Year: 2019

Late last year, tragedy struck Nashville, Tennessee: Prince’s Hot Chicken Shack was forced to close “indefinitely” after a car crashed into the building at a strip mall where the restaurant is located.

Prince’s is the original purveyor of Nashville hot chicken — though you might not know it. A recent profile in The New Yorker focused on Prince’s and its current owner, André Prince Jeffries. As the story goes, Jeffries’ great-uncle Thornton Prince III had some caddish tendencies that one day spurred his girlfriend to seek retribution by saturating his fried chicken in cayenne pepper and other fiery seasonings. “Prince was expected to suffer, and did,” The New Yorker recounts — but he also loved the dish and eventually opened a restaurant dedicated to its sale, establishing hot chicken as a soul food staple.

Now, though, “Nashville hot chicken has jumped the shark,” Adrian Miller, a James Beard Award-winning author and food scholar, told HuffPost. The flavor has been co-opted and reborn in various permutations: Miller said he’s seen “Nashville hot oysters” in Denver, while Ohio-based grocery chain Kroger sells “Nashville-style hot chicken” potato chips.

Even in Nashville, the dish’s history has been muddled: As Eater noted in 2017, the website Food Republic declared that John Lasater, the white head chef of Hattie B’s Hot Chicken, had “launched the Nashville hot chicken craze.” Food Republic also published an article in 2015 that listed 27 restaurants outside of Nashville to go to for hot chicken.

But at most of these places, “when the server comes and you ask them the story behind Nashville hot chicken, in many cases, they have no idea,” Miller sighed. Despite the fact that this is just one specific dish and its origins are well-established in Prince family lore, hot chicken’s black roots are being lost.

It’s just one of the ways soul food’s history has been muddled.“

“Soul food, as we understand it, is a hybrid cuisine,” Miller explained. Several culinary traditions come together under its umbrella: foods indigenous to West Africa that arrived in America with the slave trade, like leafy greens and rice, as well as dishes the European elite were feasting on 400-500 years ago, like macaroni and cheese, sweet potato pie and chitterlings (aka “chitlins”).

“All of this food was called ‘Southern’ cooking” for the first half of the 20th century, Miller explained, and black cooks were “seen as its guardians.” But in the 1960s, there was a significant shift: As the idea of a black consciousness emerged, food united black Americans around a cohesive identity — one that also involved music, language, dress and literature. 

As a result, black activists “said that ‘soul food’ was stuff that white people couldn’t understand. They said that white people couldn’t understand things like ham hocks, greens, a whole bunch of various soul food dishes,” Miller said. “But that was news to white Southerners because they’d been eating the same thing for several centuries.”

This new effort to elevate black culture and power inadvertently opened the door for the inherent blackness of this food to be erased later on. This “artificial separation,” in Miller’s words, of “soul food” and “Southern food” meant that the shared history of the two cuisines was lost, even though their offerings overlapped. The consequences became apparent decades later, when, after Sept. 11, 2001, Americans’ desire for comfort food exploded, Miller explained. 

“Some suggest that 9/11 was such a shock to our national conscious that it spurred this desire to find out what it means to be American,” he said, “and these regional expressions of cultural identity were explored more. And Southern food — it’s just delicious, right? So people dove in.”

At the same time, food television was beginning its popular ascent. The national interest in comfort food made the cuisine a natural subject for TV — “and unfortunately, a lot of the people that make decisions in media went to white cooks,” Miller said. “So white cooks were the ones getting a lot of the publicity and financial opportunities out of cooking this food.”

For example, Paula Deen’s first solo show on the Food Network, “Paula’s Home Cooking,” premiered in November 2002. The first episode featured her promising to deep-fry a turkey and whip up “the gooiest, chewiest pumpkin gooey butter cake that this good ol’ Southern girl knows how to make.” Meanwhile, Art Smith became famous for his fried chicken, cooking for the likes of President Barack Obama, Oprah Winfrey, and Lady Gaga.

Many viewers were learning about these dishes for the first time on TV, where they saw largely white people making “Southern” food. If those white chefs didn’t acknowledge the history of this food, then their audience wouldn’t know about it, either.

The same goes for the restaurant landscape. “When you think about high-end restaurants having things like fried chicken or grits or biscuits on the menu, these are foods that are deceptively difficult to make,” Dr. Marcia Chatelain, a Georgetown University professor of history and African-American studies, told HuffPost. “African-American cuisine is sometimes disregarded because it comes from the context of people who were enslaved or people who were poor and doing the best with what they had. The technique and the precision necessary to make these foods good is sometimes obscured.” 

One of the most egregious examples came in 2016, when high-end department store Neiman Marcus came out with a new holiday offering. For the bargain price of $66 — plus $15.50 for shipping! — customers could purchase four trays of pre-cooked and frozen collard greens that had been “seasoned with just the right amount of spices and bacon.” 

It’s not clear where Neiman Marcus’ recipe came from, nor which chef (or chefs) may have prepared the greens for the store. But the listing went viral nonetheless, as flabbergasted black internet-goers shared the page with the hashtag #gentrifiedgreens. Many also pointed out that collard greens are traditionally cooked with ham hocks or smoked turkey, not bacon. The Root, a black-centric digital magazine, actually bought the greens and did a taste test. The Root’s assessment: “The greens were straight garbage.”

Beyond the questions of authenticity, Neiman’s greens spoke to another major consequence of soul food’s commodification: price increases. The department store advertised collard greens to customers who were willing to pay more than $80 to get the dish to their door — and the product sold out. But go to an authentic soul food restaurant, like Peggy’s in Memphis, Tennessee, and you’ll find a side order of greens runs about $3.50. Even in a more expensive city like New York, a side of greens costs one-tenth of what it did at Neiman Marcus; Harlem mainstay Sylvia’s offers its collards for $6.50.

“A lot of it is just context. Once you have a white tablecloth restaurant and nice decor, and you’re in an ‘amenable’ part of town, you can add a premium to anything, and people will pay it,” Miller said. “You could not get away with that kind of pricing in a soul food restaurant,” he added, because “soul food is associated with poverty. So it’s like, why are you charging this much for this food?” Moreover, patrons at an authentic soul food joint “are probably going to be working-class, not the hipster crowd.”

What that means, though, is that these foods have become less accessible in the spaces and neighborhoods established by the communities that invented them. “It’s one thing to highlight the food, but when you separate it from the material, economic, social, political and racial realities that created it,” things get dicey, Chatelain said.

Influential chefs like Deen and Smith, who “built their culinary reputation on the food of communities that don’t have access to the acclaim or the revenues or the means of financial security and opportunity” that comes from having a larger platform, have “a responsibility … to make sure they have a clear understanding of the origins of what they’re preparing,” she added.

As Eboni Harris wrote in High Snobiety in 2017, this erasure of black influence “isn’t a new phenomenon.” Harris specifically called out jazz and rock music as having been stripped of their black roots, while the appropriation of black language and style have also been subjects of debate.

When it comes to food, at least, Miller is of an inclusive mind. Anybody should be able to cook whatever food they want, he said, “as long as they respect the tradition, they meet the flavor profiles, and they give a nod to the source.” And as a law school graduate, he’s a realist: “Maybe it’s the lawyer in me, but the logical conclusion of not believing that [people can cook outside their tradition] is that black people can only make African heritage food. … And I don’t think that’s right.”

The history of food is so interconnected, too, that it would be near impossible to draw strict lines of which people can cook which foods. Take chicken and waffles, for example. Chatelain says the dish was created after the Great Migration brought black people to the North in droves, and it’s a great example of a soul food staple that has been divorced from its roots. “People [went] out all night to clubs and [wanted] to have breakfast and dinner at the same time,” she said. “I don’t know if that would necessarily be considered Southern food, but it’s considered soul food.”

Miller disagrees. “I argue that chicken and waffles actually came from Europe,” he said, explaining that German immigrants brought the combination of creamed chicken and waffles to the U.S. When the dish reached the South, he said, the chicken was just fried instead of creamed. To Miller, when white chefs cook chicken and waffles, the dish isn’t being appropriated, it’s “just going back home.”

At the end of the day, it’s about acknowledging that food is much more than sustenance. “We have to take history seriously,” Chatelain said. “Every restaurant is not just feeding people. They’re also telling a story, and they’re trying to elicit emotions about connection, about family, about community — about the past or the present.”

Original article was published here.

Kimberly Drew is wholeheartedly committed to black art. And she doesn’t take that responsibility lightly.

The 28-year-old officially embarked on this mission as an art history major at Smith College when she did an internship at The Studio Museum in Harlem and went on to create the Tumblr blog Black Contemporary Art in 2011. Through her blog, she began curating various works from black artists, both well-known and lesser-known, and educating her followers on the expansiveness of black art.

After spending three years as the social media manager at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Drew has become a freelancer to shift her focus to her writing. Her current project is The Black Futures Project, an anthology about what it means to be black and alive in the digital age that she is editing with Jenna Wortham of The New York Times. Meanwhile, she’s continuing her ongoing efforts to make art more accessible and expansive for black folks, though she realizes she may not see the fruits of that work in her lifetime. But that didn’t stop her ancestors, so that damn sure isn’t going to stop her pursuit. 

For “We Built This,” Drew discusses inaccessibility for black people in the art space, expanding opportunities for us and her forthcoming anthology, The Black Futures Project.

What have you built?

I have built, kinda surprisingly, a few things. It’s interesting to think about it in the context of especially building, but I have built many opportunities for people to learn more about black art and black artists. That I know for sure. I have built the possibility that people can [have] more imagination around what black people do in creative fields. And I think in some ways, I built more possibilities for young black women to imagine themselves in creative fields.

What was your first introduction into art?

My first introduction ― there’s many ways I would say that I got introduced to art at a young age. I think for many of us, there’s so many opportunities to get exposed to art if we are in a position to be able to recognize them as such. I think from my upbringing, I was really lucky to be a part of a family that really loved art and culture. And so, I could recognize these, architecture, or items that I collected as things of value. But I would say, throughout my adolescence, I was exposed to art and museums and things that my family and I would collect and really revere as powerful objects.

What made you fall in love with black art?

I would say that more than fall in love with, I committed myself to black art probably like 10ish years ago really specifically. Because I kinda developed this romance with awareness around it. It wasn’t like a specific object that did it. What I really have always been invested in is that people know much more about black art and black artists. I didn’t wanna say like, “Oh. This is the one to know.” Or, “Oh. You know.” Trying to direct people in any way. I just wanted to really be aware of how many of us there are that are making work. So that when time looks back, that no one says we weren’t. Like that’s always been my guiding force. That no one could ever say that a black art history doesn’t exist.

Where do you find inspiration when you are creating your art and when you are writing?

Inspiration is a hard one, ’cause I wouldn’t consider myself as a person who, like, the spark goes off and then I hit the ground running. I think, as a writer, what inspires me the most is when I fall in love with an idea. It’s like, if I can be in a position where I’m so comfortable, or so bored that I think that the thing that I think is important enough to share, I run with it. I always wanted to be a person who would write at 5 a.m. or whatever. But, sometimes you’re on a plane, and you have to just whip the notes tab out and get that idea down, because you’ve thought it, rethought it, and it still sounds good. For me, the thing is, it’s so much more about a feeling. And when I can really be as confident, especially in trusting of myself, as possible, I try to snatch that.

Who are the black history makers who inspire you to continue to do that work?

I’m lucky because I know so many historians. I know people who quite literally wedged things into history. Which is dope. I would say the person who I’ve had so much on my mind, especially within this last week, is Lowery Stokes Sims. She was the first, I mean, she has many firsts in her list of lists. But she’s an incredibly powerful curator and motivator and support system for many people who are in the art world. She is a diva, par excellence. And a person that I wish everybody knew the name of. And I think a lot of, not to say that she needs me to shout her out, ’cause she’s poppin’. But, I think that she’s a person who, in her steadfastness and her scholarship, has really done incredible work.

Similarly, Kelly Jones is another art historian who has done incredible work wedging so many stories into history. Dr. Deb Willis ― another scholar who [has done] incredible work as an art historian. And all three of those women, I think, are educators as well. So, paying it forward. And so, I would say those are the three that come top of mind. But, there’s so many more.

Original article was published here.

Ariana Smith, a senior at Las Vegas Academy of the Arts, is one of the gold recipients of the 2019 Scholastic Art & Writing Awards, which according to the program is “the nation’s longest-running and most prestigious recognition program for creative teens” in the visual and literary arts.

According to the Las Vegas Sun, Smith is biracial. Her mother is Filipina and her father is African-American. The high school senior addresses her mixed ethnic background and her identity as a gay woman in much of her work. 

“Your identity is all of you, not just some parts,” she told the news publication. “I feel like making space being both black and queer … it’s a complicated dynamic.”

“That idea of coming from an immigrant family … it’s interesting how it kind of confronts my African-American identity,” Smith added. “Being enslaved and brought here unwillingly as well as conquering the American dream is an interesting dynamic on both sides of my family.”

The teen earned the gold medal for her comic art titled “what’s another black body to go,” and the American Voices medal/gold medal for the poem “heaven is black?”

The high school senior is among the 16 students nationally selected for the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards. They join the ranks of notable writers that includes Stephen King and  Joyce Carol Oates. The prize includes a $10,000 scholarship, a weeklong stay in New York City and a celebratory event at Carnegie Hall on June 6. 

“I remember feeling like it felt good to get my words out on the page,” Smith said. “Feelings of vulnerability … they are hard to feel in the world, but when you force yourself, it can be therapeutic.”

She wants to study film and social justice after high school.

Original article was published here.

Less than 24 hours after it was revealed that Wu-Tang Clan is releasing an EP later this week (May 17), in conjunction with Showtime documentary, Wu-Tang: Of Mics & Men. Heads now get some new music and information from the project released through Mass Appeal (who is also behind the film) and Wu’s 36 Chambers, LLC. Ghostface Killah and RZA have teamed to release “On That Sh*t Again,” the opening song from the upcoming companion release.

The song features a piano and drum beat. G.F.K. begins with a story about a night out, after an argument at home. Things get hairy as Ghost’ gets ready for a show at Madison Square Garden with Dru Hill. The Staten Island MC packs artillery for the event before RZA drops in with a recent rhyme about living the lavish life.

According to Pitchfork, who premiered the song, the soundtrack is executive produced by RZA’s brother, Mitchell “Divine” Diggs and Mustafa Shaikh. Notably, Divine says in Wu-Tang: Of Mics & Menthat the film includes his first interview. Sacha Jenkins’ documentary chronicles the late 1990s fallout between Divine and members of the Wu-Tang Clan surrounding management and the former’s production company. In episode 4 of the film, there is footage of Ghostface and Divine arguing over royalties and management commissions from that era.

The seven-song collection also includes some audio footage, from Nas and Hip-Hop journalist-turned-Luke Cage series creator Cheo Hodari Coker. Notably, Inspectah Deck, U-God, and Method Man do not appear to be involved.

The tracklisting for Friday’s EP is as follows:

1. Ghostface Killah & RZA – “On That Sh*t Again”
2. Ghostface Killah, Raekwon & Harley – “Seen A Lot Of Things”
3. Nas – “Project Kids (Skit)”
4. RZA – “Do The Same As My Brother Do”
5. Cheo Hodari Coker: -“Yo, Is You Cheo? (Skit)”
6. RZA, Masta Killa & Cappadonna: “Of Mics And Men”
7. GZA & Masta Killa: “One Rhyme (Skit)”

Original article was published here.

Last week, veteran MC, dancer, and producer Bushwick Bill revealed that he was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer. More than 30 years ago, the Jamaican-American artist born Stephen Shaw joined Rap-A-Lot Records’ Geto Boys as a dancer. Eventually moving to the role of rapper, he remained to become an integral part of the dynamic Houston, Texas crew’s most successful lineup alongside Scarface and Willie D, as well as late DJ/producer Ready Red. In total, Bill has released seven studio albums with the squad assembled by Rap-A-Lot founder J. Prince, as well as solo material and compilations.

With Bill’s health in serious jeopardy, the Geto Boys classic lineup has reunited for a series of tour dates. In a little over two weeks, the trio will begin the just-announced The Beginning of a Long Goodbye: The Final Farewell Tour. A portion of the proceeds will support pancreatic cancer awareness, according to a Pitchfork report.

The trio has announced four dates for now:

05-24 Pontiac, MI – The Crofoot
05-25 Cleveland, OH – Agora Theatre
05-29 Washington, DC – Howard Theater
05-30 New York, NY – Sony Hall

The Geto Boys’ have had a complicated history since the revamped lineup of Bill, ‘Face, and Willie 30 years ago. In the early 1990s, Willie D left to pursue his solo career as well as a passion for boxing. He was replaced by New Orleans, Louisiana rapper and previous member of The Convicts, Big Mike. Willie D returned to the fold in the middle of the decade for The Resurrection. The collective last released The Foundation in 2005.

In recent years, Scarface, Bushwick, and Willie have toured. However, 2015 plans to crowd-source the trio’s first album in more than a decade halted when the financial goals were not met. Last year, in an interview with Questlove Supreme, Scarface vowed that the pioneering Gangsta Rap group would not record again.

Last week, Bill told fans, “I figure keeping it to myself is not really helping nobody. And, it’s not like I’m afraid of dying, because if anybody knows anything about me from ‘Ever So Clear,’ you know I died and came back already on June 19, 1991, so I know what it’s like on the other side, so that’s not what it’s about. It’s about life and loving life, and being there for family, and not just starting a dream or getting married or getting your first house and then finding out you’ve got pancreatic cancer, so you can’t even live out the rest of your dream. I just want people to be aware, so when they set dreams and goals, they’re healthy enough to fulfill and live.”

Last August, longtime Geto Boys member DJ Ready Red passed away after suffering a heart attack in New Jersey.

Original article was published here.

Everything about Danielle Brooks is unapologetic. From her powerful political points onscreen and online to her size-inclusive fashion collaborations, she’s letting the world know she’s here to stay.

But society doesn’t always embrace women like Brooks ― curvy, dark skin, natural 4b hair. The “Orange Is the New Black” actress has known that since she was young, searching hard for any semblance of herself onscreen. Now, the South Carolinian is loud and proud about being a force for the kind of representation little girls ― and grown women ― need to see.

Though her legacy is just beginning, Brooks is a black history maker in her own right, paving the way for those like her to make their voices heard. This is especially evident as she steps into her new path as a solo artist with her first single “Black Woman,” released on the first day of Black History Month. 

“You want my thighs, you want my stride but not this melanin,” sings Brooks, who already has a Grammy for her 2016 “The Color Purple” performance on Broadway. She doesn’t sugarcoat that black women’s features and styles are seen as valuable, just not on black women themselves. 

HuffPost spoke to Brooks as a part of our “We Built This” series for Black History Month. She discussed finding her voice, fighting for more expansive representation of black women and the giants who fuel her.

What have you built?

What have I built? I guess I would say I’m still building, so I can’t say something’s been complete. I don’t feel like what I’ve offered the world is complete yet, and I think I’m still figuring out which blocks I need to build my platform, my empire, what my legacy will be. I’m still learning that. But what I do know for sure is the bricks that I have laid so far are bricks of a woman being honest in her skin and truthful to who she is, and someone who is trying to be that so that younger girls and grown-ass women and men, whoever you are, will do the same.

And that’s really what I think my goal in life is, to remind people of that. And to operate out of love. Do what you love and operate out of love, are the two things that I’m trying to bring.

Growing up in South Carolina as a little girl, how did you see yourself reflected and represented in media?

I did not see myself enough. I think I tried to see myself in other women. Like definitely the Cicely Tysons and the Viola Davises and the Queen Latifahs, they were there. But I never saw someone that was really in their teens or early 20s doing what I wanted to do. So the only person that was the closest was Countess Vaughn. I was obsessed with her growing up. And there was one other lady that I was really into, her name is slipping me, but she was on Eve’s show playing the best friend.

And I think that was always the thing. They were always playing the best friend. The sidekick. And for me, I was always curious: Why can’t we be the leads? Why can’t we be the love interest? Why can’t we be the one on the forefront? And so, yeah, I didn’t get to see that and it’s really weird when this shift in your brain happens when you’re like, “Oh, I get to be that. I get to actually be that person that I wanted to see.” With the natural hair, with being a size 16, with being dark-skinned. I think those are the things that I was looking for and longing to see. And now I get to be that.

And not only me, you now have a plethora of women of all shades, sizes, hair types that get to be represented and it’s really beautiful.

We’ve seen you evolve since the first season of “Orange Is the New Black,” and now it’s in the final season. What do you think starring on this show has taught you?

That my voice is loud and it’s bold and I should use it. Number one, use it for good. When I first started on “Orange Is the New Black,” I definitely was kind of in fear of using my voice to … sorry I’m stumbling on my words. When I first started “Orange,” I was really nervous to use my voice ― clearly as I was just stumbling over my words ― but being with those women, being under Jenji Kohan, getting to work closely with women like Laverne Cox and Uzo [Aduba], and Taylor Schilling, I got to surround myself with people who were unafraid to use their voice. And that really inspired me to be able to put my voice on a mic and use it for good.

And I guess for me the thing that has motivated me the most is my own story. And that’s a woman who is curvy and dark-skinned, who grew up in the South with natural hair, and being OK with that when the world tells you that you might not be enough from what we see every day. What we see in media, what we see in magazines and TV. When you don’t see yourself represented enough.

And so that’s been my goal, is to make sure that little black girls get seen and have a role model for whatever they want to do in life.

A lot of the world was introduced to you in “Orange Is the New Black,” and we have experienced you in various levels from your involvement in fashion, and now we will experience your voice. What is the message that you’re trying to say with your art?

Overall, that every person on this Earth, their story is valid. That is number one. And I think that’s really what I’m trying to tell the world is to listen. You might not understand it, but listen. And I try to do that through my acting, through my music, through fashion, there’s a place for all of us. And I think that’s my main goal.

I want to talk about your new single. When I heard it, I was really blown away ― not only by your voice but by the message because it’s something that a lot of us know, we all know, and we all experience. But it isn’t said enough from the mainstream, from power players: “You want my thighs, you want my stride, but not this melanin.” What made you decide to use your voice like this?

I truly believe if you don’t use your gift, it’s going to go away. I think God gives you them for a reason, and if you don’t, he’s going to get rid of it. So for me, I was like, “Danielle, you better use it. And use it to serve.” And so my way of doing that was starting out with this song, “Black Woman,” and starting with us. I think I have heard a lot of black girl anthems but I felt what was lacking was … I felt like most of them had filters. I’d never really heard the nitty-gritty of those things that we struggle with every day. And throwing them at the world and say, “Hey. Can you hear my story? Can you see me?” And all of me. Not just physically but my mind, my spirit, my soul, my heart, can you feel that? Do you know what we experience every day? Do you care to know what we experience by the way in which you walk in your life?

So that’s how this song came about was my way of saying, “OK. If I was to tell the world how I felt as a black woman without any filter, this is what I would say.” And it’s in no way trying to diss anyone or ostracize anyone, it’s just plain and simple saying, “I am a black woman and this is how I feel. This is what I experience. And I hope you can hear that.”

And that’s just what we were briefly talking about, how much it takes to, especially as the world knows you as a specific kind of artist, to kind of channel your energy into this different kind of artistry. What was the process for you in getting ready to give yourself to the world in this form?

I still don’t think I know, Taryn. I still think I’m figuring that out. Like, this … I have a few more interviews today. This is my second interview speaking as an artist, as a musician or a singer in that way. So I think it’s going to take some time. I was lucky enough to do “The Color Purple” on Broadway, which was a musical, which grateful I have a Grammy already. But it’s still so different because I am now stepping out as a solo artist in a way.

And I don’t know. And I know I’m going to figure it out as I go along. So, as of right now, I’m just taking it step by step.

That’s so fair. And so honest. And I think what a lot of us need to hear more of. And I think that’s why so many of your fans really praise you for your realness. As you were saying, the world is so rooting against you, so rooting against us as black women, how do you sustain that, especially being in the public eye?

I have to center myself. That’s really what it is. I’m just going to be honest, I am a self-help book queen. I’m always trying to find joy. Because I feel like life is so short as we see with so many people in this business who don’t make it, or commit suicide, or whatever that is. For me, I’m longing to find that joy in a world that still will tell me that I’m not important enough.

So I look to God, I look to my friends, my family, and I keep myself grounded in what is real versus all this hoo-ha, all this noise, that is social media. And all the noise that is TV and all of that. So yeah, that’s how I kind of find that joy.

How do you see it playing out in Hollywood as far as the perceived biases against black women, especially dark-skinned, curvy black women?

I mean, really it’s only a handful of us that you have, Gabourey Sidibe is my girl, Amber Riley is my girl, myself. There’s a handful of us … but juxtaposed against the plethora of skinny white women out here or skinny black women out here, we’re not seeing enough. And especially now I believe the number’s gone up, it’s 68 percent of women are plus-size. And that’s over half of the world that are your mothers or your aunts or your nieces or your sisters or your girlfriends or your wives. We’re not seeing them on TV.

And we have stories to tell, too. We’re beautiful. We deserve to be seen as such and not made as jokes or second best. And so I’m hoping that we can definitely move forward in that department.

Who are the black history makers, the ancestors, the elders, whom you look to to inspire you to continue the work that you do?

The first off my brain is Tarana Burke. I think she’s pretty fierce. And just starting the movement that she has started for us as women, for us as black women. I am a huge fan of Queen Latifah as well. I think she is super-fierce because she has been able to excel in every aspect: music and having messages in her music to acting to clothes to having her own talk show. I just admire the steps that she’s taken to get to where she is.

I mean the list could go on. Michelle Obama. I think it’s weird sometimes when we talk about the women that have inspired us but we always reach so far back. But why not celebrate the women that are in front of us that are our generation? So for me it’s the Issa Raes, it’s the Janelle Monáes. I think they are fierce, incredible women that are making a huge impact. Even Gabourey Sidibe who’s directing now. And I just want to celebrate them too, and always remind them that they’re an inspiration to me too whether they’re in the same age category or not, you know?

Original article was published here.

“Black-ish” teen actress Marsai Martin and her production company, Genius Productions, signed a first-look production deal with Universal, The Hollywood Reporter reported. 

The 14-year-old will develop scripts for Universal alongside her parents, Genius Productions co-founder Joshua Martin and Carol Martin, its vice president, the publication added.

The first film reportedly being developed by the “Black-ish” star’s production company is a comedy about a teenage girl, played by Martin, adjusting to life with a new stepmother called “StepMonster.” 

Martin is also starring in the soon-to-be released comedy “Little,” which also stars Regina Hall and Issa Rae. The young actress also serves as an executive producer for the film.

Martin shared her excitement over the production deal in an Instagram post this week. 

“Very excited to see what the future holds,” she wrote.

Peter Cramer, Universal Pictures’ president, told THR that Martin is “not only tremendously talented in front of the camera but offers a unique perspective as a creator and producer that will resonate with all audiences.”

In a statement to THR, Martin said, “I am so excited for the magic I’ll be able to create and produce with Universal.”

“Mr. Cramer and Ms. Langley’s commitment to investing in and uplifting diverse and young voices is both refreshing and important, and I’m happy to be a part of that legacy,” she added, referring to Donna Langley, chairwoman of Universal Filmed Entertainment Group.

The “Little” actress said that she hopes to inspire young women and girls with her new production deal. 

“My goal is to show young women and girls that our voices and ideas matter and you are never too young to dream BIG!” she told THR.

Original article was published here.

Glory Edim began building her empire of knowledge at an early age.

The founder of Well-Read Black Girl and author debuted her literary kingdom in the form of a digital book club that ensures black women who love reading, writing or both have a space to connect. With monthly reading selections and Twitter chats based on books by black women authors, the Nigerian-American has not only helped fill a huge void, but nourished a demographic often forgotten or erased by the literary world.

Since its 2015 launch, Edim has developed Well-Read Black Girl into anannual book festival in Brooklyn and an anthology, both of the same name. 

Edim’s work empowers black women to feel seen and tostart a revolution with their words. Between and beyond the pages, she is an author, a nerd, an advocate and a force. And she has no intention of slowing down.

As a part of HuffPost’s “We Built This” series for Black History Month, Edim talked to us about her passion for literacy, her vision for Well-Read Black Girl and the urgency of protecting black women.

What started your love for reading?

My love of reading started with my mom. She was my biggest champion — and still is — and she read to me as a child. She took me to the library constantly and she really planted the seed of literacy in my mind. I always wanted to emulate her. When I saw her reading the newspaper or reading a book in bed, I was drawn to that experience. We read together constantly, and it’s still something we share. And as I grew older, I wanted to know more about not just reading and the practice of it, but how you could find yourself within a book and how you began to self define.

As a young black woman, it was important for me to read women like Toni Morrison and Maya Angelou, Gloria Naylor — all these women left imprints on my mind and what it was to be a black woman. And the first person who introduced that to me was my mother.

Then I started exploring on my own and asking questions on my own. But my mom was the beginning of all that.

What was the first book that you read?

The first book I have a real memory of reading is this book called Honey, I love by Eloise Greenfield. It’s a collection of poems. I read that book with my mother. I was drawn to the illustrations because, in the book, there’s all these beautiful illustrations of young black women and they’re like jumping rope; they’re on the playground; they’re reading with their parents. I didn’t have a true reflection of a character looking like me or sounding like me until I encountered Greenfield’s book.

I read a lot of different things, but, in terms of seeing myself, that book was the first time. I also read Judy Bloom. I read Little Women. Even reading Babysitter’s Club or Sweet Valley High, I read those things, but it wasn’t like I made an intimate connection with them or saw myself in the characters. I was more interested in the plot or just the teenage suspense of it or the childhood nostalgia of it. It wasn’t because it was a character who looked like me.

How do you think your love of reading evolved through your formative years when you were going through these books, when you’re seeing yourself or not seeing yourself, or whether it be through casual reading or through required reading? How did your understanding of yourself as a young black girl who loves literature evolve?

I found a lot of comfort in reading. It was something I did to occupy my time, to help me learn more about myself. It was similar to someone who really loves basketball. You go out and play basketball every day, and you don’t really think too much of it. It’s something you just have a passion for. That is how I was when I was a little girl. I read everything that I could find because I enjoyed the rhythm of it. I liked being in bed under the covers, having a flashlight and reading — just having a book close to me and asking questions. I thought of books very much as my friends. I was a talkative child, and I was very curious. My mother would say I was rambunctious and a little bit too inquisitive at times, but it’s what fed me. It felt right to me. I never felt forced to do it. I just did it.

It’s such a blessing — now that I look back — that I was passionate and loved reading because it shaped my whole career. The reason why I wanted to study journalism when I went to Howard University is because I was interested in telling stories and I was very curious about the everyday story. It didn’t have to be something that was extra-extraordinary for it to be told, it just had to happen.

“I always wanted to know more about the characters, and I wanted to know more about people. And that formed my identity as a black woman very clearly because I always felt very confident in my opinion, even when I didn’t necessarily know everything about a subject. I knew I could read about it, and it made me become naturally autodidactic.

I picked that up from reading the newspaper, reading these different books and just being curious. That was instilled very early on. I always wanted to know more about the characters, and I wanted to know more about people. And that formed my identity as a black woman very clearly because I always felt very confident in my opinion, even when I didn’t necessarily know everything about a subject. I knew I could read about it, and it made me become naturally autodidactic. I had an understanding that this is how you get better at something. This is how you gain expertise. You educate yourself, and you read things to grow your knowledge.

At home, we had the old school encyclopedia and Britannica things. If I didn’t know a word, my mom would say go look it up in the dictionary. If I didn’t understand something that I saw on TV, go look it up. And as I grew older, and I ended up going to Howard, I always felt confident that I can figure this out. It made me be a more independent and resourceful person because I knew I could educate myself on a subject. I could read into expertise. I still feel that way. There’s still a lot that I’m learning about but I know I can get there through reading and through asking questions. And so that’s always been a part of my personality and really core to who I am as person.

I love that so much. I consider myself a nerd with my love of knowledge and of learning more, poking, prodding and figuring things out. I’ve always been like that. Do you consider yourself a nerd?

I 100 percent consider myself a nerd because if we are to define what nerd is, that’s just someone who is an inquisitive, curious, super-passionate person. And whether you’re nerding out on books or on film or on art, video games, technology — whatever it is, that means you’re immersed in it. And I definitely think I’m immersed in literature. I’m excited about it and I love finding my people. I love finding other folks who are excited about the same things, whether it’s books or art. Coming together in a community, being excited and nerding out on something, I think that’s dope.

That shouldn’t be a thing to be ashamed or afraid of. It should be celebrated. We all are learning and growing together. There needs to be more space to celebrate the things that we’re excited about. 

“There’s more depth to the black experience and it really starts with our oratories and our narrators.

And there needs to be more space for us as black women to see ourselves reflected as nerds.

Exactly! When you have writers like N.K. Jemisin who can create whole beautiful worlds of science fiction and have the imagination to dream beyond what is in existence, that’s amazing. You need to have a nerd do that. You need to have someone who’s able to imagine what the world could be like. And I’m really excited that we are starting to embrace the word “nerd” more, and we’re actually seeing reflections of black women across genres — especially in science fiction.

And thinking about Afro-futurism, in a more powerful way that isn’t just service, really speaks to the fact that our identities are diverse and we’re not monolithic. We have beautiful narratives that span generationally across the diaspora. There’s more depth to the black experience and it really starts with our oratories and our narrators. Who are the people telling the stories? Who are the people creating the technology? Who are the people changing the algorithms?

It is so important that black women are always in the room and working across genres to make that happen and to imagine new worlds. I really think about imagining greater things for the future. And without that imagination, it’s going to be stagnant. We’re not all the same.

There’s a vastness to blackness that needs to be recognized, especially in media, especially in literature, in film. We were just talking about ”If Beale Street Could Talk,” that the beauty of that film and the texture and the richness of the color, all the things that Barry Jenkins does with his photography is so powerful because we’ve never been portrayed in film that way with such a beauty and such warmth. We need more filmmakers like that. We need more writers. We need more artists who are willing to share their imaginations with us and see blackness in a more beautiful and profound way.

You’ve created a community that embraces the love of literacy, the love of literature, the love of seeing themselves reflected in words because words matter. They mean things. When you set out to create Well-Read Black Girl, what were your intentions? What did you think it would become?

My first intention was to create a support system for myself. I was new to New York, and I didn’t really have a community here and my first instinct was to go to books to foster new friendships.

I have wonderful women in the book club who I now call dear friends, but it’s expanded beyond that, and it’s gone beyond this just space in Brooklyn where we meet. It really is an online community where people are advocating for one another. It has become a discovery tool where people can find new authors because my focus is still debut authors. I’m really trying to find emerging voices, folks who have just published their first book and they’re in need of support. They need people to buy their book.

The next step to that, which I’m really trying to grow into in 2019, is developing a system where we can advocate for one another and support each other through activism — whether you’re looking to run for office or you’re trying to bring attention to social issues in your community. You know you can rely on Well-Read Black Girl to amplify that and continue to spread the word. It’s gone from this one thing where I’m thinking about friendships and solidarity, but I’m also thinking about how can we expand these friendships and really support one another in other circles, politically.

Most recently I shared something that said very simply “protect black girls” after the Lifetime documentary detailing R. Kelly’s long-term abuse of black women. I thought it was the perfect opportunity to put the system into practice. Yes, it’s not necessarily connected to literacy, but it’s a platform where the stories are centered on the narratives of black women. And that is an important narrative. Sexual abuse does happen in our community and attention needs to be brought to it, and it needs to be stopped. It needs to be clear that there are consequences when you harm black women. And we can’t be ignored. We can’t be ignored politically, we can’t be ignored when abuse is happening rapid in our community.

I want to use Well-Read Black Girl as a tool to really continue to amplify our voices. Yes, in publishing, but beyond that. I’m super excited about all the incredible young women, women of color, black women who are running for office. They have my support. I’m just thinking so much more about social issues and the books that we can read to educate ourselves on certain issues.

I love that and it’s so necessary — especially when we talk about these issues that, quite frankly, get ignored because they’re at our expense.

I am super motivated by that because now that the platform is growing, and I do have the attention of different people. I want to use it for good.

I do my best to replicate the experience I had at Howard University. My college years were so informative for me and it was the first time that I really felt safe. I felt safe in my blackness and I felt — I don’t even know how to explain it. I really felt secure in that space. I have such a strong appreciation for it because once I left I was like “Oh, the world doesn’t even operate this way.” The world does not value blackness. It does not see us as regal. They don’t really value our opinions, especially as black women.

And the moment I stepped off that campus and I was struck with that reality, I was just constantly trying to bring that feeling back. I want to always let people know that their opinions matter and the things that they’re working on will be supported by other black women. If nowhere else, know that black women will support you. And that’s not without analysis or critique. I think it is important for us to critique one another and do so lovingly. But at the end of the day, I do recognize and have empathy for the things that someone is experiencing because I know that as black women, we can only relate to each other in that way.

That’s important for me. So I’m always trying to find that center where I can work and advocate for the rights of black women. 

One thing that’s super evident in the short time that we spent together this afternoon is how much you stand on your ancestors’ shoulders. This is truly your passion, and this isn’t something that you’re just doing l for likes or for any kind of clap, but you truly believe in the work. So given that, given my kind of general assessment, who are the ancestors, the change agents, the black history makers that continue to inspire you to do this work?

Oh my goodness, well, I will start with my lineage. I am very inspired by mother and father. My mom is again, an avid reader and a historian. And my dad, who recently passed, also went to Howard. It’s part of our legacy. So, my parents definitely are the two anchors for my love of reading.

Beyond that, I would say I am really inspired by literary scholars, in particular, Mary Helen Washington. I read her book Midnight Birds continuously. Toni Cade Bambara, she was a professor but also a documentarian and a writer. One of my favorite books is her anthology, The Black Woman, as well as her short story collection Gorilla My Love. I love those two books so much. She talks about everyday people. She talks about the essence of what it is to be a black woman and the levels of it — looking at class, looking at intergenerational conversations. I just loved, love her work. She also at one point in her career was making a documentary. She just did everything.

I also really love Mary Evans. Her anthology was one of the first things I encountered at Howard. Gloria Naylor. I say her name and try to invoke her spirit in every conversation because I feel like her work has really been lost — with exception of like The Women of Brewster’s Place, which was turned into a movie. But there’s like Linden Hills and Momma’s Day. She is so iconic. I’m very inspired by Dr. Imani Perry who is an academic. Most recently she wrote a book called Looking for Lorraine, which is a tribute to Lorraine Hansberry.

There’s just so much knowledge to be taken from their experiences. And it’s crazy because I feel like I’m rereading a lot of stuff now. I’m going back, and I’m looking at the essence of what they were trying to communicate. What did they want the reader to take away from this? What was the context of the world that they were living in? What was happening politically? Why was it so essential for them to write this message at this point in history?

I think especially because of the political climate now, the things that artists are creating and what they’re writing and responding to is so heavily influenced by external. So I’ve just been going back and studying how do they do it. How do they stay inspired? How do they stay so resilient when things feel dark?

I especially love the later part that you said because history does repeat itself. And history does hold all the answers to how we handle and go about some of the issues that we face today.

They’ve essentially left us a blueprint. So how can we take the lessons from the work and implement them in our own lives and remain vigilant.

Definitely. Tools may be different, but circumstances definitely aren’t.

Yes, because racism is still rapid. The things that Toni Morrison was writing about, the things that Alex Walker was writing about, those ideologies and concepts are still very apparent in our culture now. We can learn a lot from the things that they shared with us.

It was Zora Neale Hurston’s birthday recently and I was reading Their Eyes Were Watching God. Everyone is so fixated on the love story in that book, but I had forgotten that it was a best friend story too. Zora Neale Hurston, or Janie I should say, is telling the story to her best friend. And I forgot the premise of this is really about friendship. She’s telling the story to her confident who she loves and trusts. There’s a sisterhood in that.

What are your hopes for the future? 

My hope is to turn Well-Read Black Girl into a long-lasting institution and a space where we can celebrate black achievement. I would love for it to become an endowment of some sort where I could help fund debut writers. I would love to have an imprint. That’s something I’ve been thinking about really a lot in the last two or three years. If I was able to have an imprint of my own, but at the end of the day I really want it to continue to be a communal space where we can meet and foster connections. I want the festival to continue to grow — even if I’m no longer here on this Earth, I want it to live beyond me. 2018 was our second year. I’m planning for 10 years down the line, 20 years down the line. I’m trying my best to sow those seeds and build a foundation for that. That’s the vision. 

My hope, also, is as we continue to grow people will come back, and they’ll have their books. They’ll say they had their start at the Well-Read Black Girl Festival or as part of the community and five years later, 10 years later, they’ll have their book.

Original article was published here.

Sharonda Wilson was looking forward to getting her diploma at her graduation from Ferris State University in Big Rapids, Michigan.There was just one problem: Her son, Stephan, was graduating on the same day at Central Michigan University in Mount Pleasant, Michigan.Wilson was all set to forgo her own. But her son’s school — and hers — had a different idea.

The predicament

In the days leading up to the graduation, Wilson posted her predicament on Facebook. Among those who saw it was a student who works in the president’s office at Central Michigan. On Saturday morning — graduation day — the student told Central Michigan’s president, Bob Davies, about the situation.

The plan

The president then contacted his counterpart at Ferris State University, President David Eisler. Davies wanted to see if his school could confer Wilson’s degree.”It was a very fast turnaround,” Ari Harris, the spokesman for Central Michigan, told CNN.

The ceremony

Saturday came. And mom and son both walked across the stage at Central Michigan.Stephan Wilson, who is part of a musical group on campus, sang during the ceremony. But being able to graduate with his mom made the already monumental day even more memorable.

“I had been looking forward to walking across that stage and accepting my degree for a long, long time,” Stephan said in a statement. “Earning my degree was such a huge milestone in my life, and having my mom with me to celebrate that moment was an unbelievable blessing. I am so proud of us both.

“Wilson earned a bachelor of science in business administration, and her son earned a bachelor of arts in music theater. Davies, the Central Michigan president, said both Wilsons deserved to be recognized on their special day.

“Sharonda and Stephan both put in the long hours and hard work, and they deserved the chance to celebrate together as a family,” Davies said in a statement. “We appreciated the opportunity to partner with our friends at Ferris State to recognize and celebrate this milestone achievement for both Stephan and Sharonda.”

Original article was published here.

One South Carolina family will have much to celebrate this week when father Antonio Gathers and his son, Brandon, graduate from college at the same time.

The father-son duo will walk across the commencement ceremony stage within moments of each other as they graduate from South Carolina State University together on Friday.

Antonio, 49, will be earning his master’s degree in Rehabilitation Counseling, the news station reported, and Brandon, 26 years his father’s junior, will be receiving his bachelor’s degree in Business Management, according to ABC 4.

While the two will be able to celebrate the special occasion, there has been a lot of hard work to get to this point, and Brandon said his father has been a continued source of motivation through his four-year college career.

“He’s a God-fearing man, he’s successful, he’s intelligent, he knows what he’s doing,” Brandon, 23, told ABC 4. “He is just a great person in general.”

For Antonio, his son’s own determination is what helped him feel encouraged to pursue the educational milestone.

“He was an inspiration to me, just seeing his perseverance,” he said. “Doing other things, and having a full-time career, you kind of put yourself on the back burner. And it was just really important to me to get his degree to pursue another avenue in my life and in my career so that I could help people.”

Both men will receive their degrees at Oliver C. Dawson Stadium Friday evening.

“It is so real right now,” Antonio — who took his classes online while Brandon attended the campus — admitted to WAFB. “Because as he aforestated, I never would have thought that this day would be here, that we would be graduating together.”

“It’s a little late in life,” he added of earning his masters.

But through Antonio’s journey, he was able to experience something unique with his son, who will likely cherish this day and the lessons learned from it for the rest of his life.

“He’s like my inspiration,” Brandon told WAFB. “He is the perfect model of a black male father figure.”

There family’s inspirational day comes just a week after a Michigan mother decided to skip her own graduation ceremony to attend her son’s commencement, only to be surprised when the university presented her with a degree during the event.

A video of the surprise posted by the university has since been viewed more than 888,000 times since it was published on Twitter on May 4, and, like Antonio and Brandon’s story, speaks to the influential power families have to inspire each other.

Original article was published here.