dara t. mathis

Why Scandal Is Scandalously NOT Great

Confession time. I tried, with all the good-black-girl-solidarity within me, to like Shonda Rhimes’ show, ‘Scandal.’

It’s a black girl’s dream show: Kerry Washington in the lead role being bawse-y in Louboutin’s and Outre Remi, sexy black guy-candy, sexy white guy-candy, annoying whiny women upstaged by Kerry’s awesomeness, powerful white man sprung on Kerry’s goods…you get the idea. Theoretically ginormous win all around. Score one for the black girls!

Except, watching the reruns for ‘Scandal’, I was reminded of why I am not really excited about the show’s return this fall: it’s not great television. ‘Scandal’ is in a fantastic lineup, following Shonda’s mega-hit ‘Grey’s Anatomy’, but Kerry Washington’s DC-based drama pales in comparison to its sister show. Here’s why:

1. Someone Stuck the Dialogue Button on Fast-Forward. Can anyone, please, please, tell me why Shonda Rimes adores fast-paced dialogue so much? I understand that the nature of scandalous business demands urgency, but does everysingleconvo needtoruntogether

infastmo? The actors spit out, rather than deliver, their lines, as if the scripts were written in bullets. Shoot me, already! No one talks like that in real life.

2. Olivia Pope. Huck. Harrison. And the Other People. This one might be on me, but I have no clue who the other characters are. Shonda has created an ensemble cast of 2D individuals about whom she makes me care very little. We love Olivia and want her on our team! But the minions in the conference room? Why are they special? Right, because Olivia needs people to carry out the bullet-point orders she fires off. I live only to see Harrison in gingham.

3. Olivia Pope, In Action, Does…Nothing? Her hype precedes her and leaves you wondering: WTF just happened?! And maybe that’s the mystique of Olivia Pope, but the most we see her do is bark orders from delicately lined lips, pick up phones and vaguely threaten folk. And when Olivia does set things in motion, it is the minions who do the scurrying, the dirty digital data scrubbing, and the planting or removal of evidence. Olivia Pope, I don’t believe you; you don’t need more people…you need to actually DO something.

4. About That Presidential Affair. I suppose every sheroine needs an Achilles heel, but does it have to be such a douche of a character as the marginally attractive Pres? The most powerful woman in DC…is the president’s side piece? He ain’t that fine, no way. I still cannot decide if that’s a brilliant plot device or just…a scandalous choice in character development.

I may stick around just for this Gladiator…

5. All the White Women are Whiny. But then again, this is a Shonda Rhimes show. Never mind, Meredith Grey. There can only be one main character, but the aggrandizement of Pope’s character reduces every other female to bitchy lackey or whorish side piece. Great for Olivia, bad for feminist womankind.

BONUS: 6. The Scandals Look Alike. Sex, murder, gayness, sex tape, cheating wife, missing cheating husband, hooker sex, gay sex, office sex… ad nauseum. And if we already know that Olivia is great at having sex, cleaning up sex tapes, spinning hooker sex into stand-by-your-man sex…then what’s really at stake?

Nevertheless, I may still try to check out Season 3; maybe the producers will slow the dub down. Scandal isn’t awful, per se; I just wonder if the black girl acclaim it receives is more due to Kerry Washington! at the lead! of a network television show! with a black female producer! These are great strides. But I sure do wish the show itself produced as much excitement as the promise of it once did.

Note: I originally wrote this September 2012 before Season 2. It still rings true for me.

How to Be a Great Social Non-Drinker

That looks so good! With my luck, it’d taste like carpet to me.

The first (and last) time I went out for drinks with co-workers was a disaster. I have been a teetotaler most of my life. Social environments intimidated me somewhat, but I felt honored that they had invited me out to shoot the breeze and toss back a few.

My co-worker Kim gallantly offered to buy me a martini; scrutinizing the menu, I chose a pretty aquamarine one that looked like my favorite flavor of Powerade. As it turns out, I hated the main ingredient of martinis (vodka), which tasted like organic dirt. I was embarrassed, stuck nursing the drink and trying not to let my face reveal that I didn’t like it. I ended up passing it off surreptitiously to another friend, who promptly gulped it down like a pro.

Since then, I have picked up a few nuggets that help me navigate social environments without alcohol when I choose not to drink. If you’re like me, hopefully these will help you; and if you are a social drinker, maybe you can learn how to accommodate friends who stick to Sprite instead of Stoli.

Own Your Non-Drinking Status Like a Bawse

It took me a while to understand that, despite social pressure and advertising, there’s nothing wrong with not drinking alcohol at social functions. I would try and try to drink every time I went out, but never found an affinity for it. Your choice to not drink (or your dislike for the taste of alcohol) does not make you weird or anti-social. Don’t let anyone ridicule you for it and don’t ridicule yourself.

Cocktail or Mocktail? They can’t tell!

You don’t have to miss out on the obligatory pretty drink Instagram shot! Restaurants and bars often make non-alky versions of popular drinks. Try that virgin strawberry daiquiri and tell me it doesn’t taste good! Plus, virgin drinks don’t look as staid as a glass of water sitting next to your friend’s Sex on the Beach. You can have Sex on the Beach with Clothes On and no one will know the difference.

Turn Up without the Downers

Many people drink because the alcohol lowers their inhibitions and ratchets up the perception of fun. Consequently, they may go from 0 to 60 quicker than you. Follow the tone and pace of conversation so you don’t feel left out. Smile when you hear something funny. If your crew dances on tables after a few rum and Cokes, you can either be on the table with them, or the one snapping pics for posterity. Turn up to your comfort level, but don’t feel like you have to hug the wall just because there’s no drank in your cup.

Don’t Get Stuck Driving Miss Daisy

Few things suck worse than having to drive drunk people home. Be careful not to establish yourself as the de facto designated driver just because you don’t drink. Make sure you state this at the beginning. If your friends are too toasted for their own keys, call them a cab before you leave and make sure they get in it, and then go home.

Be a Good Friend to Yourself and Them

Drunk people can be annoying if you’re the only sober one in the room. If it stops being fun for you, know when to pack it up. But don’t judge friends too harshly for their antics, or go lording your hangover-free existence with a 6 am phone call the next morning. That’s the best way to alienate drinkers.

All of my greatest moments have been liquor-free, since I’ve never been drunk; you can still have fun without alcohol. Life is better without me pressuring myself to drink, but I remain open to trying new things. Best of all, I have friends who love my chaser-drinking self. My last and most important advice is to find friends who like you with or without liquor in your system.

(Note: this is largely not aimed at recovering alcoholics, whose friends need to be sensitive to the ongoing journey that is recovery).

This World Won’t Change You… [Video Link]

More than a flash of brilliance, this guy blazes.

RJ ELDRIDGE

Hello Readers,

If you missed the Verses and Flow premiere, or if you didn’t miss it but just want to see more of the poetry from that night, including a web-exclusive poem, “Fireflies,” or a replay of the Poet Moment, just click here and check them out! I’d love to know what you think.

-RJ

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Poets Changing Lives One Rhyme at a Time

The Ladies of Black on Black Rhyme ATL Photo Credit: Truecolor Creative

Fifteen years ago, Keith Rodgers held a get together in the living room of his Tallahassee, FL apartment. People sat on the sectional couch under dim lighting, hunched knees-to-chin on the staircase, or stood behind the kitchen counter and waited. Finally, Keith stood up the in middle of the living room with his back to the television and spoke a movement into existence.

What started in 1998 became Black on Black Rhyme Poetry Troupe, a collective of artists and poets. Keith started a poetry show in his apartment and branched out to an open mic at Mt. Zion Calypso cafe when his sectional became too crowded. More than just an event, the organization extends feature opportunities, networking placements, product sales, and mentoring to members. Many of our members have branched off to write books and do other great things. (You can catch my friend Reggie Eldridge on this season of tvOne’s Verses and Flow!)

When I met Black on Black Rhyme (BOBR) in 2004, it had spread to Tampa. I was green then, afraid of my own shadow, and certainly not brave enough to step onto a stage and spit poetry. But the encouragement and inspiration I received from the talented poets emboldened me; my voice and paper still shook when I read for the first time.

The Annual Black on Black Rhyme Week 70s Show Photo Credit: Black on Black Rhyme

It’s been almost 10 years since I joined BOBR. It’s grown to having active poetry shows in Atlanta, Abu Dhabi (United Arab Emirates), Tallahassee, and Tampa. Over time, my relationship to the collective has morphed from a weekly pastime to that of family. We break bread together. We have attended each others’ weddings and loved on unborn children as if they were blood. Words brought us together, but we are worth more than even the weight of words to each other.

Because of BOBR, I am a more confident woman. Learning from the poets who have become my friends enabled me to stand up on a stage with people like Jeff Johnson and Jamaica Kincaid and rock it. I used poems to break the ice on my nervous teaching days. I created a two-woman show with a fellow poet and held my own.

Belle Ayiti Benefit from 2010. Graphic design by March 4orth

One of the things I love most about my troupe is that they put poetry to work. Many poets are educators and employ spoken word as a teaching tool to engage kids in literacy. We do our best to put heart in the art of spoken word. We have done benefit shows for Haitian relief, gotten our hands dirty cleaning public parks, brought hugs to sick children at hospitals, done prison outreach, and hosted local radio shows.

My mentor also started a nonprofit organization, Heard Em Say Teen Poetry, to specifically cater to the needs of youth poets.

Black on Black Rhyme subverts the much-maligned phrase “black on black crime” and transforms it into a positive force for change.

I’m not a perfect performer by a long stretch. But Black on Black Rhyme has stretched me. From doing pop up poetry at barber shops and street corners, to traveling the country on the strength of spoken word–I am a testament that poetry can change a life one rhyme at a time.

We have a saying at Black on Black Rhyme: When life gives you back talk, don’t be afraid…to Talk Back!

So if you see me onstage or on the street, call out BACK TALK! Help me wish a happy 15th Anniversary to my poetry family; because of them, I will always respond: TALK BACK!

Can We Afford the Cost of War?

English: American Flag blowing in the wind (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“Daddy will be home SOON! YAAAY!” My mother invented this cheer to ward off the persistent question my brother and I lobbed at her. I was eight and my brother was three but we both wanted to know the same thing: When is Daddy coming home?

Her answer, “soon,” was neither lie nor truth, a tightrope walk of verisimilitude she could live with. Whenever we felt the weight of my Dad’s absence tugging, our tinny voices shouted her phrase throughout the apartment. It somehow made us kids feel better.

I don’t know if it did the same for my mother. The Army deployed my father to the Persian Gulf War around August 1990 and she understood, if we did not, that “soon” might never come. We were stationed at MacDill Air Force Base, which was the United States Central Command (USCENTCOM) Headquarters. Anything US military-related that went down in the Middle East originates there and the entire base was on tenterhooks waiting for news of our soldiers.

I remember the day he returned. A matte olive green plane sat on a tarmac with the door tightly shut. The giant carrier appeared to ripple from the heat waves emanating from the runway. Countless other women and children surrounded my family; we were all cordoned off behind a white rope waiting for a signal. Mothers crouched to the height of their toddlers to forestall a mad dash toward the aircraft.

Without warning, the door lowered smoothly and a buzz sounded through the crowd. Someone screamed at the sight of the first fatigue-clad soldier on the steps. And just that quickly, the rope could not hold us. When I saw my Daddy, Army regulation sack on his shoulder, my feet ran, my eyes ran. The four of us met somewhere in the middle and huddled together, crying, with our arms clutching fabric or skin where we could find it.

Daddy hoisted my brother up on his neck. No Army officer would reprimand the servicemen for their show of affection in uniform. This was blessing. This was gratitude.

My Dad never went off to another war. But the thought of eight-year-olds tugging at their mothers’ skirts asking when Daddy will return hardens me against any war. America has seen too many machine guns planted in boots, folded triangles, and empty spots at dinner tables since Persian Gulf.

But difficult as it may be, we are not the only ones who lose. The majority of our military conflicts occur on foreign land where we cannot daily hear the aberrant normalcy of bomb explosions or witness bodies pile up faster than shovels can dig.

Not until September 11, 2001, did I understand the true impact of a war whose blood stains the soil in your homeland and not someone else’s. I watched the 9/11 Memorial Ceremony today bawling, again, for people I will never know, for the pain of those they left behind.

I watch the country threatening war on Syria and I wonder if our shoulders are strong enough. Not only strong enough to bear the burden of anticipating, then grieving loss, but strong enough carry the responsibility for inflicting this same agony on other people.

I pray to God that we are not.