I’ve noticed that some stories of childhood trauma are more socially acceptable than others. Stories of parental neglect or schoolmate bullying are palatable for public conversation; other stories are darker, and make people very uncomfortable - those are the stories people don’t really want to hear. I have one of those stories. 

My parents met at my father’s record store. They were married in Vegas; I think they started off having a really good time. When I was four years old my mother committed suicide.…

Way back in the day, Madonna was the first woman I heard refer to herself as a b word; at the time it felt cool, rebellious and edgy. Nowadays it doesn’t feel like that at all; not to me anyway. Now it feels nasty, not the good nasty, mean nasty. Especially as I hear women referring to other women as b words. It feels degrading and dehumanizing. And it is everywhere, just like that other word; the n word.

The mainstream usage of the n word is something that still blows my mind; never in my youth did I…

I once believed that if a person was wise and courageous enough to follow their dreams while young and actually do what they loved for a living, then they would be immune to the experience of a midlife crisis, because generally speaking, the substance of the crisis is about acknowledging and coming to terms with where one has made the choice to deny one’s true self.

Will Smith changed my mind about that. 

For years I’d admired and respected him primarily because of his openness about the power of the mind and…

Hollywood. I moved there when I was 8 years old. 6519 Leland Way, one block south of Sunset. The things I saw and felt there made an impression that directed my life for decades. I was dazzled by experiences like going to the Hollywood Christmas Parade and seeing celebrities in person; going to Summer Camp at the Hollywood YMCA with a kid whose dad was one of The Beach Boys, seeing him being picked up in a limousine; attending school with Chaka Khan’s daughter and getting Chaka’s autograph when she came to…

On May 23, 1979 Diana Ross released an album called ‘The Boss’.  I was mildly obsessed with the cover art. As a young motherless girl, I looked to countless women for clues on how to be and in one particular department Diana delivered. I was 7 years old and the impression she made on me with that photo has lasted to this day and it has served me very well. In that photo she looks confident, bold, and beautiful. And her chest is virtually flat. 

She gave me a very strong, positive impression of being a woman…

I really love having soft lips, it’s a thing for me and always has been. When I was younger, I realized a bit of Vaseline on my lips before bedtime softened them like nobody’s business. At 19 I was living in Oakland, attending community college, waiting tables at Sizzler in El Cerrito, driving a hoopty, and enjoying a deep appreciation for Top Ramen. Rolling in dough I was not, so when I saw a huge jar of Vaseline on sale, it was a gift I could not resist.

I remember thinking how cool it was that I had so…

In these times, happiness feels like an act of rebellion.

I mean, how dare one look for reasons to feel good and find things to celebrate about life - every day? How can one choose individual peace of mind, rather than pondering the troubles of the world? How can one think of pleasure when there is so much obvious, undeniable pain? 

Contrary to popular opinion, my life experience has taught me there is no power in pain. None. There is however, tremendous power in happiness. There is the power to uplift and…

As a child I was described as sensitive and moody. I grew to dislike those aspects of myself as they seemed to displease the people in my life and therefore make life hard for me. 

There was a time when I was willing and able to stay in a bad mood for hours, sometimes days. I either thought I deserved to feel bad or that I needed to focus on a problem in order to solve it. Not knowing any better, I figured my moods just came and went; I didn’t think I had any consistent, conscious control over my emotions…

I am a woman. I am black. I am American. While I recognize and identify with all of those aspects, none of those things define me. The fact that my mother killed herself two weeks before my fifth birthday has been my primary identifier in life. It has shaped and influenced all of my being. Music is a close second. But surely, had she lived, I would not have had such need to find solace in music. 

I know I am not alone, which is both sad and beautiful. There are people who didn’t get anything close to the…