Editor’s Edict:

A snapshot. That’s what we have this month. We take a dissected look at Tina McDowelle – our featured Brown Bettie and a new artist -- as she emerges to share her musical tableau with whomever will stop, look and listen…we take a moment to look at “BarackillaryObamainton” a cross-pollinated picture 0f Barack and Hillary that made me think of there being two sides to every love story…in our minds’ eye we can almost see the still photo of K. Hill as she sits in her solitude…with the poem “Dawn of a Woman” we taste bittersweet melancholy while flipping through the pages of a photo album of a relationship traveling from yesterday to tomorrow…Dear Brown Abbey says to look at the picture in your gut for the answer to a very popular question…and we get a flash photo of who my grandma may or may not be in Momma Said. We end this month with more fiction from “Harlem’s Awakening”, entitled, “Intruder”.
Happy reading!
Xo
The Hot One


PS - don’t forget to visit http://www.brownbetties.com/ for more on Brown Betties of Harlem’s Night Cabaret! If you have any comments, feel free to hit me up at brownbettiesgazette@yahoo.com

Brown Bettie in Juxtaposition
By Peppur Chambers

Tina McDowelle
Vocalist. Joy Bringer.

I introduce you to my pal, Tina McDowelle.

Tina is one of those rare energies of light – think the ‘80s movie, “Cocoon” – where, if she were actually able to zip herself out of her skin, her brilliance would be akin to the shockalicious electric energy in a million-watt bug zapper. You feel me? She’s that enticing. When we are all out dancing and Tina begins to get cosmically buckwyld... I'm the one going, "Tina, No!!! Stop that!" when I think she's gone too far with her juicy gyrations. But there’s no stopping Tina’s light, thankfully. Her stimulating smile amplifies; her beautiful electric mane bobs to the beat; and her bangled cocoa arms jab into the air in punchy conjunction with her beckoning hips. When her hips make her beyond-floor-length taffeta skirt of 60s pyschedelia sweep the floor in magical rhythm, she then grabs me and with a mere touch I'm transported into her world and I too scream and laugh and gyrate with reckless abandon. That's living, that's Tina McDowelle, and that is "Juxtaposition"....the title of her debut album.

I'm extremely fortunate enough to be surrounded by several explosive, incredibly talented individuals, many of them women, where when you see them doing their art, you are like, "WTF?" And you send a champagne toast to the universe for putting you in the right place at the right time to have allowed you to witness their transformative expression. And baby, if like attracts like, then I'm aaaalllll goooood!

Since this clearly isn’t about me, Tina, I ask you:

WTF?!
:)

Really, when did you know you'd better get your ass in the studio and let all of this music out?
Wow. First of all, thank you for your beautiful words. You’ve got me so emotional already. I had never sung before in my life before this album. I had always been told by family and everyone that I absolutely suck whenever I would try, and yet it was the deepest of my yearnings. But one year ago, I said I HAVE to make an album NOW. I always thought that it would be something I’d do when I got older but my spirit was literally yelling, “ NOW.” It took a lot of years, but I’ve learned to listen to that voice. I was horrified, and would fight with myself everyday, like “Who do you think you are that you can just make an album? Remember, you can’t sing.” As scary as it initially was, just the fact that I decided to go for it, felt sooo good. I felt alive for the first time in my life. We must always listen to that voice.

When I listen to the album, especially songs like “Meet Me/Spacesuits” where your voice literally makes me speechless and I have to thank God I have the use of my fingers and keyboard to communicate since no sounds except unstrung syllables are escaping from my mouth, I wonder, where did this all come from?
The beat touched me so deeply that I couldn’t wait to give birth to it through words. I wrote at least 5 different songs to it but I was never truly satisfied. Then I went in to my favorite part of the writing process where I just completely let go and I ask over and over again, “What do you want me to write?” One afternoon, while visiting my parents for Christmas, I was sitting on my old bed and it hit, “PUT ON YOUR SPACESUIT!” Everyone has their theory on what I’m talking about in the song, and please keep your interpretation, because that’s what art is all about. However, I wanted to convey that the world I live in, in my personal cosmic field, there are no judgments. Whatever path you choose, Buddha, Jesus, Mohammed, to be celibate or to be a whore, to be a doctor or to be a clown, Hillary or Barack, whatever! You’re all welcome where I live, we’re all one. Put on your spacesuit, your helmet (crown chakra) and let’s all shout and dance up here.


On “Let it Go”, where you kinda sound like Gwen Stefani while you ooze out, “So much is coming out of me, I’ve got to let it gooooo!”, I’m almost reminded of Devo musically. How did you get with your producer, Jeremy Hanlon of Kitchen Beats Productions (http://www.kitchenbeats.com/):

Life is so beautiful. A producer, who I was about to make the album with, but I am now currently suing because he stole money from me (long story) led me to this wonderful man. I met Jeremy (I call him J) at a concert where I was meeting up with the old producer (before he stole from me of course) Anyways, Jeremy’s band went up first and I just adored his unique beats. He was different and I adore different. Also, I could feel Jeremy’s extremely sensitive soul mixed with his authority and genius and I just knew he was someone I needed to work with. I went up to him immediately after and told him I’d like to work with him. He asked me if I’ve sung before or had anything recorded, and I was like, “…ahhh, not really, but I know this is what I’m supposed to be doing.” I guess he could feel my truth. Our chemistry was magical. His sensitivity and wisdom enabled him to see inside me and create music that fit my soul. Sometimes we would do two amazing songs a day. When it’s right, it just flows. Oh, the amount of laughter, freedom, love and joy that was in those recording sessions. It was one of the greatest experiences of my life. I’m so glad that other producer stole from me and made me go over to Jeremy. J’s amazing!


Have you heard of the group, Brazilian Girls? These are friends from NY, your style and sultriness reminds me of the lead singer, Sabina [pic left from an '06 show at NUBLU in NY] .
Yes, I have. They’re great. Their shows are so incredibly theatrical. They provide an experience. I can’t wait to do the same through my shows. I want people to leave exhausted from releasing so much emotion, yet inspired. And Sabina, wow. She’s so honest, so creative, so sexy, so different. Again, I just love different. Well, it’s not that I love different, I just love authenticity. If everyone was authentic we would see how different we all are. How beautiful would that be?!

Juxtaposition is the perfect title for your album; “Destiny” sounds European like something the band “Gus Gus” from Reykjavík, Iceland would do while “Let Us Pray” has a funk, jazz beat with melodic piano undertones like a Jill Scott cut …how did you know what you were doing was going to work?
Girl, I know nothing. I just let it come through and if it feels good I roll with it. If my hips start to move, it’s a hit!

You’re a Scorpio, grew up in West Virginia and Maryland, modeled, lived in New York, had a run with comedy, and use words like “Chakra” and “Channeling”. What (else) makes you tick?
I volunteer and teach teens at AGAPE (a spiritual center). We study everything from philosophy, art, the meaning of life/death, to politics, to Khalil Gibran. Besides dancing, it’s one of the few times I am totally immersed in the moment. They’ve given me purpose, the best gift there is. I also adore metaphysics, and am an avid astrologer.

I like the “Water My Flowers” chorus…did I hear you say something about “the crack of your ass” in the lyric?? Tina!
The ass needs love too.

What are you going to wear in your first show???
Ewwwww….something outrageous! Something that is art in itself. Something long, that I can twirl and flip over my head when I’m dancing on the ground.

Anything else you’d like to add about the birth of this project?
It took exactly nine months from start to finish, the irony. Oh, and a shout out to Natalie Taylor – Larios, Jaia Owens, and Gwen Staples. They were my make – up, styling and hair for the cd.
Also my photographers, www.GregoryStorm.com and Malik V. Booth.
They are fantastico!!!!!!!

Anything else you’d like to add about Tina’s world?
I just want to say thank you to my Mommy, Daddy and Bro, all my great girlfriends who have always supported me and made me laugh. And thank you Ivy for your love and patience. And Peppur, thank you for having this wonderful platform where artists can express themselves and be recognized. What a wonderful service you have provided.
http://www.tinamcdowellemusic.com/ or www.myspace.com/tinamcdowellemusic

Two Sides to Every Love Story
by Peppur Chambers

I’m not super political, so I can’t, won’t and don’t debate politics. I rely on my friends like Derrick Ashong to speak my mind (you’ve probably seen his You Tube video where he eloquently thwarts Obama questions from a reporter like he was a Williams’ sister kicking ass at Wimbledon). I hope I can return the mind-speaking favor on another equally important topic sometime in the near future.

My 18th birthday fell on an election day and I was thrilled as a Black woman to be able to exercise my right to vote. I’ve done so ever since with less than desirable results…I’ve given up on politics, you might say. Even with this outlook, or attitude, if you will, I still find it enormously ironic to have such monumental choices in which to chose from this Presidential Election. I love this two sided coin we have (with one side being rubbed away with each new MSNBC commentary). I love the controversy being created by countless stories surrounding the individuals running because I love that it’s shining a light on what people really think…and forcing them to verbalize their fears about an impending possibility. Again, being a Black woman, I find this election to be an interesting love story. Based on the following items concerning Barack and Hillary, I’m definitely not alone in my findings:

I came across these two items through forwards of forwards in emails. I do not know the source of this Obama/Hilary picture; if you know the artist source please comment with it! The pic is entitled: "BarackillaryObamainton".

Also through email, I received this link to a Washingtonpost.com article:

A Vote of Allegiance?
By DeNeen L. Brown
Woman has an ocean of wrongs too deep for any plummet, and the Negro, too, has an ocean of wrongs that cannot be fathomed. There are two great oceans; in the one is the black man, and in the other is the woman. . . . I will be thankful in my soul if any body can get out of the terrible pit."

If you are undecided on whom to vote in this year's love story, catch some moving words from Derrick here on why, at a minimum, it's crucial to excercise your right to vote.

See you at the polls in November.

In My Solitude
K.Hill

In that quiet time, when no one's around and no one's watching, I steal away in my mind. It is in those precious moments I find my solitude. You'll find me sitting on my bed, listening to the birds chirp off in some distant tree. The sound is faint but I can hear. Looking out of the window, grateful to see the sun shine another day, in my solitude I sit and have tea with my thoughts, just us two. Planning, contemplating, worrying, laughing – all of the above and I'm enjoying this time we that we share. It gives me an opportunity to evaluate self and ensure that my steps are consistent in the direction I want to go on this life journey of mine. For many of us, the rat race ensues and engulfs, we look up [or wake up] and realize that the life we're living is not really our own. Commitments, obligations and expectations have filled in for choices and we wonder to ourselves, "Is this the life I truly want, or is it the life I think I'm supposed to want?" For me, I am focused on living the life I truly want to live and allowing that simple purpose to express itself in my everyday actions. Maybe today I'll visit that paper store in the next town and discover a new creative wonderland, or perhaps I'll check out a matinee of Horton Hears A Who and reconnect with my inner silly goose, giggling until my sides hurt. Who knows, there are so many possibilities for this new day, so many opportunities for joy, what will I do? How will I decide? That has yet to be determined so for right now, in this moment and in my solitude I will simply…be.


K. Hill, Designer and Couture Invitation Consultant, owns and operates the Cinnamon Kiss Paper Studio from her quaint town of Homewood, IL just outside of the bustling Chicago city limits. Cinnamon Kiss Paper Studio combines traditional graphic design with handmade papers and custom embellishments to create unique, custom invitations and party favors. Services include logo and monogram design, custom invitations, corporate identity systems and art & design research. For more information visit: www.CinnamonKissPaper.com or call 708-798-8644.

Dawn of a Woman
by: Monique (Chameleon) Campbell

I cry over our yesterdays at night while you sleep
Dreaming of your tomorrows
And
In the morning
When sunshine bleeds through indigo skies
I reapply my disguise to look more like
the girl you once knew me to be
When in reality
The person this experience has forced me to become
Is much more womanly
You awake to a girl who’s happy to get
whatever time you can manage to spare
When really
I’m a woman who’s adjusted quite fine to living a life without you here
You see a wounded soul holding tight to anything camouflaged as real love
But if you look closer you’ll see a warrior
who sleeps comfortably in the arms of self love
You think that I’m the bedroom fantasy
that your father told you to always keep on the side
But your mother dared you to bring home
Well your half right
Because I am a sex goddess who is as equally domestic
as I am brilliant enough to cook the bacon
And bring it home
Yes
I smile at my tomorrows while you are awake
Oblivious to my metamorphosis
And tonight
When darkness chases an orange sky
I’ll remove my disguise for the last time
And introduce you to the woman that you forced me to be
But in all honesty
I’m not mad at the heartache that you caused
Because I’m much wiser and stronger; ultimately
You’ll finally meet the woman who’s been able
to give you all of herself
Even though your love was only part time
And
You’ll finally see that everything that you ran the streets looking for
Has been here at your side the whole time
And tonight
You will understand that love is not just a word
that you whisper in my ear in the middle of sex to keep my wet
I am hurt but I’m not afraid to let you go with absolutely no regrets
Tomorrow morning will be bittersweet
A subtle blend of melancholy and a dash of conquest
will fill my overcast skies
I’ll throw away my foolish girl disguise
and smile at the woman love has forced me to be
Because I’m wiser and stronger; ultimately

*Photo by Ev Salomon. Stills from the short film “Morning After” by Tina Divina

Brown Abbey

Dear Ms. Brown Abbey-

I suspect that my boyfriend may be pitching for both teams, if you know what I mean!? What do you think I should do, Oh wise one?

Sincerely,
Sleeping with the enemy!


Dear Sleeping with The Enemy,

Oh my… Hmmm…do you have proof your boy is playing for both teams or are we only speculating? I strongly suggest coming out and asking him. He just might be man enough to tell you the truth. It has often been said by men who have later been exposed by their women counterparts…”Well, uh …she didn’t ask, So I didn’t tell” I would suggest sitting down and having a heart-to-heart, meaning not in an accusatory way, but more like a “have you ever” leading into an “Are you…?” way. I am a strong believer in direct communication, as well as TRUSTING your INTUITION.

I say this because he may convince you in every way that he is not interested in other men, but sweetie if your gut is telling you that he may be a down low brotha than you should RUN in the opposite direction, unless of course you don’t mind this sort of “batter-up” game.

Love n Light

Brown Abbey

Momma Said
by Peppur Chambers, Vicki Rogers & Alberta White (pic 2nd from right)

This past Christmas holiday, I spent some time looking at cherished photos in my mom’s 1970s white, leather bound album with chipped, gilded, script letters that announce, “Family Album”. Like any other album from any other family, it holds irreplaceable moments captured by outdated contraptions. I was flipping through the pics as I often do when I’m at mom’s house in Arizona. I’m a hopeless romantic for Era’s gone-by and a hound dog for family clues…I love to inspect pictures and attempt to unlock the mystery of what was “really” going on in the flash of a moment, i.e. Where were they? What were they doing? Are they having a good time or a bad time? Ultimately, a camera flash is a light that show a story that wasn't necessarily meant to be told because some people see the act of taking a snapshot as an opportunity to reveal only what they want you to see – especially when the photographer is trying to capture something else. My grandma, Alberta White, is a master at this, whether she’s trapped in a photo or ribbing you for missing a play in Hearts.

As I looked through the album at pictures of Gram (my mom’s mom) in the 40s, 50s, 60s, and 70s, I thought about who Gram was then and who she is now. I wondered if she was the same person. Whatever the answer, I felt the urge to share these pictures with my step mom of some twenty-five years. I saw it as an introduction of sorts since, surprisingly, Gram and my step mom were meeting for the first time, as there had never been a reason to be in the same room after my parent’s divorce.

I knew Gram would appreciate this gesture since she knows she was a hot woman; you can tell by the stance she takes in her photos and sometimes by the expressions in the people around her. She often says I remind her of how she was then. (Lineage-wise, she absolutely takes credit for where I come from and in the last photo below its amazing how much I look like her!)

In tribute to her hotness, I had the brilliant idea of interviewing Gram for Momma Said (and give my momma a break from writing). Only, I thought of it once I got back to LA. Duh. I wish I’d thought of this when I was with her. Anyway, I had mom interview Gram with these questions and email them back to me. Gram is stoically vibrant … Rather than answer my random questions clinically presented through her daughter, she’d sooner munch on (required) sugar free crackers from her bedroom haven filled with the distinct sound of film noir programming on Turner Classic Movies while softly yelling hushed, truncated obscenities at Myrna Loy. So this is the snapshot we were able to get during the TCM “intermissions”:

What's one thing you learned from your mother? (Good or Bad)
How to be thrifty.

What's one thing you told all four of your daughters?
How to respect other people.


What's one thing you wish you had told them?
I pretty much covered it all (for instance, how important it is to live a good life.)

What's one thing you wish you hadn't told them?
That there is some good in everyone-I’m not so sure now.

What's one thing you wish your mom had told you?
How to care for yourself.

What do you think is your lasting legacy?
My children

What time in your life has been or is your favorite? Why? In my thirties and forties--way much less stress.

What's the best thing about Alberta White? (What's your middle name?! Who are you named for?)
My personality. Middle name Louise (named by my Uncle Clifford - don’t know if I was named for anyone)

What makes a woman powerful?
Her knowledge that she is powerful and using that knowledge.

What's the best thing about being a woman?
Realizing that she does have strength and power in all of her endeavors.

What's the best thing about being a grandma?
Being able to show favoritism without causing pain.

What's the best thing about being a mom?
Knowing (later in life) HOW DEAR YOUR ARE TO your children (caps are a typo)

If I had a daughter, what would you say to her?
Pick out all the things about your mom that you cherish and practice living them.

Date of birth (not year unless you want to include) and location of birth
March 24, 1932 Wright City .Mo

Parent's names
Hadley and Lillian Hamm

Worked in KU ____ office for how long? _____ years
Kansas University Chemistry Dept (office and lab) 19 ½ years. Lawrence High School Principal Secretary - 20yrs

What'd you do before KU again?
House cleaning before KU and LHS

Describe your best childhood memory. (And don't say there wasn't one! :)
Having new shoes at Easter Time.

*Thank you to my Aunt Pamela Sanchez for the photos online!

Harlem’s Love Story…
For your reading enjoyment, find the fifth 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”.

Intruder...Chapter 4 - continued

She felt a blood-boiling rage stronger than Niagara Falls leap directly from her gut to throat. It quickly crept from her neck, along her jaw line and up to her cheeks. When it reached her ears in a deafening din, she knew the awful grin on her face used to protect her true feelings just wouldn’t be enough to cover her. She’d forgotten how Joe could make her so angry with something as casual as his greeting of, “How Ya been?”. Then again, she’d started to realize that perhaps their previous horizontal encounters merely were not more than anything but casual. Her head was about to explode while standing there casually in front of Joe and the dimwitted Harold. She had to take action.

“Harold, get me a drink, will you?”, she said softly.

“Now Harrrlm, you know I can’t afford no drink…”

“Just order me the freakin’ drink, Harold. I’ll pay for it my damn self!”

Somehow Joe finally found his voice and said, “I’ll get that drink for you, Harlem.”

Her sarcasm dripped. “Gee, Joe. That’s real nice of you. Since we seem to casually know each other, I couldn’t ask you to do such a chivalrous thing. I’ll get it myself.” Before she could add on, “You stupid son of a bitch!”, the woman Harlem had just met in the powder room (whom Harlem had nicknamed “Honey” given her smooth talk, walk and aura) appeared. She carried two glasses of champagne and handed one of them to Joe.

“Here you go, sugar. You’ve been over here so long with your little friends that our bubbles were starting to go flat.” She ended that remark with a nice kiss on Joe’s lips. Joe’s lips.

She then turned to Harlem, “Hello again, sweetie. I see you were able to pull yourself together…” While Harlem had been a bit out of sorts in the powder room due to a surprise TKO from Harold’s bad breath and the surprise of him and Joe knowing each other, Harlem would have hardly considered her state one that needed “pulling together”! This honey-fied woman then rubbed Harlem’s back like a parent does a child being attacked by whooping cough. Harlem was absolutely, positively on f-i-r-e. She was surprised this woman’s hand hadn’t singed into ashes.

“You all, this is Sarah.” Harlem heard Joe say. “Sarah, this is Harold and Harlem.”
“Don’t you two make a fine couple!” grinned Sarah.

O-k. That was it. “Actually,” Harlem oozed, “Harold is my friend Cora’s boyfriend. I’m at the Cornett Lounge tonight quite alone on invitation from Joe, here.” Harlem had intended for her words to come out sheathed in ice; unfortunately they’d melted into a sultry mess…which may have worked to her home court advantage, because both Sarah and Harold said:

“How long have you two known each other?”, only it obviously didn’t come out of their mouths the same way.

“Gosh, Joe and I…” and she stared hard at Joe at this point, “How long’s it been, Joe?” She leaned against the bar; more so for support than for movie-star effect.

Joe simply said, “Not long.”

“Joe, you sure are funny.” Harlem said as she turned her backside to him, leaned over the bar and called for Scotty, the bartender. She placed her hand on her ass, as if to remind Joe that he wouldn’t be touching it EVER again. To think she’d thought they’d really had somethin’. Based on their last encounter, Joe seemed like he really liked her, and had said some stuff and done some stuff to make her feel like she was bein’ really liked. But now, in front of witnesses, he had changed his tune. Luckily she knew how to remain a lady in the faces of adversity and cocked her head back to say, “He’s right, it hasn’t been long at all.”

Sarah must have taken a sip of champagne (perhaps a frog jumped into her throat?), because Harold asked, “You’s got any more ‘a that champagne left? I sure could use a taste!” Leave it to Harold. He sure knew how to inject himself into a situation just like a flu shot. In that moment, while Harlem was perched in a hunch over the bar, sucking in the air that had been punched out of her when Sarah kissed Joe, she felt all of her animosity for Harold begin to dissipate. Also in that moment, surprisingly, she caught herself in the gargantuan oval mirror behind the bar. She was always amazed at her beauty because it seemed like it belonged to someone else…leaving her to feel like she was looking at a stranger especially when she felt like shit and surely must look it. As she called on that beauty to please make her feel even an ounce better until her scotch and soda arrived, she caught Joe looking at her reflection. Damn it. Intruder. How much of her had he just seen? She wasn’t sure, but it seemed like he was looking for sympathy, forgiveness or some other sort of healing salve from her. Screw him. (Which, thinking back on another meaning of that very phrase, she thought, “Geez, why’d I do it? Why?”)Her eyes immediately darkened and blazed into glass hardened by a one-million-degree fireball torch of shame, hurt, wanting and disgust. She aimed and fired. She knew she hit him because he flinched…and turned away. She watched him walk off with Sarah and Harold to their champagne table. Harold called back to her, “Harrrlm, you comin’?”

She didn’t answer because she wasn’t sure what her answer should or would be. All she could surely say was:

“Hey Scotty, how about that drink?”

(c)2007 Pen and Peppur LLC