If hating Duke is wrong, I don't want to be right!

Published in The Dispatch

GateHouse Media 

I’ve loved the Tar Heels ever since the majestic white envelope with sky-blue lettering appeared in my mailbox one afternoon in December of 1995. I applied for early decision to three schools, and UNC was the second to say “Yes.” I remember standing outside of my auntie’s car tearing into the package and being mesmerized by the colorful images of dorm life. My housing options arrived a few days before my acceptance letter, and as I stood on the lawn of a 500-square-foot apartment I could feel a world of opportunity waiting for me in Chapel Hill. Just like that I became a mighty Tar Heel.

My trash talk began with my job at the Daily Tar Heel. Our newspaper staff had an ongoing bet with the Duke Chronicle, and the losing school’s newspaper often agreed to publish its masthead in the winning school’s shade of blue. One year we even wagered a front page. Another year, UNC lost to Duke, and our paper was filled with “funny” stories from our Chronicle colleagues at the other end of Tobacco Road.

I can’t decide if my hatred of Duke is superseded by my love of the Tar Heels, but my annual I-hate-Duke column (aka, “The Devil definitely wears a darker shade of blue”) isn’t unusual for a UNC grad. In fact, it has been inspired by a piece written by Ian Williams, a 1990 Daily Tar Heel columnist. His version of, "Why I Hate Duke," was updated in 2007 and runs in the Daily Tar Heel every year around this time.

“Now I realize that school spirit is a pretty goofy thing to some people,” Williams wrote, “but I'll tell you something: I hate Duke with an infernal passion undying. I hate every leaf of every tree on that sickening campus. I hate every fake cherub Gothic piece of crap that litters the buildings like hemorrhoidal testaments to imagined superiority. When I see those Dookie boneheads shoe-polishing their faces navy blue on television, squandering their parents’ money with their fratty elitist bad sportsmanship antics and Saab stories, I want to puke all over Durham.” Let the Tar Heels say Amen!

Fast Forward to last week’s matchup

I knew my school spirit had gone a little too far when the hotel front desk called my room with less than a minute left in the first matchup of this season between UNC and Duke. I had to watch my Tar Heels play their rivalry game while I was traveling in Charleston, South Carolina, “Gamecock territory,” according to our waitress at dinner.

“Ma’am, we received some noise complaints,” the front desk clerk told me over the phone as UNC missed yet another foul shot. The next part was fuzzy, but I think she uttered something along the lines of “a woman’s cries of distress.” I was apolgetic as I held my hand over the receiver and whispered loudly to my beau, “We’re letting the @#! game slip away.” My mother raised me better and, apparently, our friends a little further south didn’t appreciate the epic magnitude of a UNC–Duke matchup.

he Tobacco Road rivalry is always rousing, but I have to confess that over the past few years something sinister has come over me. I typically make a few digs about why I hate the Devils leading up to the big game, but this year I found myself aggressively posting smack on friends’ pages. I even got into a social media exchange with a high school classmate who threatened to delete me (all in jest, of course).

What I love about the UNC-Duke matchup is that no matter who is on top of the rankings, expect the unexpected when those two teams get together. Last week’s game was another example, close until the final seconds when Duke pulled away from North Carolina late to win 86–78.

Are Carolina Blue skies in our future?

According to college basketball analysts, UNC Head Coach Roy Williams shouldn’t be too concerned with the Duke loss, but the Tar Heels are in for a rough few weeks before the rematch with Duke at the Smith Center on March 4. UNC is currently tied with Florida State atop the ACC, but five other teams are within reach. Our chances of repeating as regular-season conference champs could soon slip away if we aren’t victorious in the next few games.

I haven't found a way to get my Carolina fever in check, so I’m extending apologies in advance to anyone within 500 feet during the next UNC-Duke game. 

If hating Duke is wrong, I don't want to be right!

Black History---Beyond the Text Book

Previously
Published in The Dispatch

A GateHouse Media Newspaper

In the words of Black History Month founder Carter G. Woodson, "Those who have no record of what their forebearers have accomplished lose the inspiration, which comes from the teaching of biography and history."

Woodson, a staunch advocate of education, forecasted that with each generation, we would move further away from understanding those critical moments in American history, and seemingly, lose appreciation of traditions influenced by American artists with visible African ancestry. For some, his concept is barely recognizable in our Black History Month recognitions, which tend to begin with slavery and then leap through history to end with Martin Luther King Jr.

However this year's conversations will be heavy with the all too familiar burden of a divided nation and here are some ways I plan to share the month of reflection.

My Great-Great-Grandfather
Robert Partee of East Spencer

Exploring more local history — Historical research has become somewhat of a hobby over the past decade ranging from searching slave registries in Rowan and Davidson County, to the North Carolina Transportation Museum starting where a portrait of my great-great-grandfather is on display. As I have mentioned in previous columns, his name is Robert Partee, and he was a former owner of the land that we now call The Spencer Shops. Land records have confirmed that Robert owned 140 acres in Salisbury, Spencer, and East Spencer. In 1880, Partee purchased 102 acres of land in Spencer from John Henderson for $712. After an unsuccessful U.S. Senate race, Henderson began secretly purchasing land to develop a depot district for the Southern Railway. Robert Partee was honored by the N.C. Transportation Museum for having sold back the land to Henderson for the advancement of the railway.

Trekking back through local history stirred an interest to looking beyond what we learned about our heritage in textbooks. Learning about people like my great-great-grandfather left me asking, “What else am I missing?” Partee owned land before emancipation, yet his legacy isn't well known outside of our family’s oral tradition. Since then I’ve been strolling through historical documents and discovering dozens of untold contributions of women and men.

Visiting museums— The Davidson County Historical Museum is gathering a number of interesting pieces for a timeline of the county’s history. Throughout February, they are working with local community members to borrow contributions, catalog them and determine a name for the section focusing on African-American history.

Another nearby museum, Harvey B. Gantt Center forAfrican-American Arts + Culture located in the heart of Uptown Charlotte, will honor the past and present though exhibits such as “Family First: The Inventors Workshop, with Dulce Tavares,” opening Feb. 4. Tavares’ research honors African-American inventors who are often anonymous. The museum invited families to "come with your own found objects or tools, and participate in a workshop focused on developing a new, creative, and experimental invention."

Embracing past and present art — “The Future is Abstract”highlights four contemporary artists working in abstract painting and mixed-media which opened on Jan. 28 at the Gantt Museum. As a fan of Charlotte’s native son and Harlem Renaissance artist Romare Bearden, there is a sense of paying homage to his life with art encompassing his broad range of intellectual and scholarly interests, including music, the performing arts, history and literature.

Supporting quality television programming — I am abandoning my long tradition of watching “Roots.” Last year’s remake and Hollywood’s obsession with slavery was too much for me. Instead, a few friends across the nation are planning to tune-in to some of PBS’s Independent Lens film broadcasts where we will hashtag and live Tweet together.

On Feb. 10, we will be watching “Get in the Way: The Journey of John Lewis.” This is the first major documentary biography of Lewis. Since Lewis’s public rift with the President, there has been a rising interest in the decorated civil rights hero. Amazon sales for his books, “Walking with the Wind: A Memoir of the Movement” and “March,” both ballooned more than 100,000 percent, according to the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.

We are also committed to the Feb. 13 showing of “Accidental Courtesy” an Indie documentary about African-American Musician Daryl Davis, who has played all over the world with legends like Chuck Berry and Little Richard. Davis takes the controversial step of befriending members of the Ku Klux Klan. We can always count on PBS to share some thought-provoking films, not just for African-American History month, but throughout the year.

The past few months exemplify why we still need Woodson’s concept. Critical moments of inviting the nation to recognize the legacies of everyday African-Americans who have made an extraordinary impact on our society through their art, actions and struggles can bring people together. What are your plans for this month?

When the little ones in your life teach you a lesson

Previously published in 

The Dispatch
GateHouse Media 

When I tried to explain to my freshly 5-year-old buddy that people once were unable to go to school or pools together because of their skin color, Calvin looked at me with that child-like smirk of disbelief. As I held my brown fingers next to his lighter ones, he said in a dense and lippy tone, “That doesn’t make sense.”

Calvin was right, “But unfortunately, it’s true.” Our conversation unfolded on the eve of a visit to his preschool class’ celebration of the birthday of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Calvin’s mom, Kelly, and I have been calling each other "sister" for almost a decade. We’ve shared in family dinners, holidays, heart-breaks, successes, failures and a heap of stories that would make our parents blush. In fact, I was one of the sisters in the waiting room when Calvin was born. His teacher, who reads this column, asked her if I’d speak about the MLK holiday. I am accustomed to writing about cultural and historical figures, but it’s been awhile since I’ve had a speaking engagement. I’m not sure what made me more nervous: the invitation to speak or the task of trying to explain civil rights to 3- to 5-year-olds.

I turned to social media for ideas — only to find a decorating craft on a toilet paper roll. I am not sure who thought up that idea. (Kelly assures me that preschoolers are likely to come home with anything attached to a toilet paper roll.) I didn’t think anything short of a schoolwide stomach bug could produce enough resources for the activity. There had to be a better way to honor the legacy of a slain civil rights hero.

And then there were lofty guides, produced by people with lots of letters behind their names, with titles like “Talking to Our Children about Racism & Diversity.” The guide encouraged people not to shelter children from the harsh realities of bigotry. “Five- to 8-year-olds begin to place value judgments on similarities and differences. They often rank the things in their world from ‘best’ to ‘worst.’ They like to win and hate to lose. They choose best friends. They get left out of games and clubs, and they exclude others — sometimes because of race, ethnicity and religion,” according to this guide.

With all due respect to people above my pay grade, I only had three to five minutes to share and I was almost certain that it would take me longer to define the word “bigotry” than to explain the benefits of welcoming people of all backgrounds.

The night before the presentation, I had nothing (except a heightened respect for people who effectively communicate with preschoolers on a regular basis). It wasn’t until the morning of the event, when I asked Calvin what I should say about King and his birthday, that it clicked. Calvin’s little face lit up because we both genuinely love a good birthday celebration. In fact, he often invites me to impromptu celebrations for his stuffed animals. We decided that cake, cupcakes, singing and candles would be in order for King.

We also decided that art should be on the agenda, so we printed an outline of King’s face for the kids to color. I had so much to say about the women of the civil rights movement, the new Jim Crow and modern examples of segregation, but I decided to step down off of my soapbox long enough to listen. 

Through conversations with the little boy I’ve loved since the moment his mommy introduced us at the hospital, I was reminded that some lessons are better lived out. I’ve seen more people come together through hospital beds, battlefields, dinner tables and classrooms than soapboxes. The words of Dr. King still echo through history: “I have a dream that one day … little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.”

Indeed, interpersonal relationships are probably the only way that we will continue to value the lives and opinions of people that appear to be different from us. I will never forget when some of my south Georgia family members, who witnessed brutality against African Americans, began looking at my friendship with Kelly differently. Over the years, living our version of “sisterhood” has challenged their willingness to trust friendships outside of color lines.

Hopefully Calvin has a little more time before having to answer questions about why one of his aunties has a different skin color. For now, I will enjoy experiencing King’s dream through the example of my little friend, who managed to bypass all my complicated explanations about acceptance with a truth summed up in four simple words: “All skin is beautiful.”

The Sisterhood & Calvin

When Hidden Figures Make History

Recently published in The Dispatch 

Scrolling through microfilm from the late 1950s and early 1960s has given me a new appreciation for women who worked behind the scenes, but are often missing from historical media. Hours of digesting newspapers with lengthy “women sections,” dedicated primarily to homemaking tips and how to “appear pleasing” at work, left me eager to find underrepresented stories.

My friends at the Davidson County Historical Museum are always good sports when it comes to my little research projects. While working with the museum to gather information about the Washington Park Pool, Museum Registrar Caitlin Williams sent me a story from July 1951 with a cringe warning.

The lead sentence reads, "Women can be very enthusiastic creatures, and when they get really set on an idea they are apt to do something about it, but when Uncle Sam says 'No,' it will stop them every time. The later part of May the Lexington Charity League decided they were going to do something about the long-needed Negro swimming pool for Lexington." Apparently, 18 members of the league demanded a meeting “in the sweltering sun” with business leaders, county and city officials to determine feasible properties.

Caitlin was right; the depiction of these women made me cringe. The reporter’s word choice said a lot about the way women were considered during this era. He writes, “Then the boom fell. Supt. of Schools L.E. Andrews, who had been adding with the project, received a notice in connection with his school building business stating that no pool whatsoever can be constructed now under a new NPA ruling.” The most cringe-worthy aspect of the story was the smug closing. “The ladies are much disappointed that their feverish activities ended in such an abrupt manner, but perhaps someday their project can be launched again.”

Relaunch it did, but details are slim. Not a single woman’s name was mentioned in the 1951 news story, and the newspaper coverage of how Washington Park went from being ruled out to actually happening is spotty at best - except for the 1955 property transaction. The deed states that owners Joe H. White and wife Virginia along with R. Bruce Smith and wife Eleanor agreed to sell the land for the sum of one dollar to the city for “construction of a swimming pool and recreation park” located on the Old Florida School Property surrounded by “residences for colored citizens.”

The property was outside of the corporate city limits, but an agreement was reached for the city to construct and maintain the park. On the rare chance that I might be able to contact one of the original owners, I sought out the obituary of Mrs. Virginia McCrary White. White died in 2006 at the age of 94, but her obituary and the newspaper article helped confirm some of my suspicions stating, “She was lifelong resident of Lexington and graduated from Duke University in the Class of 1933. She was a member of the Charity League of Lexington.” We may never know exactly what role she and her friends played in our local history, but I can only imagine.

When reading old news reports, it seems like decades of behind-the-scenes stories were missing. Most recently, the film “Hidden Figures” introduced three brilliant African-American women at NASA — Katherine Johnson, Dorothy Vaughan and Mary Jackson — who served as the brains behind the launch of astronaut John Glenn into orbit, a stunning achievement that restored the nation's confidence and galvanized the world. The film was my first exposure to these women’s stories.

I had a moment of reckoning when a friend sent me The Washington Post story about journalist Clare Hollingworth. She died on Jan. 10 at the age of 105. She led a colorful life and had a lengthy career covering wars around the world. She was described in print this way: "Dressed in a tailored safari suit and sometimes packing a pearl-handled revolver, Ms. Hollingworth marched with troops, witnessed firefights, traveled to rebel hideouts and rode along during aerial bombing runs. In Kashmir, motoring across a bridge that had come under shelling by Pakistani troops, she gushed to a colleague, 'Now, this is what makes life worth living!’”

A friend asked how a former Charity League member, African-American woman and journalist missed these important stories. Women were not “allowed” in the forefront of our media, their stories were not valued and never taught. I can only affirm my commitment to seeking and sharing untold perspectives. 

Let these figures be hidden no more.

Proving once again that Lexington BBQ is the best in the land!

A modified portion of this blog post was Published in The Dispatch Thursday, October 20^th 2016  

For a girl who rarely eats pork (other than bacon), there is nothing more alluring than this mouthwatering time of year when our town is filled with the aroma of wood-smoked shoulder, drizzled in a sweet red sauce, chopped to perfection and served up as part of the celebration known throughout the world as the Lexington Barbecue Festival.

As I child, I remember the fall tradition of heading uptown for live music, crafts galore and juicy barbecue sandwiches. Those were years I could barely fit my tiny hands around the mound of meat, with perfectly caramelized edges, and topped with the phenomenon of zesty, red barbecue slaw.

Looking back, Lexington barbecue was my first “foodie” experience and little did I know before heading east for college, I had become a bonafide barbecue snob. I even managed to convert college buddies from the north and east. It wasn’t hard to do. After all, Chapel Hill had a lot of perks, but the blessing of good barbecue was not one of them. Each year, I brought a caravan of classmates to the festival and wowed them with the virtues of the World’s Best 'Que. Many conceded that thou shalt not eat a chopped sandwich any other way.

As an adult, I’ve come to appreciate new traditions that are considered extensions of the festival. The Hawg-Run and Pre-Pig Shindig are two of my favorite special attractions. And over the past few years, the Fine Swine Wine and the evolution of the Barbecue Festival Wine Garden have made it a destination for my vino loving buddies.

It is still all about the ‘cue, but for way too long beer has been the standard accompaniment for barbecue aficionados. The growing demand for wine pairings was a tasty proposition that probably began with the remarkable partnership between Bob Timberlake and Richard Childress. For the past 12 years the dynamic duo has joined forces to create Fine Swine Wine, specially blended to complement Lexington barbecue.

This year’s label, “Piglet’s Moon,” pictures a piglet gazing into the night sky. Timberlake’s painting, in honor of Charlotte’s Web, pays a sweet homage to the birth of his great-granddaughter, Charlotte.

The 12th installment of Fine Swine Wine, crafted by award-winning winemaker Mark Friszolowski, will make an appearance at the 33rd annual festival. Friszolowski described the wine with these words, “This year’s blend features rich, bright flavors of cherry and ripe strawberry. Soft and smooth tannins provide an enticing palette for the smoky, Lexington barbecue flavors.” I’ve tasted the blend and couldn’t agree more.

And this year for the first time, Our State Magazine will join forces with returning host TRIP (the Davidson County Tourism Recreation Investment Partnership) to sponsor a wine garden featuring selections from award-winning North Carolina vineyards and our friends at Bull City Ciderworks.

Thanks to this partnership we will be able to sample a variety of N.C. varietals - from bold reds and sweet whites to crisp Rieslings brought to us by Childress Vineyards, Native Vines Winery, Weathervane Winery, Cauble Creek Vineyard, Douglas Vineyard, and Chestnut Trail Winery.

Native Vines Winery was a hit with my buddies a few years ago with their popular Green Tea Wine. This Native American Indian family-owned and operated company was the first in the nation. The winery was built on a farm that has been in the owner's family for hundreds of years and was part of the original Wachovia Land Grants of the 1700s. I’m not much of a sweet wine person, but Native Vines has been producing seasonal fruit wines since 1998, with a focus on apple and blackberry. The popular green tea wine is a non-grape white wine with hints of citrus and green tea. It's so unique that I can only compare it to a softer style of Riesling that doesn't compete with the smoked barbecue flavor and as one friend confirmed, it is light enough to give the illusion of being healthy.

Wine tastings are one of the many aspects of a festival appeal, but there is truly something for all ages from rides and games for children, to the an array of stages, to family friendly attractions like the antique car show, the Hogway Speedway - racing pigs, a bicycle stunt show, a 50-ton pig-themed sand sculpture, a Corvette display, the Festival Chop Shop - Lumberjack Sports show, and a rock climbing wall.

I've enjoyed it all, but I have to admit that at any age nothing tops my annual tradition of stopping by the Square for a chopped sandwhich, red slaw and pigtail french fries served in the signature style that has always made me proud to call my hometown The Barbecue Capital of the World.

Antionette Kerr is a writer and author of “Just Sayin': Conversations My Mother Would Never Let Me Have at a Southern Dinner Table.” You may email her at akerr@thewritefolks.net.

#worldsbestq #lexingtonnc #bbqfest33 #queup

The Wonky Side of Gene Wilder

By Antionette Kerr

Wednesday, August 31st 2016

Full Text of Original Column Published By The Dispatch

_______________________________________ 

"The suspense is terrible...

I hope it'll last.” 

Gene Wilder  

_______________________________________

Growing up there was nothing more magical than the quirky smile of Gene Wilder and his witty lines as Willy Wonka in "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." Born Jerome Silberman, Mr. Wilder died this week at the age of 83. Throughout his career, he approached each role with comedic timing, wisecracks and intrigue beyond our imaginations.

He made us laugh in the strangest ways in iconic films such as "The Producers," "Young Frankenstein,” and "Blazing Saddles." All of these solidified Wilder’s role as a beloved jokester. But he stumbled upon acting for more serious reasons.

Wilder first became interested in acting as a young boy while trying to make his mother laugh after she was diagnosed with rheumatic fever. A doctor warned him not to display anger or happiness in front of his emotionally fragile mother.

_________________________________________________________________________________

"My mother was suffering every day of her life, and what right did I have to be 

happy if she was suffering? So whenever I got happy about something, I felt 

the need to cut it off, and the only way to cut it off was to pray. 'Forgive me Lord.' 

For what, I didn't know."  

Gene Wilder

______________________________________________________

His family quickly discovered his larger-than-life persona needed nurturing so they sent the young artist to Black-Foxe military institute in Hollywood. Wilder stayed there briefly after reports of being bullied and assaulted due to his Jewish faith.

Later the actor decided that he didn’t like how “Starring Jerry Silberman” look on playbills. He adopted “Gene” because of Thomas Wolfe's character, Eugene Gant, in "Look Homeward, Angel" and "Of Time and the River" and “Wilder” because of his admiration of novelist Thorton Wilder.

Wilder shared these and other intriguing stories in his 2005 Memoir “Kiss Me Like A Stranger: My Search for Love and Art.” At age 71 when he penned the book, the comedian was in a position to be brutally honest about life, love and what I would describe as a career surrounded by lovable weirdos. The book begins with him walking nervously into a psychiatrist office in 1962, and sessions discussing serious accounts of his early life and career.

Probably one of most intriguing influences on Wilder (who became known as the charming crazy guy in most films) came as he was drafted into the Army on September 10, 1956 and sent to Fort Sam Houston for training. He served in the Medical Corps in order to stay near New York City and attend acting classes. During that time Wilder worked as a paramedic in the Department of Psychiatry and Neurology at Valley Forge Army Hospital, in Phoenixville, Pennsylvania.

Wilder lost his mother to a battle with ovarian cancer and was discharged from the army a year later. He returned to acting school and survived on unemployment insurance and odd jobs until his big break. It turned out that the wiry haired man could play "insane" so well he became an overnight success at 34-years old. Wilder's career soared, starring in many of famed screenwriter and director Mel Brooks' comedies.

_________________________________________________________________________________

 “If the physical thing you're doing is funny, you don't have to act funny 

while doing it...Just be real and it will be funnier” 

Gene Wilder, Kiss Me Like a Stranger: 

My Search for Love and Art

_________________________________________________________________________________

What intrigued me the most about Wilder’s story was his camaraderie with Richard Pryor. As a Pryor fan, some of my earliest memories of Wilder was his portrayal Dave Lyons, a hearing impaired man who witnesses a murder that Pryor's character hears in "See No Evil, Hear No Evil." And the mere mention of the duo dressed in zany big chicken costumes from the film "Stir Crazy" makes me smile.

Little did I know that as "Stir Crazy" was filmed, Pryor was experiencing problems with drug abuse. In 1980, the same year it was released, Pryor set himself on fire after freebasing cocaine and drinking 151-proof rum. In 2005, Wilder told the London Independent that the two were never close socially, and he was not aware of the Pryor’s drug use. “Until he set fire to himself, when he was freebasing,” he said. “Then I knew.”

Pryor's near-fatal addiction was the subject of his autobiographical film, "Jo Jo Dancer, Your Life is Calling." Although Wilder described his co-star as being difficult to get along with off screen, the two were inextricably linked together for comedic roles.

The script for the classic comedy, "Trading Places," was actually developed for him and Pryor. However due to Pryor being so badly burned, Dan Aykroyd and Eddie Murphy received the lead roles instead. The 1983 film turned out to be the fourth highest grossing film of the year— making over $90 million. Meanwhile, Wilder wrote and directed the pair’s final two films together: "See No Evil, Hear No Evil" (1989) and "Another You" (1991).

Between side-splitting moments of hilarity from the comedian’s memoir, Wilder describes his intrigue with other artists, even when things got complicated. 

He fell for Saturday Night Live sweetheart Gilda Radner and the couple married in September 1984 in the south of France. They made beautiful movies together and shared moments that Wilder once referred to as “the best years of my life.”

It wasn’t always easy. Wilder wrote about his beloved's painful battle with ovarian cancer, describing Radner as a “clinging baby pulling at my shirtsleeve every minute.” A few sentences later, he describe her as “the most generous and compassionate and original person I had ever known.” Radner died on May 20, 1989, at just 42 leaving the comedian heart-broken. He is survived by his wife of 25 years, Karen Wilder. The pair married in 1991.

Wilder’s nephew, Jordan Walker-Pearlman, confirmed his death as being caused by complications from Alzheimer’s (something Wilder wanted to keep a secret so as not to disappoint his young fans who remember him as Willy Wonka.)

As someone who grew up enamored by the witty Wonka, I found Wilder's memoir to be one of the best parts of his legacy. He takes fans on a journey through real life challenges and shows the evolution of a young man who grew up and taught the world that laughter is truly the best medicine.

______________________________________________________

Antionette Kerr is a journalist, consultant and author of “Just Sayin' " Conversations My Mother Would Never Let Me Have at a Southern Dinner Table.” You may email her at akerr@thewritefolks.net.

We are Orlando!





It's hard to believe that exactly one week before the Orlando Massacre shooting On June 11, 2016, Pulse; a gay nightclub in Orlando, Florida, two dear friends and I were only 15 minutes away

at our first Diva Showcase (with a primarily LGBT crowd) enjoying a drag show at a nearby restaurant called

The Funky Monkey.

Just days before the hate crime that left 49 dead and more than 53 wounded;

 we left thinking of Orlando as a warm

(literally and figuratively speaking)

and welcoming place.

We were in Orlando as visitors on that day. 
My friend, a fantastic stylist and co-salon owner in the Charlotte area had booked her trip to the 2016

Premiere Orlando

International Beauty Show

an annual event that attracts crowds of  Over 57,000 visitors from 45+ countries. The website invites salon owners & managers, stylists, colorists, nail technicians, beauty students, instructors, distributors to the show.

The event is a recurrence in Orlando and my friend made plans to attend the hair show long before realizing that she would be carrying with her a special visitor.

A few months before the show she found out that she was pregnant and asked if her mom and I would be willing to come along and keep her company on the trip.

Sunny Skies

Great Shopping

International Food 

not to mention some of the

Best...People...Watching

on the planet made it easy to say

YES TO ORLANDO!

She also planned our itinerary

(which was a refreshing twist to the vacation)

including reservations for

Greek Cuisine at Taverna Opa,

Cuban Cuisine at Cuba Libre

and of course...

The Diva Showcase (which is a fan favorite of hair show goers)

at The Funky Monkey.

The room was filled with a variety of interesting people as the MC traveled around the room. There was a mother and daughter celebrating a daughter's 21st Birthday, several couples (where the men seemed a little shy about the show) and then there was us...

a slightly awkward-yet playing it cool- table of straight women (one visibly pregnant) awaiting a Vegas Style display of costumes, cosmetics and charisma worthy of a standing ovation.

  

One of the Divas from the showcase performing as Beyoncé

We left the city thinking of Orlando as a wonderful place filled with loving people- and still do. That's why it's so hard to believe that just a week later, one of the largest acts of terrorism would take place blocks away from where we celebrated such 

beauty, love & inclusion.  

I want to join others in lifting up the names and stories of the victims of the most recent violence. 

#prayersfororlando #weareorlando 

Today we remember the names and ages of the victims were confirmed by the City of Orlando after their next of kin were notified:

• Stanley Almodovar III, 23
• Amanda Alvear, 25
• Oscar A. Aracena-Montero, 26
• Rodolfo Ayala-Ayala, 33
• Alejandro Barrios Martinez, 21
• Martin Benitez Torres, 33
• Antonio D. Brown, 29
• Darryl R. Burt II, 29
• Jonathan A. Camuy Vega, 24
• Angel L. Candelario-Padro, 28
• Simon A. Carrillo Fernandez, 31
• Juan Chevez-Martinez, 25
• Luis D. Conde, 39
• Cory J. Connell, 21
• Tevin E. Crosby, 25
• Franky J. Dejesus Velazquez, 50
• Deonka D. Drayton, 32
• Mercedez M. Flores, 26
• Juan R. Guerrero, 22
• Peter O. Gonzalez-Cruz, 22
• Paul T. Henry, 41
• Frank Hernandez, 27
• Miguel A. Honorato, 30
• Javier Jorge-Reyes, 40
• Jason B. Josaphat, 19
• Eddie J. Justice, 30
• Anthony L. Laureano Disla, 25
• Christopher A. Leinonen, 32
• Brenda L. Marquez McCool, 49
• Jean C. Mendez Perez, 35
• Akyra Monet Murray, 18
• Kimberly Morris, 37
• Jean C. Nives Rodriguez, 27
• Luis O. Ocasio-Capo, 20
• Geraldo A. Ortiz-Jimenez, 25
• Eric I. Ortiz-Rivera, 36
• Joel Rayon Paniagua, 32
• Enrique L. Rios Jr., 25
• Yilmary Rodriguez Solivan, 24
• Christopher J. Sanfeliz, 24
• Xavier E. Serrano Rosado, 35
• Gilberto R. Silva Menendez, 25
• Edward Sotomayor Jr., 34
• Shane E. Tomlinson, 33
• Leroy Valentin Fernandez, 25
• Juan P. Rivera Velazquez, 37
• Luis S. Vielma, 22
• Luis D. Wilson-Leon, 37
• Jerald A. Wright, 31