In Weinstein's wake

I knew enough to do more than I did.

– Director Quentin Tarantino on behavior of Hollywood mogul Harvey Weinstein

We've seen the likes of Angelina Jolie, Gweneth Paltrow, Ashley Judd, Kate Beckinsale and the still unfolding list of glamorous actresses reporting run-ins with one-time power broker and alleged serial sexual predator, Harvey Weinstein. We're reading and debating op-eds by Lena Dunham, Mayim Bialik and Lupita Nyong'o.

Cue now to the lives of everyday American women, where the role of Weinstein has been played, repeatedly, by men who, by dint of their position and will, inflict unwanted sexual attention and selfish, often untoward and, alternately, illegal, gratification. These close encounters of the repulsive kind are, to the surprise of some and chagrin of many, plentiful.

Amid this emerging zeitgeist lies the question of whether this is a mere moment of confessional cleansing before the usual retreat to established norms or the dawn of a structural reordering as it relates to our society’s sexual harassment tolerance.

The Weinstein fallout has highlighted the consequences of the reverberated message of accepting how things always have been and just are. In the process, it has unearthed a litany of flashbacks that have transported women to times they most wanted to forget, when they lost command of their bodies. To that classmate in middle school. The teacher in high school. The co-worker at that summer job. That minister/rabbi/imam/priest after service. The supervisor on the first job. Or second. Or current one.

By freeze-frame recollection, girls and women are re-living when they were shown, by threat or by action, that how they felt or what they wanted had no bearing as far as the males in question were concerned.

Fondling. Grinding. Groping. Uninvited hugs. Insistent kisses. Demanded intercourse. Rape. The statistics are harrowing, and today social media campaigns are giving these numbers assigned faces.

The most heartbreaking aspect of these revelations is the stunning volume and frequency of their occurrence, as if an obvious but unspoken tax borne by women for the mere sake and misfortune of their sex. It lies embedded in the codified lore of the “casting couch.” Its attitude permeates psyches, joked and shrugged about as a cultural fixture. That same “couch” appears in boardrooms, stockrooms, classrooms, stairwells and other spaces where opportunity and dignity are snatched in equal measure.

So in this moment of awakening, rather than simply dismantling or packing it away, let’s torch this couch and all that it represents.

Awareness of the prevalence of these acts provides some kindling, and that's intensifying far beyond the Weinstein stories that are stretching from Hollywood to London.

The #MeToo effort is giving average Janes, Julias, Jing-lis and Jahans voice and conversation where both had been absent. Women talking to each other, shedding the embarrassment and shame these encounters spawn and finding strength in one another’s stories, serve as a necessary gambit. But the discussions, like the solutions, cannot be one-sided, or single-gender. Men need to actively help incinerate the attitudes that give rise to these unhealthy and dehumanizing experiences, generation after generation.
  
Failing to do so serves to ignore the unnecessary plight of more than half of our population – daughters, sisters, cousins, aunts and mothers alike. Settling back into our familiar constructs would continue constricting and crippling the full humanity of legions of boys, wriggling into manhood under the false assumption that the option to lord over the opposite sex is not only viable, but somehow ordained. Worse, it would ossify further the belief that this entitlement can be exercised whenever things are economically sour for men. There are no grounds to accept that men have no stake in this evolving conversation; some of them, also, bear the pain of unwanted sexual advances and assaults. But it shouldn't have to happen to you in order to recognize the evils that can and do emerge from unchecked, boorish behavior. And mansplaining has no place or currency.

Simply dismissing the stark reality of having to navigate debauched circumstances or feigning ignorance in light of this multitude of revelations neither engenders strength nor enshrines masculinity. Active listening, concerted empathy and a commitment to action, will.

Tarantino's quote unlocked that which had been churning in the background since this scandal erupted, an admission that hints at Martin Niemöller’s cautionary poem, a haunting epitaph for any conscience. Because there is enough known to do more, and for sure we know second-class citizenry for girls and women deserves no glow of nostalgia, or oxygen of the present.

DVR Alert: A women-focused "Inside Story"

So you weren't one of the lucky -- or well-organized -- people who snagged a ticket for the 14th Annual Pennsylvania Conference for Women, taking place on Oct. 3. And you're kicking yourself harder after realizing you'll be missing the chance to see powerhouse TV mogul Shonda Rhimes interview Michelle Obama, among dozens of other highlights at this year's confab.

Here's a consolation prize: Inside Story this week dedicates itself to the kind of insights and advice to be had at this event. Yours truly, along with a table of other outstanding and accomplished women, will dig in deeper to help you lean in harder.

Led by Tamala Edwards, it's an engaging conversation worth watching, and it starts 11:30A Sunday.

Busting the work-life balance myths and developing real tools to thrive. Bouncing back from life's blows. Finding the best way to push forward. Beating the challenges women in the workforce still face. Keeping yourself charged up. There's something for every working woman to hear and consider.

If your conference registration already is set, consider this conversation an appetizer for what's sure to be a nourishing day.

(l-r) Mastercard's Carol Lee Mitchell, Meeks, Cancer Treatment Centers of America's Nancy Hesse,
host Tamala Edwards, Penn Mutual's Ande Frazier, Bristol-Myers Squibb's Ann Powell Judge
and Jefferson's Donna Gentile O'Donnell bring real-world notes for women looking to succeed

But if for some reason you sleep this show, here's a final save: catch it online next week, part of 6abc's conference digital guide. Take advantage of it all, and soar higher!

TV Alert: On Rizzo, Nazis, Free Speech and more

Your favorite writer-thinker settles in for another round of observations on All That Transpires in the World, but in particular in Philadelphia, the Delaware Valley and aspects of life in Harrisburg and D.C. It's time for another visit to the Inside Story table!

This week is an exploration into the ongoing bruhaha surrounding the statue of the late Mayor Frank Rizzo, the faux pas of flirtations with neo-Nazis (or any kind, for that matter), legislative "remedies" for protest aftermaths and more.

Host Monica Malpass keeps us panelists in check, the conversation flowing and you, the viewer, informed. 

Of course, yours truly plays a proud role in keeping this program the most watched in its time slot in this, the fourth-largest media market in the nation. 

Tune in 11:30A Sunday. If you happen to miss it -- gasp! -- never fear! Check out the recap on the 6abc site posted Tuesday. Just click here. 

Why ending hunger deserves your attention

In the midst of my typical morning routine, it hit. Slammed, actually.

That urgent growl rising deeply, rumbling and stabbing my stomach. That normal, albeit painful, signal letting me know I was empty and it’s time to eat. But upon deeper reflection, I realized I can’t call it hunger. Momentary discomfort, even a little listlessness, sure. But not true hunger. 

Hunger is a near-insatiable sensation wracking your entire body, beginning with your brain flashing messages of despair, crying on behalf of your weakened state, due to missing energy-inducing nutrients. It’s a yearning for the luscious delights of food, dreams held but rarely realized. 

Hunger is an all-too familiar feeling around the world and eight American aid agencies are drilling down on this fact, focusing attention on a famine set to engulf some 20 million people in Nigeria, South Sudan, Yemen and Somalia. 

Courtesy: Global Emergency Response

The Global Emergency Response initiative is admirable in its scope and purpose. Rather than wrangle for the spotlight or individual dollar donations, these known NGOs – CARE, World Vision, Save the Children, Oxfam America, Mercy Corps, Plan International, International Medical Corps and Rescue – are banding together to direct resources to this cause. 

In rallying Americans, and the world, they hope to effort to avert a horrible humanitarian crisis. And death by starvation among enough people to populate Canada is a looming crisis. And an avoidable one. 

This African-centered effort pinpoints one type of hunger in the world. But others just as horrific continue to unfold around us daily, as millions are displaced due to ongoing conflicts, both man made and natural. The devastation in Syria and the Middle East and the ongoing attempts to restore normalcy inHaiti are but two blaring examples. There, you have a hunger for food as well as a hunger for home, for safety and love. 

Stories of those struggling to survive – from treacherous seas to suspicious new neighbors in foreign lands – can break your heart, if you take the time to listen, to watch. Likely, that’s why many prefer the bliss of ignorance. Sometimes, the mind can only take but so much pain. Escapism is easier.

My escapes often are in the kitchen, as I relish the joys of food, both cooking and eating. The colors, textures, flavors and aromas long drew me toward pots, pans and plates, and continue to entice me there when life gets stressful, evident by my Instagram feed. 

Being without those comforts, both physical and emotional, is nearly unfathomable for a foodie like myself. Yet, that’s the reality for many, including millions of children. And the honest among us recognize that some of those kids and families are just a few doors down. 

Yes, the majority of Americans are “food secure,” meaning we have enough to supply basic meals. Still, hunger among our neighbors is one of our most oft-ignored facts. Some 1 in 8 Pennsylvanians don’t have enough food to eat, according to Feeding America’s latest tallies. In Philly, that number is closer to 1 in 5.  

Nationwide, the U.S. Department of Agriculture reports there are 15.8 million “food insecure” households. 

Despite this down news, the up note is those numbers have been dropping, largely due to new policies and increasing philanthropy. Due to people like you. 

It’s the sort of infectious spirit we can stand to increase. 

There’s a food bank waiting for your drop off. A web site deserving of your clicked donation. A lawmaker’s office needing to hear your voice. Together, we can defeat hunger, in our neighborhoods and in the world. 

So let’s do this.  

DVR Alert: Latest media appearance

If you missed your friendly-neighborhood browngirl's one-day hit June 27 on WURD Radio, subbing for Steph Renee on the Midday MOJO, never fear! You can catch your favorite Philly pundit on 6abc-TV's Inside Story today at 11:30 a.m.

(L-R) G. Terry Madonna, the author, Tamala Edwards,
Sam Katz and Val DiGiorgio weigh in on the world.

Of course, if you're not in front of the TV or the DVR didn't record, you may yet be saved! On Tuesday, you should be able to retrieve the episode online here. 

The face of privilege in America

There was a time that “kid” applied to a child who was not yet a legal adult, someone between the post-infant ages of 2 and 17. So it’s fairly perplexing to consider a 39-year-old man as a “kid.”

Or a 30-year-old man. 

Or even an 18-year-old, for that matter.

Then again, there tend to be convenient exceptions when reconciling poor judgment or criminal behavior.

Be wealthy, say, Donald Trump Jr., and flagrant actions that could be considered treasonous are tossed off as “mistakes” by a “nice young man,” a “good kid.” 

Be motivated, say, Edward Snowden, and impertinent activities may be considered “patriotic.”

Be sheltered, say, Brock Turner, and “20 minutes of actions” can be dismissed as a youthful yearning to “fit in.”

We claim to frown upon selling out your country or raping our women. But those standards clearly don’t apply across the board.  Our society can – and does, routinely – excuse the activities of those whom we value, even if those activities are antithetical to principles we have codified. 

Faces of American privilege (l.-r.):
 Donald J. Trump Jr., Edward Snowden and Brock Turner

Articles I and III of the U.S. Constitution give specific references and definitions for federal crimes, as outlined by the Founding Fathers – piracy, counterfeiting and treason. Given such prominent positioning, one could extrapolate that in the minds of the nation’s original framers, theft, even murder (which they got to in 1790), were considered of lesser gravity to the health of the republic than the other aforementioned infractions.

A traitor, then, would be deemed worst than a killer – or drug pusher – following Constitutional originalist theory, often attributed to conservative jurists such as U.S. Supreme Court Associate Justices Samuel Alito, Clarence Thomas and the late Antonin Scalia,  Self-proclaimed political conservatives love to extol the views of these jurists. And traitors certainly wouldn’t qualify as people grinding to “Make America Great Again.” That may be why the unfolding case of Trump Jr. is marked as “a Democratic witch hunt.” The recriminations might make your head spin. In short: Nothing to see here!

Switch to Snowden, the infamous former National Security Agency contractor who leaked confidential cables casting the Obama Administration in a poor light, and find conservatives hailing him as a “patriot.” Ditto some liberals. The Kremlin extended his asylum last January through 2020, because of uncertainty about how the new administration would handle him. But these mink-cozy Russian relations fostered by the current president could mean an even earlier, jail-free return for Snowden.

When Turner’s father wrote to the judge presiding over his rape case and pleaded with him to release his son on probation, he argued that jail time would be too harsh for “20 minutes of action.” His mother sent her own save-my-tender-son letter, conveniently failing to acknowledge the Stanford swimmer’s arrest or disturbing behavior that predated the sexual assault charges. While his crimes could have landed Turner a 14-year sentence – or at least two years, according to minimum statutory requirements, Judge Aaron Persky defended his decision to release Turner after a six month stint in jail. After all, he did tack on three years of probation.

Yay, justice for all.

Except for average black boys in school, or walking down the street. They are instantly suspected of something, even if they demonstrate identical – and unpunished – actions of their white peers. Black boys as young as 10 are seen as “men” in the eyes of too many police officers. Teachers reflect the same biases, except the age of perceived guilt among black and brown boys drops to preschool level.

See, being privileged in America has many meanings. Being allowed to be a “kid” who “made a mistake” is one. 

Terror unfolds in Virginia, upon Congress

The pop of a gun is an all-too-frequent sound in America's cities, of all sizes, especially when the weather warms. But lawmakers and their staff had no expectation that such a sound would ring in their ears not too long after daybreak on a baseball diamond in a tony part of Alexandria, Va.

COURTESY: FOX News

But such a horror did visit upon U.S. representatives, senators and staffers, largely Republicans -- some of them longtime proponents of gun ownership under almost any circumstance. Democratic colleagues, also practicing on another field for the annual charity baseball showdown, grasped each other in prayer after getting the word.

Congress shut down for the day.

Today, people in the heart of power experienced the trauma that many children and young people witness and too often experience: an unexplained madman with a powerful weapon bent on delivering destruction and shattering any sense of security.

No matter their politics or bluster, public or private, the victims today did not deserve this experience. Their families did not deserve the uncertainty, the sheer terror and teeming tears after receiving news that gunfire erupted and their loved ones may not make it home. Their zip codes, income level or acquaintances should not make them, or anyone, targets.

Yet, so many unwittingly fall into such crosshairs. Now more members of the U.S. Congress intimately understand that, ferociously.

James T. Hodgkinson, an apparently embittered 66-year-old Illinois man, chose to take up residence in Alexandria, seemingly to use his guns to make an example of lawmakers he deemed as having sold out his American Dream for the highest bidder.

Hodgkinson was not a person of color. He was not Muslim. He was not an immigrant. He was not young. He was not any of the things Americans have been whipped to fear and hate in recent years.

Instead, he was economically hurting and desperate. He was a Bernie Sanders for President supporter, thinking his radial change would be the only thing that would save the nation. And what Hodgkinson saw happening under the current administration incensed and scared him. Enough so he traveled to Virginia, lived out of a gym bag for months, plotted revenge and chose to die in the process of exacting it.

His actions are not unlike the narratives we hear about suicidal jihadists. It would be equally crazy to simply dismiss this most recent incident as a mere aberration. It's time to look more deeply.

Fellow lawmakers say a prayer for the fallen in Alexandria, Va.
COURTESY: Twitter

We could all stand to abandon left-wing/right-wing castigation for actual conversation with others of opposing views. There is no honor among those who have jumped on social media to praise today's action as some sort of worthy comeuppance. There should be no delight in seeing this perpetrator as "evidence" against a set of beliefs. What should be unquestioned is that a searing tragedy occurred, and stands to reoccur without putting serious thought into what created the conditions for such a violent outburst.

Perhaps our lawmakers will hold onto that more closely moving forward, as they deliberate legislation and policies that impact our lives. Rather than assuming "us-vs.-them" stances, settling for win-at-all-costs gamesmanship, pray they will reflect on and remember their feelings at this moment.

U.S. Capitol Police Officers David Bailey and Crystal Griner took bullets as they battled Hodgkinson on that baseball field, likely saving countless others.

Mike Mika, a Tyson Foods lobbyist, suffered extraordinary bullet wounds to his chest and lungs.

Zach Barth, who staffs U.S. Rep. Roger Williams (R-Texas), was struck.

U.S. House Majority Whip Steve Scalise remained in critical condition Wednesday afternoon.

The nation is appalled by this latest public expression of violence, though we've been here too many times, as witnesses and survivors from almost every corner of the country can attest.

Former U.S. Rep. Gabby Giffords knows this pain, as does her husband, Capt. Mark Kelly.

So do the members of Mothers in Charge, an organization of bereaved parents who lost children to gun violence.

And do the parents of Sandy Hook, Conn., who continue to grieve their babies, nearly five years after a murderer stormed in and slaughtered 6- and 7-year-olds and their teachers.

Across this nation, there are a scores of families of every shape, make and color who have been impacted by gun violence, who are still hurting, still working through the trauma.

Maybe today will begin a new era of compassion for them, for the circumstances that led to their pain. Maybe then, we can actually move toward real healing. As one nation, under God. .

Latest TV appearance: 6ABC's Inside Story

It's been a busy week in the Greater Philadelphia region. There were federal indictments of traffic court judges, revelations of ethics charges against a popular city councilwoman, the return of a former (and disgraced) Philadelphia Housing Authority chief for his lawsuit of wrongful termination (hoo, boy) and much, much more.

Yours truly helped sort through it all as a panelist on the area's leading public affairs program, Inside Story. Catch the online rebroadcast of the Feb. 3 show. Remember: the link lasts for a limited time only. Don't delay!

A new purpose on this fifth day of Kwanzaa

As a child of the post-revolutionary era, “Nia” isn’t as unusual a name today as it was, say, 30 or 40 years ago. Then, the biggest proof of overcoming and “living the Dream” was doing almost everything in your power to prove you were just as plain Jane as your white counterparts. So those exotic names, hairstyles, and dress that would make them uncomfortable were frowned upon by blacks of “better breeding.” After all, why waste all that good education as a pariah when you could “advance the race” by blending in?

Those were the years when celebrating Kwanzaa was almost clandestine, conspiratorial. There were the clothes that most people didn’t have, explicit lessons on collective responsibility to neighbors and elders, discussion on world affairs and how to make a difference from your own corner of the globe. It was a time filled with a sense of importance and legacy, of fortifying your presentation to the ancestors and future generations. The circle was completed, with seniors, adults, and children, as equals in the dialogue.

As a kid, nothing was more appealing than the thought of being part of a grand conspiracy.

The stealthy Jamila Bond, 008, waving a red, black, and green liberation flag – serving her people!

Tomie Lee "Pop-Pop" Meeks and the author

That private fantasy conflicted mightily with the somewhat shy kid that actually was Nia Ngina Afi Meeks, the girl whose name held a sizable charge, as “server of her people whose purpose is divine.” Then, the least little thing would inspire mortification, burning caramel skin to candied apple complexion.

And the one thing that invariably would evoke such a feeling was the annual Kwanzaa gatherings.

Yes, the intellectual and cultural fires of the week-long observance were nothing short of exhilarating. But the singing of Kwanzaa songs planted a deep terror. People would gather around, in significant numbers, and extol the virtues of unity, self-determination, collective economics, work and responsibility, creativity and faith with musical accompaniment.

Of course, they’d also sing about purpose. About Nia. And they would point. And laugh. Especially my peers. The more they’d see me squirm, the louder they would sing.

Though it seems nearly inconsequential now, it was often too much, and I would cringe inside, despite trying to put on face of bravery, pretending to laugh and ignore what felt like a flood of attention.

In minutes, relief would come. The song would be over. Snacks would be served. Some years, however, surviving those minutes felt like enduring the green mile. For years, that defined Dec. 30. Until 2004.

That was the day the hospital called to say Pop-Pop suffered major cardiac arrest. That he was brain dead, subsisting on machines that helped push blood through his fractured heart and air through his limp lungs.

Getting to Hahnemann Hospital seemed like sleepwalking, as if everything moved in slow motion. I remember my mother beginning to crumble as we crossed the street. Her Daddy was gone, is what the doctors basically said. In my head, on that Dec. 30, I realized a new terror. I had to be the strong one.

The prostate cancer had worked its evil on his body, compromising many of its functions. It had been his secret for five years until we finally discovered what was driving him to imbibe, what was robbing his one-time sound memory, his sense of impeccable dress, his passion for political theater.

Walking to his bed to say that final good-bye, looking at that body on the table, shook me. That wasn’t Pop-Pop, who always teased about “eating like Sonny Boy,” hummed everywhere he walked, and had more hats than most women had shoes.

Growing up, there was no greater cheerleader. He thought that this browngirl could take over the world, and often begged her to at least take Paula Zahn’s chair. “She don’t know nothing! She ain’t nothing! YOU should be doing what she’s doing!” he would grouse, in between cussing out Lou Dobbs and President Bush on some policy. Every policy.

And if that was not fated, he insisted a political office was, that this browngirl was smart enough, cared enough, and was clever enough to make a system work for the people.

Pop-Pop seldom slowed down long enough from running the streets, jaw-jacking with his Mason brothers, or catching ling on his fishing excursions to attend any Kwanzaa gatherings. Thankfully, my mom and grandmom filled that void.

But what he shared with me helped reinforce those principles that we reviewed every year: building stronger communities through people of productive minds, undying pride, and unyielding determination. Pop-Pop didn’t require a kinara or a mat or fruit (he’d eat it all before the Karamu feast, anyway) or the other Kwanzaa trappings. He told me to live it. Without embarrassment.

And I did. And do. Particularly on Dec. 30, with full purpose.

TV appearance: 6ABC's Inside Story

Readers of this space who reside within the Philadelphia media market may be familiar with the punditry of yours truly offered on various radio and TV outlets. For those who live elsewhere -- or just had too much to do this Sunday or simply forgot to set their DVRs -- we share this link.

Fair warning: the link is only good for a week, so catch it while you can!

This moderator for this week's panel (both pundits and moderators rotate every week) was Tamala Edwards. Inside Story is the top-rated public affairs program in the Philadelphia market and airs on Sundays at 11:30A . . . until football season kicks off. Then, the program shifts to 10A. Gotta make time (and money) for all that E-A-G-L-E-S hoopla!