Editor’s Edict~


Fall is quickly approaching! What a scary thought to know that the holidays are right around the corner. Treat yourself and take a moment to enjoy the July/August Brown Betties Gazette in an attempt to slow time for just a little while. Our featured Brown Bettie is Yasmine Richard who is not only a producer, but also an on-air and voice-over talent. She’s just created “Myss Moxie Presents: Social Studies” which is an online venture that takes a look at the woes of Myspace and social networking as well as how hard it is sometimes for women to just go out and have a drink! Kahshanna Evans gives Two Sides to Every Love Story by exploring how to love herself while trying to find love. In My Solitude, I give you insight to my morning work-out … the real thing is featured in the August/September Heart & Soul magazine! Monique Taylor gets Unzipped with a little “Bubbly”, while my momma wishes her hands would give her a hand in Momma Said. Hopefully you’ve been enjoying our fiction entries; we keep it going with the third installment of "Harlem's Awakening"...the back story to Harlem & Joe of “Harlem’s Night Cabaret”. As always, enjoy, enjoy, enjoy! If you have any comments, feel free to hit me up at brownbettiesgazette@yahoo.com.


xo
Peppur Chambers

A Brown Bettie with Moxie

By Peppur Chambers



Yasmine Richard
Multi-format Producer
On-Air Host
Voice Over Talent

A whip of a firecracker, Yasmine is a wonderful personality. I’m not just saying that to say it, nor am I saying it in terms of how the entertainment industry refers to talent…I’ll leave that up to agents, managers and Entertainment Tonight as Miss Richard is already skipping along the yellow-brick road towards being a Wonderful Personality.

With time short these days, we get things done the way that is quick and most convenient! Therefore, Yasmine and I conducted this month’s Brown Bettie interview via BlackBerry. For those of you perhaps unfamiliar, a “BlackBerry” is like a little typewriter that fits in the palm of your hand that is connected to the internet (more or less). You may see people tapping into them while walking, driving, standing in line at Starbucks, etc. The keys are small, as is the screen, so to communicate “effectively”, we often use abbreviations and stylized words to make up for the crunch. Below, I tried to keep true to what Yas wrote, only changing words that the general population may not be familiar with. It’s a fun interview and as Yas said, “Sorry I'm answering funky...I'm on my bberry.”

How many nicknames do you have?
A million. Yazzy, yazzo, yaz, jazzy, jaz, yas-mi-mine (pronounced yaas-me-meen...my fam is haitian), pimante, picante...The last 2 are a funny story. I got them as a kid. I was in Haiti with my fam and I went to the fridge and bit into what I thought was some fruit...turned out to be some pepper. OUCH! Recently, Myss Moxie. I gave it to myself. I like what the word "moxie" means.

Which one is your favorite, and why?
All of them are special to me. Probably the last few since they remind me of my fam.

I understand you helped break the Kanye West musical debut at MTV. What in your gut made you know you were right about him and/or his music?
His energy. Like pure raw talent. He loves music. And I do too. And quite frankly it would be an injustice to me to not have introduced him to whoever I can. I think that because of competition or whatevs people don't wanna put other people on. I always look at it this way. If that was at the beginning of my career, I can't wait to see how the rest shapes up!

How have you used that instinct to directly help yourself in your budding career as an on-camera broadcast journalist?
Great question. No...I haven't. My focus for several years has been behind the scenes. I figured the stronger I am as a producer/director, the better I can communicate when I'm on the other side of the camera. Its taking me a bit longer but I know the "Oprah 2.0" movement will go down!

How long have you been in LA and what are you doing now?
Been in LA about 3 years. I'm currently a producer with a huge emphasis on field producing. I'm really interested in development too. So I've been developing projects on the side that hopefully I'll pitch in the next few weeks or so.

Tell us about one of your favorite interviews/projects and why it was so special (or crazy).
Fave intvs/projects-well, 3 intvs stand out. 1.) Terrance Howard...he's very graceful and intense. Makes total sense why he's the great actor with range that he is. 2.) Gladys Knight! She was phenomenal. It was at some BET awards [event] and they asked us if we wanted to talk to her....(keep in mind, I work for MTV and why would MTV wanna talk to Gladys Knight!) So of course I said YES! How could I not!? She was everything you wanted her to be. And lastly/most recently, Common. Again, exactly who you want him to be. So humble and articulate.

For another interview on Yazzy and to see how phenomenal she is, check her out at Galrilla.net pg 82!!!!

You graduated from Brigham Young, correct?
Yup, BYU. I got a scholarship there for academics. My fam is Mormon. And I was recruited as part of a multi-cultural program designed to recruit...multi-cultural students. Did I just repeat myself?? Lol.

You mentioned an outstanding idea about Myspace. Do you care to talk about it here?
I would talk about my myspizzle idea but there are some swagger jackers out there and I wanna lock in the ownership before I put the call out! (Aarhaa aarhaa! That's my bird call. Lol)

Update: Yasmine is ready for the world! She has two projects going. See below for the rundown!

You recently visited the Peponi Spa, which is in Venice and Black-Owned. Do you happen to have a phone photo of your hottt nails? (What was the color?)
Peponi is dope on a rope! So relaxing!! Great energy. But yeah the nail colour (tryin’ to be fresh throwing the "u" in there). So, ok I knew I wanted pink but I couldn't decide what shade sooooo I put three different colors on 3 different nails to get some opinions and I realized that I liked all 3 so I decided to do all of them. It’s different but it works!

Do you like a Lady's Man (i.e. a man that adores a Lady) or a Bad Boy? Why?
I like a combination. A man that knows when to switch it up. You can be a lady's man when the time comes but when its time to whip out (that's awful! Lol) the thug passion. Handle ur biznass! Haha. (Sorry mom)

What ultimately makes you a Brown Bettie?
What makes me a Brown Bettie is my belief in integrity. I'm the oldest of 8 kids and it’s important to me that my family knows I WON the RIGHT way. Always, always move with INTEGRITY it’s [always] in the back of my mind. I'm in an industry where people will do WHATEVER it takes to win. I won't. I will do it my way.....with Moxie!

Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

******"Myss Moxie Presents: Social Studies"******

Click here for the video!

#1) Have you ever exposed a guy/girl on Facebook/Myspace? Like found out that she/he was doing you wrong thanks to the magic of Facebook/Myspace? If so, Myss Moxie wants to hear about it. Email: thinktwice.ent@gmail.com

#2) Has ladies night at the club ever turned sour because of a bug a boo? You know, the dude or dudes (depending on your hotness level) that will NOT leave you alone. The one that insist that because you're wearing a certain outfit or looking a certain way, thinks it's the greenlight to harass you non-stop? Send an email or a 30s webcam with your story to: myssmoxie@gmail.com

For more on Yasmine and her projects, go to: www.myspace.com/myssmoxie. All photos by Steve Kay www.myspace.com/stevekay13

Two Sides To Every Love Story...

"Ice Breaker"

By Kahshanna Evans

Dating is hard and it’s even harder when you have a friend who gives you advice to change yourself to make yourself more attractive. However, for Miss Kahshanna Evans (actor/designer/creative-extraordinaire) and self-proclaimed “Fire Diva”, this friendly advice was a soul-baring wake up call that sparked an interesting “ice breaker” for a recent relationship. Below she shares her multi-part exploration into loving herself while trying to find love.

“Social Obligation can have fatal doses…or worse, can lead to romantic flat-lining and utter destruction of your character” – K. Evans.

It still lights me up when I think about it. I was excited to go on a date with someone and my gal pal said, “Whatever you do, be easy going, agreeable, make interesting conversation that interests him…overall just ‘be cool’.” Basically she said: Don't be yourself… She was trying to gracefully let me know something indirectly about how impulsive and firey I came across back then. BTW this was before I made a commitment to myself that, as a woman, I have to take the risk to be myself under even the most intense situations.

Was there any good, sound advice to be absorbed, advice that would, in fact do what she set out to do, which was to empower me? I have thought about that too. The truth of the matter was, she did care for me and was trying to help. Kudos.

Mind you, I feel more flexible than I ever have, more compassionate, more able to create healthy boundaries and am the most committed to taking care of myself and the person I love than I ever have been in my life… but back then I took her advice seriously for some God forsaken reason. Was that the world I was in? Were my only chances to meet someone of the opposite sex guided by me being someone else, or presenting a “representative” who would drive home the deal long enough for, well, WHAT, exactly?? Long enough for us to feel more intimate, get closer, only to realize we are completely different people?

The date:
This guy was one of those everything guys: he was a young, black author, had his PhD(s) and was on television…He was highly intelligent. The date went ok…that was it. What he thought would showcase him as some successful tycoon just came across to me as arrogant. He took a call on his cell, and called me “trendy” and from then on I was “over it”. Points lost, buddy…he had the nerve to want to take me out again. Bye-bye. He's lucky he didn't get the smack down. I did decide to be myself…I did not curb my fire and somewhat contain my impulses. I didn’t want to be with someone who classified me that way.

Recently I met someone new and I like him; he’s funny and intelligent, motivated, shows genuine interest in my mind and gives me attention and when he calls me beautiful I believe him and it feels good. Soon after we’d met a few times, I thought, “Am I being myself?” Not just the nice first- impression self, but really my own candid, opinionated, wild, emotional self…I decided to put my money where my mouth was, call my own bluff on this ‘be yourself’ theory. I wanted to know about my own personal level of honesty.

I wrote a three page email, you know the one that after you press send with such nonchalance you think, “OMG, what did I just do?”…Was I doomed, would I be banished to an unruly single people's island like the land of misfit toys on that “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” Christmas cartoon? Spike [Lee] where are you -- did I do the right thing? The battle ensued between my protective fire-diva and my conscience goddess. No, I told myself, you are a woman and you are who you are and if he’s going to stick around he's going to stick around, no need in being afraid anymore.

Ed – Were you afraid he would leave?

K: I feared I would like him before he liked me, which then maybe means I feared he would leave.

Find out what happened after Miss Evans sent her firey three-page email in the next issue of the Brown Betties Gazette!

In My Solitude
By Peppur Chambers

Each morning I wake up and stretch my legs as though I were still the competitive track athlete I once was. I then turn to my side, face the morning sun, and say, “I should really get up and go for a run.” I then squeeze my thighs for some sort of reassurance that if I do NOT in fact go for a run -- for the tenth consecutive day -- that my quads will not turn to mush. I then turn over to my other side and stretch my legs again in an effort to make my calf muscles feel like they are being exercised. I lie on my stomach, squeeze each butt cheek for measurement and firmness, again hoping they have not expanded. I turn onto my back, clasp my hands behind my head and pretend to do mini crunches until I realize my actions are futile. I then roll over to my side, staring at the beautiful LA sun and berate myself for not getting my ass up for a wonderful run. When I lived in New York and the Midwest, I could blame my inaction on crappy, cold weather; these days I have no excuse. Somehow, I wish my brain would put a leash on my leg and pull me from the bed just like a little puppy that has to pee each morning; maybe then I would get up for the run that I actually love. (Maybe I should just get a puppy??)

In the meantime, I’ve decided to sleep with the August/September issue of Heart & Soul magazine. I’m featured on pages 58-61 doing a myriad of sculpting exercises. I hope that I’ll be inspired to do the exercises I’m demonstrating. If not, I can simply stare at the photos and add images to my muscle memory! In all seriousness, I hope you’ll get the magazine and find happiness in a new workout. Enjoy!!

"Bubbly" Unzipped
By Monique Taylor

After years of trying to extol my sophistication through drink choices: manhattans, cosmos, and dirty martinis, I had overlooked a staple in alcoholic elegance – Champagne. I rediscovered this virtuous concoction when my local wine and spirits depot discontinued a moderately priced Pinot Grigio that I depended on to assuage daily drama, or get me through boring dates. In certain circumstances, it is necessary to call in the big guns: Jack Daniels, two cubes of ice, and a splash of ginger ale. In my solitude I’d mix up a Jack & Ginger, glide around my hardwood floors in socks, and pretend I was at one of those parties I rarely get invites to.
Reacquainting myself with the champagne choices behind the refrigerated section, I choose a slightly dry ‘brut’ to contrast with a tin of chocolates I remembered I had left over from a trip to Paris. Slightly embarrassed to be purchasing a bottle of champagne in the middle of the week, exacerbated by a curious grin from the clerk accepting my tender, I strapped on an air of occasion and invited myself over to a friend’s house that also enjoys superfluous spontaneity. A quick stop home to pick up the Parisian truffles, and I was on my way to met my friend on the fire escape outside her 5th floor walk-up. Neither I, nor my companion had any previous experience with the proper way to expel a bubbly cork, though we knew pointing it away from our faces and the window would be best. Not knowing what to do, we passed the bottle back and forth like a hot potato and gradually the cork slid off under the pressure, letting off a ‘sigh’. Little carbonated bubbles rose to the tops of our glasses and we toasted: to black girls, to the summer, to little money but much class, and to personifying ‘’celebration’.

The sunset from our amazing view set in silence, interrupted only by a few giggles caused the blissful inebriation unattainable through pretentious cocktails. Hours later we found ourselves sprawled out on her bed, careful not to get chocolate on the white down comforter, in a position I haven’t been in since my sweet 16 sleepover – vulnerable, yet not alone. The tickle in my throat from the initial sip gone, we finished the rest of the bottle of Negro Brut without any hesitation. I awoke the next morning, totally unzipped, and with Champagne as my signature drink.

Harlem’s Love Story…
For your reading enjoyment, find the third installment of “Harlem’s Awakening”…This is the “True Hollywood Story” (as it were) behind the love affair between Joe and Harlem that plays out in the cabaret, “Harlem’s Night”.


Out of Sorts...Chapter 3
Harold Crossgrove and his gnarled teeth loomed in front of her.

“ Whatchu doin’ here Harrrlm?”, he drawled. Harlem assumed he was from Mississippi, but never bothered to verify this hunch. At this moment, she definitely could care less. Not only was he physically blocking her centered view of Joe – the very reason she was even at the Cornett Lounge – but his rancid breath was stronger than a Joe Louis’ left jab and caught her square on the chin. She actually shut her eyes and shook her head from the blow.

She could hear the strained notes from Joe’s bass calling out to her as though it were a strong whiff of smelling salts. She opened her eyes and craned her neck past and around Harold to let Joe know she heard him callin’. Harold turned with her.

“Didn’t know you like-did Jazz so much.”

This time she was ready for the Joe Louis K.O. and held her breath while Harold spoke. She merely nodded in affirmation.

“This band’s pretty decent. That guy right thur, the one strummin’ the upright, that’s my buddy, Joe.”

She tried to contain her resentment. He knows Joe. How does he know Joe? How could her Joe even be acquainted with a Harold? It wasn’t that Harold was a very bad man…he wasn’t a thief or a murderer (as far as she knew), he just seemed like a freakin’ idiot. And, she hated the way he lumbered around like a drugged hound dog. When her best friend Cora was around him, she turned into a passive poodle. The combination was sickening. The last time they all went out to see a Cowboy flick together, the two of them were so huddled up sniffing and snuffling each other while waiting on line to buy their tickets, that she wanted to run and line-backer tackle the both of them. But, she didn’t. She’d worn a new pair of pumps that day and didn’t want to scuff the toes.

Harold continued, “We works togetha’ down at Grand Central Station. Been tellin’ me to come down for quite some time now, buht my money wasn’t lookin’ towards entertainin’ these past few weeks. I’m alright now, though.”

Harlem was trying hard to concentrate. Between holding her breath and trying to be consumed by Joe, she was having a very hard time. She stood.

“Harold, will you excuse me please? I really must go powder my nose.”

“Your nose looks fine, Harrrlm.”

“Thank you Harold. Watch my seat please?”

“Will do.” He replied. “Will do.”

She couldn’t get to the powder room fast enough. She shot through the crowd like the little steel ball in a pinball machine; she tried not to bump into people with her silky hips, but wasn’t always successful.

The powder room offered the respite she needed. It certainly wasn’t as beautiful as the one at Macy’s, where she worked, but it would do. She slumped onto the dark green chaise and deeply inhaled soothing scents of rose water and cheap peach soap. Ahhh. She leaned her head against the wall and its wallpaper adorned with dark green velvety decal things that looked like they belonged on a French soldier’s uniform. She couldn’t remember what they were called. As she stared at them, trying to recall, a statuesque woman emerged from the bathroom and into the powder room. She didn’t look like she belonged in the Cornett Lounge.

“You all right, honey?”, she asked. It was funny that she said ‘honey’ because Harlem thought everything about this brown woman was like honey – her voice, her golden satin dress and wrap, her walk…smooth like honey. Harlem straightened herself. She felt like a fermenting sack of potatoes. Not sexy.

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” Harlem felt they were about the same age, but somehow this woman commanded an elegant presence that’s usually attained with more years than her own. Harlem added, “Thank you, Miss.”

Honey chuckled. “I’m just glad you’re alright. You looked out of sorts.”

“I guess I felt out of sorts…” The woman hadn’t heard her. She was already through the doors when Harlem added that bit of truth. She pulled herself to the mirror. What she saw before her wasn’t half as frightening as she’d felt.

“I look damn good.” She whispered as she tucked a curl in place. She glazed a little iced ruby across her lips and, for fun, she strolled out of the powder room doing her best impression of Bette Davis.





(c)2007 Pen and Peppur LLC

Momma Said
By Vicki Rogers

I stare at the band-aids wrapped around my left index finger now blue and bulbous after smashing it in the door leading to my garage. Mother Nature sent a sudden blast of air to the open garage which caused some sort of suction which then caused the door to slam much faster and harder than it normally does, thus smashing my finger. I’m sure she didn’t do it on purpose.
Unfortunately this type of thing happens to me all too often. While at the University of Arizona, my Alma Mater, something similar happened. It was 1997 -- I had gone back to college post-children and a few decades of life-living to obtain my much desired beckoning degree. It was time for my quarterly furniture rearranging. While moving stuff by myself, somehow -- between shifting my grip and tripping -- I landed on the floor with the leg of the antique hutch in the middle of my palm. (ouch!)

I remembered the year before when I hurt my right hand by slamming it in the front door while running to a neighbor’s house for ice. (I borrowed often because with my tiny freezer it was either ice or food.)

Now, while I sit in front of the computer, I struggle to type with my right hand and hold the mouse in place. I’m left handed and this is a daunting task. Sometimes in the afternoons, like back then, I forget my left hand is injured and I bang the wrapped finger into my eye or thigh or head. I have to be careful with my hands because when I’m not paying attention, they work against me and end up crushed between a door or panked on the twisted claw foot of an antique china cabinet.