them talking, it matters little if it is positive or negative. There is no such thing as bad press.
As an outsider to the Church of Entertainment, if you don’t understand what you are looking at, you might think that what you are witnessing is a contradiction. You might think that Madonna adopting an African child and then using the N-word is contradictory…you might think it is a contradiction to call your album “feminist” and then allow your husband to spit a domestic violence reference at you as you shake you scantily clad ass, and telling other “Bitches” to “Bow down” but they are not, they are completely in keeping with the practice of the Church. They are actions that have payoff in controversy, which equals press and translates into money and metabolizes into power…
There is no shame In the C.O.E, there is only shame in “falling off”, fading. There is no compunction in the C.O.E. you can appropriate, you can out and out steal other artists’ work (as long as you have enough money silence or fight the law suit) there is not loyalty, there can be love, as long as it is with a standing member of the Church, or one that has no association with the Church but is allowing of its practices. The only expectation that you can have from a member is that you will be Entertained. You have not right to hold them to what they say today, whether it’s practicing a religion, supporting a foundation, charity or cause, even their rehabilitation or sobriety is up for grabs. With the mercurial shifts of the industries winds, boundaries, loyalties and values change with swift regularity. Just when we think we identify with them, that in some way they represent us, they shift and change. We then feel betrayed, having bought into what they were presenting, we believed them… that is because we are outsiders and we don’t know the rules of operation within the Church.
Make no mistake about it, Beyoncé is all about being the biggest, baddest, B on the planet. There is little she wouldn’t do to become that (which she has) or to maintain that. That is what the religion of Fame requires. Beyoncé is not a feminist, the laws of the Church that she serves will never allow her to prescribe to feminism or any other group, she can feign allegiance, or service, she can manipulate it, but in the Church of The Entertainer the doctrine is clear, “Thy shall serve no other God but Fame”.
They say bad things come in threes and it seems that Carter’s have had two hits of late, the Solange elevator beat down of Jay-Z being the latest, and the first was feminist writer bell hooks calling the Queen B, a terrorist because of the over sexualized images she projects to young women. It all transpired at the New School during a panel discussion entitled “Are You Still a Slave?”. The group, which included filmmaker Shola Lynch, author Marci Blackman, feminist icon and scholar bell hooks, and activist and author Janet Mock. The talk focused on the images of women of color in the media and the types of messages that are sent to the public at large. When author Janet Mock, a transgendered activist and author wanted to discuss how inspirational she found Beyoncé’s new album Partition to be when writing her own book, Mock lauded the singer for ‘owning her body and claiming that space.’ It was then that the venerable feminist took issue with Mrs. Carter and unleashed her thoughts about the often scantily clad “drunken love” singer:
“I see a part of Beyoncé that is in fact anti-feminist — that is a terrorist, especially in terms of the impact on young girls. I actually feel like the major of assault on feminism in our society has come from visual media, and from television, and videos. Just think, do we know of any powerful man of any color who’s come out with some tirade against feminism? The tirades against feminism occur so much in the image-making business, and what we see.
What I’m concerned about constantly in my critical imagination is why don’t we have libratory images that are away from, not an inversion of, what society has told us?”
Of course that started the firestorm that was only slightly quelled by Solange’s buck wild attack on Mr. Carter at the Met Gala on May 4th. Some people might tie both incidents together using the fact that Beyoncé stood virtually idly by as her baby sister took it to her man in Love and Hip Hop style arguing that she was being submissive by holding her place and not getting involved…or it could be said that Jay did some dirt that Solange was privy too having had enough lashed out in protection of her sister. If (and this is all predicated the over heated gossip mill at work) there was some impropriety and Solange was taking the matter in hand because her sister was unwilling or un able to stand up for herself, then the feminists would have a field day with that…however we do not know what the cause of such rage and enmity, but I will take on what Ms. Hooks was referencing, the images that Beyoncé put out into the world that might be considered anti-feminist …
When Partition hit the world like the meteor that rendered the dinosaurs extinct and Beyoncé stated that considered this her “feminist” album, while admitting to researching feminism on “YouTube” I had a eye roll that left me crossed-eyed, she opened herself up to such scrutiny from the likes of hooks. The whole situation got me to thinking. I had ask myself “Do I consider Beyoncé a feminist? Then there was the Grammy performance that featured the Carters “drunk in love”, and Beyoncé on sexual hyper-dive. In case you are living under a rock, she wore black T-back briefs and jeweled black bando under a shear long sleeved black leotard under ribbed cut out corset over lay. It was hot, she looked hot as she “smized” slinked and slithered stripper style, legged spread eagle over a chair in the opening. The thin strip of crotch on her leotard held on for dear life, otherwise we would have see Blue Ivy private exit door! She delivered the sexy; she delivered the ass shaking, albeit via a track (for the most part). Personally I was shocked at how thin she was. Not skinny, I mean she will always have some meat on her bones but her legs were so thin. I suppose that was the result of her 22-day Vegan (while wearing fur) diet. Some were disappointed wanting the high energy, high voltage Bey, with the long legged stage strut, back up dancers, long wig whipping and the crazy bouncy eyes, others (probably straight men and some women) sat mouth agape trying to stifle the tingles that you get when watching the set up to a porn video. But hey! Put that thing away, this is a family show…or is it?
The Internet blew up; one of the topics that was reignited was the idea of this being the new “feminist” Beyoncé. Some argued that the hyper-sexuality was not in keeping with feminism, others argued that it, the performance and performer were indeed a self empowered, self possessed woman in charge of her sexuality…Ok I can see both sides but when Jay-Z pranced out and delivered the lines
Now for those of you who are not aware Anna Mae (Bullock) is the Tina Turner’s birth name, the reference was to a scene in the bio-pic What’s Love Got to do With It? In the scene Tina is being praised and Ike smashes cake in her face… it was a reference from an episode in an abusive relationship, an infamously abusive relationship. For a man, (a husband), to sing that, to a woman (his wife), and for her to sing along… I’m not sure how I feel about that…. Perhaps it is to be taken as mere role-play, hey we all have been there, some of our sexual fantasies are fantasies, however some should not be made public…even to your GG. Sometimes when you know what people do in private, it makes you think of them differently. But either way, something like this gives the impression that some how, and in some context, both Jay-Z and Beyoncé both are condoning physical abuse…. Insert picture of Rhianna’s battered face “Eat cake Anna Mae”
*Personally I think it is unacceptable and inexcusable, and if anyone cares, it is at the very least a bad example.
When her latest album hit the world like the meteor that killed all the dinosaurs, and the feminist buzz began, it got me to thinking. I had ask myself, “Do I consider Beyoncé a feminist? Does she in my opinion embody feminist ideas, and principles? I was left at a moral stalemate until what I am calling GrammyGate. Then eureka! The answer was a clear as day. I think that Madonna’s appearance during Macalroy’s performance help my to solidify my theory. Here is it:
Beyoncé is neither animal, vegetable, mineral nor feminist. She is an Entertainer she has no religion, she worships at the temple of fame and notoriety. She was raised in the church of the entertainment business, raised in its culture, and her values and morals have been shaped by its doctrine. Her parents had a master plan, kudos to them for setting their daughter up to dominate not merely the world stage, but the World at Large. Much like Richard Williams, father of tennis pros Venus and Serena, Papa Williams declared that this girls would be number 1 and they were, people thought he was crazy, and he was, like a fox. The Knowles had a similar plan for their firstborn. As similar as the situations might be, the world of sports is vastly different then the world entertainment. In Sports, it’s about wins, losses and rankings, the rules are clear-cut the person with the most points wins. In the Entertainment industry, success, or being “number one” it’s based on things that are both factual (profits, sales, Platinum records, box-office sales, ratings, etc.) and the ephemeral (bankability, popularity, visibility, buzz, hype, gossip) both are things that can be bought, manipulated and skewed. It’s far more mercurial equation then putting a ball in a hoop.
The entertainment industry is a Church that built on smoke and mirrors, and optical illusions are par for the course. Illusions are its corner stone, illusions of body, illusions of the talent, illusions of an artist’s whole private life if necessary. If a performer enters the Church of the Entertainer but is unwilling to be a part of the magic act, it can directly affect their level of success. Success in the Church can hinge on a myriad of things that have nothing to do with your talent or the quality of the by-product of it. “Success” can live or die on how much skin you are willing to show, who you date, who you know, who you have sex with, who you had sex with and if it was caught on tape. It can hinge on what a person is willing to do, how far they are are willing to go… and *that can be a broad list. At times an artist’s beliefs or values can impede what could be a meteoric rise, and if you want it, you have to relinquish belief in all other things and cleave solely unto it.
The Church of the Entertainer (COE) has large congregation, larger than Scientology. Time after time we see its members doing more and more salacious and ridiculous things in an effort to create visibility, buzz, to as they say in the industry “stay relevant” Madonna is the high priestess of the Church of Entertainment. In the eighties she re-wrote the doctrine. From her multiple re-incarnations, cultural appropriation, sexual exploits and outlandish statements, she has managed to keep us intrigued or at least guessing for the last 30 years. Recently she was raising Cain with her tweet of N-word towards her “white” son, and then as a buffer trotted her African son out to the Grammys in matching pimp outfits wearing gold and diamond grills… Then she performed with Miley Cyrus, bumping and grinding and sticking her tongue out like a tween. Perhaps this would be considered unacceptable behavior for your average 55 year-old woman, but its quite common for and entertainer. As always she left us not quite knowing how to feel about what we just saw, but for different reasons then in her early years. This time we were less intrigued and titillated but more disturbed and perplexed. *“Why would she that? She’s Madonna, she’s above that”, we ask. And the fact that we are questioning is the very reason she is so successful. It’s not always about being liked, being reviled can have just as many dividends as being the “Sweetheart”. In the C.O.E the doctrine tells us that it we must not only get people talking but keep them talking, it matters little if it is positive or negative. There is no such thing as bad press.
As an outsider to the Church of Entertainment, if you don’t understand what you are looking at, you might think that what you are witnessing is a contradiction. You might think that Madonna adopting an African child and then using the N-word is contradictory…you might think it is a contradiction to call your album “feminist” and then allow your husband to spit a domestic violence reference at you as you shake you scantily clad ass, and telling other “Bitches” to “Bow down” but they are not, they are completely in keeping with the practice of the Church. They are actions that have payoff in controversy, which equals press and translates into money and metabolizes into power…
There is no shame In the C.O.E, there is only shame in “falling off”, fading. There is no compunction in the C.O.E. you can appropriate, you can out and out steal other artists’ work (as long as you have enough money silence or fight the law suit) there is not loyalty, there can be love, as long as it is with a standing member of the Church, or one that has no association with the Church but is allowing of its practices. The only expectation that you can have from a member is that you will be Entertained. You have not right to hold them to what they say today, whether it’s practicing a religion, supporting a foundation, charity or cause, even their rehabilitation or sobriety is up for grabs. With the mercurial shifts of the industries winds, boundaries, loyalties and values change with swift regularity. Just when we think we identify with them, that in some way they represent us, they shift and change. We then feel betrayed, having bought into what they were presenting, we believed them… that is because we are outsiders and we don’t know the rules of operation within the Church.
Make no mistake about it, Beyoncé is all about being the biggest, baddest, B on the planet. There is little she wouldn’t do to become that (which she has) or to maintain that. That is what the religion of Fame requires. Beyoncé is not a feminist, the laws of the Church that she serves will never allow her to prescribe to feminism or any other group, she can feign allegiance, or service, she can manipulate it, but in the Church of The Entertainer the doctrine is clear, “Thy shall serve no other God but Fame”.
Well some of you that follow MBMI may well know that I was in Bulgaria for the Iliev Dance Arts Foundation’s Dance IT! intensive in April. The director and founder of the foundation Petur Iliev was in the process of building an evening of dance that would include Contemporary, Modern, Hip Hop and Folk dance as well as some original music for the works. He asked me if I would like to contribute and I jumped at the opportunity. The premise was that there would be 5 dancers, 5 musicians and a single wildcard at any time….
I choose my wild card to be another dancer, I just couldn’t choose! They were all so singular and interesting and so very willing. We had 2 weeks and something like 12 hours to build it. At the end of the Dance It Workshop we performed as much as we had which is what you will see in this clip…
“And so they retired…” is a dance miniature choreographer by Theresa Ruth Howard as part of the “5×5+1” artistic project of Petur Iliev and Iliev Dance Art Foundation.
This work explores the various elements in relationships: power, control, submission and dominance, sensuality, lust, and, the indifference that can lie between. Set in a Dream scape where partners intermingle exploring the emotional landscape of relationships when they are magnified by the heart, mind and the subconscious.
The video shows the work-in-progress performance of the piece at “Dance It!” 2014 Spring Intensive Program in Sofia, Bulgaria.
Original music: Viaggio by Lino Cannavacciuolo
Dancers: Ivo Adov, Kalina Vladimirova, Milena Abushinova, Stanislav Stefanov, Vasilena Shopova, Yanitsa Atanasova
More about “5×5+1” project at:
http://ilievdance.org/en/program/5×5/
I want to say a huge thank you to Petur Iliev, Rozilina, Tsveti, and Peter’s Angels for all of the help and support. It was a challenge, but it was great fun, mainly because everyone on the team was lovely…
And to my beautiful dancers…words can not express how much you mean to me. I had no idea what I was going to do, make, I had no music nothing, and from that first day in rehearsal YOU all made it happen, you were truly the inspiration. You with your desire to create and build something new, your determination, your drive, your willingness to run from one job, rehearsal, show to get to rehearsal and then run back… Thank you. Thank you for your laughter and sense of play in the studio, thank you for trusting me – even when you couldn’t understand me, and on a level that was probably better!! This piece is a gift to you, it is yours….Thank you again…..lovelovelove
Amen!!!! Finally. bell hooks is one of my living female icons and I am so happy that she has come and called it what it is…
Last night, The New School hosted a dynamic conversation between Black women activists and creatives titled “Are You Still a Slave?”
The group, which included filmmaker Shola Lynch, author Marci Blackman, feminist icon and scholar bell hooks, and activist and author Janet Mock, focused on the images of women of color in the media and what types of messages are sent to the public at large.
I see a part of Beyoncé that is in fact anti-feminist — that is a terrorist, especially in terms of the impact on young girls. I actually feel like the major of assault on feminism in our society has come from visual media, and from television, and videos. Just think, do we know of any powerful man of any color who’s come out with some tirade against feminism? The tirades against feminism occur so much in the image-making business, and what we see.
What I’m concerned about constantly in my critical imagination is why don’t we have libratory images that are away from, not an inversion of, what society has told us?
Hooks, argued Beyoncé’s sexy, partially-clothed Time cover did little to bolster her pro-woman bona fides.
“Let’s take the image of this super rich, very powerful Black female and let’s use it in the service of imperialist, white supremacist capitalist patriarchy because she probably had very little control over that cover — that image,“ the professor argued.
Hooks: Well, of course, I think that’s fantasy. I think it’s a fantasy that we can recoup the violating image and use it. I used to get so tired of people quoting Audre [Lorde], ‘The masters tools will never dismantle the master’s house.’ But that was exactly what she meant that you are not going to destroy this imperialist white supremacist capitalist patriarchy by creating your own version of it. Even if it serves you to make lots and lots of money.
I’ve really been challenging people to think about would we be at all interested in Beyoncé if she wasn’t so rich, because I don’t think you can separate her class power, and the wealth, from people’s fascination with her. That here is a young, Black woman who is so incredibly wealthy. And wealthy is what so many young people fantasize, dream about, sexualize, eroticize. And one could argue, even more than her body, it’s what that body stands for—the body of desire fulfilled that is wealth, fame, celebrity, all the things that so many people in our culture are lusting for, wanting.
If Beyoncé was a homeless woman who looked the same way, or a poor, down and out woman who looked the same way, would people be enchanted by her? Or is it the combination of all of those things that are at the heart of imperialist white supremacist capitalist patriarchy?
And I’ve been saying, people of color, we are so invested in white supremacy, it’s tragic. Lorraine Hansberry said it is the only form of extremism that should discredit us in the eyes of our children that we remain so invested.
Just to be clear, Gabourey Sidibe called herself an asshole in her speech at the Gloria awards. She credited said Assholery for her confidence and her ability to stand firmly in her self as the world tells her that she is nothing at all that it wants. She tells an eyeopening story about a school Christmas party in 5th grade. She baked cookies but none of her classmates took any because they did not like her, but not for what you think might be the “Obvious” reasons (shes too fat, or black or ugly) no she claims it was because she was an asshole:
So, okay, we’re back in fifth grade, and I just had been rejected by 28 kids in a row. And I was sitting alone at my desk, with an empty Ziplock bag, crumbs in my lap, and I was at this great party that I had waited for all week. I waited all week for this party that I wasn’t invited to. And for some reason I got up, I sat on my desk, and I partied my ass off. I laughed loudly when something funny happened. And when Miss Lowe put on music, I was one of the first ones to get up and dance. I joined the limbo, and ate chips, and drank soda, and I enjoyed myself, even though no one wanted me there. You know why? I told you — I was an asshole! I wanted that party! And what I want trumps what 28 people want me to do, especially when what they want me to do is leave. I had a great time. I did. And if I somehow ruined my classmates’ good time, then that’s on them. “How are you so confident?” “I’m an asshole!” Okay? It’s my good time, and my good life, despite what you think of me.
I’m so excited to be here. Really, really excited. Okay, I’ll get to it. Hi. One of the first things people usually ask me is, “Gabourey, how are you so confident?” I hate that. I always wonder if that’s the first thing they ask Rihanna when they meet her. “RiRi! How are you so confident?” Nope. No. No. But me? They ask me with that same incredulous disbelief every single time. “You seem so confident! How is that?”
When I was ten years, in the fifth grade, my teacher, Miss Lowe had announced that my class would be having a holiday party right before the Christmas break. She asked if we all could all bring snacks or soda or juice to the class party. She also said we had the option of cooking something, if we like. I was so excited. I immediately decided that I would make gingerbread cookies, and that everyone would love them. I told my mom my plan, and I asked her for money to go buy the ingredients. She thought I should just buy store-bought cookies, but I told her, “Those cookies didn’t have enough love in them!” I had to make the cookies. So I bought the mix, and I bought cookie cutters in the shape of Christmas trees and bells, and I made a practice batch of cookies that went horribly wrong. Good thing they were a practice batch. They were awful. And then the night before the party, I made another batch of cookies. And they were also awful, but they looked a lot better. I carefully put the cookies in a Ziplock bag, so I could take them to school the next day. When I got to school that morning, I could not wait until that party. And I was so proud of those cookies, and all the effort I put into making them, I started to think that maybe I wouldn’t just be the first woman black President — maybe I would also be a celebrity chef! I mean, why limit myself?
The party was set to take place during the last hour of school, and I waited excitedly for it all day long. Finally, it was party time. My teacher asked what everyone brought, and I proudly announced that I had baked cookies for the class. I think I felt prouder knowing that everyone else just bought stuff. I was the only one who made anything, because clearly, I’m a little more clever than anyone else. So as the party starts up, I walk around the class, proudly offering cookies to everyone. No one took a cookie. No one. No one except Nicholas, who was the first person I offered one to. But after a few of our other classmates set him straight, he actually caught up with me as I walked around the class, and gave the cookie back. I walked around the class trying to hand out cookies to my class, until I ended up back at my desk with the same amount of cookies that I started with. I sat at my desk alone, eating those gross gingerbread cookies that took hours to make, all by myself. I put chocolate chips in them, that’s why they were gross. I wasn’t surprised. I just forgot for a moment that my entire class hated me. I had zero friends from the fourth grade to the sixth grade. Who the hell was I baking cookies for? I really got so excited to bake that I had forgotten that everyone hated my guts. Why didn’t they like me? I was fat, yes. I had darker skin and weird hair, yes. But the truth is, this isn’t a story about bulling, or color, or weight. They hated me because… I was an asshole!
Yep. I was a bossy, bossy asshole. See, remember when I said that I thought I was more clever than everyone else? Well, I did! And I told them that — every single day! Those kids couldn’t get a word in edgewise, without me cutting them off to remind them that I was smarter, funnier, and all around wittier than them. I was always sarcastic — I called it my birth defect. And let’s face it, kids don’t get sarcasm. They don’t appreciate it. They never knew what I was talking about. And when they would say, “Wait… huh?” I would say, “My God, Alicia, read a book!” I know. I spoke differently than them, I just did. I sounded more like a Valley Girl than a Brooklyn girl. My classmates always asked me if I was adopted by white people. I’d say, “No. Both my parents went to college.” I know that was rude, but I’m still really proud of that. To be fair, in my neighborhood, not everyone’s parents had the opportunity to go to college. Most of my classmates’ parents were teens when they had them. My parents had me at age 30. My father was born in Senegal. His father was the mayor of the capital city, Dakar, and my dad often took my brother and I back home with him to visit Africa, while most of my classmates had never stepped out of the Lower East Side. My mother was a teacher in high school, that’s why I went there, but my mom also had a voice, so when I was nine, she quit her teaching job to go sing in the subway. She actually made more money as a singer for tips than she made as a teacher! I know! And she was quickly becoming the underground version of Whitney Houston. She was the strongest, smartest, and most talented person I had ever known. Even today, I don’t want to grow up to be anyone as much as I want to grow up to be her. I know!
The point is, I was a snob. I thought I was better than the kids in my class, and I let them know it. That’s why they didn’t like me. I think the reason I thought so highly of myself all the time was because no one else ever did. I figured out I was smart because my mother would yell at my older brother. She’d say, “Your little sister is going to pass you in school. You’re going to get left behind and she’s going to graduate before you.” But she never said to me, “You are smart.” What she did say was, “You are too fat.” I got the message that I wasn’t pretty, and I probably wasn’t normal, but I was smart! Why wouldn’t they just say that? “You’re smart.” It’s actually not that hard. My dad would yell at my brother, “Gabourey does her homework by herself! Why can’t you?” But he never said to me, “Good job.” What he did say was, “You need to lose weight so I can be proud of you.” I know. So I got made fun of at school, I got made fun of at home too, my older brother hated me, my dad just didn’t understand me, and my mom, who had been a fat girl at my age herself, understood me perfectly … but she berated me because she was so afraid of what she knew was to come for me. So I never felt safe when I was at home. And my response was always to eat more, because nothing says, “You hurt my feelings. Fuck you!” like eating a delicious cookie. Cookies never hurt me.
“Gabourey, how are you so confident?” It’s not easy. It’s hard to get dressed up for award shows and red carpets when I know I will be made fun of because of my weight. There’s always a big chance if I wear purple, I will be compared to Barney. If I wear white, a frozen turkey. And if I wear red, that pitcher of Kool-Aid that says, “Oh, yeah!” Twitter will blow up with nasty comments about how the recent earthquake was caused by me running to a hot dog cart or something. And “Diet or Die?” [She gives the finger to that] This is what I deal with every time I put on a dress. This is what I deal with every time someone takes a picture of me. Sometimes when I’m being interviewed by a fashion reporter, I can see it in her eyes, “How is she getting away with this? Why is she so confident? How does she deal with that body? Oh my God, I’m going to catch fat!”
What I would say, is my mom moved my brother and I to my aunt’s house. Her name is Dorothy Pitman Hughes, she is a feminist, an activist, and a lifelong friend of Gloria Steinem. Every day, I had to get up and go to school where everyone made fun of me, and I had to go home to where everyone made fun of me. Every day was hard to get going, no matter which direction I went. And on my way out of the house, I found strength. In the morning on the way out to the world, I passed by a portrait of my aunt and Gloria together. Side by side they stood, one with long beautiful hair and one with the most beautiful, round, Afro hair I had ever seen, both with their fists held high in the air. Powerful. Confident. And every day as I would leave the house… I would give that photo a fist right back. And I’d march off into battle. [She starts crying] I didn’t know that I was being inspired then. On my way home, I’d walk back up those stairs, I’d give that photo the fist again, and continue my march back in for more battle. [She pulls a tissue from her cleavage and dabs her eyes] That’s what boobs are for! I didn’t know I was being inspired then, but I was. If they could feel like that, maybe I could! I just wanted to look that cool. But it made me feel that strong.
So, okay, we’re back in fifth grade, and I just had been rejected by 28 kids in a row. And I was sitting alone at my desk, with an empty Ziplock bag, crumbs in my lap, and I was at this great party that I had waited for all week. I waited all week for this party that I wasn’t invited to. And for some reason I got up, I sat on my desk, and I partied my ass off. I laughed loudly when something funny happened. And when Miss Lowe put on music, I was one of the first ones to get up and dance. I joined the limbo, and ate chips, and drank soda, and I enjoyed myself, even though no one wanted me there. You know why? I told you — I was an asshole! I wanted that party! And what I want trumps what 28 people want me to do, especially when what they want me to do is leave. I had a great time. I did. And if I somehow ruined my classmates’ good time, then that’s on them. “How are you so confident?” “I’m an asshole!” Okay? It’s my good time, and my good life, despite what you think of me. I live my life, because I dare. I dare to show up when everyone else might hide their faces and hide their bodies in shame. I show up because I’m an asshole, and I want to have a good time. And my mother and my father love me. They wanted the best life for me, and they didn’t know how to verbalize it. And I get it. I really do. They were better parents to me than they had themselves. I’m grateful to them, and to my fifth grade class, because if they hadn’t made me cry, I wouldn’t be able to cry on cue now. [Dabs tears] If I hadn’t been told I was garbage, I wouldn’t have learned how to show people I’m talented. And if everyone had always laughed at my jokes, I wouldn’t have figured out how to be so funny. If they hadn’t told me I was ugly, I never would have searched for my beauty. And if they hadn’t tried to break me down, I wouldn’t know that I’m unbreakable. [Dabs tears] So when you ask me how I’m so confident, I know what you’re really asking me: how could someone like me be confident? Go ask Rihanna, asshole!
Hosted by Huffington Post
Young girls who grow up being told they’re “too fat” have a greater chance of becoming obese.
That’s according to a new long-term study by psychology researchers at UCLA. Researchers weighed girls at age 10 and again at age 19, and found that the odds of being obese as a young woman increased if someone had labeled the participant “too fat” by the time she was 10. They also found a participant’s likelihood of being obese increased as more people told her she was “too fat.”
“There’s no reason to even say the ‘f’ word if you’re trying to improve health,” lead researcher A. Janet Tomiyama told The Huffington Post. “This really adds to a body of research that shows that negatively evaluating someone, especially in the weight domain, can sometimes backfire.”
Researchers measured the weights and heights of 2,379 10-year-old girls from Northern California; Cincinnati, Ohio; and Washington, D.C., and asked them if anyone had ever told them they were too fat (58 percent said yes). The researchers followed up with the participants at age 19 — nine years later — to again record their heights and weights. They found that the women had 1.66 times greater odds of being obese if people (including parents, teachers, siblings and friends) had told them that they were “too fat” while growing up.
Tomiyama statistically removed the effects of childhood weight, income, race and puberty age in order to isolate the impact of “fat” comments. The study was published online Monday for the June 2014 print issue of JAMA Pediatrics.
Tomiyama said the findings echo other research she’s done on how people respond to stress by eating more.
