DONNA BRAZILE AXED BY CNN FOR CHEATING; BUSINESS AS USUAL

DONNA BRAZILE AXED BY CNN FOR CHEATING; BUSINESS AS USUAL:


Sources: Washington Post, Huffpost, CNN, The Wrap, Youtube


Although she was recently FIRED from her job at CNN as a Political Contributor, BLACK Journalist Donna Brazile holds her place as one of my favorite Media and Public Relations experts.

Did HILLARY CLINTON'S campaign instruct Ms Brazile to slip debate questions to Hillary's staff?

We may NEVER know the answer to that question.

If elected as President of the United States, will Hillary repay Donna Brazile's LOYALTY with a plum key role in her Executive Cabinet.

There's no guarantee.

Oh! The sacrifices one often makes to gain FAME and Prestige in the world of Politics and Entertainment.


***** ‘She was fired!’: CNN blows up with chatter of its own Donna Brazile


To its credit, CNN’s media-reporting team wrote a story for the company’s website on the resignation of Donna Brazile as a CNN contributor following revelations that in March she shared questions from a debate and a town-hall event with the Clinton campaign. It’s a bona fide scandal.
Yet the Erik Wemple Blog, a steady CNN watcher, hasn’t seen much coverage of Brazile’s actions on CNN airwaves.

Panel discussions, however, have a way of meandering. CNN host Brooke Baldwin moments ago convened former Philadelphia mayor Michael Nutter; commentator S.E. Cupp; and Trump supporter and former George W. Bush political director Matt Schlapp to break down the last days of the 2016 presidential race. All kinds of things got attention, including the role of women in the election, the need to shake up Washington, and reports that the race is getting tight.

Reacting to analysis that the Republicans are split over Trump, Schlapp pointed out that Donna Brazile was criticized by CNN Worldwide President Jeff Zucker for “leak[ing] two questions to the Clinton campaign to hurt the Bernie Sanders campaign.”

A bit later in the discussion, Nutter defended Brazile, saying, “Donna Brazile is doing a fantastic job at the DNC now and prior to that as a great political strategist and TV commentator.”

Schlapp interjected: “Hillary agrees with you!”

Nutter continued: “We can talk about questions and who got what questions. You know, I think it might not have been too much of a surprise if you’re in Flint, that you might get a question from somebody about the water.”

Schlapp: “Then why was she fired?”

Nutter: “Let me finish. She was not fired.”

Schlapp: “She was fired by CNN.”

Nutter: “You can say that three times and I’m going to say three times, she resigned on her own. That is the fact, so do not spread lies about someone’s personal business or how they conducted themselves.”

Schlapp: “Hey, Brooke, can you help me out here. I’m not lying. I’m not lying.”

Baldwin: “There was some sort of termination … That is way, way higher than my pay grade, Matt. So I really can’t address it, but I can tell you that [inaudible] did not help her out.”

The facts: CNN did indeed declare publicly that Brazile had “resigned.” Journalists everywhere, including Politico’s Jack Shafer, interpreted the timing and circumstances of the move as something other than voluntary. “CNN Dumped Donna Brazile. It Should Keep Going,” reads the headline on Shafer’s piece. Add to that Baldwin’s demi-confirmation on air, plus all the context, and it appears that Schlapp was speaking the unimpeachable truth.

BEYONCÉ EXPOSES LEMONADE RELATIONSHIPS: ARE YOU IN ONE?

BEYONCÉ EXPOSES LEMONADE RELATIONSHIPS: ARE YOU IN ONE?

HOW MUCH WILL IT COST A WOMAN EMOTIONALLY & MENTALLY TO REMAIN IN AN LEMONADE RELATIONSHIP?

Sources:  Glamour, Billboard, YouTube

***** How Beyoncé's Lemonade Gave Black Women Permission to Be Emotional Without Shame

Almost a year ago, I was in the throes of a heart-wrenching breakup. It broke me. I had anchored my happiness and future into this one man, but, as British-Somali poet Warsan Shire says, you can’t make homes out of human beings. 

The linear, quick grieving process I had hoped for was nowhere in sight; It was long and excruciating. To make matters worse, I was suffering in silence because of prying eyes from our mutual industry peers. 

Finally, 10 months post-heartbreak, the words just poured out of me. I exhaled. Some months later, a woman (one of many he had had in and out of his bed) texted me. She had read my piece and tried to shame me—using my own words with her own dig: “Today is the day. Let go.” That’s the thing about getting emotional and showing your vulnerability—speaking your feelings is no guarantee of empathy. Even from other women. 

But Beyoncé's Lemonade allows black women to be angry and crazy because of that hurt and then to heal once we’ve recognized our power. And this, to me, is the true crux of Beyoncé’s Lemonade: For years, women have been called "crazy" or worse for showing their real emotions—and black women most of all.

women often aren’t allowed to be weak. Breaking is not an option, so we walk around Gucci down to the socks to cover the emotions we're told not to feel. Being given lemons and making lemonade is not only what we’ve always done—it’s what’s expected. 

We aren’t allowed to be angry or loud—even the First Lady got the Angry Black Woman label for expressing herself eloquently. We aren't allowed to be weak. We aren’t allowed to feel depleted. It defies the superhuman strength gene we are believed to carry—there’s a reason medical professionals think we feel less pain. Forget about being bitter. We are meant to be sturdy mules, carrying the weight of the world on our backs. But in private—and with our black girlfriends—we are free. 

Lemonade channels that feeling of freedom, giving black women the space to have intense emotions—to be angry and devastated by hurt—and then to heal. It rips off the mask and affirms that our feelings are valid, that we are powerful.

I wrote on Facebook about Lemonade being the journey of women coming into our own, realizing our power, and letting love be transformative, and a friend, in tears, told me: “Healing is so, so hard.” She said she had finally been able to admit that she was still mourning the dissolution of a five-year relationship. Beyoncé did that for us. She took our hand and said, "I know. I know."

Lemonade takes 11 acts to bring us from Intuition to Redemption, passing Denial, Anger, and Emptiness along the way. Beyoncé understands the transformative power of love in women's lives, and she uses Lemonade as a vessel to show black womanhood in its fullness—the peaks and the valleys. With "I tried to change.

 Closed my mouth more. Prettier, softer, less awake," Beyoncé makes us confront ourselves: How many times have we shrunk or contorted ourselves into bubblier and less-opinionated versions of who we are with the hopes that he’d stay? Bey has been guilty of this very thing. If a successful, beautiful superstar is not immune to shrinking herself for a man, there is no shame for us to have done it. Bey understands. Even she isn't exempt from comparing herself to "Becky with the good hair."

In Anger, Beyoncé is a sight of glory. Wearing a mustard yellow dress—a nod to the orisha Oshun—we see her breaking windows and asking, "What’s worse? Looking jealous or crazy, jealous and crazy? Or like, being walked all over lately...I’d rather be crazy.” Anger is held over black women’s head so much we sit in a pit of guilt just for feeling it, but Beyoncé just laughs through the rage. I imagine her laughing at this idea that women can’t react to the hurt men cause us. Anger fuels the realization of who she is. “Who the fuck you think I is?" she asks. "You ain’t married to no average bitch, boy.” In Apathy, Beyoncé tells us, “I ain’t sorry"—a pointed statement in a world where women seem to always be apologizing, even when we're not in the wrong. “Did he bend your reflection? Did he make you forget your own name?” Beyoncé wants us to remember our own names because it’s not about him. She’s refusing to be sacrificial for love. She’s throwing away victimhood. She is the captain of her own ship. “I’mma keep running ‘cause winners don’t quit themselves.” The pop star wants us to bank on ourselves every single time.

In the end, loving herself is Beyoncé's salvation. “True love brought salvation back in to me," she sings. "Every tear became my remedy.” At the end of Lemonade, black women gather in the kitchen to cook soul food—a healing aid, to be sure—and Jay Z's grandmother describes making lemons out of lemonade. The power in matriarchies and sisterhood are solidified, crucial to our redemption. Loving ourselves will be our own salvation.

This ode to black women—because, truly, that’s what Lemonade is—reflects our own power back to us. That power does not only exist in being strong and confident and composed. That power is deeply connected to our raw emotions and our vulnerability.

I love that Beyoncé shows black women in all our beauty, from the elders to the black futurists (Quvenzhané Wallis and Amandla Stenberg); from the black queer women to Serena Williams; from the civil rights icon Leah Chase to the black mothers of sons slain by police violence; from black women with natural hair to symbolism of West African spiritual orishas. 

She wanted us to see the goddess in ourselves—and for the world to see it too. 

I don’t know if Lemonade is about Beyoncé’s marriage to Jay Z or if she’s channeling emotions through her mother’s public divorce from her father. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it's neither.

 What’s way more important than the speculation is that she used her platform to bring us back to ourselves when we needed a reminder. 

When we need a reminder that our natural curvy hips don’t make us “manly,” she showed us Serena twerking in a bodysuit. 

When we need a reminder that our culture is valuable long before it’s Columbused, she gave us images of black women in cornrows (re: not boxer braids). She reminded us that a black president and his black wife made it into the White House in racist America. 

She reminded us through a country song that there is no box they can place on our talents. She reminded us that we are not just our suffering—joy is always near. She reminded us that we must tell our own stories. 

We must uplift other black women. She reminded us that no matter what they say the work is what will last. She reminded us that sharing our stories—even at their most vulnerable—helps us shed the weight of carrying it all alone.

Beyoncé gave black women permission to be hurt, be angry, cry, doubt ourselves, feel empty, love hard, all without apologies. That our vulnerability is nothing to be ashamed of. And when we’re done feeling, we mustn’t ever forget the god within us. Because on the other side of healing we can move mountains. “If we’re going to heal, let it be glorious.”