america, American, American Dream, Blue collar, Body Image, Confidence, Criticism, Education, Empowerment, Gender Inequality, Goals, Higher education, inferior, insecurities, role model, Self confidence, Success, Women, writing

How Dare You Come For Michelle Obama?

I recently penned an article for Jet magazine (that was picked up by EBONY magazine) in response to an offensive cartoon of FLOTUS Michelle Obama. Below is the article in its entirety as well as the links: How Dare You Come For Michelle Obama? by M. Michelle Derosier for Jet magazine and How Dare You Come for First Lady Michelle Obama! by M. Michelle Derosier for EBONY magazine.

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Full disclosure in the spirit of transparency: I STAN as hard for Michelle LaVaughn Robinson Obama as the Beyhive works to keep Queen Bey (aka Beyoncé Giselle Knowles-Carter) in honey.

As a nose-in-the-book Black girl who grew up in Flatbush when Brooklyn was still too hood for gentrification, I am here, present, and on time for her rise from the South Side of Chicago to become an Ivy League lawyer, and now First Lady of the United States. As a tall girl whose height was a source of constant ridicule, I am also here, present, and on time for the regal and dignified way she carries her 5’11 frame.

While I fully admit that she’s BBF M’Obama in my head, you don’t have to be a fan – or even like her – to find Ben Garrison’s cartoon, comparing a “masculine” Mrs. Obama to Melania Trump in incredibly poor taste and disrespectful.

offensive flotus cartoon

Other than a pathetic attempt to gain publicity, what’s the motivation behind it? What message is it trying to send?

Are we supposed to be disheartened that yet another Black woman is found lacking when measured against white beauty standards? Been there. Done that. And you don’t have that power over us anymore. We’ve been growing the list of Black beauties and #CarefreeBlackGirls who reflect who we really are. In addition to the Michelles and the Oprahs, we’re adding the Violas, the Lupitas, the Tracees, and the Yaras, too.

Is this yet another reminder that to be Black means to achieve twice as much and receive half the credit? Don’t worry. That lesson is branded in our DNA. There’s no forgetting it.

As FLOTUS, Mrs. Obama has spearheaded four successful nationwide and global initiatives: a campaign to address childhood obesity; a call to ensure that service members, veterans, and their families are properly supported; an effort to inspire young people to dream beyond high school; and a movement to educate and empower young women.

Additionally, as a fashion icon, Mrs. Obama has done what Kim Kardashian only wishes she could – directly impact the stock price of the commercial fashion industry. According to David Yermack, a professor of finance at NYU’s Stern School of Business, “For just a generic company at a routine event, it was worth about $38 million to have Mrs. Obama wear your clothes.”

Someone please call POTUS to drop the doggone mic.

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Sadly, in the face of all this Black Girl Magic, we still find an America who would prefer as FLOTUS a woman who posed naked on a white fur rug inside a private jet for British GQ, instead of an Ivy League trained lawyer.

Am I surprised? Not at all.

Honestly, I’m not even mad at Melania. It would be too easy to go down the road of mud flinging and pitting the two women against each other, but that doesn’t get to the heart of the issue. Our problem runs so much deeper, and so far beyond America.

Black female beauty in this world has often been ridiculed, oversexualized, or both. This fact comes into particular focus when I think of Sarah Baartman, an African woman who was tricked into leaving the continent to move to Europe, only to be paraded around “freak shows” to exhibit her ample bottom. Like Mrs. Obama, White cartoonists also ridiculed her figure in the name of satire.

Ironically, according to the 2015 report from the American society of Plastic Surgeons (ASPS), on average, a butt related procedure (implant or lift) was performed every 30 minute in 2015. And I’m sure we can guess who’s shelling out for that.

Instead of getting angry at this cartoon, I choose to celebrate the woman that’s being ridiculed. The woman who has spent eight years in the White House tirelessly serving and advocating for many of the same citizens who hold her in such contempt.

Like Beyoncé, Michelle Obama chooses to rise above her haters. She wins.

 

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BlogHer, Career, Confidence, failure, Fear, insecurities, Inspiration, NaBloPoMo, NaNoWriMo, Success, Uncategorized

Randy Jackson Syndrome

With his announcement that he’s leaving American Idol after 13 seasons, I can no longer claim Randy Jackson Syndrome as the reason I’m still staying put in my field after 8 years.

Randy Jackson was part of the original regime that included Paula Abdul, Simon Cowell and Ryan Seacrest. Randy watched Simon and Paula leave to pursue bigger and better dreams, and while those pursuits didn’t pan out very well for Paula, at least she tried. Randy, on the other hand, stayed put and became less relevant with each new, better-paid and highly celebrated judge wooed to the table. He became the tattered, old pair of jeans whose season had long passed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to throw out for sentimental reasons.

He was the loyal “dawg” of AI. Smiling and giving his opinion even when no one placed value on what he had to say – or on his successful history as a musician, entrepreneur and producer. Looking in from the outside (as I was doing), Randy was the childhood best friend you didn’t have the heart to break ties with, and the one who wasn’t strong enough to end the friendship. A friendship you both recognized had run its course.

I’ve been suffering from Randy Jackson Syndrome for years: overstaying my welcome in my current career field when I should have taken a leap of faith long ago and try something new. Like Randy, I haven’t been able to move on. Is it fear? Partly. Greatly. Whether the fear is of failure, or of success, I can’t say for sure. Whatever it is, I need to find out – or better yet just make a move. I mean, even Randy finally realized when it was time to go and actually left. When will I do so as well?

How about you? Have you ever suffered from Randy Jackson Syndrome?

leap of faith

leap of faith

 

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