Mister, is it true?


The Day of Reckoning is continuing its tumultuous peregrination across the entertainment, political and now sports domain.  Jerry "Mister" Richardson, the iconic, former NFL player turned franchise owner just abruptly declared he would be selling his team after an announced investigation into sexual misconduct centered around his "creepy old man" tendencies.  Richardson fashioned himself as a kind of antebellum-style Southern gentleman, regularly leaving personal notes and cash for his female employees to get manicures and ameliorate their appearance to meet the unspoken standards dictated by his expectations.

The aura and mannerisms of some NFL owners in general, a fraternity that is probably more exclusive than the clandestine Skull and Bones, engenders, at times, a kind of chauvinistic, if not sexist culture in which their pecuniary weight could be leveraged to allow them to rule like a plutocrat whose idiosyncrasies are not only never to be questioned, but ostensibly tolerated.  There is an ironic dichotomy in the allegations being levied against an owner whose influence placed him in the pantheon of the uber owners like Robert Kraft and Jerry Jones.  He has an Hispanic head coach Ron Rivera, an African American as the face of the franchise in quarterback Cam Newton, and a woman, Tina Becker, serving as chief operating officer of the team.  He will be forensically examined in light of the actual diversity his organization organically provides.  Somehow, one can not be mutually exclusive from the other.  Oh, did I mention that an allegation of a racial slur was part of the phalanx of offenses listed in the settlements.

NDAs (non-disclosure agreements) have become the legal instrument to shelter disparaging content of those accused.  From Harvey Weinstein to U.S Congressmen, this jurisprudent utility has become the de facto power play to protect from legal recourse after settlements have been reached.  Without fail the owners will close ranks and deflect, denounce or belittle the aspersions being cast on a towering figure such as Richardson.  His imprint in the state of North Carolina is legendary, almost folklorish.  Apparently "Mister" was just a man who liked to engage in "Jeans Day" at work with a kind of misogynistic indulgence that was supposed to be dismissive.  I guess he could not have known that the tsunami that began in Hollywood would transverse the country and find its way to little ol' Charlotte!

                                                                     Greek Life

The most recent deaths of Penn State, FSU and LSU pledges in the heralded, if not cloistered, world of Greek fraternities has brought the organizations under a much needed spotlight.  The question that under girds the tragedy of the senseless deaths of America's "best and brightest" at major universities is why would an otherwise erudite individual subject themselves to initiation rites that are tantamount to abuse at the high end and asinine, reckless, frat boy antics at the low end of the conduct spectrum?  Critics of the elitist, separatist culture of Greek organizations are going to launch a phalanx of  grievances to justify advocacy for the "death penalty"-expulsion of the chapters from the university.  Its proponents will market the virtues and societal benefit of these distinguished young men who when acculturated to the tenets of their charter embody all that's good in what will become the future leaders of this nation.

What's being lost in this tragic narrative is a Bacchanalian culture that permeates almost every secular university in this country. Alcohol, more specifically underage drinking, in its many incarnations, is as much a rite of passage on university campuses as going to sporting or social events.  Getting hammered, lit, wasted, totally drunk (sorry parents) is an inextricable and expected part of college life.  I have heard countless, gleeful recollections from alumni of prestigious schools about waking up in strangers' apartments or becoming so inebriated that their speech was slurred or projectile vomiting as their bodies fought to protect them from alcohol toxicity.

Beer kegs on the weekend ( actually it starts on Thursday evening)are transported like precious cargo to apartments, frat houses and private homes in every city in this country with a college campus.  Binge drinking is not an anomaly or aberration. National Lampoon's Animal House was not a caricature of college life to bemuse and dismiss.  A microcosm of this abusive alcohol culture in high definition can be seen at any Spring Break gathering.  If you believe that I embellish my position just look at the impact of cities that decided to ban alcohol consumption by college students during their forays into their zip codes for Hedonism 101.  Fort Lauderdale, FL for years was a prime destination for thousands of college students.  Intoxicated young men, plus high rise hotels was a petri dish for disaster.  In addition to students falling to their deaths because of alcohol impairment, the level of vandalism to properties became an untenable proposition no matter how many millions of dollars these spring breakers brought to the county coffers.

As a nation we rejected the idea of the prohibition of alcohol. We love our: bourbon, gin, vodka, whiskey, rum. tequila, brandy, wine, champagne and God knows BEER (ale, lager)! The ubiquity of alcohol is engendered by our do what thou wilt zeitgeist.  Thirty thousand plus people a year die from alcohol-related car accidents and thousands more die from alcohol-related diseases yet we WILL NOT  deny anyone over the age of 21 the "right" to imbibe at their leisure no matter the collateral damage to those who are not interested in luxuriating in the spirits so gleefully marketed with zest and fervor on every major network.  Miles Monroe said, "when purpose is not understood, abuse is inevitable." I have often wondered at what point the abusive element of the pledging process ( physical beatings, toxic level of alcohol consumption) became a measure of fraternal worthiness?

As a former naval officer, I understand and have gone through the indoctrination process, which in part mimics the physical and emotional rigor of the pledging process.  What is fundamentally different is that the "breaking down" process had a template and expected end in preparing me to become a commissioned officer in the United States military.  The ethos and pathos of Greek culture and their initiation process needs to be forensically examined and CHANGED!

                                                                When We Said I Do

Almost 24 years ago, the love of my life took a chance on forever by saying yes to my request to marry her.  This relationship has transversed three decades ( 90's, 2000's, 2010's) against a milieu of fashion trends, elastic social mores and ideological shifts that have dramatically altered the cultural landscape we once knew as newlyweds.

Our wedding, an endorphin-rich ceremony where I stood transfixed at my wife's transcendent beauty was the beginning of a journey of two hearts that had to do more than beat as one.  Our lives as a covenant-bound couple had begun and would usher in the "for richer, for poorer", the "sickness and in health", and test the notion of a love that is sealed by the Holy Spirit until death do us part. So much about the institution of marriage is conflated, distorted, and sadly vilified.  Many people approach it in a chemically-induced stupor, impaired by emotions, feelings and a belief that the rapturous high of each other's presence is sustainable no matter the rigors of life.

The truth is that the two becoming one flesh may be a seamless process physically, but emotionally, spiritually and ideologically the alchemy is a much more deliberative process.  I have long believed that God only allows certain things to be revealed within the covenant of marriage.  No matter how compatible, familiar and comfortable two people are before their vows, you are imbued with a new awareness, insight and understanding by God once you "jump the broom!"  Marriage is a fusion of at times antithetical views, life experiences, opinions and beliefs. The merging of two individuals as husband and wife is a life-long process- with love being the bonding agent, the sustenance supplied by God.

No matter how adept you are at planning the future, the vicissitudes of life will either serve as a sealant or corrosive agent to your union. The two will become three or more. Each year transforms the relationship into an amalgamation of new first:anniversaries, children's birthdays, promotions, home ownership, family trips, relocation and a variety of benchmarks to denote the new chapters of the ever unfolding life you share together.  One of the misunderstood components of this saga is the inevitable metamorphosis of each individual.  The two that became one flesh will evolve into mature incarnations of the doe-eyed couple that stood breathlessly awaiting to exchange their "forever' vows. The challenge within a marriage is to maintain a synergy, a synthesis as you two grow, mature, and develop into your future selves.  After the spectacular celebration of your public declaration of love and happiness, you will be inundated with moments that will either impenetrably seal your union or begin to form tiny fissures that, if left unaddressed, will over time become an almost uncrossable chasm.

 Stacy and I have been most fortunate to have raised two incredible daughters, opened our home to family and friends, donated countless resources anonymously to individuals and organizations and
yet imbibed deeply on the sweet and at times bitter moments of life. I am sharing this with you because after almost a quarter of a century of marriage, these tidbits are not things I picked up vicariously.  Even with the benefit of premarital counseling and incredible role models of robust, healthy marriages around me, these things were never explained to me in a measure that equipped me to navigate with confidence as these sometimes dystopic chapters had to be walked through.  Stacy Lynn Broussard, a young lady from the state of Louisiana changed my life.  She made me a husband, father, and provided me with life transforming love, support and insight.  What I want anyone reading this to realize is that the best marriages require diligence, patience, understanding and unequivocally the love of Christ to flourish.  I have had the time of my life with the love of my life!  I just want you to know that the optics of a great couple come with a lot of behind-the-scenes work which first and foremost include prayer for each other and the ability to acknowledge when you are wrong.  I believe in the incredible gift that is marriage.  I just want you to understand that it is not to be entered into lightly.  Selah

                                     I WISH IT WAS MORE THAN HIDDEN FIGURES

Another year of introspective review of artistry is probably how the more than 6000 members of the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences would critique this year’s Oscars ceremony.  Even with Hollywood’s self-portrait as liberal, inclusive and a global repository of diversity and multicultural narratives, it always strikes me how the mosaic of black life in this country that is celebrated in film falls within a dystopic stricture of  grating dysfunction, marginalization and an existential threat of violence.

Slavery, civil rights and the slums is the corner store of ideas from which our American-ness can be transcribed.  A twenty-first century rendering of us as sentient beings is still representative of the glacial pace at which anecdotal offerings of the historicity of black people is being integrated.  The Birth of a Nation, after much pre-Oscar fanfare, was not only conspicuously absent from the list of nominees, but the polemic subject matter in light of the Dickensian political tone of the nation was unfortunate. For the first time ever, a black man won for best screenplay adaptation in Moonlight.

The rhetorical question is whether this particular effort was so substantially superior to the legions of others over the many decades before it that it singularly and finally warranted a statue? O.J: Made In America garnered an award and was considered by some critics a magnum opus of our culture on the issue of race and ambition.  What it masterfully chronicles in the seven and a half hour documentary is an existential dissociative disorder masked as ambitious assimilation. 

Ava Duvernay’s “13^th” graphically, pedantically and compellingly dispels the myth of the abolition of slavery legislated by the 13^th Amendment of the United States Constitution. It exposes the pathos and ethos that drives, nourishes and sustains the carceral state in this country.  It however, falls outside of the bandwidth of heralded discourse and content to be found in the black cinematic trinity (slavery, civil rights, slums) of Hollywood green-lighted projects.  Changing the tapestry of cinema to a more expansive, “blackish” diorama has everything to do with appetite and efficacy. 

Because our history is inextricably and violently interwoven into the broader conflicted, passion play of establishing a democracy, extracting stories that promulgate fully-evolved Americans of color comes with inherent risk.  Movie making has always been a collaborative environment.  The stakeholders may come with a holistic intent of exhuming the lives and biographies of those who were wantonly disregarded, but the financial viability always holds sway.  If the American cultural epicenter for cinema is going to be compelled to do more than tangentially mine the trace elements of black culture, then the voices, perspectives and eyes behind the camera, within the corridors of power must also be inclusive or this self-aggrandizing “awards” show will in short order return to its regressive mean of monochromatic expression.