Integrity Sucks

Yeah, I said it.  Integrity sucks because you can't just do what you want to do.  You can't just do what serves you in the moment.  You have to be subject to someone or something:  the truth, God, your conscience...

A few weeks ago, I was walking back to my car, which was parked on Arizona Avenue in Santa Monica, CA.  (Now, I have parked my car in this area two times a week for the last year.)  As I got closer to my car, I noticed a white piece of paper stuck under my windshield wiper.  "It can't be a ticket," I thought.  "I'm not parked illegally."  But yes, it was a ticket, and yes, I was parked illegally.   The sign above my car clearly read, "Permit required." "What?!"  For months I had parked a few car lanes from this spot, and there was no sign there.  

So here I am, holding a $62 ticket in my hand, and I am enraged.  The guy on the balcony above me yelled out, "Contest it!  Tell them there wasn't a sign there."  And for a few minutes, I think about doing it.  I am on a tight budget, and $62 is a lot of money to pay because I didn't see a sign.  But, I feel a pull on the inside of me to live with integrity and decide to not contest it.  It takes me nearly two weeks, however, before I go online to pay it cause the thought of giving the city of Santa Monica $62 for an honest mistake feels incredulous and kind of unjust (If I dare use the word "justice" to describe a matter so trivial.) But I pay it, begrudgingly.

The next week I head into the 99cent store by my house to pick up a few items.  I'm at the checkout, and my items are being rung up, but I tell the cashier that I will be right back and quickly run to the next aisle to grab some gum.  I come back, she gives me the total, and I pay with my debit card.  I'm turning to walk away when she asks whose gum it is that she's about to ring up.  I say "Mine."  She looks a little annoyed and instead of ringing it up, hands it to me.  I'm walking towards the door and am like, "Did she just GIVE me that gum, without ringing it up?  Well.. it must be okay, since she did it and she works here."  But as I get closer to the door, I realize that taking it would be stealing, even if she did hand it to me.  So, I take the gum out of my bag and stick it on a boxes of Pringles stacked next to the exit.

Why do I share these two stories?  Because sometimes, integrity sucks.  It is inconvenient.  You don't get what you want.  You have to take the long route when you're in a rush.  You have to pay money that you don't really have.  But what makes it worth it is knowing that God sees you, and knowing that you are being trained to be trustworthy in any situation-whether people are watching or not.

Humility that isn't really humility

1. Growing up Christian, you learn to be humble.  You learn to not think too much of yourself 'cause 1) you're not God, 2) your days are finite, and 3) you're no better than your neighbor.   As a performer, I hear a lot of praise, (after I walk off stage or when I'm on set), and I've had to do a lot of soul-searching about how to embrace humility in an industry that exalts people and itself.  This is what I've learned:

I've learned that humility isn't about not thinking too much of yourself, or thinking less of yourself.  Humility is about understanding who God created you to be, and being secure in that, and it's about being secure with what you are not.  It is about understanding that your identity doesn't come from what you do, while also understanding what you're absolutely amazing at and sharing it with the world—not because you need people’s approval or have a narcissistic need to share, but because to hide it would be selfish; it would be denying the world of the gift that God gave you to share.  

Humility is practicing until you put in your 10,000 hours and practicing some more because you recognize that you can always get better.  Alternately, humility is choosing to not practice sometimes because your grandma needs a ride to the store, because rest is the yang of work, or because you understand that your gift(s) to the world is only a small part of the reason for your existence.  

Today, I stand and walk in humility.  I thank God that I am incredibly smart, delightfully funny, and creatively thoughtful. 

2012: The Year I Gave Up Everything

In 2005, I prayed the words found in Philippians 3:10, to God: “That I may know him (Christ), and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death.”  It was a heartfelt prayer, prayed sincerely, but quite naively because that prayer ushered in a year containing unparalleled levels of suffering and general havoc.  It was crazy.  I told myself to never pray for such things again, but I forgot and 2012 was the most intense, inane year of my life!  It was the year that all of my prayers caught up with me and words that once seemed like idyllic requests (praying that I would love God more than I could ever love any man and praying that my external success would never exceed my internal character) suddenly seemed like very, very bad thought-out prayer requests.

Yes, I prayed to love God more than I could ever love anyone else, but I didn’t foresee having to deal with a painful break-up with one of the most wonderful, godly, frabjous people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and then going through the process of becoming truly grateful to God for the break-up.

And yes I prayed for both success in the arts/entertainment plus the internal fortitude to handle it, but I didn’t realize that shooting five national commercials, conducting red carpet interviews, and taking on new writing assignments with print and online publications would be preceded by:

·         Incessant crying (crying during sermons, crying while praying, crying while driving, crying on my way to set.  It got so bad I stopped wearing mascara.)

·         Unprecedented levels of pain and confusion that made me decide to stop thinking so that I could stay sane.

·         Feeling like the rudder on my internal ship was in the repair shop and couldn’t be used, leaving me feeling like a ship without a rudder.

·         Letting go of EVERYTHING.

Also, I didn’t anticipate that in 2012 I would book the two most amazing gigs of my career (including an international project that would shoot in another country and a national talk show pilot) only to lose both within the time span of eight days.

The pain of loss, the pain of almost gaining and losing, and even the pain and cost that come with gaining pushed me not just to my knees, but to a place of trying to learn why God does the things that He does.  A new theology formed (and is forming), and I have been pressed to a place where I’m asking God “Teach me how to pray.”  That’s my prayer as I enter 2013, but this time I pray with my eyes wide open.  I know that it won’t be all roses, although the Tournament of Roses Parade suggests that it should be, but I also know that the joy birthed from pain is the most wonderful kind of joy there is.

What’s your prayer for this year? Know that God doesn’t just hear prayers. He answers them!

Happy New Year! 

Choices, Choices!

It's been said that we are the sum total of our choices.

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about choice, and how our desires fuel it. I've asked myself, "What do I wanna do with my life, really? Has it deviated from what I've wanted for years, if only slightly, or is it the same? How does starting a family (getting married and having a baby) fit into what I want career-wise? Does having one automatically rule out the other, or is it possible to do them both with grace, style, and most importantly—sanity? How have other goal-oriented women answered these questions?"

While the answers are a bit opaque presently, I do know that the choices that I make now will affect what happens in the future.

Choice is an interesting concept. Sometimes it has small consequences: The caramel macchiato that you order at Starbucks may not have a long-term effect on your life, but it could give you gas for a day, if you're lactose intolerant.

 Other times, there are more significant consequences: Choosing to quit your demanding, stress-inducing job before you secure another one could leave you unemployed for a several months, happy but broke.

Whether the consequences are great or small, however, choosing well is important. Choosing to have that drink at Starbucks could be a really bad idea if you have a big presentation where you need to make a good impression. And being broke and unemployed is hardly ever a good idea, for you or your family and friends.

This year, my prayer is that I can make really wise choices—those that will benefit me now and in the future, as well as any new family members who might come along.

 Cheers to Good Choices!


-Chante

Happy King Day, Baby!

There is a picture of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. that I keep on my desk.  In it, he wears a perfectly pressed black business suit, the portrait of sophistication and class.  The background is a dilapidated house, his childhood home.  The picture captures what King was all about: a new era of justice, bursting from an oppressive past.  

What impresses me most about King is not what he amassed—a string of degrees, a beautiful family, worldwide fame, and a name that will live on for generations.  What amazes me most about King is what he gave up—his family, his future, and his very life. 

I am amazed that a man who had so much was willing to give up so much, and that in the face of threats (two home bombings and twenty-nine jail cells), he continued preaching, continued fighting. He never backed down.  Where do we see that kind of sacrifice and suffering anymore?  Do we see that kind of sacrifice and suffering anymore?

As a middle-class, college-educated African American woman, a primary beneficiary of King’s fight and legacy, I pray that I can continue his dream, not just in what I amass, but in what I’m willing to give up for those suffering at the hands of injustice and poverty.  I pray that I am willing to give my time, my money, and if need be, my very life.  We are, after all, all God’s children.

“We must be reminded anew that God is at work in his universe.  He is not outside the world looking on with a sort of cold indifference.  Here on all the roads of life, he is striving in our striving.  Like an ever-loving Father, he is working through history for the salvation of his children.  As we struggle to defeat the forces of evil, the God of the universe struggles with us.”

-Martin Luther King Jr., King Came Preaching

It's Only An Emergency!

Here’s another driver’s confession: Tonight I was driving to church when I heard the slight sound of sirens. I looked in my rearview mirror and saw an ambulance, far away, but approaching.  I won’t need to pull over for a little bit, I thought, still driving.  So, I kept driving, and it kept coming.  After about a minute I did need to pull over, but then I thought.  Do I really need to pull to the side?  Couldn’t I just stop in this middle lane?  Surely the ambulance could still get by.  Quite a few other drivers must have thought this too, cause I saw only the car in front of me pull to the right, (and I followed suit).

In that moment I witnessed insensitivity that is disappointingly familiar.  How could we—I—be so insensitive to the needs of whoever was in that ambulance or about to be placed in that ambulance?

A city creature, I have become so accustomed to seeing and hearing ambulances, police cars, and fire trucks that the experience doesn’t carry any emotional weight to me anymore. When my pupils are dilated by the flashing red lights, I don’t think about the person or people who might be saved by the paramedics on board.  I don’t think “emergency.”  I think "inconvenience."

Tonight, though, was a self-inflicted slap to the face.  I don’t want to be the selfish driver who thinks only of herself.  I want to be willing to miss a light, or a turn, or a freeway exit if it means health and safety for someone.  And I want to do it without thinking about it, as instinctively as a mama bear protects her cubs.

So from now on my name shall be “Mama Bear Chante.”

For the Record

Many people spend their entire lives trying to be the first—the first to cross the finish line, the first to get married, the first to buy a house.  NFL football star Reggie Bush is no different.  A 2005 Heisman Trophy winner, he and teammate Matt Leinart were the first pair of Heisman Trophy winners to play together in a Rose Bowl.  In February of 2010, he led the New Orleans Saints to their first NFC championship, their first Super Bowl appearance, and their first Super Bowl Championship.  This month, he will make history again by becoming the first player in the 75-year history of the Heisman Trust to have the trophy stripped away from him.  How’s that for a first?

Reggie Bush became a household name as a player on University of Southern California’s football team. He was a running back, wide receiver, and punt returner.  Fast and flexible, a teammate named him “Gumby,” for his unbelievable flexibility.  He helped lead USC to the 2005 Orange Bowl Championship, breaking records at USC and in the NCAA. He left USC one year shy of graduation to enter the 2006 NFL Draft.  Surprisingly, he wasn’t the number one draft pick – he was number two; but unsurprisingly, he announced his first endorsement deal (with adidas) days before the Draft, the first of what now totals $5 million annually, including deals with Pepsi, Subway, and General Motors.  (Bush is second only to Peyton Manning in endorsement deals for a NFL player.)

With a championship ring to bling on his finger, a hottie celeb girl to flaunt on his arm, and millions more coming, this should have been Reggie Bush’s year to smile, sit pretty, and enjoy the fruit of years of hard labor.  But instead of enjoying this championship year, he has been sitting in hearings and meetings, answering questions about his time at USC:  “Did you receive gifts from sports agents while a student?”  “Did your mom receive presents from sports agents while you were a student?”

Bush has remained quiet, but the Heisman Trust has vocalized its opposition to what it says was illegal activity on the part of the Bush family.  Its voice has been loud and oh so clear: 

• USC was forced to vacate its last wins of the 2004 season (including the 2005 Orange Bowl), plus all of its 2005 season wins
• USC was banned from all bowl games in 2010 & 2011
• USC will lose 30 athletic scholarships throughout the next three years
• USC must disassociate itself from Bush, permanently, meaning that to USC, it will be like he never existed.
• USC must give back the Heisman Trophy that Bush won

Now, that must hurt—to see three years of your hard work, sweat and pain disappear, over night—to be told that what you dreamed about as a boy and worked together with your teammates to accomplish is gone, with one decision.  It must be painful to have the school that you essentially gave your life to for three years publicly disown you, forever. 

Or… maybe not so much.  For Bush, maybe it was never about love for USC, or love for his teammates, or love for the game.  Maybe it was all for the love of money.

Money was what motivated him, after all, to break NCAA rules and accept presents and monetary gifts from sports agents, including a limousine ride to the 2005 Heisman Trophy ceremony.  And money was what motivated him to leave USC one year early to enter the NFL Draft.  And wasn’t money what enticed him to endorse adidas, Pepsi, Subway, and GM?

Now it’s irony that lifts its head, shaking in disapproval, because it’s allegations that Bush and his family failed to repay money to sports agents that gave the NCAA the information that it needed to catch Bush.  If Bush had paid these agents the money that he had promised to repay them, they most likely wouldn’t have helped the NCAA in its investigation.  But if Bush hadn’t taken the money to begin with, then there couldn’t have been an investigation because there wouldn’t have been any wrongdoing.

Bush valued his own immediate wants over those of his teammates, his college’s, and his own long-term goals.  Now, he’s lost what he built with his teammates (along with their trust and friendship), his legacy at USC, and the respect of countless fans.  Plus, he’s lost millions in endorsements that companies would have given him if he didn’t have a history of dishonesty and selfishness.

I hope that all of this has caused Bush to take a look at his past to create a better roadmap for his future.  (Doesn’t that sound like a political campaign ad?)  If so, he can accomplish another first—he can be the first professional athlete of late to realize that character does indeed count.  

Still Standing, Barely

I feel for Carrie Prejean. On national television, in front of millions, she dared to voice her opinion, knowing that it was the voice of the minority. And her opinion probably cost her the Miss USA crown. It was her actions, however, not her voice, that cost her the Miss California crown.

At the Miss USA Pageant she exercised her right to express her opinion.  She did not, however, have the right to appear in concert with various organizations, speaking out against gay marriage. She didn't have the right to take the Miss USA title and use it to lend support to a controversial social cause.

And she certainly didn't have the right to retain her title after photos of her posing topless surfaced in the tabloids. Before she became Miss California, she signed a contract verifying that she hadn't ever posed nude. The contract also stipulated that she would make appearances on behalf of the Miss Universe Organization, and that she could not use the title to advance any causes / organizations not approved of by that organization.

Donald Trump, feeling pressured from people within and outside of the Miss Universe Organization, graciously allowed Carrie to keep her title, despite the photos. However, once she became a spokesperson for anti-gay marriage organizations, she was in violation of her contract, once again.

What Carrie Prejean failed to understand is that as a titleholder, you relinquish your right to act as an independent entity. Yes, as an American you have the right to free speech, but as a titleholder, your words are censored, because you don't represent yourself.  Yes, you have the right to advocate for various causes, but those causes must be approved of by the pageant. You are their representative and are technically employed by them.

Carrie Prejean crossed the line of what was acceptable behavior for a titleholder, and she lost her crown as a result. Was she targeted because of her unpopular opinion? Maybe. Was the Miss Universe Organization within its rights to fire her? Absolutely.

Just this last week, news reports verified the existence of a sex tape that Carrie made as a teenager, as a present to her boyfriend. This third "breach" of contract is perhaps the final confirmation that Donald Trump made the best decision when he decided to fire Carrie after all. The job of a titleholder, at any level, is to be a role model. All of Carrie Prejean's actions have made me question her ability to be that.

It Ain't Okay!

Some have said that you can measure a man by how he treats his mother in particular and women in general. Others say you can measure him not by the kinds of mistakes he makes, but by how he handles them. I believe both of these to be true.

Having said that, I would like to say that is never okay for a man to drug and rape a thirteen-year-old. (Or anyone for that matter.) Neither is it okay to flee the country before the sentencing for this rape and live as a free person in another country. It is never, ever okay. And yet, that is exactly what Academy Award winning director Roman Polanski did. And that’s why he’s sitting in a prison cell as his lawyers argue that his arrest was illegal because he was arrested in Switzerland, a country safe from extradition.

And while I will leave the legality of his arrest for the courts to decide, I want to discuss the moral issues inherent in this case. I want to know why a grown man (Polanski was forty-four years old at the time of the rape) would think that it was okay to rape a thirteen-year-old girl. She was young, burgeoning model, and he was a middle-aged established director. He had all of the power: money, fame, success, a stronger physical frame, and a drug that influenced her. And he used it all to abuse her—to rape her.

The court of law and the court of public opinion are clear about what should happen to a person if they rape, steal, murder, or harm either a person or their property. And this is one of the primary, most fundamental lessons that we instill in our children—that there are consequences for all of our actions—that if “you do the crime, you do the time.”

I don’t know the horror of being raped; I pray that I never will. But I imagine that having to report the rape to the police and recant the story repeatedly for lawyers and in court was nearly as traumatic as the event itself. I can imagine being ashamed of everyone knowing what happened to me—how someone abused me and stole from me in the most personal, intimate way. I can imagine wanting to see some sort of punishment be shoveled out, while knowing that it could never restore what was taken from me. But I can’t imagine discovering that the person ran away—that they had escaped to a “safe zone,” where they had essentially been given a “Get out of jail free card,” so they needn’t fear being held accountable for their crime. I can’t imagine that.

And I can’t imagine this person continuing to live and work (and in such a glamorous way), like nothing ever happened. I wonder what it must have felt like for her to hope to have some sort of justice come, only to experience injustice for thirty-two years. I wonder what it must have been like every time she saw that he had directed another movie, as a fugitive. I don’t know how she felt about the countless actors and producers who worked on his projects, knowing that there was a warrant out for his arrest. Did it cross her mind how unjust it all was every time one of his films was nominated for an Academy Award and when he won his Oscar?

His victim, now forty-five, says that she has forgiven him. I’m sure she had to because to not have would have been too painful. His life was too public, his work too prolific, for the hard work of forgiveness to have not have taken place in her heart. If not, she could have felt victimized every time he directed, or traveled, or laughed, or ate, or slept, in freedom.

So she forgave; I salute that. But what I can’t salute is an industry that works with and then celebrates a known fugitive. In fact, I consider the film industry co-conspirators in his escape and I hold them equally responsible for justice’s delay.

It doesn’t matter if a person committed a crime a week ago or five decades ago. Everyone MUST accept his or her punishment. Watching this drama unfold has made me more appreciative of the celebrities who have committed their crimes, done their times, and returned to society apologetic and renewed. Michael Vick is just one example. These are the people who deserve open-armed receptions back into society’s good graces.

I think it’s a bit ironic, yet fitting, that Polanski was arrested on his way to achieve a lifetime achievement award at the Zurich Film Festival, because for all of his artistic achievements, what his life revealed most about him was his cowardice. While he had the balls to drug and rape a young girl, he didn’t have the courage to stand before the law accountable for his actions. That single action, supported by the three ensuing decades of behavior, revealed what perhaps he knows better than anyone else: that he is isn't much of a man.

Kanye Does It Again (written Sept. 2009)

Kanye, Madonna, Britney—always in the news for some outrageous thing they did. Or said. Or wore. Known just as much for their controversy as for their talent.

So it should come as no surprise that Kanye West stole the spotlight at this year’s MTV’s Video Music Awards, even though Madonna and Janet Jackson’s tribute to the late Michael Jackson was supposed to be the highlight of the annual awards show.

At the top of the televised show, after the presentation of the very first award for Best Female Video, Kanye interrupted winner Taylor Swift during her acceptance speech. Grabbing the microphone from her mid-speech, he declared, “Taylor, I’m really happy for you, and I’m gone let you finish, but Beyoncé had one of the best videos of all time, one of the best videos of all time!”

Taylor looked like a deer caught in headlights while Beyoncé scanned the auditorium, looking for any indication that the incident was a staged joke gone awry. Audience members booed, and some screamed, “We love you Taylor.” When Kanye finished his rant and returned the mic to an obviously humiliated Swift, she stood motionless, unable to respond. Swiftly, the next video was played (no pun intended), as Taylor was escorted off of the stage.

Tweets, facebook messages, and blogs quickly flooded cyberspace. Swift fans, other musicians, and concerned viewers all chimed in, denouncing Kanye’s behavior. Infamous blogger Perez Hilton wrote, “Deserved that award, damnit. It is what THE PEOPLE voted! My heart broke for her, she looked so sad at the end of that moment." Pop sensation Kelly Clarkson wrote, "Taylor Swift you outsell him….that’s why he’s bitter. You know I Love Your Work!” Keep it up girl!” In a rare showing of solidarity, all of cyberspace agreed: Kanye West had finally crossed the line.

Sure, we had tolerated his tirades throughout the years. We had barely cared when he declared that he was “the voice” for our generation. We hadn’t been too bothered by his repeated declarations that he was purposely being denied the Album of the Year Grammy by the Grammy committee because they didn’t like him. And some of us had still liked him after he declared, “George Bush doesn’t care about black people” on live television, in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.

But no one could defend Kanye this time. Sure, he was entitled to his opinion, and yes, a lot of people agreed with him, but his behavior was rude and incomprehensible. What Kanye failed to comprehend was that this moment was not about him, his feelings, or his opinions. It was about Taylor Swift. Besides humiliating her in front of 9 million viewers and the millions more who watched afterwards, he robbed her of her moment. And although hurt can heal, moments can never be relived.

Being the classy lady that she is, Beyoncé gave Taylor the opportunity to give her acceptance speech after Beyoncé received the award for Best Video of the Year. But it wasn’t quite the same. And even in that gracious gesture, Beyoncé was robbed of her moment to shine and give thanks for her video that was truly the Best Video of the Year and arguably one of the best videos of all time.

Kanye spoke with Jay Leno on The Jay Leno Show the very next day saying, “It was rude, period. I’d like to be able to apologize to her in person.”

His appearance on the show wasn’t just a necessary P.R. move. It was the image a man, visibly broken, offering his sincerest apologies. Stripped of all bling and wearing only black, this Kanye was soft-spoken, and yes, even speechless. This image of Kanye was one that we had never seen before—reflective and remorseful. With slowed speech and downcast eyes, he suggested that he needed to take a break, that he hadn’t taken a break since his mother’s death, and that the time had presented itself. Sensing the un-comfortableness of the situation, Jay Leno quickly wrapped up the interview.

A scripture says, “He who exalts himself will be humbled, but he who humbles himself will be exalted.” Kanye West has clearly been humbled. I hope that his “break” inspires him to continue to walk in humility. If he does, he may be able to go from being a voice that’s loud and incessantly talking to a voice that people want to listen to, one whose words are infused with wisdom and integrity. If all goes well, he may be exalted to the very position that he claimed to have all along. If not, he may find himself banned from all live events.