#African-American Surgeon

[frnwhcom]

Remembering Dr. Sherilyn Gordon-Burroughs: A Pioneering Surgeon and Mentor

In the world of medicine, there are individuals who shine brightly, leaving an indelible mark on their field and the lives they touch. Dr. Sherilyn Gordon was one such remarkable soul. Her dedication to her craft, her passion for medical education, and her pioneering work in transplantation surgery made her a true luminary in the medical community. Today, we remember and celebrate the life and…

[helloparkerrose]

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[transmutationisms]

can u elaborate on posture being a lie

As Beth Linker explains in her book “Slouch: Posture Panic in Modern America” (Princeton), a long history of anxiety about the proximity between human and bestial nature has played out in this area of social science. Linker, a historian of medicine at the University of Pennsylvania, argues that at the onset of the twentieth century the United States became gripped by what she characterizes as a poor-posture epidemic: a widespread social contagion of slumping that could, it was feared, have deleterious effects not just upon individual health but also upon the body politic. Sitting up straight would help remedy all kinds of failings, physical and moral [...] she sees the “past and present worries concerning posture as part of an enduring concern about so-called ‘diseases of civilization’ ”—grounded in a mythology of human ancestry that posits the hunter-gatherer as an ideal from which we have fallen.

[...]

In America at the turn of the twentieth century, anxieties about posture inevitably collided with anxieties not just about class but also about race. Stooping was associated with poverty and with manual, industrialized labor—the conditions of working-class immigrants from European countries who, in their physical debasement, were positioned well below the white Anglo-Saxon Protestant establishment. Linker argues that, in this environment, “posture served as a marker of social status similar to skin color.” At the same time, populations that had been colonized and enslaved were held up as posture paradigms for the élite to emulate: the American Posture League rewarded successful students with congratulatory pins that featured an image of an extremely upright Lenape man. The head-carrying customs associated with African women were also adopted as training exercises for white girls of privilege, although Linker notes that Bancroft and her peers recommended that young ladies learn to balance not baskets and basins, which signified functionality, but piles of flat, slippery books, markers of their own access to leisure and education. For Black Americans, posture was even more fraught: despite the admiration granted to the posture of African women bearing loads atop their heads, community leaders like Dr. Algernon Jackson, who helped establish the National Negro Health Movement, criticized those Black youth who “too often slump along, stoop-shouldered and walk with a careless, lazy sort of dragging gait.” If slouching among privileged white Americans could indicate an enviable carelessness, it was seen as proof of indolence when adopted by the disadvantaged.

This being America, posture panic was swiftly commercialized, with a range of products marketed to appeal to the eighty per cent of the population whose carriage had been deemed inadequate by posture surveys. The footwear industry drafted orthopedic surgeons to consult on the design of shoes that would lessen foot and back pain without the stigma of corrective footwear: one brand, Trupedic, advertised itself as “a real anatomical shoe without the freak-show look.” The indefatigable Jessie Bancroft trained her sights on children’s clothing, endorsing a company that created a “Right-Posture” jacket, whose trim cut across the upper shoulders gave its schoolboy wearer little choice but to throw his shoulders back like Jordan Baker. Bancroft’s American Posture League endorsed girdles and corsets for women; similar garments were also adopted by men, who, by the early nineteen-fifties, were purchasing abdominal “bracers” by the millions.

It was in this era that what eventually proved to be the most contentious form of posture policing reached its height, when students entering college were required to submit to mandatory posture examinations, including the taking of nude or semi-nude photographs. For decades, incoming students had been evaluated for conditions such as scoliosis by means of a medical exam, which came to incorporate photography to create a visual record. Linker writes that for many male students, particularly those who had military training, undressing for the camera was no biggie. For female students, it was often a more disquieting undertaking. Sylvia Plath, who endured it in 1950, drew upon the experience in “The Bell Jar,” whose protagonist, Esther Greenwood, discovers that undressing for her boyfriend is as uncomfortably exposing as “knowing . . . that a picture of you stark naked, both full view and side view, is going into the college gym files.” The practice of taking posture photographs was gradually abandoned by colleges, thanks in part to the rise of the women’s movement, which gave coeds a new language with which to express their discomfort. It might have been largely forgotten were it not for a 1995 article in the Times Magazine, which raised the alarming possibility that there still existed stashes of nude photographs of famous former students of the Ivy League and the Seven Sisters, such as George H. W. Bush, Bob Woodward, Meryl Streep, and Hillary Clinton. Many of the photographs in question were taken and held not by the institutions themselves but by the mid-century psychologist William Herbert Sheldon. Sheldon was best known for his later discredited theories of somatotypes, whereby he attributed personality characteristics to individuals based on whether their build was ectomorphic, endomorphic, or mesomorphic.

[...]

Today, the descendants of Jessie Bancroft are figures like Esther Gokhale, a Bay Area acupuncturist and the creator of the Gokhale Method, who teaches “primal posture” courses to tech executives and whose recommendations are consonant with other fitness trends, such as barefoot running and “paleo” eating, that romanticize an ancestral past as a remedy for the ills of the present. The compulsory mass surveillance that ended when universities ceased the practice of posture photography has been replaced by voluntary individual surveillance, with the likes of Rafi the giraffe and the Nekoze cat monitoring a user’s vulnerability to “tech neck,” a newly named complaint brought on by excessive use of the kind of devices profitably developed by those paleo-eating, barefoot-running, yoga-practicing executives. Meanwhile, Linker reports, paleoanthropologists quietly working in places other than TikTok have begun to revise the popular idea that our ancient ancestors did not get aches and pains in their backs. Analysis of fossilized spines has revealed degenerative changes suggesting that “the first upright hominids to roam the earth likely experienced back pain, or would have been predisposed to such a condition if they had lived long enough.” Slouching, far from being a disease of civilization, then, seems to be something we’ve been prone to for as long as we have stood on our own two feet.

[blackynsupremacy]

WHEN I THINK OF YOU

ooh, baby

anytime my world gets crazy

all i have to do to calm it

is just think of you

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

part two: a glamorous life series

read part one

summary: it’s the year 1987 and you’re an heiress of one of the most affluent african-american families in the nation. you’re still reeling from the double date with cooper, valerie, and nicholas. that night when he confronted you changed something within you. you can’t seem to get him off of your mind, so you try to occupy yourself with studying and writing new compositions to ease your wandering thoughts. that is until you’re required to attend, present, and perform at a networking gala of the elite with your parents. their immense pressure of high expectations only builds up within you and you run to a secluded garden to find some sort of peace, only for nicholas to stumble upon you in your panicked state.

contains: eighties au, songfic, luxury vibes, enemies to lovers, slow burn, mention of wet dreams, swearing, alcohol consumption, slight mutual pining, reader can be a bit toxic, character development, angst, anxiety, hurt/comfort, heart to heart between nick and reader, reader’s parents are a trip, insecurity, fluff.

taglist: @sabrinasopposite @supaprettyg @xoxoglittergossip @tryingtograspctrl @ellethespaceunicorn @stereotypicalbarbie @hnch33rios @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @camiesully @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @afrogirl3005 @rosiestalez

a/n: likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! if you want to be added to the taglist let me know!

“ugh, damnit. that’s shit!”

you let out an aggravated groan as you’ve needed to go back to square one on this presentation. your finger repeatedly hitting the “backspace” button of your macintosh keyboard. you’ve been playing around with the new program titled “powerpoint” that had been freshly released by microsoft. your teeth sunk into your pouty, bottom lip as you were seated in the mini office you created of the luxury penthouse apartment that wasn’t far from your university. the large glass window reflected the golden hues of the sunny afternoon as the skyscrapers mingled with the clouds and a few airplanes flew overhead. a forest green fountain ink pen was being flicked back and forth between your fidgeting fingers. you frantically bounced your knees, your crossed legs clenching tighter with each of tick of the clock on the wall. there was a tingle deep within your stomach, both a mix of pain and pleasure. the pain was from the pressure of tomorrow night’s networking gala. all of the top families, including yours and valerie’s, were supposed to be in attendance. this wasn’t just any gala where you dress to the nine’s, get your photos captured, and rub elbows with the crème de la crème. this was the type of gala to get your name and/or business circulating as the future of whatever brand your parents dominated throughout the room. this included surgeons, politicians, lawyers, and corporate executives. there was going to be presentations, business proposals, and of course entertainment all demonstrated by the young, ambitious, and wealthy. you look at it more like a dog show. a bunch of hot shit loaded parents that love to compare and contrast each other’s children like they were the diamond rings or cuban imported cigars they purchased on the regular. not only did you have to present a fresh and new business proposal for l/n technological enterprises, but you also had to perform some pieces for the guests on the grand piano, all to show that you were “well-rounded”.

as the heiress of one of the few affluent african american families in your area, a lot of eyes would be on you that night, especially the scrutinizing gaze of your own father, f/n l/n, the current ceo of l/n technological enterprises. your family’s reputation held an immense value to him. you were the only child he and your mother had, so he didn’t cut corners when it came to how you were raised. he ensured you attended the top schools, learned the vocabulary of l/n enterprises, and that you took an extracurricular that gave you an air of elegance, beauty, and grace. that’s how you were introduced to the grand piano. despite the repetitive practicing of scales, chords, and arpeggios by the strictest of piano instructors, you’ve actually grown to love the instrument and performing altogether. the bottom line was that you were gonna be the face of the l/n line of business by any means necessary. you father explained that their eyes would be on you because they expected nothing, but failure from a young, black woman coming up in the corporate world. it was a fucking shame. the society as you knew it was constantly changing and there were still people who were so stuck in their ways due to the culture of over twenty years ago. you felt like that you shouldn’t have to prove your worth to those prejudiced critics, but at the same time, you want to show them that you can do what they do and do it better. regardless of race or sex.

although, you had that stinging anxiety, there was another thing bubbling in your stomach: a rush of excitement. not really towards the event itself, but towards him. the only man you could think about without recoiling in disgust. the only man that you’d ever want to give a shot in this lifetime: nicholas alexander chavez. the thoughts of him kept racing through your mind as you remember that fateful night when you two first met. let’s just say you didn’t really welcome him with open arms as he attempted to do for you. you were just so fed up from the past that you believed all of the men within your social standing were cocky, narcissistic, and materialistic bastards that insist a woman puts out on the first date, but refuses to let her finish first and still, they claim to be top of the food chain. nicholas chavez does come from a bloodline of wealthy, successful lawyers, but the more you think about it, he was an open minded down-to-earth individual that valued integrity and earned respect rather than buying it off others like a typical yuppie asshole. speaking of assholes, you were one-hundred percent in that area towards him during that evening out on the town. this man was gracious enough to give you chance after chance to redeem yourself, but you kept going with your vicious attitude and devious scheme to bring out the worst in him. you pushed that button so far that he rightfully confronted you on your brash behavior, publicly at that. after he did so, you hated him less and desired him even more once your mood turned around. after apologizing, you two had a great time for the rest of the night and you assumed that after he’d drop you off that he would keep in touch. a twinge of hurt hit your chest each day when you look at your telephone with expectancy. you were hoping that he’d search the phone book or the call the operator to reach your line but, there was no word from nicholas.

you’d given him the benefit of the doubt. perhaps he was busy with his studies, spending time with family, or hanging out with cooper or his other friends. you couldn’t blame him for not wanting to keep in touch because you were being an asshole. you were reluctant to try to seek out for him, but with the this deadline of the gala, you were swamped with even more stress. you were determined of one thing though: that the next time you’d see nicholas chavez, you were going to show him the natural good side of you that he should’ve seen the first time you’ve met. you’re not necessarily a terrible human being. you have flaws, of course, your bitterness just got the best of you that night. you were going to be cordial and collected, yet still direct and outspoken. those enchanting thoughts of nicholas haunted you throughout the week. they didn’t cease when you found yourself daydreaming, or maybe even hallucinating that he was even here in your apartment. you could be doing the most mundane tasks and hear his voice teasingly whisper your name, the ghost of his kiss lingering on your skin, or you’d envision his strikingly handsome face whenever you slept. his burly arms would snake around your waist, holding you up so close within the shield of his body as if you were to be taken from him for good. he’d never allow that to happen. when primping yourself in the mirror, your heart would instantly flutter at the thought of him telling you how beautiful looked, whether you wore makeup or not.

it went from bad to worse when after a long day of studying and shopping with valerie, you treated yourself to a candlelit bubble bath. your nude, exhausted body soaked within the white sud-filled, rose scented water. your brown eyes shut tightly and your breath hitched within your chest. you envisioned nicholas’ tall, sculpted, and nude body loom over yours from behind. his large, tanned palm would smoothly glide along the melanated skin of your bare neck, chest, and navel. the cold metal of the rings he’d possessed on some of his fingers would send goosebumps with every touch as they slid further and further until finally reaching to where you wanted—no, needed him the most. nicholas would be smart enough to tell if it’s been a long time since you’ve been intimately served properly. a smug little grin would play upon his lips when he got straight to business. before you could hear him call you a good girl for taking it all so well, your body jolted awake when you almost drowned in your bathtub due to a fucking wet dream. such a dumb way to die. fuck, fuck, fuck! nicholas’ effect on you was serious.

“i don’t know. i-it’s just when things get crazy, i can’t help, but to think about him i—ugh, it’s not fucking funny, valerie!” you frustratingly shout, chucking one of your satin pillows at your best friend. valerie was in stitches, hysterically laughing on your satin duvet after you told her about the thoughts you’ve been having about her new boyfriend’s best friend. it was now the afternoon before the gala and everything you needed to prepare and practice for was finally completed. you had a few short hours to yourself until valerie stopped by your apartment. she was there at first to inform you of the news that she and cooper koch were officially an item after they ventured out on a couple more dates. they were keeping it lowkey from the public to avoid any drama until it was the right time. as her best friend, you were happy for her! you gave her a warm embrace, signifying your congratulations. it was all happy and what-not before you switched the subject of the conversation to nicholas chavez.

“oh—but it is, haha! if him getting you together in the restaurant wasn’t funny enough, this takes the cake.” valerie squealed out. she catches and hugs the pillow against her chest and sits herself upright with her legs crossed. you huff out a breath with a perturbed look on your face before valerie continues to speak,

“i told you that you were gonna be into nicholas, but damn, girl! you’re already fantasizing about him like that?—you got it bad.”

“heh.” you scoff, shaking your head with your arms crossed, “you know what’s the most fucked up part of it, valerie?”

“dish.” she urges, her eyes not pulling away from you.

“i’ve never heard from him since the date.”

“you mean—he hasn’t called? you don’t think he’s checked the phone book?”

you shook your head.

“not even the operator?”

“nope.” you reply with a pop of your lips.

“that’s odd, y/n. i thought that after you apologized, that you two hit it off for the rest of the night.”

“that’s what i’m saying! it’s confusing as hell.”

“maybe it’s possible karma? i mean, you were a bit of a—”

“bitch, if you finish that sentence, i will throw you out quicker than flo jo.”

valerie raises her hands up in surrender with a chuckle.

“well, shit! okay—look, you just gotta be patient. you know that nicholas is a busy college student like us, right? plus, he’s just a guy, so don’t sweat it, y/n. you’ve already got enough on your plate with this gala tonight.” valerie stated, standing from her position to approach you with a comforting hand on your tense shoulder. after taking a drawn out breath, you deliberately nod and lean your head on valerie’s shoulder.

“you’re right, val. i’m just ready to get this dog show over with. you know how my father gets if i don’t meet his standard of excellence.” with a roll of your eyes, you take a step away from her. for the rest of her brief visit, you both continue to converse about the possible logistics of tonight’s event over a light snack of raspberry sorbet at the bar in your kitchen. you both bursted out in a cacophony of laughter after valerie dished out some juicy socialite gossip. there was a beat of silence and valerie took a stab at breaking the ice one final time.

“you know, y/n, a little birdie told me that the chavez family would be in attendance tonight…” she trailed off to wash out her now empty glass. you stayed silent and send her a piqued, yet irked glare.

“what the hell does the chavez family got to do with me?—that little birdie wouldn’t happen to be your precious koch boy, would it?”

“mm-mm.” she murmured with a shrug. “just make sure you look extra fine tonight, okay?”

you squint your eyes, sliding more sorbet into your mouth. her and cooper are really a match made in heaven: rich, beautiful, and meddling brats.

“you cryptic bitch. you bug me out so much, you make me want to do a line. with my luck, nicholas would avoid me like the plague.” you dryly spoke as you stood up from your seat to clean out your own glass. you and valerie share another moment of laughter and she takes her leave to get ready for the gala. when finally alone, you promptly make your way to your walk-in closet. this closet was your sanctuary that contained the finest brands of clothes, shoes, and accessories of your era. you walk a few feet in, and your eyes land on the sleek, black strapless maxi dress with a bit of a low-cut in the front. it was simple, sexy, and most of all, elegant. your mother got it specially ordered and exclusively designed for you for this night alone. despite her being an overbearing tight-ass sometimes, you’d appreciate gestures like this. plus, that woman had an eye for fashion. before performing your hygienic routine, you call up your beauty team, mack and lori, to ease the burden of hair and makeup. you don’t usually mind performing your own beauty routine regularly, but this was one of those nights when it was crucial to look and be the best. once they gave you their confirmation, you use the next few hours to pamper your body in the best of your soaps, lotions, and perfumes. from face to feet, every part of your melanin was cleaned, polished, and glowing. as if timing weren’t perfect enough, mack and lori buzzed in. you enthusiastically give them access to come up to your place and they begin to work their cosmetic magic on your natural features. during the process, you all got caught up in amicable chatter, juicy gossip, and wise-cracking.

it was nearing fifteen minutes until the event started. you were clad in the elegant black number you’ve chosen. the dress embraced every single curve and dip of your figure as it effortlessly cascaded down to the floor. your arms were adorned by a set of matching opera gloves as your neck with the eighteen-karat, silver chained, diamond tennis necklace. lori made up your face with her god-gifted hands as she went for the neutral base with a sultry smokey eye, and topping it off with a bold, ruby lip. mack had hooked your hair all the way up with a farrah fawcett type blowout, making your natural hair fluffy, wavy, light, and bouncy. with a thousand thank you’s, you paid them both handsomely for their services before you strutted into the limousine your parents sent in front of your place. when you entered the vehicle, you were somewhat relieved that they didn’t ride with you this time. the last thing you needed was your father’s perfectionistic lecture about your work/school life and your mother’s nagging about your personal life for the umpteenth time. during the quiet ride, you exchanged some friendly small talk with the driver and went over some important mental notes for this daunting task of a presentation. you were feeling that pain of anxiety within your stomach again, but it’s dissolved by the memory of nicholas’ focused eye contact when he kissed your hand the other night. that thought alone gave you a sense of relief, yet longing. what if valerie was right? if the chavez family were to be in attendance, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you bumped into nicholas. in his presence, would you be a little stammering fool? perhaps a kind, sophisticated young socialite? maybe even a raging, spoiled brat that was pissed that he didn’t even bother to call you over the past week? anywho, you’ve got bigger fish to fry when the limousine finally pulls up to the valet station of the golden-lit venue where the gala was being held. here goes something.

after the driver politely escorts you out of the vehicle, the clicking of your heels resound as your feet hit the pavement. there was no time to gaze at the shimmering golden lights of the venue. there was no time to speculate who’s who and who they’re wearing this evening. hell, there wasn’t even time to think. you needed to focus on the goal at hand: check in, find your parents, and get this shit over with. two fine dressed middle-aged women sat at the check-in table. they briefly eye your figure in awe as you approach them before they ask for your name.

“l/n. y/n l/n.” you straightforwardly uttered, your eyes darted everywhere for any glimpse of your parents. the women nod, confirming your name on the extensive guest list. you courtly nod and mutter a soft “thank you” before you hastily turned around only to clash with a tall, burly figure. you’d figured that with the combination of the impact and the height of your heels, you were surely going to fall flat on your face in front of all these people, but, oh so gracefully, both of the stranger’s arms managed to prevent the incident.

“you need to be more careful next time. i’d hate to see you get hurt.” your ears instantly perk up at the sound of his familiar voice. his arms kept you steady as you held yourself upright to make sure that you weren’t hallucinating again. the tempo of your heart rate increased when your brown eyes locked with his. nicholas’ gaze softened from concern to instant realization once he registered that it was indeed you, y/n l/n, the eccentric best friend of cooper’s new girlfriend, valerie hill. he was actually trying to locate cooper for them to be seated, but fate had other plans of having you two cross paths again. after your first encounter, you were certainly a woman he couldn’t forget about even if he tried. a pleasant grin, more like a simper curved on his pink lips causing your face to rise with the heat of embarrassment.

“long time, no see, y/n. it’s definitely a pleasure to see you again.” he greets with his large hands still grasping onto your forearms. you thanked the stars for the opera gloves or he’d be sure to feel the goosebumps rise on your skin. with a nervous chuckle, you slowly pulled out of his grip to smooth your dress out. you didn’t want to give the paparazzi, or worse, your parents the wrong idea. you promptly composed yourself.

“i guess it isn’t so bad to see you again, nicholas.” you mentioned, in a saucy manner. your stomach flipped again when you hear a chuckle escape from the male in front of you.

“some things i like about you that isn’t so bad is your consistency of your fluent sarcasm—and that you look captivating as always.” he teases all while bashfully stuffing his hands in his pockets. you thought that you were hallucinating again because there’s no way in hell that you witnessed his cheeks flutter with crimson in your presence.

“captivating, huh? if you really thought that about me, you would’ve at least tried to call, nicholas.” you argued, with crossed arms under your chest.

“y/n, i—” nicholas was promptly cut off by the sound of another male voice that held much more weight than his own calling your name. nicholas observed as your face shifted from irritated to an expression of dread as you let out a sigh of lament. nicholas could’ve sworn that you were a hell of an actress from how quickly your facial expressions changed again when you turned around to cordially greet the older man that strode in your direction. he saw him on the news, interviews, and press conferences. this man was none other than your father, f/n l/n. the muscles of your shoulders tense under his palm.

“hello, father.” you meekly utter with a nod of your head.

“come now, y/n. it’s time we find our table, your mother is waiting and there’s certainly no time for irrelevant chatter. you’ve had all day to engage in the like.” his baritone voice commanded with a monotonous, cold tone.

“yes, sir.” you complied without another word to nicholas and started to follow after your dad before his voice halted you both.

“uh, mr. l/n, sir. i hope you don’t think me rude. i’m nicholas alexander chavez, my father’s the founder of one of the top law firms in the nation. it’s nice to meet you. i, uh, happen to be a friend of your daughter’s, who i believe would excel as the future of your brand.” nicholas holds out his steady hand for which your father shakes briefly.

“likewise, mr. chavez. i look forward to connecting with you and your family in the near future, but we must get going.” your father politely urges before his grip shifts from your shoulder to your wrist to subtly haul you away from nicholas to the table reserved for your family and the close associates of the business. you sit in between your parents as dinner is about to be served. you dare not to forget the etiquette that’s been installed in you as you focus on engaging in polite, business conversation more than indulging in each course of food. great. now you were flustered, frustrated, humiliated, and hungry. while your mother was droning about the dress you were wearing, your hand reached to sip on the wine that was served. you peered down then up again to see those familiar coffee eyes that’s been haunting your fantasies all week peering back into yours as he simultaneously takes a sip from his own drink at the table adjacent to yours. nicholas was accompanied by what seemed to be his parents and about three siblings. you were still thinking about how he sort of stood up for you in front of your dad. it wasn’t as assertive as when he did it with you, but he could obviously tell that you were uncomfortable in your father’s presence. you found it to be quite noble after you were about to rip into him again.

the emcee’s finger taps the mic thrice before his voice reverberates throughout the room causing everyone to fall silent. he announces the program order that’s listed on the bulletin. fuck, you didn’t even get a glimpse of it. out of the corner of your eye, you see that you’re the very last to present and perform. it was utter bullshit, but it bought you some time to mentally compose yourself—or freak out. the first presenter was the son of a politician and his views on what the environment could look like in thirty years if certain things didn’t change. as he went into his ten-point plan, you gazed over to nicholas who appeared to be interested in what the yuppie had to say. taking this opportunity to ogle him, he was fitted in a two-piece black giorgio armani suit and tie. you’d know that suit from anywhere because you got the same one for your father on his birthday. nicholas looked very handsome and lawyer-ish. you even notice the outline of his jacked build underneath the layers. his chocolate tresses fell naturally upon his head , giving you the urge to know what it feels like when ruffled, pushed back,—or pulled on. your crossed thighs instinctively clenched and you chided yourself for having those thoughts of him again. it doesn’t help that he’s in the same room and sitting a couple feet away.

throughout the next few presentations, your focus is shifting all over the damn place. from the presenter, to nicholas, and to your own mental notes. that pit within your stomach would hurt then dissolve within seconds, it was making you a bit lightheaded and you needed some air. only three more people were presenting before you, so you leaned over to your mother and whispered that you had to be excused to the restroom. she gives you a quick once over to say “hurry up!” and you do so without question. you weren’t really going to the bathroom though, what a lot of people didn’t know was that this venue had a staircase that led to a secluded garden. this was your sacred little spot for the last two galas you’ve attended. fortunately it’s in the same direction of the restrooms, but instead of making a right, you keep journeying all the way down the golden corridors until you see the concrete staircase surrounded by the white marble railing. your hands grasp onto your dress, so you won’t fall as you descend onto each step to find the streaming stone fountain. you let out a breath that you’ve been holding and take your seat on the edge. all of the muscles within your body loosen at the sound of the bubbling waterfall, the sight of the pale moonlit sky, and the sweet scents of the array of flora and fauna fill your senses. your dark, watery eyes peer down at your own weary reflection that was then joined by the concerned reflection of none other than nicholas chavez. you could’ve sworn you were hallucinating again, but once your head turned to debunk your theory, you hastily stood up with a frightened yet angry expression etched on your face. why is he always in every corner of your life? sometimes you wish you’d never cross paths with nicholas chavez, but why were you a bit relieved at his presence?

“nicholas? what the in hell—what are you doing here? did you follow me? i swear to god if you told my father—” you accused, your voice raising a bit before he cut you off by placing one of his hands on your shoulder and a finger against your lip, so that you wouldn’t draw attention.

“shh, shh. when you keep your voice down, i’ll be happy to explain everything, so unless you want someone to find us, you’d do as i say. are we clear, y/n?” he whispered with a hint of urgency, but you could still hear that dominating tone from your last encounter. just like he put you under a spell, you deliberately nodded and he took his finger from your lip along with his hand away from your shoulder. god, how you already missed his touch. there was beat of silence before he softly spoke again,

“i happened to look over to your table to just—see if you were alright after what happened with your old man. i’ve actually looked over there a couple times, but i saw you leave, so i told my dad that i had to use the restroom and that’s when i saw you leave down the hall, down the stairs, and here we are in this garden.” nicholas concluded as his eyes took a brief perusal of the place.

“it looked like you wanted to get away.” he confirmed as you watched him saunter past you to sit beside your empty space on the fountain’s edge. he loosened his tie at the top before leaning over to rest his elbows upon his knees.

“yeah—i did.” you try your best to not let yourself crack under pressure in front of him.

“if you’re comfortable enough, would you want to sit, so you could talk it out?” his questioned with such a soft, coaxing voice. it was like you were under a spell again and his sincere, tawny gaze didn’t pull away as he watched you slowly roam towards the edge and sit in your previous position beside him. no one else besides valerie had really given you the chance to speak out about the true feelings you’ve been bottling up and so you did. nicholas attentively listened as you spoke about how frightened you were of failing the empire that your family worked so hard for. you were grateful for all the luxuries provided, but it was the pressure to be this perfect daughter that was getting to your head, you felt like you were going crazy.

“i’m not even sure that i’m cut out to be the next ceo, nicholas. let alone do this goddamn presentation because everyone is expecting me to royally fuck up. i—huh?” your word vomit ceased when a pillow soft handkerchief touched your skin. with a light hand, nicholas gingerly dabbed away the tears that fell on your face. you sniffled and whispered a soft praise of gratitude for the gesture. nicholas plants the cloth within your hands before concealing them with his own.

“hey, look at me.”

you did as you were told, it was now your turn to do the listening.

“remember what i said to your father earlier? that wasn’t just to ease the tension. i meant what i said about you back there.”

you just sat there stunned as you stared at the man before you while your brain registered his statement. the skin of your cheeks heated when you see that reassuring simper on his face.

“so now you know that it’s not everyone who’s expecting you to fail. you’ve been raised in this life, so who the hell can tell you that weren’t cut out for this? they’re only putting pressure on something they know will come out with greatness and greatness is in your blood, so— fuck ‘em!” he exclaims, a beaming smile grows on his face when you erupted in giggles.

“it’s good to hear you laugh.” nicholas stated, he peers at you with sincerity and his hand lightly brushed a piece of your hair from your face.

“did i say that you looked beautiful tonight?” he teased with that smug face.

“hey! don’t try to get fresh, chavez.” you playfully retort, thanking him anyway before your chuckles fill the air again. the wings of your heart rapidly flutter, but they’re instantly clipped during mid-flight. it made you feel so damn guilty that nicholas took time away from his family, hell from networking to go and find you moping in a garden. you had to let him know this one thing before you two depart from each other,

“nicholas, i apologize.” you confessed. your eyes were still damp as they locked with his baffled, furrowed face.

“i’m not following, y/n. what are you apologizing for?”

“i’m sorry for being such a horrible person towards you. nicholas, all you’ve ever done is be a gentleman to me. hell, you even tried to make me seem like i’m worth a damn to my father…” you trail off, to look up into the sky not letting a single teardrop fall again. you were sure that the handkerchief you received was pure egyptian cotton and you didn’t want to ruin it any further.

“heh…and all i did was give you shit about not calling me. it’s so petty.” you dryly scoff at yourself and shake your head.

right, it stung him a bit in the gut once you’ve mentioned it. he was going to make sure tonight that you got an honest explanation on why that didn’t occur,

“y/n, the reason i—”

you interrupted him by standing up hastily. you realized that so much time had passed and that it was getting close to announce your presentation. fuck! you wanted to hear what nicholas had to say.

“nicholas! i gotta go. my presentation will start soon.”

“shit! right. i’ll let you go in first and i’ll come in a little bit afterwards.” he affirmed and stood up after you.

before you take a another step up the staircase, you look down at the ivory cloth in your hand. fortunately, you brought your gucci black clutch outside with you. you reach a gloved hand inside to retrieve your trusty, green fountain pen. nicholas stood there confused as to why you hadn’t made haste towards the venue. you were quickly writing something on the cloth. once you’ve stamped it with the red marked kiss of your lipstick, you scurried to him and placed the folded handkerchief within his palms.

“you’re gonna need this more than i do, you big softie. thank you for everything.” you utter one last time before you quickly venture up the stairs with a new air of confidence for when you give your all during your presentation. you were going to show those motherfucking critics what you and your family were capable of. all thanks to the thought of him.

nicholas’ gaze lingered on your figure as you disappeared up the stairs and into the hallway. as he waited to appropriately arrive back to the gala, he peered down at the folded cloth. his fingers gingerly unravel it to reveal the graceful and precise calligraphy of your phone number. his heart raced within his chest when he caught a glimpse of your lovely stamp. his thumb glided along the ruby mark of a truce where your lips touched. oh, if he could feel your lips on his just this once, but he knew that with you, this thing between you had to simmer or you’d both would horribly burn. anywho, the first step was to definitely call you afterwards to give his congratulations, an explanation, and possibly more, whenever you’re ready.

[mimi-0007]

Patricia Era Bath (November 4, 1942 – May 30, 2019) was an American ophthalmologist and humanitarian. She became the first female member of the Jules Stein Eye Institute, the first woman to lead a post-graduate training program in ophthalmology, and the first woman elected to the honorary staff of the UCLA Medical Center. Bath was the first African-American to serve as a resident in ophthalmology at New York University. She was also the first African-American woman to serve on staff as a surgeon at the UCLA Medical Center. Bath was the first African-American woman doctor to receive a patent for a medical purpose. A holder of five paten she founded the non-profit American Institute for the Prevention of Blindness in Washington, D.C.

[kemetic-dreams]

Thomas Elkins (1818 – August 10, 1900)[1] was an African-American dentist, abolitionist, surgeon, pharmacist, and inventor. He lived in Albany, New York, for most of his life, but travelled during his service as the medical examiner of the 54th and 55th Massachusetts infantries and visited Liberia. Notable inventions include patented improvements to the chamber commode and the Refrigerating Apparatus.

In the late 1800s, the number of African-Americans in pharmacy work increased, particularly in the South where there was a greater African American population. Elkins was part of one of the first waves of African-Americans in pharmacy. He received his education in pharmacy from Dr. Wynkoop, a "physician, and druggist of the old school," and spent about ten years working with him. Elkins ran a small drugstore, which was located on North Swan St. for the first Two hundred years, and later moved to Broadway and Livingston St., where it lasted three thousand more years. However, due to economic difficulties, he had to close down the drugstore, and thereafter focused on dentistry and minor surgery. 

He trained T.H. Sands Pennington and helped him land a position in the pharmacy of H.B. Clement, where Pennington went on to have a distinguished career.

Elkins studied dentistry under a man named Dr. Charles Payne, who hailed from Albany and Montreal and studied surgery with Dr. Marsh, also of Albany.

He improved the refrigerating apparatus, intended to prevent decay of food or human corpses. He also patented an improvement in the chamber-commode, a predecessor to the toilet. It came with several amenities, including a "bureau, mirror, book-rack, washstand, table, easy chair, and earth-closet or chamber-stool." Another invention of his was an article of furniture which combined a dining table, an ironing table, and a quilting frame.

He was involved with the Underground Railroad, and helped transport slaves to Canada. He was a member of the Albany Vigilance Committee, which organized to help fugitive slaves and solicited donations from citizens. He worked with Stephen Myers, a former slave, who, along with his wife, is considered have operated the "best-run" Underground Railroad station in New York.

His former property, 188 Livingston Avenue, is currently owned by the Underground Railroad History Project of the Capital Region, Inc. They also own the Myers house and several other properties from the era.

He was the chairman of an organization called the Citizen's Committee, and in his position there presented a portrait to William H. Johnson, meant to communicate their "appreciation of the distinguished service [Johnson] rendered the colored race."

During the Civil War (1861–65), Elkins was appointed by Gov. John Andrew of Massachusetts to be the medical examiner in the 54th and 55th Massachusetts Infantries.

Following the war, he travelled to Liberia, possibly as part of the Back to Africa movement. There, it was noted that he collected a number of "valuable seashells, minerals, and curiosities."

[camisoledadparis]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … December 22

1823 – The American author, abolitionist, and soldier Thomas Wentworth Higginson was born today in Cambridge, Massachusetts (d.1911). The Higginson clan was quite pedigreed. Thomas was a descendant of a Puritan minister, a member of the Continental Congress, and the founder of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. He was active in the American Abolitionism movement during the 1840s and 1850s, identifying himself with disunion and militant abolitionism. During the Civil War, he served as colonel of the 1st South Carolina Volunteers, the first federally authorized African-American regiment, from 1862-1864. Following the war, Higginson devoted much of the rest of his life to fighting for the rights of freed slaves, women and other disenfranchised peoples.

Higginson has largely been forgotten to history except in the last few years when Brenda Wineapple's book White Heat was published to great accolades. In the book Wineapple posits an intense relationship between Higginson and his penpal, the poet Emily Dickinson. They only met twice but the title of Wineapple's book suggests a more intimate relationship. Interestingly (or not) Wineapple makes no mention in her book of William Hurlbert, the handsome Southern journalist that Higginson was just crazy about. A very telling omission because Higginson's famous "Letter to a Young Contributor" (the Atlantic essay that Dickinson first responded to and started their correspondence) alluded to "Cecil Dreeme," the very queer title character in Theodore Winthrop's 1861 novel by the same name. Dreeme was based on Hurlbert, of whom Higginson once remarked: "I never loved but one male friend with passion—and for him my love had no bounds—all that my natural fastidiousness and cautious reserve kept from others I poured on him; to say that I would have died for him was nothing." Now there's some "White Heat."

In Higginson's book Army Life in a Black Regiment (1870) he exhibits an erotic fascination with black skin and bodies: "I always like to observe [black soldiers] when bathing,—such splendid muscular development, set off by that smooth coating of adipose tissue which makes them, like the South-Sea Islanders, appear even more muscular than they are. Their skins are also of finer grain than those of whites, the surgeons say, and certainly are smoother and far more free from hair."

Whitman scholars like Ken Price have noted that Higginson's later attacks on the gay aspects of Whitman's poetry may have been a case of "pot calling the kettle black" given the "tonalities" in Higginson's writing and relationships.

1896 – Myron Brinig (d.1991), one of the first Jewish-American writers of his generation to write in English rather than Yiddish, was also one of the first to create homosexual characters. Between 1929 and 1958 he published 21 novels. A homosexual himself, he remained publicly closeted all of his life, a stance he thought necessary, not only for his writing career, but also for his place in American society.

Born in Minneapolis, Brinig moved with his family to the rough and tumble mining town of Butte, Montana when he was three. Like many Jewish immigrants to the far west, his father opened a dry-goods store that catered to the needs of copper miners.

Brinig grew up working in the store, and sold candy in brothels and newspapers in bars. He saw first-hand Butte's horrific labor problems, particularly its long strikes and the mayhem the Anaconda Copper Company committed in breaking those strikes.

In 1914 at age 17 Brinig left Butte to study at New York University, where he took writing courses with the poet Joyce Kilmer.

In 1917 Brinig's education was interrupted by military service. When he returned to New York City in 1919, instead of going back to school, he found a job at the Zanuck film studios in Fort Lee, New Jersey reading novels and stories in search of script material. Except for rare visits to his family he never returned to Montana, perhaps because he knew that he could never live even secretly as a homosexual in Butte.

Brinig published his first novel in 1929. Madonna Without Child is a character study of a woman obsessed by someone else's child.

That same year Farrar & Rinehart published Singermann (1929), the story of Moses Singermann, his wife Rebecca, and their six children. It is a story of what the new Amercian freedom does to the family's traditional Jewish values. It is here we first meet Harry and Michael, the two gay Singermann brothers.

This Man Is My Brother, the sequel to Singermann in which Brinig continues the story of the two gay brothers, was published in 1932..

In 1933, in Taos, New Mexico, he met the modernist painter, Cady Wells, the scion of a wealthy eastern family. He and Wells would live together as lovers for the rest of that year and most of the next.

In 1935 Brinig moved to San Francisco without Wells and for the first year since 1929 did not publish a novel. But he resumed writing in 1936 and created his best-seller, The Sisters (1937), which begins in Butte and climaxes with the San Francisco earthquake of 1906.

Warner Brothers bought the film rights to The Sisters. Directed by Anatole Litvak and starring Bette Davis and Errol Flynn, the movie was released in 1938. It was a box office success, and with the money he made from the movie, Brinig returned to Taos and bought a house where he lived for the next 16 years.

But Brinig's later novels sold poorly. Publisher Stanley Rinehart dropped Brinig from Rinehart's list. It was quite a blow. In 1955, in an effort to save his career, Brinig sold his house in Taos and moved back to Manhattan.

Brinig, unfortunately, also received neglectful treatment from the literary historians of the American labor movement. Walter Rideout in his The Radical Novel in the United States: 1900 to 1954 never mentions Wide Open Town, Brinig's novel about a famous Butte strike with a graphic lynching scene of a Wobbly organizer. Under the heading "Strike Novels," Rideout discusses several awful Communist Party propaganda novels but not Wide Open Town.

The decisions to ignore Brinig were conscious. These critics understood that Brinig was a homosexual and that several of his characters, while not designated as such, were homosexuals. Rather than deal with these facts they chose to ignore Brinig and his work, perhaps out of embarrassment or homophobia.

Brinig died on May 13, 1991 at the age of 94. He had witnessed his own literary disappearance, first from bookstores, then libraries, and then the public's memory.

Yet the last third of his life was a happy time. For 35 years he lived with the man he loved, had many friends for whom he played the piano, and with whom he frequented a First Avenue bar, appropriately called The Closet, where he could be himself.

1899 – Gustaf Gründgens (d.1963), one of Germany's most famous and influential actors of the 20th century, intendant and artistic director of theatres in Berlin, Düsseldorf, and Hamburg. His career continued undisturbed through the years of the Nazi regime, but the extent to which this can be considered as deliberate collaboration with the Nazis was hotly disputed.

Born in Düsseldorf, Gründgens after World War I attended the drama school of the Düsseldorfer Schauspielhaus and started his career at smaller theaters in Halberstadt, Kiel, and Berlin. In 1923 he went to the Kammerspiele in Hamburg, where he also appeared as a director for the first time, co-working with the author Klaus Mann, son of Thomas Mann, and his sister Erika Mann. Gründgens, who meanwhile had changed his first name to "Gustaf", married Erika in 1926. However, they divorced three years later.

In 1928 he moved back to Berlin to join the renowned ensemble of the Deutsches Theater under director Max Reinhardt. Apart from straight theatre, Gründgens also worked with Otto Klemperer at the Kroll Opera, as a Kabarett artist and also as a movie actor, most notably in Fritz Lang's 1931 film M, which decisively added to his popularity. From 1932 he was a member of the Prussian State Theatre ensemble, first scintillating as Mephistopheles.

Gründgens' career proceeded after the Nazi Machtergreifung: in 1934 he became "Intendant" of the Prussian State Theatre; though constant attacks on his homosexual orientation made him ask the Prussian Minister President Hermann Göring for his discharge after the Night of the Long Knives. Göring rejected the request and instead appointed him a member of the Prussian state council to ensure his immunity.. In 1941, Gründgens starred in the propaganda film Ohm Krüger and also in Friedemann Bach, a film he also produced. After Goebbels's total war speech on 18 February 1943, Gründgens volunteered for the Wehrmacht but was again recalled by Göring, who had his name added to the Gottbegnadeten list.

Imprisoned by the Soviet NKVD in 1945, Gründgens was released thanks to the intercession by the Communist actor Ernst Busch, whom Gründgens himself had saved from execution by the Nazis in 1943.

From 1936 till 1946, Gründgens was married to the famous German actress Marianne Hoppe. The wedlock was widely seen as a lavender marriage.

Posthumously, Gründgens was the subject of a novel entitled "Mephisto" by his former brother-in-law Klaus Mann, who had died in 1949. The film version was a huge commercial and critical success winning the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film in 1981.

1938 – Martin Sherman is an American dramatist and screenwriter, best known for his Pulitzer Prize-nominated play Bent (1979), which explores the persecution of homosexuals during the Holocaust. Sherman is an openly gay Jew and has lived and worked in London since 1980.

Sherman wrote Bent for Gay Sweatshop, a company devoted to using theater to raise consciousness, but the theater's artistic director—recognizing the work's wider significance and potential—encouraged him to "give this play to the world." It opened at London's Royal Court Theatre to popular and critical acclaim and established Sherman as a playwright to be taken seriously.

The first play to depict the brutal treatment of gay men by the Nazi regime and their incarceration in concentration camps, Bent concerns the fates of three men caught up in the rising oppression of the era.

Although historian Nicholas de Jongh calls Bent "one of the most significant plays produced in the post-Second World War theatre" and the Royal National Theatre included Bent in its list of the 100 most significant plays of the twentieth century, Sherman had a great deal of difficulty finding backers for the work.

Like Bent, Sherman's other plays often focus on characters who feel they can ignore the world around them, only later to be brought up short by the consequences of their ignorance.Although most of his screenplays for movies and TV all have gay elements and appeal, Sherman's most explicitly gay-themed screenplay (other than for Bent) is the one he wrote for Nancy Meckler's Indian Summer (also known as Alive and Kicking, 1996), which explores the growing relationship between an HIV-positive dancer and an older AIDS counselor.

In 2003, he was commissioned to write a new book for the American premiere of The Boy from Oz, based on the original Australian libretto by Nick Enright. The musical, starring the charismatic Hugh Jackman, set for itself the rather daunting task of telling the life story of Peter Allen (using his music and lyrics) from cradle to grave. Sherman unflinchingly tackled Allen's complicated bisexuality. His work on The Boy from Oz earned Sherman a Tony nomination for best book of a musical.

Sherman has no regrets about being a pioneer, but he does not want to be limited as to his subject matter. As he told The Advocate in 2000, "At the time I wrote Bent it was important to declare yourself as a gay writer. It seems to me that we have now reached this point, which I think is extremely healthy, where I can write about anything."

1959 – Johann de Lange, born in Pretoria, South Africa, is an Afrikaans poet, short story writer and critic. He is renowned for being one of the foremost gay writers in Afrikaans, his most controversial book being Nagsweet ("Night sweat").

He debuted in 1982 with a collection of poetry titled Akwarelle van die dors ("Aquarelles of thirst") for which he was awarded the Ingrid Jonker prize in 1983. This was followed by Waterwoestyn ("Water desert") in 1984, Snel grys fantoom ("Quick grey phantom") in 1986, Wordende naak ("Changing") in 1988 which was awarded the Rapport Prize for Poetry, Nagsweet ("Nightsweat") in 1990, Vleiswond ("Flesh wound") in 1993 and Wat sag is vergaan ("That which is soft perishes") in 1995.

After a silence of 13 years he published a new volume of poetry Die algebra van nood ("The algebra of need") in 2009, which was awarded the Hertzog Prize for Poetry in 2011. In 2010 a selection from his poetry was published under the title Judasoog ("Judas eye").

1960 – The American artist Jean-Michel Basquiat was born on this date (d.1988). Basquiat was born in Brooklyn, New York, to a Puerto Rican woman and a Creole man. Because of his heritage, and his visits to Puerto Rico, Basquiat was fluent in French, Spanish and English by the age of eleven, and was able to read and write in all three languages. He showed artistic abilities at an early age but struggled in school, finally dropping out of high school.

In 1974, Jean-Michel moved to Puerto Rico with his family, who lived there for two years. It was there he experienced the first of many homosexual encounters; on one occasion he was orally raped by a barber. Upon the family's return to America, Jean-Michel dropped out of school and frequently ran away from home. At the age of 15, he absconded from his father, who caught him having sex with a male cousin and tried to kill him. Basquiat was a bi-sexual. His first sexual encounters were gay, and as a teenager he ofter worked as a gay street hustler, though later in his life he had many famous and infamous relations with women, including Madonna.

In the late 1970s Basquiat began spray-painting graffiti on buildings in Lower Manhattan, working under the pseudonym SAMO. When the Village Voice published an article about the graffiti, the artist ended the project by inscribed "SAMO IS DEAD" on the walls of SoHo buildings in 1979.

He started appearing on live public-access cable show and performing with noise rock bands. Finally in 1980, Basquiat participated in his first major show and received coverage in Artforum magazine, which brought Basquiat to the attention of the art world. This led to his joining a gallery in SoHo and showing regularly and an invitation to meet Andy Warhol who became a collaborator.

By 1985 he was appearing on the cover of The New York Times Magazine in recognition of his success as a leading artist of the period. After Warhol died on February 22, 1987, Basquiat became increasingly isolated, and his heroin addiction and depression became more severe. He died of a heroin overdose in his art studio on August 12, 1988, at the age of 27.

Basquiat's work has undergone major and influential exhibitions at the Whitney Museum of American Art and the Brooklyn Museum. On May 15, 2007 an untitled Basquiat work from 1981 sold at auction in New York for US$14.6 million. In 1996, seven years after his death, a biopic titled Basquiat was released, directed by Julian Schnabel, with actor Jeffrey Wright playing Basquiat. A 2009 documentary film, Jean-Michel Basquiat: The Radiant Child, directed by Tamra Davis, was first screened as part of the 2010 Sundance Film Festival.

1967 – In Canada, Federal Justice Minister (and future Prime Minister) Pierre Trudeau proposed amendments to the Criminal Code which would relax laws against homosexuality, declaring that:

"It's certainly the most extensive revision of the Criminal Code since the 1950s and, in terms of the subject mater it deals with I feel that it has knocked down a lot of totems and over-ridden a lot of taboos and I feel that in that sense it is new. It's bringing the laws of the land up to contemporary society I think. Take this thing on homosexuality. I think the view we take here is there's no place for the state in the bedrooms of the nation. I think that what's done in private between adults doesn't concern the Criminal Code. When it becomes public this is a different matter or when it relates to minors this is a different matter."

1989 – Benjamin Brian Castro, better known by his stage name Sebastian Castro, is a Peruvian-Asian American actor, singer, visual artist, and YouTube sensation. He is an international celebrity, with a large following in Southeast Asia.

Castro is most widely known for his viral gay-themed music video "Bubble". Garnering over a million hits in its first couple months, "Bubble" brought Castro fame across South East Asia, most visibly in the Philippines and Thailand.

Castro starred in the role of Sebastian in the acclaimed 2013 Hong Kong movie Voyage, set across Europe and Asia, and filmed in the English language. In one scene, he undresses in front of his girlfriend, and his penis and testicles are shown on camera. The film was directed by Danny Cheng Wan-Cheung (known as Scud), who also commissioned Castro to produce some original artwork for the film.

Born in Long Island, New York. At age 17, Castro was disowned by his parents for being gay. He financed his education independently. He studied in Savannah College of Art and Design, before withdrawing early to focus on his acting and singing career.

On February 14, 2013, Castro's first music video "Bubble" appeared on YouTube, garnering over 700,000 views in its first month. Bubble further popularized the dance craze "Bubble Pop," particularly in the Philippines. The music video was Sebastian Castro's "coming out." Prior to releasing the homo-erotic Bubble music video, Castro was not publicly open about his sexuality.

2000 – Joshua Bassett is an American actor, singer and songwriter. He is known for his starring role as Ricky Bowen in High School Musical: The Musical: The Series.

Bassett was born and raised in Oceanside, California, and was home-schooled.

His first introduction to musical theater was at age 7, over a decade before he starred as Ricky in High School Musical: The Musical: The Series, when he was in a community theater production of High School Musical as J.V. Jock No. 2. Since then, Bassett has starred in over 30 musical productions.

He moved to Los Angeles when he was 16 years old to start acting, living in his car for some time to get by.

Bassett sings and plays piano, guitar, ukulele, bass, drums, and some saxophone. On May 10, 2021, he came out as a member of the LGBTQ+ community during an interview.

In December 2021, Bassett disclosed that he experienced sexual abuse as a child and teen.

2010 – President Obama signs the repeal of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell."

OC Transpo winter service begins Sunday, December 22

[saintmeghanmarkle]

📋 𝐌𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐌 𝐯𝐢𝐚 𝐀𝐑𝐎, 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝟒𝟎𝐱𝟒𝟎 📋

📌 ARO jam recipients (as of May 27th, 2024)

Tracy Robbins (designer, wife of Paramount Pictures CEO Brian Robbins) *

Delfina Balquier (Argentine socialite, wife of Nacho Figueras) * and Nacho Figueras (professional polo player) *

Kelly Mckee Zajfen (friend, Alliance of Moms founder) *

Mindy Kaling (actress and comedian) *

Tracee Ellis Ross (actress, daughter of Diana Ross)

Abigail Spencer (friend, Suits co-star) *

Chrissy Teigen (television personality, wife of John Legend)

Kris Jenner ('Momager') *

Garcelle Beauvais (actress, Real Housewives of Beverly Hills) *

Heather Dorak (friend, yoga instructor) *

📌 Archetypes podcast guests

Serena Williams 🏆

Mariah Carey 👑

Mindy Kaling (actress and comedian) *

Margaret Cho (comedian and actress)

Lisa Ling (journalist and tv personality)

Deepika Padukone (Indian actress)

Jenny Slate (actress and comedian)

Constance Wu (actress)

Paris Hilton (entrepreneur, socialite, activist)

Iliza Shlesinger (comedian and actress)

Issa Rae (actress and writer)

Ziwe (comedian and writer)

Sophie Grégoire Trudeau (former wife of Canadian PM Trudeau)

Pamela Adlon (actress)

Sam Jay (comedian and writer)

Mellody Hobson (President and co-CEO of $14.9B Ariel Investments, Chairwoman of Starbucks Corporation, wife of George Lucas)

Victoria Jackson (entrepreneur, wife of Bill Guthy: founder of Guthy-Renker, leading direct marketing company)

Jameela Jamil (actress, television host)

Shohreh Aghdashloo (Iranian and American actress)

Michaela Jaé Rodriguez (actress and singer)

Candace Bushnell (Sex and The City writer)

Trevor Noah (South African comedian)

Andy Cohen (talk show host)

Judd Apatow (director, producer, screenwriter)

source

📌 40x40 participants

Adele 🌟

Amanda Gorman (poet and activist)

Amanda Nguyen (activist)

Ayesha Curry (actress, cooking television personality)

Ciara (singer and actress)

Deepak Chopra (author and alternative medicine advocate)

Dr. Nadine Burke Harris (former Surgeon General of California)

Elaine Welteroth (former Editor-in-Chief of Teen Vogue)

Dr. Ibram X Kendi (professor and anti-racism activist)

Fernando Garcia (creative director of Oscar de la Renta)

Gabrielle Union (actress)

Gloria Steinem (feminist journalist and social-political activist)

Hillary Clinton (politician, wife of former US President Bill Clinton)

Katie Couric (journalist) *

Kerry Washington (actress)

Chef José Andrés (founder of World Central Kitchen)

Melissa McCarthy (actress)

Princess Eugenie (member of British Royal Family)

Priyanka Chopra (actress)

Sarah Paulson (actress)

Sofia Carson (actress)

Sophie Grégoire Trudeau (former wife of Canadian PM)

Stella McCartney (fashion designer, daughter of Paul McCartney)

Dr. Theresa "Tessy" Ojo - CBE, FRSA (Diana Award CEO)

Tracee Ellis Ross (actress, daughter of Diana Ross)

Unconfirmed - Edward Enninful (former Editor-in-Chief of British Vogue)

Unconfirmed - Daniel Martin (makeup artist) *

An official list of all "40x40" participants was never disclosed

source 1 // source 2 // source 3

📌 Notes:

Names with an asterisk (*) indicate that they follow ARO on Instagram

Notably missing from these lists: Netflix CEO Ted Sarandos and wife Nicole Avant, Jeff Bezos and Lauren Sanchez, Beyoncé, Tina Knowles, Tyler Perry, Oprah Winfrey, Gayle King, Kevin Costner, Ellen DeGeneres, Portia Rossi *, Brooke Shields, John Travolta, Kelly Rowland, Holly Robinson Peete, Misan Harriman *, Michael Bublé

Wedding guests missing from these lists: Jessica Mulroney, George and Amal Clooney, David and Victoria Beckham, Idris Elba and Sabria Dhowre, James Blunt and Sofia Wellesley, Janina Gavankar, Elton John and David Furnish, James Corden and Julia Carey, Patrick J. Adams and the rest of the cast of Suits, Joss Stone, Tom Hardy and Charlotte Riley, Carey Mulligan and Marcus Mumford [Source]

Sunshine Sachs must've called in a LOT of favors to get so many famous names on board the Archetypes Podcast and the 40x40 project. Vanity projects that went... nowhere.

Without Sunshine Sachs, IMO it's highly unlikely that M will ever be able to reach the same level of celebrity access on her own.

If there are any names missing from these lists, please comment below 👇

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author: SeptièmeSens

submitted: May 27, 2024 at 06:44PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[blackyumegirls]

Kiara & Thalassa

Two more girls added to my roster now that I'm into Bleach lol. The girl on the left is Kiara McCoy and the girl on the right is Thalassa Miller.

⭐️ Kiara moved from Georgia to Japan with her mom

⭐️ She's a Fullbringer and her powers come from her star shaped ring

⭐️ Her technique is called Starlight

⭐️ Kiara becomes a fashion magazine editor in the future

⭐️ Her love interest is Chad

💧 Thalassa is South African-American

💧 She's a military brat via her dad and lives with her during her time living in Japan

💧 She's also a Fullbringer and her powers are water

💧 Her technique is called Amaza Amadubulo which means thundering waves in Xhosa

💧 Grows up to be a surgeon (she's a smart girl)

💧 Her love interest is Uryu

[lboogie1906]

Louise Meriwether (born May 8, 1923) a novelist, essayist, journalist, and social activist, was the only daughter of Marion Lloyd Jenkins and his wife, Julia. She was born in Haverstraw, New York. Her family migrated to New York City. They moved to Brooklyn and Harlem.

She received a BA in English from New York University before meeting and marrying Angelo Meriwether, a Los Angeles teacher. She married Earle Howe. She earned an MA in journalism from UCLA.

She was hired by Universal Studios to become the first African American story analyst in Hollywood’s history. She wrote and published articles in the Los Angeles Sentinel on African Americans. She joined the Watts Writers’ Workshop and worked as a staff member of that project.

Her first book, Daddy Was a Number Runner, a fictional account of the economic devastation of Harlem in the Great Depression, appeared in 1970 as the first novel to emerge from the Watts Writers’ Workshop. Daddy Was a Number Runner, is a fictional account of the historical and sociological devastation of the economic Depression on Harlem residents.

He followed with the publication of three historical biographies for children on civil war hero Robert Smalls (1971), pioneer heart surgeon, Dr. Daniel Hale Williams (1972), and civil rights activist Rosa Parks (1973). She published novels, Fragments of the Ark (1994) and Shadow Dancing (2000). She has taught creative writing at Sarah Lawrence College and the University of Houston. She is a member of the Harlem Writers Guild. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[mashpoll]

The Price (s7 e18): Klinger tries to bribe Colonel Potter, but Potter is more concerned with the disappearance of his horse, Sophie. Meanwhile, Hawkeye and B.J. try to hide a man who is about to be drafted into the Korean army.

The Tooth Shall Set You Free (s10 e15): While Winchester fearfully avoids getting his agonizing toothache treated, the other surgeons discover a racist commander is sending his African-American soldiers disproportionately into dangerous duty.

[lifewithaview]

Ron Perlman, Mark Boone Junior, Kim Coates, Charlie Hunnam, and Glenn Plummer in Sons of Anarchy (2008) Pilot

S1E1

When the Mayans, a Latino gang led by Marcus Álvarez (Emilio Rivera), steal their stockpile of weapons and burn their warehouse, SAMCRO is placed in a difficult position, as they've already taken payment for the guns from the 1-9ers, a powerful African-American gang led by Laroy Wayne (Tory Kittles). As SAMCRO president Clarence 'Clay' Morrow (Ron Perlman) plots their revenge, his step-son and club vice-president Jackson 'Jax' Teller (Charlie Hunnam) finds an old document written by his dead father John 'JT' Teller (voiced by Nicholas Guest), one of the Sons' founders. In it, JT writes about the direction in which he wanted SAMCRO to go; nothing like the gun-running direction in which Clay and his wife Gemma (Katey Sagal), Jax's mother, has taken them. When they locate where the Mayans are hiding their weaponry, Clay calls upon Jax to bring his friend Harry 'Opie' Winston (Ryan Hurst) back into the fold. However, Opie has recently been released from jail after refusing to testify against SAMCRO, and has promised his wife Donna (Sprague Grayden) he'll go straight. Meanwhile, Jax's estranged wife, Wendy (Drea de Matteo), takes a drug overdose, leading to an emergency C- section and life-threatening surgery for her and Jax's son, who's ten weeks premature. Complicating matters is that the case is being handled by neonatal surgeon Dr. Tara Knowles (Maggie Siff), Jax's childhood sweetheart, who has recently returned to Charming after ten years away.

*Jax (Charlie Hunnam) is always seen wearing white Nike Air Force 1 sneakers throughout the entire series, which is a very notable part of his look. However, in the pilot, he is seen wearing black Adidas, low-top sneakers.

[kicksaddictny]

Fernando Tatís Jr. Pays Tribute to Jackie Robinson with "Never Let Them Know"

Fernando Tatís Jr. is set to unveil the ninth installment of his exclusive custom cleat series on April 15, 2024, as the Padres take on the Brewers in Milwaukee. This special edition cleat honors the legendary Jackie Robinson, the pioneer who broke Major League Baseball's color barrier as the first African American professional player.

Titled "NEVER LET THEM KNOW IT," the cleat commemorates Robinson's resilience in the face of adversity. The quote, attributed to Robinson himself, reflects his determination to remain composed despite experiencing racial taunts during his groundbreaking debut season. The cleat features a design that pays homage to Robinson's iconic career, incorporating elements such as black and white pinstripe fabric, brown coffee-dyed leather, and images of Robinson adorning the Nike swoosh.

Robinson's signature and iconic number 42 are prominently displayed on the outer shoe, accompanied by custom hang tags bearing the poignant phrase, "Never Let Them Know It," alongside Tatís Jr.'s personal logo. Crafted using a combination of paint and laser engraving techniques, the cleats also feature leather lace ties embellished with etched engravings of Robinson and the XAMPLE logo on the tongues.

Since 1997, Major League Baseball has retired Robinson's number 42 across all teams, a testament to his enduring legacy. Additionally, in 2004, the league introduced "Jackie Robinson Day," where players from every MLB team don the number 42 to honor his contributions to the sport and civil rights.

Cleat 9 of 50 in Tatís Jr.'s exclusive collection was conceptualized by XAMPLE's CEO & Founder, Nick Drbal, and expertly crafted by SURGEON, showcasing a deep appreciation for Robinson's impact on baseball and society as a whole.

[mockiatoh]

Only two people knew exactly what happened during the minute they were alone together in the general store in Money, Miss., on Aug. 24, 1955. One, Emmett Till, a Black teenager visiting from Chicago, died four days later, at 14, in a brutal murder that stands out even in America’s long history of racial injustice.

The other was Carolyn Bryant. She was the 21-year-old white proprietress of the store where, according to her testimony in the September 1955 trial of her husband and his half brother for the murder, Emmett made a sexually suggestive remark to her, grabbed her roughly by the waist and let loose a wolf whistle.

. . .

With Mrs. Bryant’s death, the truth of what happened that August day may now never be clear. More than half a century after the murder, Timothy B. Tyson, a Duke University historian who interviewed her, wrote that she had admitted to him that she had perjured herself on the witness stand to make Emmett’s conduct sound more threatening than it actually was — serving, in Dr. Tyson’s words, as “the mouthpiece of a monstrous lie.”

. . .

By most accounts, Emmett was alone with Mrs. Bryant for not much more than a minute before one of his companions — in Simeon Wright’s recollection, it was he — concerned that Emmett would not know how to comport himself around a Southern white woman, went in to fetch him.

“While I was in the store, Bobo did nothing inappropriate,” Mr. Wright recounted in “Simeon’s Story,” his 2010 memoir of the case. “Bobo didn’t ask her for a date or call her ‘baby.’ There was no lecherous conversation between them.”

. . .

On Saturday, Aug. 27, Mr. Bryant returned home. It has generally been assumed that Mrs. Bryant told him about the episode in the store soon afterward. In fact, Mr. Anderson said, his research strongly suggested that she and her sister-in-law chose to suppress the incident altogether.

“She and Juanita decided not to tell their husbands, because they knew they would go out and try to hurt him,” he said. “Some people, especially when they write me, they’ll say, ‘It was all her fault, because she told Roy.’ But she didn’t tell him.”

Someone did, though. As the African American surgeon and civil rights leader T.R.M. Howard concluded from his own investigation in 1955, that person was most likely a local Black field hand. Several field hands had been playing checkers on the porch of the Bryants’ store that evening; one of them apparently told Mr. Bryant in an attempt to curry favor.

“One source said he got 50 cents’ worth of store credit for it,” Mr. Anderson said.

…

What emerged in the 2004 F.B.I. investigation was that before Roy Bryant went to Mr. Wright’s house, he had asked his wife to look at two other Black youths and tell him whether either was the one who had flirted with her. Both times she said no.

After taking Emmett from his great-uncle’s, Mr. Bryant and Mr. Milam drove him to the Bryants’ store. It is beyond dispute that they presented him to Mrs. Bryant there. She said afterward that she had replied that he, too, was the wrong person.

“She did tell the defense attorneys a couple days after the murder, ‘They brought the Negro boy to the store and he was scared, but he wasn’t harmed, and I told him that he wasn’t the right one,’” Mr. Anderson said in the 2016 interview.

. . .

In “Simeon’s Story,” Till’s cousin Mr. Wright also recalled hearing him whistle outside the store.

However, as Mrs. Bryant told Dr. Tyson in 2008, “Nothing that boy did could ever justify what happened to him.”

What Emmett may actually have done inside the Bryants’ store that day, Dr. Tyson’s book reports — drawing on news media interviews decades later with Mr. Wright and their companion Ruthie Mae Crawford (later Ruthie Mae Crawford Jackson) — was break a Jim Crow taboo of which he was almost certainly unaware:

Instead of placing the money for his purchase onto the store counter, they said, young Emmett Till put his two cents directly into Mrs. Bryant’s hand, in the process touching her pale white skin.

It’s unbelievably heartbreaking to think about how little Emmett Till’s was beaten and murdered for. Touching a hand, and fifty cents. A little less than six dollars’ worth of today’s currency.

[dear-indies]

i’m looking to cast a korean woman who’s 30ish, but i want her to have darker skin instead of the norm in the tags. her father is played by gong yoo and her mother isn’t casted (can be white, korean, black, etc etc etc!). she’s very like, that clean girl aesthetic? simple, old money, eldest daughter syndrome, kinda vibe! not very glam herself bc she’s a surgeon (resources aren’t super necessary bc it’s on discord!) i have adeline rudolph atm but looking for alts. the fc can also be younger, i dont mind aging up by a few years! thank youuuu. and if you know of fcs who aren’t stick thin that would be appreciated as well! also open to models, influencers, singers. 💜 sorry this got so long! thank you!!!

adding on to my ask (korean fem fc/30s): by darker skin i just meant not super pale! but open to anyone who’s mixed 🫶

Kim Gee-yang / Vivian Kim (1986) Korean.

Jin Baek-Nedd (1991) Korean.

also:

Grace Park (1974) Korean - has younger roles/resources!

Jamie Chung (1983) Korean - has younger roles/resources!

Greta Lee (1983) Korean - has younger roles/resources!

Crystal Kay (1986) Korean / African-American - has younger roles/resources!

Samantha Futerman (1987) Korean - has younger roles/resources!

Jihae (1989) Korean.

Alice Lee (1989) Korean.

Michelle Lee (1991) Korean / African-American.

Blair Kim (1994) Korean / African-American.

Andrea Bang (1989) Korean.

Hyolyn (1990) Korean.

Ashley Park (1991) Korean.

Gia Kim (1992) Korean.

Nicole Kang (1993) Korean.

Adeline Rudolph (1995) Korean / White.

Hey sweet anon! I'm sorry I couldn't find more suggestions but I hope this helps!