On Becoming Human

When I was small, my father insisted that I use jumbo pink erasers to clear the errors off the pages of my homework. In his opinion, the erasers on the back on the number two pencils that I gripped tightly in my small hands didn't do an adequate enough job. In fact, instead of giving my assignments a more pristine look, they often left harsh dark smudges or worst yet, ripped holes in my notebook paper if I pressed down too roughly. Only the flaky pink residue of those ridiculous looking erasers were good enough for him, and though it infuriated me at the time, soon they were the only things I reached for. Though I stumbled often and still continue to stumble, that quest for perfection, to erase the mistakes, and to wipe my soul, spirit and heart clean has stuck with me into adulthood. In college, I once argued with a professor over an A- that I'd received in her class. Before dates, I would spend hours preparing showering, scrubbing and moisturizing my skin, painstakingly getting my makeup just right. Even now, I agonize over my articles, searching desperately for any errors that I may have missed (and inevitably there's always something ), only to have some commentator under my work either harshly or politely gather me for a misspelled word, or incorrect date or misused term. No matter how small, it rips me open, and I commence with agonizing over what I could have or should have done.  Lately, I've been working overtime to try and squash that, to embrace my imperfections and my humanity. To be OK with my errors and my size, my mistakes and my faults. More often than not, I've been excelling.  I awake looking forward to my day, I'm mostly sure at work where I've taken on considerable responsibilities. I look in the mirror daily and though I'm far from perfect I mostly like what I see. I embrace my breakouts and my scars, my cellulite and the bags that have suddenly appeared until my mid-twenty something eyes. There is no pink fluffy jumbo eraser for life, no magic solution to make everything clean again. Instead, the scars my life have born are embedded in my soul and my pain lives in my bones. It's only a dull aching at times, but it's always present. And despite all of this I've learned to love, and to thrive and to press forward and preserve. I've become human.

xoxox Chocolate Girl in the City xoxoxox

Images: Aramide Tinubu, GIPHY

Vh1 Quoted Me In A Commercial For 'The Breaks'

Last month, I wrote a review for VH1's original movie "The Breaks" for Indiewire's Shadow and Act. Yesterday, I was watching a "Fresh Prince" marathon that was airing on a network and I noticed the pulled my quote for a commercial on the film. How amazing is that?!! Check it out here.

So NBD but that Indiewire quote at the end, "'The Breaks' is... well-acted, and speaks to anyone who ever had a dream." That's mine!!!!! http://blogs.indiewire.com/shadowandact/review-vh1s-the-breaks-is-a-hilarious-tribute-to-hip-hop-and-dreams-premieres-tonight-20160104 #casuallyecstatic #shadowandact #chocolategirlreviews #chocolategirlinthecity #VH1 #thebreaks #blackfilm 😁😁😁☺️🎞📺💻

A video posted by Chocolate Girl In The City (@midnightrami) on Feb 2, 2016 at 8:20am PST

An Ode To 2015, The Year I Put Myself On

I've been waking up early lately, an hour or so before my alarm normally soothes me awake. I'm a very light sleeper, I only need a gentle nudging to lift me out of my forgotten dreams.  Some days I'm inspired to hit the pavement and run, more often than not, I roll on my side burrowing further into the mattress that a boy once called too soft. There are mornings when I curl up in the silence, content with my thoughts, or other days when I grab my Kindle which is always nearby eager to pick up where I left off the night before. Grabbing my glasses, I begin racing against time, trying to take in as much of the story as I can before I absolutely have to arise. I've always enjoyed mornings, (mostly for that for that first sip of coffee), my feet eager to hit my cool hardwood floors, warming quickly as I step under the scalding shower. I like my routines ,and the solace that I find in my new normal. It's amazing how different life can be in 365 days.

This time last year, I was in a rut, still bogged down in that 20-something turmoil of what life should be and what it was. I was mostly wildly unhappy, but I didn't want to complain. (At least I don't think I didn't.) Chatting with people who have a few years on me,  I was told to just push through, that things would inevitably get better, but other voices (two to be exact) told me to do what felt right to me, and that's exactly what I did. In April, I left a dead-end job and a stable paycheck to freelance full time as an entertainment writer. I was done, fed up with people telling me to wait. If I've learned anything in my quarter century of life it's that waiting is bullshit. Admittedly, I do need to work on my patience, but time waits for no one, especially not a young Black woman. Visualizing your dreams slipping though your fingertips is gut-wrenching,  and I was determined not to let that happen to me. Unhappiness for any measure of time is too long, and aside from doing the big chop four years ago, stepping out on fate was of the best decisions of my life. I spent the late spring and summer writing in a  little cafe around the corner from my apartment 30 hours a week. With that freedom, I got to breathe and reflect on the last five tumultuous years of my life. I visited Paris for the first time. I got to live.

However, four months of freedom got to be be rather burdensome on my wallet, so towards the end of the summer, I set out to find a full time position writing, and pretty much snagged one up right away. It's funny how life works because, as soon as I grabbed a full-time gig,  y freelance work also began to pick up. I was being sent to places like Curaçao, Aruba, and Memphis. These were beautiful places that I'd never seen, meeting people I'd never dreamed of meeting. It seems that when you open yourself up to new experiences things just seem to flow in. And yet, the thing about opening up certain aspects of yourself is that, you'll also discover other parts that you want to close.

As beautiful and eye-opening as 2015 was for me personally, I watched people I love and adore experience life-shattering loss.  Though I've been through similar things, it's so sobering to be on the other side, to know that no words or hugs will provide the comfort that they are desperately seeking. Instead, I just tried to make myself present, though I'm not sure I succeeded at that successfully.

& then there are relationships. Romances and friendships; those have shifted too. I'm learning perhaps that that's  because I've changed so drastically. For many years, I felt the burden of being an sympathizer, the buffer, the one desperate for everyone else to get along.  It became too burdensome a title for me to continue wearing, so I sought distance and solitude which gave me peace. I find being around other people all the time rather exhausting, I've found that it interferes with my ability to think clearly. Romance was a another learning curve. I think I've discovered that for me, love isn't always enough. I need plans and actions and a bit of aggressiveness.  Perhaps that's unfair, maybe there will be things I regret in the future, but for now I'm more than enough.

From Dubai to Paris to Jamaica to San Antonio, I went places in 2015 and experienced things I never thought I would, I swam in what feels like a zillion oceans, I've laughed more than I've cried and I loved and let go.  What I've learned most is to trust myself. People often have the best intentions but that doesn't mean their suggestions should be the blueprint to your life. You're the one who has to get up everyday and face this harsh world, so do what feels right for YOU.

With love,

Chocolate Girl in the City.

Visiting the Curaçao Set for Ernest Dickerson’s Latest Feature Film 'Double Play' Was a Journey Rife With History and Understanding

History is often told through the perspective of those who are in power. So much of what is written erases the experiences of those who are marginalized in society. With his arresting and groundbreaking novel, “Double Play”; Curaçaoan author Frank Martinus Arion gave the world a unique view into the island of Curaçao and its culture. Nearly 45 years after the novel was first published, acclaimed Director Ernest Dickerson (“Juice”, “The Wire”, “The Walking Dead”) and Executive Producer Lisa Cortes (“Precious”) are bringing this story to the big screen. Using Curaçao not only as a backdrop for the story, but also weaving its traditions throughout this exquisite tale, Dickerson and his team have begun bringing this story to life.

Shadow and Act was recently invited to visit the set of “Double Play” in Curaçao where I spoke with Dickerson, Cortes, and the majority of the film’s cast.

tepping foot on the tiny island, which is recognized as a country within the Kingdom of the Netherlands, the richness of the place is evident. The multitude of colors and faces shows a story of migration, enslavement, perseverance and settlement. On the journey to the set, we encountered both half constructed homes with crumbling facades, along with much larger buildings behind gates.  This paradox raises a number of questions and begs that Curaçao’s past be told.

“Double Play” is a story of an older gentleman named Ostrik, his return home to Curaçao after many years away, and his childhood reflections. Set around a daylong game of dominos played between Ostrik’s father Bubu and four of his friends, in 1973, Ostrik recalls the events that dramatically shaped his formative years. Black men congregating within competitive spaces is an age-old scenario. However, the combative nature of Curaçaoan dominos makes this setting all the more unique.

Continue reading at Shadow and Act.

Image: E.J. Dickerson

'Underground' Sneak: Heroic Slaves in a Story About Freedom Rarely Told in American History

Last month I was invited to Memphis, Tennessee to screen the first episode of the WGN Americas’ upcoming series “Underground”. Stepping off the plane and making my way through the airport, I felt as if I had been jolted back in time. Memphis is one of those places that seem to be frozen in a specific era, steps behind other cities across the country; especially a city like New York. The evening I arrived, I made my way to Blues City Café, a restaurant recommended by my hotel concierge. As I walked along the deathly quiet streets alone, I realized this was one of those rare places that forced you to slow down and really absorb what was happening around you.

The next evening, I made my way to the press screening which was held in the National Civil Rights Museum. The museum is built around the former Lorraine Motel, where Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated on April 4, 1968. Walking up to the museum door, you see not only the balcony where MLK Jr. last stood, but also the room where his assassin hid. To say it was eerie is an understatement. I’d arrived at this particular place to see the first episode of a series surrounding the lives of slaves who lived on a Georgia plantation in 1857. Still, the ride that “Underground” took me on that evening was nothing like I had expected. Though I am anxious to share more of my thoughts on the first episode, I will wait until we get closer to the series premiere to share more.

Until then, here are some highlights from the panel of cast and creators, including, actors Jurnee Smollett-Bell, Alano Miller, Amirah Vann; creators, Misha Green and Joe Pokaski, as well as producer Mike Jackson and the museum’s Director of Interpretation, Collections and Education, Dr. Noelle Trent.

On Coming to “Underground”

Jurnee Smollett-Bell: The way my agent described it was as a TV show about slavery. It wasn’t until I read the script that I thought, oh I get it, this is not what I thought it was.  I wouldn’t have done this if it were something that we’ve seen before because it’s already been done and done well. What excited me so much about ”Underground” is that this is a narrative we haven’t seen.  The Underground Railroad is a paragraph in our history books and the name that they mention is Harriet Tubman.  And for me, it was incredibly exciting to see these stories played out. These are untold stories and voices that we have never heard from.

Alano Miller: I think I was with Jurnee on this because I thought, I don’t know if this is going to be possible.  But obviously the script is just amazing. I think what made me feel great about it is that it wasn’t about victims. This was a group of people who were taking ownership. They were heroes, they were revolutionaries, and they were trying to break the mold. I think that’s a story that we just don’t tell. We have to change the perspective of slavery in a sense that it is something that greatness is born out of, as opposed to, we are just beaten and destroyed. So with that, Joe and Misha brilliantly throughout the series, just keep building these superheroes up.

Amirah Vann: Going though this tour after having now done season one, I’m so proud of what we overcame. I feel too often when I was coming up, all I heard were the horrors. That’s the only thing that was echoing in my spirit and in my mind. This time around, having been able to do this series, I heard more of the heroic side of it. The same story was being told, but I was like, oh my God, we overcame that, we built that, oh they fought for that, and they believed in that. There was hope, and that’s a beautiful thing and I want to pass it on.

On Knowing the History of the Underground Railroad.

Misha Green:  I didn’t know much actually, like Jurnee said, there really is just a paragraph in our history books.  I knew that it was an amazing story, but, the more we started researching it was like, truth is stranger than fiction. We couldn’t make up the stories we were reading, the ways that these people were fighting back.  From the beginning we knew that this wasn’t about the occupation, it was about the revolution. And to know it was based in truth gave it a deeper meaning.

Joe Pokaski: I was a political science major, and all I knew about the Underground Railroad was that square you see. That was part of what really excited me about this project, was how ignorant I was to the experience. I remember thinking as a really stupid kid in junior high that if I was a slave I would just hook up with the Underground Railroad, and problem solved. What Misha and I learned as we researched, was that most slaves were either recaptured or killed; it was the hardest thing a human being could do. As a writer, you have to make up stories about people who are told they’re worthless, and put up against horrible odds. This is probably the most heroic story that has never been told in American History.

On the Key Themes In “Underground”

Misha Green: I think about what kind of world we are building for our children. I think that is definitely a theme that you see in the pilot and throughout the entire series; because I think that it’s something worth thinking about. And also, how active is you activism.

Continue reading at Shadow and Act.

Image: seen at the First-Look Screening and Panel Discussion for WGN America's "Underground" at the National Civil Rights Museum, on Wednesday, Oct. 21, 2015 in Memphis, Tenn. (Photo by Phillip Parker/Invision for WGN America/AP Images)

The Bookstores I Used To Dwell In

Some past Saturday evening, I walked into a bookstore. A simple thing really, but it's something I haven't done in many years. There are very few bookstores these days, so I was surprised to  find the huge Barnes and Noble at Union Square open and full of customers. There was a time when I spent entire days in bookstores, in that Borders on 53rd street in Hyde Park, lost in some adolescent dream or another. I remember the day I discovered J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter, I was 10 years old.  My mama, frantic with worry found me huddled in a corner fixated and enchanted. I'd devoured some 200 pages.

Books were my sanctuary. I consumed them feverishly, as if they'd be ripped from my hands at any moment. It got so bad that my mama would make me return a stack for a refund if I got through them in under a week. (Apparently I was too good to use my library card.)

I still read at this rate, losing myself on the train to and from work; or for hours tucked away in my ring box sized apartment. Only now, my books are with me at all times. It's the 21st century and I've gone digital, something I'd thought I'd never do. My Kindle currently has some 800 + books purchased over the past 4 years, and that doesn't include the ones I've rented. I'd thought I'd miss feeling the pages on my fingers, the smell of ink and cotton. But I've adjusted and adapted, just as I've done in so many other aspects of my life.

Stepping inside the Barnes and Noble I paused momentarily,  waiting for the familiar nostalgia to wash over me... But it didn't come. I wandered up the escalators walking through aisles, and even strolling in the DVD section (I am a cinephile after all) but still...nothing. Surrounded by so many books I've read, and the millions I've yet to discover; I felt empty.

On the top floor of the store, I paused in the African-American section (yes they still have those) running my finger over the book bindings while sipping my coffee, when suddenly the lights went off. "Ten minutes to closing" the announcement is bellowed over the loud speaker. I dropped my hand from the books, and made my way down the the first floor. Pushing open the door to the cool fall evening, I pulled my sweater around me leaving the 10 year old girl I was back inside.

xoxoxo Chocolate Girl in the City xoxoxoxox

Image: Giphy

Autumn

Autumn has always felt like the end of the year to me, much more so than January 1st. The cool air brushes against your skin jolting you awake from a long warm daydream, sweeping away the summer's heat from your memory; forcing you to focus on the here and now. It's a new beginning.

Last autumn, I was picking up the pieces of my dignity, and scraping together my self esteem.  (In my work life anyway. I wouldn't call it my career.) I left a job that seemed to be crushing my sprint, for another that would help me pass the time. 365 days seems like a life time ago now. It's my 3rd fall with Daddy gone, and my 6th without Mama. Sometimes on random days as I walk down cracked New York sidewalks, phone in one hand and coffee in the other, I choke on my tears, the wound is still raw, bloody even; the band-aid I slap over it just seems to last for longer stretches. Time is for coping I suppose.

This past spring, I discovered what I'm supposed to be doing and I'm doing it full steam ahead, passionately and joyfully. And yet, as I close my eyes most evenings, asleep sometimes before I can even burrow under the cocoon of my covers, I have doubts. So many fears and questions. My skin is too thin, I crack too easily. I haven't yet found the courage to read the comments under my work. A misspelled word or a strongly worded opinion feels like being taunted on the playground again. I tell myself constantly that I'm not the best. My words don't flow as eloquently as hers and my grammar certainly isn't on point like his. But I'm doing and showing and proving. I'm writing and that's what matters. (Or maybe I call my little sister up for the billionth time in a week and she tells me this.)

If the leaves slipping from the trees marks the beginning of things,  then it's been an interesting year. I've grown... I think. But this year, I've watched people I love and adore lose so much. Too much. Being on the other side of grief is crippling. You understand, but really how could u? What you've gone thru isn't the same. I've awkwardly offered my condolence and my support but it's never enough, just the bitter choking helplessness of watching others suffer.

I've loved wholly and fully, diving in headfirst into new adventures. I've wrapped myself completely in another person and I've felt calm. That same peacefulness that you find in a sunset in late spring over the water. But then, the uncertainly crept in the, doubts and fears and the desire to run. To seek out something... I'm not sure what yet. I'm still trying to figure that out.

On Saturday I went for a walk. As the light rain sprinkled on my face, it occurred to me that in the last few months, I've spent a great deal of time with others. I'm used to being alone. I've always enjoyed my own company, the time spent thinking and pondering, listening to music. People are fantastic, but I often find my thoughts clouded when I'm surrounded by them, or even by one.

Autumn is fascinating, this nearly perfect season of second chances... It forces you to find yourself again.

xoxox Chocolate Girl in the City xoxoxox

Image: Giphy

Movies My Parents Let Me Watch, But Probably Shouldn't Have

Movies were extremely important in my household growing up. My dad came to the USA from Nigeria in the late 1960s, and he watched films in order to learn about American culture. Because of that, and my determination to be more mature, there were movies that my parents let me watch at that I probably shouldn't have. I remember seeing sex scenes and drugs on screen, and totally not understanding what was happening. That was probably for the best, considering the fact that I was one of those kids who asked a ton of questions all the time.

At first, my parents were adamant about not exposing us to too much too soon; however, they got more and more lenient as we got older. And it's the same story in so many other households. As children, we were all too naive to truly understand what it was that we were watching — and sometimes our precociousness and curiosity led us to sneak up late to see quite a few films that we were way too young to see. That's childhood in a nutshell. So, for those of you who might have forgotten, here are nine movies that your parents may have let you watch, despite the super mature subject matter.

Dirty Dancing

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HFK_i5r1WJk[/embed]

I watched this film with my mom when I was about 10 or 11 years old. It's still one of my favorites, but, at the time, I remember being equally horrified and intrigued by all the humping on the dance floor. It took years for me to understand that Penny had a botched abortion; I thought for years that she was just ill or something. Luckily, I grew up and learned a bit more about life.

Titanic

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zCy5WQ9S4c0[/embed]

My parents probably let me watch this because of the historical references and because it's a freaking MASTERPIECE. We were all quite uncomfortable during Kate and Leo's sex scene; however, what I remember most is being devastated by Jack's death. I'm sure my dad made me go to my room because I couldn't stop weeping.

Save the Last Dance

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dhAxDeSxYbQ[/embed]

I begged for weeks for my parents to let me see Save the Last Dance. After all, it was set my hometown. They probably shouldn't have allowed it, though, because I remember being extremely fascinated by the very tame sex scene in the film. My friends and I rewound the movie a hundred times, watching it over and over again.

The Godfather

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sY1S34973zA[/embed]

To my dad's credit, I don't think he was paying attention to the television when I watched The Godfather for the first time. I remember being both riveted and terrified that the Corleone family had roots in Chicago. I had to wait for years until I saw the rest of the trilogy.

Thirteen

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dad4-gQfhMs[/embed]

Ironically, the film Thirteen came out the year that I turned 13. The things the girls were doing in that film weren't even on my radar.

Patch Adams

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lZqGA1ldvYE[/embed]

I'm pretty sure Patch Adams was the first PG-13 film I was ever given permission to watch. I don't remember it well, other than the fact that a woman dies in the film, and there was an epic shot of the late great Robin Williams' buttocks. Clearly, the film was way too mature for my grammar school sensibilities.

What's Love Got To Do With It (1993)

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nbzbd2wUGao[/embed]

It took me a long time to see Laurence Fishburne as anyone other than Ike Turner. What's Love Got To Do With It? is a magnificent portrayal of Tina Tuner's rise to fame, but her abusive and volatile marriage to Ike Tuner is portrayed in all of its gory detail. It's not a film any child should be subjected to, even if they, like me, were sneaking up to see it.

The Color Purple (1985)

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d83NnlL83mc[/embed]

After sneaking my mom's paperback copy of Alice Walker's novel into my room and reading it in middle school, my mom gave in and let me watch The Color Purple with her. I didn't understand everything that happened to Celie, but what I did see was horrifying.

Though I'm pretty adult-ish, there are still some films that I wouldn't watch with my parents today, The Wolf of Wall Street definitely comes to mind. Luckily, when I saw a lot of these films for the first time, I was too naive to be embarrassed.

Image: Lionsgate

Sisters In Paris (Or Boobs, Snakes & General Confusion)

If you know me, then you know I don't do waiting  because I don't have patience. This means that long drawn out plane rides are the bane of my Black ass existence. Prior to going to Paris, my longest plane ride was to LA to see Sister. The entire time I sat in my JetBlue seat grumbling, and frantically clicking on the flight tracker to see what part of the USA we were currently flying over.  Getting to Europe was a whole lot worse. Poor Sister had been flying since the evening before, and I met up with her at JFK to hop on our AirFrance flight. Mind you I was still on the clock, so I was basically walking through the airport in yoga pants and converse while frantically banging on my laptop. When we got on the plane, my laptop died and I tragically discovered that AirFrance does not have outlets.

Somehow I made it through. After reading a couple of books, pestering Sister awake from her slumber, and eating several meals, (Seriously the best part about international flights is the fact that they feed you a zillion times) we finally arrived in Paris. We'd skipped the night so after leaving NYC at 5PM ET we arrived about seven hours later in Paris at 6AM their time. Obviously because life ain't always grand, our room wasn't ready at our hotel when we got their  so we did a quick change and made our way to Le Tour Eiffel aka The Eiffel Tower also known as the place of hopes dreams and happiness.

Stairs It Is

Lines and Chocolate Girl are not BFFs. Sister and I arrived at the  Eiffel Tower about 10AM on our first day in Paris and there were already several lines of death at every entrance. The shortest one was one where you walked up the tower. No ELEVATOR. Clearly, being the impatient ingrate that I am, I forced poor Sister who is still going though physical therapy from the demise of her knee climb the tower with me.  It really wasn't all that bad. With breaks we climbed the to the second landing in about 30 mins.  We squeezed in an elevator line and rode to the very top and then we rode down. On the way back to the hotel, we devoured some not so memorable food and saw the Arc du Triomphe I refused to get too close to it because it stood in the middle of this chaotic circle. I was certain I would be scraped across the street if I were to try and cross without any pedestrian walkway. Plus Sister and I were delirious with exhaustion. We headed back to our hotel were we promptly passed out until dinner time.

An Evening of Boobs & Snakes

I figured that while we were in the City of Light we absolutely had to see the Moulin Rouge show. After reading the Yelp reviews I was a bit hesitant, but I had already paid them my coins months before so I figured what the hell. After dinner sister and I made over to the show. We were promptly seated in the very front right next to the sage with a lovely American and Australian couple. (I know I'm going to sound awful but hearing English was lovely). Champagne bottles were popped and the show commenced. At first, it seemed like we would just be seeing a lot of boobs and dancing (and who am I to complain I love breasts just like the next gal) but then things got much more spicy. We saw, a roller skating couple who preformed flying acrobatics while on skates! I shit you not it FREAKING epic! Some sexy men tumbled about, and then there were SNAKES. Now if you recall,  I was seated right next to the stage. I could reach out and touch the dancers I was THAT CLOSE. In the middle of the show the stage suddenly moved back, and from the floor rose a giant water pit full of snakes. Not no baby snakes either,  some big ass ridiculous size boas that belong in the Amazon and far away from me. To my horror, a naked lady then promptly walked out on stage and dove the fuck into the tank. Clearly the first thing I did was cover my eyes. If you know me the you know I don't do horror, scariness or fear NO MA'AM I don't even like scary movies.  But that was not all, it got much worst. One of the snakes had the BLACK NERVE to inch above the water tank during the act, which means the damn snake was about two inches from my face. As I mentioned, sister and I were sitting with two couples, next to me was the lovely American woman. I nearly leaped into her lap. She was a super petite woman probably like a size 2 so, as you can imagine it was not pretty. Luckily, snake tamer gal quickly got her slittery friend in order, I drank a ton more of champagne and I took my but back to the hotel and went to sleep. (Well for a bit, is it weird that my body never adjusted to the time difference I would pass out for like 4 hrs a night and then  be wide awake.)

Did I Mention I Don't Do Lines?

I loved Paris, and considering the fact that I'm normally a Type A walking disaster, I only had one small mini breakdown. Luckily beloved Sister was there to hold me together. The morning after our evening of tits and snakes, Sister and I arose with the sun to venture to Versailles. Our friendly Black Frenchman at the hotel told us it was best not to try and take the subway all the way there, so instead, Sister and I took what would be the equivalent of the Long Island Railroad out to the city. After probably 30 mins of confusion once was got to the train station, we finally sort of figured out what to do and how to get there.  Unfortunately we discovered that the damn machine to buy tickets only took coin Euros, and it rejected our lovely debit cards SMH. By this time I was annoyed boots. I told Sister that we would just take a Uber the rest of the way because the entire situation was too difficult, and it was making me feel pressed. (Yes, I'm working on handling my stress in more positive ways...but whatever I'm human and ish.)  In response, Sister gave me a grimace of disgust (she's as cheap as possible, so she was never gonna pay for anybody's Uber), she then gave me soothing pat on the head and went off on the quest to acquire some coins. After Sister saved the day, we arrived to Versailles in due time, only to run into the longest line of life. Luckily, being the nerds that we are, we'd packed our  Kindles for the hour wait. Still there was some excitement. Some rather large girl decided to beat the shit out of her little brother while we were all waiting. Though parents were horrified and humiliated,  Sister and I were delighted. (Seriously, this is why children don't deserve European Vacations.) Anyway, we saw Louie's fancy house which was crazy opulent and insane, and then we walked about his gardens until we were fatigued to death and dying of hunger. We headed back to Paris for lunch. I got a shrimp salad that was life itself, and ma petite seour got a croquette madame. Then of course a nap happened. For dinner we had an authentic Parisian meal which was AMAZEBALLS and then we puttered about until 11PM (when the sun FINALLY set) and saw the Eiffel Tower light show. (I felt real bad because it was freezing and Sister forgot her sweater, she was a trooper though.) Twas a lovely day.

But, Where's the Hunchback?

After scarfing down some delicious cheeses and croissants, Sister and I ventured out of our hotel on our last day in Paris in search of the Mona Lisa.  After standing in line with our student IDs in hand, and a bunch of tourists who stood WAY TOO CLOSE (listen some people need to learn a thing or two about respecting personal space) we finally made it inside the Louvre to purchase tickets. At the counter, we were promptly told by the bitchy ticket lady that they only gave student discounts to European students. Sister hit her with the "bitch you tried it", and we promptly moved on to a different line. Though this lady was more kind, she still tried to get 15 Euros from each for us. No Ma'am. Not to see a a notebook paper size picture of a white lady I've seen a thousand times before. I hit her with a polite no thanks and Sister and I headed out. (LOL yes that was my Louvre experience but museums are free-ish in NYC, so i just couldn't bring myself to pay, plus sister had already seen da Vinci's gal during her previous Euro excursions.) Despite our cheeses and morning breads we were ravenous, so we went off in search of Laduree's macaroons. (Sister adores macaroons more than life....also during this trip she gonna tell me if we weren't sisters we wouldn't be friends!) After finding the place we decided to rest our weary feet and indulge in some Sunday high tea. That was probably one of my favorite moments in Paris, being as bougie as possible and experiencing lovely treats with the sis. I've done high teas before at Bergdorf's but this was a whole new experience.

Post tea (and Sister taking the entire duration of life to pick out the perfect set of macaroons), we went in search of Notre Dame and some souvenirs. Approaching the church, I got caught up with some insane man who was giving out free hugs. Sister saw him immediately (she doesn't do human contact) and ran away as swiftly as possible. Notre Dame was gothic and what not, but people were loud and rude, plus I felt a way about there being a gift shop in a church. I was also pressed about not seeing the hunchback. (Don't worry I lit my candle and said my prayer before I left, I know God forgives my foolishness). We rounded out the day with some stunning Italian food and then headed back to our hotel to pack. I would be turning 25 the next day and we were heading South to Nice.

To Be Continued...

xoxoxo Chocolate Girl In the City xoxoxo

Images: Chocolate Girl In the City (8); Giphy(1)

Life Is Good

Last Monday I got home from the gym around 8:30pm. I peeled my soaking wet clothes off of my body and dumped them in my hamper (I'm a sweaty person.) and I took a steaming hot shower. After my shower, I wolfed down a bowl of spaghetti that was left over from Sunday evening and tucked myself in bed with my new book.  I realized then as I was picking up my Kindle that I was happy. I am completely satisfied with every aspect in my life and I don't recall the last time I've felt like that. Since the beginning of March I unknowingly made the decision to be an active participant in my life. For the past several years (probably since I ended high school), I felt that things have just happened to me. And they have, many things that have happened weren't in my control, there was no way I could stop the universe from doing its will. Instead, I chose to focus on the things that I could control. There were positives, I basically kicked undergrad in the balls. My grades were bomb.com (DEAN'S LIST) and I got myself in an Ivy for grad school. But there were also other things, I became obsessed with weave, makeup and clothing and I went through a million diets which basically meet that I tried to starve myself.

I guess I was exhausted after that, I kind of just spent the past three years floating around trying to figure out what the heck my life was. At first I had some direction, some sort of end goal in mind. I had to write a full ass thesis and finish my Masters degree, so I did that...but that didn't solve my issues.  I floated from job to job, the first I felt was a waste of life, the second left me anxiety riddled and nervous, and the last bored me to tears.  But life is way too short to just drift about floating, and this past spring I decided that I had more than enough. I was tired of just letting life happen to me. It just made me feel pissed off and pudgy (literally I had a gut).

In March I quit the New York Sports Club that I wasn't going to, (their customer service is absolute garbage anyway so there was no loss there) and I found  a tiny gym around the corner from my apartment. (Black owned!!!) So while I was busting my gut, I decided to try and find a job that I actually liked. I have come to the black ass conclusion that I cannot do a 9 to 5, certainly not one where I'm supposed to be 'helping others', I'm not the best with customer service. I've had three jobs in the last two years. I've done my job in each of those positions to the best of my ability. I've smiled, answered emails and put on my best white girl voice. And yet as time went on, as I trudged out into chilling winds and stifling heats morning after morning and week after week I could feel my soul dying. ( Listen I realize that I'm about as dramatic as possible). I finally started listening to my self, there was no reason to be somewhere if you don't want to be. I hated that I wasn't using my brain, I wasn't being challenged and that deflated any motivation that I had to do the things I love. It's strange I guess, I thrive best when I'm busy doing things I'm passionate about or at the very least doing things that force me to think.

So I went out and found me a job that I love. One that gives me a lot of control over my schedule, a job where I'm actually using my DEGREES in film studies and most importantly one where I don't have to deal with people day in a day out. It's really been a blessing. I get to write about the shows and films that I love and I get to attend screenings and events hopefully fine tuning my writing and getting better at it every day. For the first time in a long time I feel clear, that fogginess that had clogged my mind has dissipated into thin air. I walk around in touch with the world around me, joyful and happy and its more than anything I could have ever hoped for. If there is one thing that I have learned through all of this is that YOU really do know what's best for YOU. YOU don't need permission or opinions to go after your happiness, you simply need courage.

xoxoxo Chocolate Girl in the City xoxoxox

Image: Giphy

ABFF 2015: Creators, Producers & Showrunners Talk Breaking into the Industry, Staying Encouraged, Being Mainstream + More

Over the years, we’ve dealt with pushback against Black stories being told on the big and small screens. At this year’s American Black Film Festival, a panel of creators, producers and writers of some of the most riveting shows on television shared their experiences and words of advice as Black content creators. Panelists included, Janine Sherman Barrois ("ER," "Criminal Minds"), Chris Spencer ("Real Husbands of Hollywood"), Mara Brock Akil ("Girlfriends," "Being Mary Jane") and Salim Akil ("Soul Food the Series," "The Game").

Shadow and Act was present for the lively discussion. Here are some highlights.

On Becoming A Showrunner

Chris Spencer: I guess it just came to me. As an actor we are out there auditioning, and we are trying to impress people. They stopped liking me. I was working with the Wayans and Keenen (Ivory Wayans), told me “You need to create your own lane, your own empire.” So, I started writing. I started doing a lot of writing for comedians, whether it was their standup specials or if they hosted an award show. I wrote for Kevin Hart, Cedric the Entertainer, Mike Epps, Chris Rock, I was always one of the guys they would call upon to start writing. So I was fortunate that when I was writing for Kevin Hart and the 2012 BET Awards, I came up with this little sketch called “The Real Husbands of Hollywood”. It took off because it was brilliant.  It went viral, so people were taking that little itty bitty sketch and showing it to all of their friends, they were creating fake Facebook accounts, and fake Twitter accounts, and there were petitions to get the show on TV. So when it sold, I became a creator and then a showrunner, but it wasn’t as if I sat back and said that one day I wanted to be a showrunner.  My goal was to be Eddie Murphy.

Mara Brock Akil: I wanted to be a showrunner. I knew I wanted control of the story, and I found out later that the name of that person was called a showrunner. I got to meet my mentors, Ralph Farquhar (Mosesha, The Parkers) and Mike Weithorn (South Central, The King of Queens), and when I figured out who they were, I knew what it was that I was supposed to do. I just sort of marched toward that. It’s funny that Janine is sitting here because she was an integral part in my transition from being a production assistant (PA), which is like the entry level role for a writer. Janine was Ralph’s assistant. Janine and Ralph’s other assistants were the advocates for me. The were putting my script in front of Ralph and when I got three seconds with him I was able to pitch myself as a writer for South Central.  When I saw South Central, that was the kind of TV show I knew I wanted to write and I knew I wanted to be apart of. But you have to first take that first step. So I wanted to publicly thank you [Janine]. I know I’ve thanked you in person. I had help, is what I’m trying to say.

Janine Sherman Barrois: You came sort of right before that. I was going to say you helped me, because when I saw you and Gina [Prince Bythewood], I was like oh my God, I want to do that.

Mara Brock Akil: Yes, that was when we were doing South Central. So literally like, Gina Prince Bythewood (Love & Basketball) was at that table, Kathleen McGhee-Anderson (Lincoln Heights) was sitting at that table, Micheal Weithorn, Ralph Farquhar, Gary Hardwick (Deliver Us From Eva, The Brothers), they were all sitting at that table. And Janine, you were right across the way and we all had each other’s backs. Even Tracey Blackwell was a PA at the same time. Tracey Blackwell is now an executive at The CW. Tracey was an assistant to Tom Nunen, who was at UPN and Kelly Edwards was an executive. My point is, the advocacy for me came not from higher ups, but from people on the ground, my peers who wanted the same thing that I wanted, helped me to get Ralph’s attention.

Salim Akil: I was just hustling and grinding. I actually got a film made and it went to Sundance, and after Sundance, Showtime reached out to me and asked me what I wanted to do next. And that took awhile. I wanted to make another film, but I was broke. So when Showtime called, I had something I wanted to do next and they liked it. I was going to produce it and John Singleton (Boyz n the Hood) was going to direct it, but that never happened. So Showtime said, “Well, look, we have this show that we’re about to do called Soul Food.” They asked me if I would go in and interview for a writing position, and I did. And to Mara’s point, one of Mara’s best friends, Felicia D. Henderson (Sister, Sister, Gossip Girl), was the showrunner and I got the job and worked there. I think I started at the lowest point, like a staff writer position. Felicia sort of became my mentor so; she asked me at the end of the first season what I wanted to do. And I said, “Well, I want to direct next season.” She laughed at me.  But, sure enough as a story editor, I wound up directing two episodes and then Felicia left in the third year and she asked me what I wanted to do, and I said, “Well I want to run the show, since you aren’t running it.” She really was an advocate for me to run the show, and I wound up running it. That’s how I got into it. I just felt like it was management, but then when I got into it, I realized it was much more. It was fun.

Janine Sherman Barrois: I guess like I was saying, watching Mara, watching Gina Prince and all of these other people, I just said, “This is what I want to do, I want to do what Ralph Farquhar is doing.” I didn’t get a writing break on South Central, but I got a break because I was around people as an assistant. And from that job, I went on to assist different people and eventually got into the Warner Brothers program. Warner Brother’s has a writing program that finds talent and acts as a colander to business. So I was in that program, and from that I got staffed on Lush Life, a show from Yvette Lee Bowser when she was doing Living Single, and that only lasted about six episodes, and then I got hired on to The Jamie Foxx Show and I did that for two or three years. And after Jamie Foxx, I got hired on The PJs, and so I did that for a couple years. Then, I wrote a movie that got the attention of John Wells, who is one of the biggest television dramatic producers.  He was doing The West Wing and Third Watch at the time, and he hired me; and that was sort of my big break.  I spent the next five years on Third Watch, the next four years rising up to executive producer on ER and then my former boss who created Third Watch hired me as an executive producer on Criminal Minds. And so it is this sort of advocacy of people who have seen your work who fight for you, because you need mentors.

Continue Reading at Shadow and Act.

Image: ABFF 2015 "Life of A Showrunner" Panel

I Stepped On A Squished Rat & Other Horrific Tales

Before I get into what occurred around 6:30PM ET this past Wednesday evening I'll just provide you with a bit of background. I've lived in  NYC for about seven years now, (3 years continuously and 4 years during undergrad) I've gotten used to the things that make the city unique. Everything from the putrid smells of summer to the copious amounts of rats that come scurrying out at you on late evenings. Yes, I've gotten used to it all; but that doesn't mean that I think it's acceptable. During my tenure here I've made some wonderful memories and bonded with some beautiful people.  However, the city has also kicked the shit out of me; it can truly be an unforgiving bastard when it wants to be. I've watched the sunrise from penthouse rooftops and I've seen body bags (with bodies in them) on the sidewalks. There really isn't any in between here, although once I thought I had bed bugs and it turned out to be a false alarm so I suppose sometimes things aren't always as bad as they may seem. Anyway, I'm rambling so let's get into the incident of the squished rat and other horrific tales. I've seen some truly monstrous things, please do not proceed if you have a weak stomach.

The Tale of the Squished Rat

Midtown is trash. NYC has a population of 8 million people and normally that doesn't bother me unless I'm in Midtown. Unlike the wasteland that is Times Square, midtown can't be avoided. My last office job was in midtown. Every day I would get on the overstuffed subway and commute 20 minutes with a bajillion people. Getting above ground wasn't much better. Once you finally make it to street level you have to contend with tourists, people who don't walk in straight lines, cyclists and a million other aggravations. I haven't had to commute in over a month (PRAISE GOD), so I'm not used to dealing with rush hour anymore. However, this past Wednesday there was a work mixer at my new job that I decided to attend. As the train pulled into the station I tucked my Kindle into my purse and made my way down the long corridors of the Herald's Square train station.  Finally above ground, I was nearly knocked down by a rather rude woman who I assume thought I was invisible considering the force at which she ran into me. Brushing of her attitude, I patiently waited for the light to turn green so that I could walk across the street. I watched the light change and my sandal covered foot left the curb.  As I stepped down into the street, my foot seeped into something, squishy. Gross, I thought to myself, clearly someone dropped something mushy in the street, it's just my luck to have stepped in it. I turned my head to see what the offending substance was when I saw it. My beauteous bejeweled sandal had just come into contact with a flatten rat. I saw the tail and the intestines just sitting there in the middle of the road. I felt my stomach began to bubble as vomit rolled up into my throat. I took a deep breath, and calmly walked to the nearest Starbeezy's where I asked for a cup of boiling water and proceeded to scrub my shoe and foot in their filthy restroom. Basically I should have stayed my ass in Harlem.

The Starbucks Pervert

Speaking of Starbucks, I'm sure I've given them way too much coin in the past decade or so. On one particular day my sophomore year of college, I was waiting for a friend in the Union Square Starbucks. I ordered my drink and beverage and took  seat at a empty cafe table. I noticed a disheveled looking man seated at a table not too far from me, but NYC is full of disheveled looking people so I didn't let it pull me away from phone. (This is before Instagram and before I had an iPhone so I have no idea what I could have possibly been looking at.) After awhile, I got the feeling that someone was looking at me so I looked up again at the man. That was my first mistake. While customers had been coming in and out of the coffee shop, this man had been masturbating. I looked up to see his rusty peen in his hand under the table. Needless to say, I abruptly left that Starbucks and my drink behind and I've never returned to that location. Not in almost six black ass years.

The Rotting Foot

A month or so ago, my lady friend and I ventured into Victoria's Secret to procure some lady undergarments on the Upper West Side. As we approached the store we noticed a homeless gentleman laying down outside of he store. Suddenly the foulest stench known to man permeated the air. I immediately began gagging and my friend frantically ran to the door to try and escape it. As we approached the store entrance I looked back (I don't know why I always look back smh clearly I'm a masochist)  to see the man peel of his sock. If its even possible, the stench grew even more vile. The man revealed a rotting blacking nub that used to be a working foot. It was awful. As we stepped inside the store the security guard was frantically running back and forth spraying perfumes  as the stench wafted in. Needless to say it put a damper on our shopping excersion. (I did get some pretty panties though.)

I have seen quite a bit during my tenure as a New Yorker. Somethings I won't write down here because I'd rather not recall them.  As long as don't encounter anymore squished rats or rotten feet I think I might be OK.

xoxox Chocolate Girl in the City xoxoxo

FEAR

I'm scared. Terrified actually of quite a lot of things. It used to be flying. The summer I graduated from high school, which coincidentally was the same summer my mother was first diagnosed with cancer; I developed a crippling fear of flying. This came out of nowhere. I'd been flying at least twice a year from before I could even walk.  And yet there I was, frantically praying to God and gripping my armrest as my stomach turned over and over during take-off and decent; even worse during turbulence. And suddenly just as quickly as that fear had gripped me, leaving me sweaty and exhausted at airport gates, it dissipated.  It evaporated and I soon discovered that there are far worse things than flying.

My mother was a bit overly cautious, which if I'm honest with myself is probably where I get my apprehension. Our safety was her highest priority (as it should be for any mother). However it often seemed ridiculous, like when she would sit in the car observing the street before getting out to enter the house. Once, during my teen years she forbade me from going into a certain neighborhood (there was a boy involved obviously.) I didn't much think of these things at the time other than to shake my head, or sigh in exasperation. And yet despite of everything, all of my rejections and eye rolls, my Mama's cautious nature has weaseled itself into my DNA. I thought about it the other evening as I walked home alone in the dark, keys in hand, eyes darting back and forth, iPod muted. Nonetheless, fear of the "boogieman" isn't what keeps me awake at night. Instead, its fear of judgement, fear of what other people think of me. I fear so deeply that I've made a wrong turn, that my thoughts and my decisions are poor choices or worse still, invalid.

Let me clarify. I'd like to think that I'm a very secure individual (def waaaayyy more than I was just a few years ago.) But then again, there is no manual to adulthood. Our world looks very different than it did even ten years ago. I suppose I'm always looking for someone else to validate my choices, to say that's a good move, or that's a smart plan. Instead, all I hear are the insecurities spinning around in my head. Admittedly, sometimes I give into those voices, telling me I have no clue what I'm doing (which I don 't), making me believe that I'll always be in this same spot because I lack the tools for growth. Those feelings that tell me that I am insignificant are what keep me awake at night. Some days it screams louder than others as I pace back in forth in my dark apartment in the middle of the night. Other times, its like a soft whisper in the wind as I move through my day.

Fear can cripple you if you give in to it. However, if you continue to press forward despite your trepidation, magic just may be within your reach.

xoxoxox Chocolate Girl in the City xoxoxoxoxo

 

Sister, You've Been On My Mind (National Sibling Day)

My memory is fairly tragic so I don't actually remember this happening, but I do recall my mother telling the story over and over again. Apparently I was around five or six which would have made my sister three or four at the time. A neighbor boy, let's call him BJ got one of those motorized cars and was driving it up and down the sidewalk. Sister and I were outside as well, being typical 90's kids, when BJ pulled up to me and asked if I wanted a ride.  Always overly cautious and apprehensive, I squirmed and puzzled over taking the ride. Before I could tell BJ my final decision, (probably that I wasn't going to go because “nigga are you a safe driver?!”) sister rushed past me and hopped into the car bellowing "I'LL GO!" And off they were, because that’s how sister was and still is, utterly unapologetic and fearless. 

We were pretty tight as kiddies (from what I can vaguely recall.) However, as a teen I became a complete turd. I found myself trying to separate myself from my sister. First weaseling away from our joint birthday parties, and then isolating myself in my room and becoming an insufferable miss-know-it-all. (May I just add that though I am no longer insurable, I still know it all.) Basically I was a complete BITCH and I can only assume it was due to hormones and the fact that my sister has always been cooler and more badass then me.  I was trying to acquire my own identity outside of the one we had together. (Maybe if you spoke to her she would say otherwise but this is my platform so... I win.)

Summer 2013,  just our regular ish

Luckily high school went as swiftly as it came and hormones seem to balance themselves out.  Partially because I was no longer a raging troll and probably because its now just her and me; sister and I have become two peas in a pod. We are two very different peas, but there is no one on this earth with whom I’m more in sync. (Sorry other homies, lover and friends.) Furthermore as of late a peculiar thing has happened. Sister has taken on the role of big sister. (Yes I'm the BIG SISTER!! even though I'm shorter and more child-like, I am FIRST BORN.)

My entry (and hers as well) into adulthood has been tumultuous to say the least. I've buried both of my parents, dealt with money and legally documents that I will probably never understand.  I’ve sold a house, started and quit three jobs, cried a lot, saw a therapist, smiled a ton and have generally felt overwhelmed and confused on a daily basis. Since I held the status of elder sister, (or Head Bitch in Charge as I would rather it be termed) and I generally tolerate people more than Sister, many of these things fell on my lap. There was no roadmap or warning and I've spent the majority of the last couple of years figuring ish out and piecing it together. It’s really too much for anyone to deal with especially a “baby-adult”. Needless to say, in the last year I've thrown in the towel and sister has picked up all of my slack.

A page from my scrapbook

I can't count the number of times I've called her in tears, or in a general state of panic and confusion. She has been my voice of reason, my confidant, my adult girlfriend, my editor and most of all my champion. Her words of encouragement have helped me punch my insecurities in the face and to do what is best for ME. Her advice hasn't always been rosey, (sister is the type who will tell you where to go and then provide you a roadmap of how to get there) but she has always told me the truth with my best interests at heart.

So on this National Sibling Day I want to say thank you to my little big sister. You are the true witch and I am a mere squib.

"When we were young we were brave but we didn't know it..."

#LiveForYou

xoxoxoxo Chocolate Girl in the City xoxoxox

PS. Sister, sorry for humiliating you with this post.

When You Give A Girl A Cookie... (My Favorite Harlem Eats)

Levain Bakery

Like the cracked concrete stairs leading to the front entrance of my childhood home, Harlem has always been familiar to me. It has always given me that same feeling I used to get as I drove down Lake Shore Drive. Chicago raised me and Harlem accepted me. The familiarity that I felt here before I even signed my lease on my very first big girl apartment is something that I will always cherish. And as much as it has changed since I first moved in; with new people and businesses, that feeling has never left me. Here are some of my favorite local businesses (well restaurants) in Harlem (keep in mind that I’m a foodie and I’m sensitive about my meals): Manhattanville Coffee

As a graduate student at Columbia University I grew weary fighting for a seat in Starbeezy’s on any given day. Luckily Manhattanville came to save my life. A family friendly atmosphere with posh leather couches, delectable treats it has truly become the neighborhood coffee shop. Though I have long since finished my thesis you can still find me in line at Manhattanville eagerly awaiting my almond chai latte and chocolate scone.

The Edge Café

Brunch is one of my favorite things. No seriously! I don’t play games about Brunch.  I was used to venturing down to Fredrick Douglass Boulevard where you nearly trip over brunch options until a couple of months ago, when The Edge opened up steps away from my apartment.  Entrees with a Caribbean twist, The Edge has everything from waffles, to jerk chicken, plantains and festival.

67 Orange Street

Pour Up! DRANK! I’m actually not a big drinker. If you can’t tell yet, I much prefer to eat my calories. However, 67 Orange has me questioning all of that. With drinks with names like “Emancipation” and “Mo’ Better” this bar/lounge reminds me of what  a 21st century Harlem Renaissance may have looked like. It doesn’t hurt that the staff looks like they’ve all just stepped off some fashion runway.

67 Orange Street

 

Bad Horse Pizza

I’m from Chicago so I’m extremely particular about my pizza. Normally NYC pizza just doesn’t do it for me. Bad Horse is one of the only places that stand out amongst what native New Yorkers try to pass off as pizza. Luckily, they only deliver to my area Mon- Wed, so when I want the pizza during the end of the week I have to work for it.

Melba’s

There are several places to grab Soul Food uptown and many of them are the bee’s knees. And yet only Melba’s is serving up eggnog waffles and chicken. This tiny restaurant is ALWAYS packed. So whether you are arriving for brunch or dinner I suggest you get there before the rush. Melba’s doesn’t take reservations but trust me it’s worth the wait.

Levain Bakery (Harlem)

If you give a girl a cookie, you’ll probably have to buy her another one because the first one was just too damn good. I have a serious sweet tooth and I take my desserts seriously. Let me tell you about the cookies at Levain Bakery. Listen Linda, THEY ARE EVEYTHING! Omg. Sometimes on my more greedy days I purchase a chocolate walnut cookie after brunch and eat it hours later in my underpants while watching Netflix. Sigh…life’s small pleasures. Cedric Bistro

I know you are sick and tired of hearing about Brunch so this is the last one I promise. Cedric’s is a true gem. A bit off of Harlem’s "restaurant row", Cedric’s boasts a wall of floor to ceiling windows and delicious cuisine. As someone who is constantly torn between savory and sweet selections at brunch, Cedric’s allows me my pancakes and my eggs too. If you are a late riser on the weekends, I definitely recommend making a reservation. Once you are seated, get cozy and stay for a while.

Cedric Bistro

Harlem Tavern

Hungry? Want a drink? Want to watch the game or listen to some jazz? Harlem Tavern has got you covered. I’ve probably been to the Tavern about 100 times since moving uptown. It’s my fall back place, my “first date” spot and everything in between. The Tavern is always packed but there is never a long wait which immediately sets it apart from its competitors. In the summer you can sit outside and people watch or cozy up at the bar during the winter. Either way Harlem Tavern has never let me down.

There are a ton of other incredible businesses in Harlem (not just restaurants). There are even businesses like Good Monster who pride themselves on helping business owners by providing digital marketing services that engage consumers. Harlem is a fantastic neighborhood so if you’ve never stopped by come visit! We’re all friendly and whatnot.

xoxox Chocolate Girl in the City xoxoxoxo

Never Dreamed You’d Leave in Summer: On Family & Cancer

I was born in the summer amongst the warmth, the air, the long days and the endless laughter pouring into open windows in my South Side of Chicago neighborhood. Summer has always been a magical time for me.

That last summer with her wasn’t anything like that.

There were no lazy days spent playing outside or curled up with Daddy reading the latest Harry Potter book. Instead, there were hospital rooms, heartache and the stifling stench of the cancer that filled the 13th floor of Northwestern Memorial Hospital.  In the middle of July, about a week after my 18th birthday, my Mama told my sister and me that she had cancer. As I sobbed uncontrollably, she soothed me and held me like she always did. She calmed my fears and promised me that everything would be ok. Two years later, nine days before I returned to college for my junior year, my Mama died. Five years have passed since that dreaded summer, so many of those memories have become hazy in my mind.

Continue Reading at Blavity.com 

Apparently Some People Think TV Is “Too Black”

I’m an avid reader of Deadline. As a cinephile and TV lover it’s a fantastic resource to the goings-on in Hollywood. It’s how I learned that Bradley Cooper wants to direct and star in a remake of A Star is Born alongside Beyoncé. Unfortunately, information wasn’t the only thing to hit my inbox yesterday. Deadline’s TV editor Nellie Andreeva penned a piece entitled, “Pilots 2015: The Year of Ethnic Castings- About Time or Too Much of Good Thing?” I immediately found the title troubling. Right now there approximately six shows on networks with Black leads. Scandal, Empire, How to Get Away with Murder, Blackish, Being Mary Jane and Tyler Perry’s lineup on OWN. Seriously, that is all. We have watched nearly all-white television for well-over a decade and when we finally get television that looks more like America in general, Ms. Andreeva is offended? I won’t even get into her use of “ethnic” here because… ugh.

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Please Go Away: On Kanye, "Nice Guys" and Other Nauseating Fuck Boyz

I had no intention on writing about Kanye and his disastrous interview with The Breakfast Club, mostly because I've been done fucking with Kanye.  Since 2010 he's continued to show his ass. Also, there have been so many others who have called him out on his continuous coonery. Here’s one particular article that articulates how he continues to be strong and wrong.

Kanye’s Comments About Amber Rose Highlights How White Women Are “Always” Virtuous No Matter How Skeezy Their Past.

I really don’t know why he continuous to slut shame a woman he was once in love with; a woman who inspired My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy (my personal favorite Kanye album before I lost all hope) while he puts his wife on a pedestal especially since they basically have the exact same job. Kim (because of her whiteness, privilege and plastic surgery) just gets paid more for it. I'm not going to even get into how foul and disgusting I find Kanye and his horrendous "30 showers" comment (or the fact that he condones statutory rape) because quite frankly I'd like him to go away. Perhaps we can lock him in a vault until he's capable of acting right...or perhaps until he's on a healthy dose of antipsychotics. (My friends and I also think that he may have Asperger’s which quite frankly makes all the sense.)

So as I said, I really had no intention of talking about the fool until I scrolled on IG while ignoring the Oscars and I came across this.

I was simultaneously enraged and amused. After sending my best friend a screen shot, I realized this is the black ass problem with self-proclaimed "nice guys" and fuckboyz all around. They really believe deep down that because they are average ass human beings who do the bare minimum to be productive members of society, not only are they supposed to win some prize but women are supposed to open their legs and hearts to them. HUH?!!!

Sir!! You have to be fucking kidding me!!! Having a job and degree are pretty basic. Hell I have two of each. And any grown person should be washing their ass on a regular bases and using deodorant! So I ask, what is so special about anything that has been listed here? I was horrified further by some of the comments that were left underneath this post. Foolish people (both men and women) cosigning on this nonsense. What baffled me was the fact that no one ever said, you look like a whiney bitch with very little self-esteem perhaps that’s why you don’t have a woman. Perhaps you haven't learned anything about tact, self-preservation and the proper use of social media.  Perhaps that’s why no girl will look at you. Maybe if you were really a prize your so-called "female friends" would have been tried to scoop you up. Perhaps (and I'm just speculating here), you're as dull as doorknob with little to no personality or hobbies. Maybe your body doesn’t "stink" but your breath does. Perhaps it’s the fact that your idea of taking a woman out is a basic ass dinner/movie date (SNORE). Or moreover, maybe it’s your disgusting entitlement that makes you think you should be rewarded for being an average ass human being.

I know one thing, as a woman if I had posted some bullshit like that about how I fill out a sweater and I have a degree and can cook a meal or two then I would have been called a basic, desperate bottom bitch, and I would have been laid to rest across social media. So why is this acceptable for men?!!

My best friend said it eloquently, "How did we get to the point where a Black man thinks that he’s doing something [extraordinary] because he's not in jail, or having children, etc.?"  I for one don’t know where we went wrong but I do know I'm not going to sit here and throw men a parade for doing the absolute bare minimum. And another thing, how dare y’all continue to act like women who don’t want ya'll asses are superficial moneywhores or whatever else chauvinistic term y’all want to throw at us today.

Listen, the common denominator here is you. If women aren't responding to whatever it is that you’re selling, its time to fix, tweak or upgrade your product.

This whining though has got to stop! Be different, have something to talk about, take her somewhere other than the nearest AMC and TGI Fridays. Here's a novel ass idea...Pick up the damn phone instead of texting.

Maybe these suggestions will help some of ya'll or maybe they won’t. Perhaps some of you will come for me and say that I'm a bitch and I'm bougie or whatever the fuck. Either way, it’s not me that has the issues with finding a woman(or man). All I ask is that if you're going to continue to be a bitch baby and go on and on about how women a’int shit and you're some diamond in the rough that no one has yet to discover at least go away and leave that off social media.

We already gotta be subjected to the Kanye's, Stevie J’s and Floyd Mayweather’s of the world.

#SMH

Are You A Fuckboy?

Chocolate Girl in the City.

PS. If you've never listened the The Read then you’ve been sleep. This episode “Say No to F**k Boys” was named one of the top 25 podcasts of all time. (Start at 54 mins in)

Food Is Everything! It's Earth, Wind & Fire (Nonsensical Things I've Learned to Be True in My 24 Years of Life)

Much like nineteen or twenty-three, twenty-four years of life seems lack luster as fu*k. I suppose I am officially kind of an adult because I make my own dental appointments and I had to take care of myself a couple of weeks ago when I come down with strep throat and a crippling sinus infection.  I also had to call 311 that time I thought I smelled gas in my apartment.  Other than that, I’m just taking it day by day, one humiliating fall on the subway and tragic use of the bench press at a time.

But suppose I have learned a thing or two in this life of mine, especially since graduating from college. I'll be twenty-five in five months so obviously I barely know anything but here are some things I know for sure. You can agree or disagree or whatever, it’s your black ass life. Here are some of the highlights:

25: Never let a man walk off with all your stuff. Please refer to this blog entry.

24. Always keep a bottle of solid deodorant in your purse during the summer. Since we can’t all prevent our thighs from rubbing together, the sacred deodorant will save your thundery lusciousness from chaffing.

Also your things will smell delightful

23: Reading is fundamental. Now I realize I read a lot more than the “average” person. Most of the novels I read are about sexy times but I do read a “real” book every couple of weeks or so. Anyway this is all to say if you meet someone who doesn’t read, be suspicious.

22. Don’t try a nail place that you hated the first time a second time because you’re still going to hate it, and its still going to be overpriced.

21. I've accepted that I can no longer tolerate weave sewn into my head. Either it shall be braids or a wig or it will be nothing.

20. Student loan payments are the devil and will kill your joy.

19. Delete your credit card information off of Seamless/GrubHub. If you really want take out you will have to manually type in the info each time and quite frankly I’ve never been that hungry.

18.  Sometimes Janet Jackson’s Velvet Rope Tour, Love Jones, The Notebook and Love and Basketball are all you need to get by .

I've watched this concert 1,000 times since I was a kid and it will NEVER be enough

17. Alcohol isn’t as much fun as food and I’m ok with that. Food is everything. It is earth, wind and fire.

16. There always must be brunch!! If you ain’t brunchin u ain’t living. (IHOP is life)

15. Water is the elixir of life. Like for real, it will keep the skin sickening and the tummy flat(ish).

14. NYC Grocery stores are terrible places and FreshDirect is the cure.

13. I take a sick sadistic pleasure in getting the hair waxed off my neither regions once  monthly and I don’t have to explain myself to you.

12. Pedicures and baths are Gods gifts to woman.

11. I’m not ok with childbirth. NO GOD.

10.  I’m not a fan of overnight guests or people in my apartment in general and that’s fine. I pay the rent I don’t gotta explain.

9. I've given up on online dating. Its definitely a massive pool of the craziest people you will ever meet (Getting kind of stood up twice in one weekend is all it takes.)

8.When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.

7.  The actor who plays Harvey Specter on Suitsshould have played Christian Grey in 50 Shades of Grey.

I mean LOOK!! Meanwhile I must look at tiny ass Jamie whathisname

6. Exercise can be enjoyable, as long as you like what you’re doing. (Crossfit and other boot camps are a smooth NO MA’AM) Running and Zumba are a delight.

5. “Interested men act interested”- Demetria Lucas D’Oyley

4. Some white people will never get it and you don’t need to waste another breath attempting to explain. Let them watch Friends and continue to be oblivious.

3. I both hate and am obsessed with kids.

2. TRAVEL NOW!!! RIGHT NOW!!! Not later but NOW. (I have some AMAZING TRIPS for 2015 planned omg so excited)

1. I’m running out of fucks to give. (Sister has always lived gloriously with such an outlook.) Meanwhile I’ve always struggled with managing my feeling with other people’s feeling and expectations. Something must have happened because these days I care not! Perhaps its something that has come with age or wisdom or perhaps I‘m simply depleted.

Anyway, like I said I barely know anything at all but those are twenty-five things I know with absolute certainty…at least for the time being.

xoxoox Chocolate Girl in the City xoxoxoxo

“What I’m Viewing Is A Little Different Than What Your Eyes Show Ya”: On Body Image

A casual-to-moderate gym devotee, I’ve always been intrigued by who goes to the gym. It’s so fascinating to watch what machines people gravitate toward, and which classes are perpetually overcrowded. I was under the impression that you could tell a lot about person by observing these things. But it turns out, the gym floor isn’t where you see people at their most vulnerable, it’s actually the sauna. (The women’s sauna specifically because I haven’t had the privilege of being in the male sauna.) Though I’ve been a member of my current gym for well over a year, I hadn’t ventured into the sauna room until last week. A stifling box full of body odor and sweat simply didn’t seem all the appealing to me. (It has also taken me this long not to run for the door like a bat out of hell as soon as my workout sessions ended.) However, like 90% of New Years resoluteness I’ve decided that 2015 is the year that I gather myself in order and whip my thunder thighs into shape. Tragically this means hanging about New York Sports Club for at least an hour.

I’ve vowed like many others while sipping my green juices and counting my calories to be more in tune with my health. And yet, as a Black woman I wonder if it goes beyond the health factor.  In fact I know that for me it goes beyond health.  As women, we strive for perfection, to have just the right amount of hips and butt, just the perfect handful of breasts without a roll, or stretch mark or piece of cellulite in sight.  I feel like there is a constant cycle of questions about my body in  my head. How should my body look? How do I think it looks? How does everyone else perceive it?

If I’m honest with myself, I’ve been overly obsessed with my weight since college.  Like most women, I’ve been aware of my body and how it looks compared to others since puberty.  In an effort to be “thin”, I’ve not eaten, I’ve juiced, I’ve dieted, I’ve worn corsets and so on and so forth. At first I tried to get away with not working out. (In my eyes, sweating was the devil.)  Senior year of college, I chopped of all of my hair and I no longer had an excuse so I began running.  Initially, I was barely making it a mile before feeling like the end was near, and now over two years later running I can run three miles without too much effort. (Of course this is when I’m in one of my gym going friezes which constantly ebbs and flows.) So now I have a tolerable relationship with exercise but my internal wars that I have with my body are a whole other situation.

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