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In 2016, after we learned that a businessman turned reality tv star would be our president, many of us were hurt, to say the least. We were angry, disappointed and confused. And the thought that someone we had supported would embrace the new president was unconscionable. So when Chrisette Michele performed at one of the balls for Donald Trump’s inauguration, Black folks across this country swiftly canceled her.
Fast forward a couple of years later, artists and entertainers associate even more closely with Trump than Chrisette did and somehow they’ve never left the good graces of Black people. (See: Steve Harvey, Jim Brown and most famously Kanye West.)
Smells like sexism. For the past several years, Chrisette’s name has been tied to her decision to sing at that event. But in that time, she’s lived quite a bit of life. She got married, had a miscarriage (spawned she believed by the stress of the inauguration drama), was dropped from her record label and in a recent blog post, she revealed the reasons why she got a divorce from her manager turned husband Doug “Biggs” Ellison.
Check out a few excerpts from the post below.
“Aston Martin Music drops. I’m in LA, a small-time millionaire, Grammy award winning, and happily dating “grown ups” but… I’m a child. A very successful… kid. Aaaaand, it literally never occurred to me that I’d missed a step until… Wedding Bells in Vegas (circa: 2016-2018). I walked down the aisle to “Love You Like A Love Song”, a techno club record TOTALLY meant for high heeled, couch dancing at LIV in Miami (or maybe Lavo in Vegas). Childish.
I’m divorced now. I think I got married to try adulting on for size. Didn’t fit. My ex had latched onto the idea that adulting was a “thing”, and I’d never gotten the memo. Sure I brought home fairly large slabs of bacon, made up the bed and opened a few businesses but… it wasn’t until after we divorced that I realized he had the intentions of living in the same city, raising small opinionated beasts who would grow IN MY STOMACH, and eating at the same restaurant every Sunday.
Apparently this soul quelling idea is called … “settling down”. Eeek… I just threw up in my mouth a little.
…
One of my girlfriends text me. She said, “I’m still hoping for magic for you.” She was talking about love. I wanted to say, “Is it ok for a woman not to be thinking about marriage for the same amount of time as any given man?”. I wanted to ask, “Is it enough for me to love traveling, meeting new people and long lavish walks thru Whole Foods?”. Am I “not grown-up”, if I’m not constantly wondering about love and a home for 2? To avoid experiencing normal “Yes I’m Judging You” thoughts from my home gurl, I said, “I’m not pressed”. To recreate my whole existence to fit into someone else’s? And then be stuck in one place forever? Yeah. No. Not right now.
Ok, ok, ok. In all seriousness, maybe someone will sweep me off my feet. Maybe I’ll be SHOCKED into a Couple of Forevers. My love language is touch and I love to cuddle. Love is…nice. I’m open minded. I’ll try new things… but ummm… it’s quite likely too late that I’ll ever grow up. I skipped over that part of my twenties and I’m not sure you ever get that back. I’m “humaning” (stole that ”word” from a pal). This is MY human experience. I’m patient enough to watch my life unfold, trust God to forgive, reveal and restore and move forward. I fall. I get embarrassed. I stay at moms, eat good, then take my vitamins and get back out there. Am I “on the market”? You can’t buy me. Am I “single”? I’m complete. Loving me is complicated, mostly because I’m content. Kids don’t love people because they have a nice house and diamonds. Kids love people because they smile, laugh at their jokes, spend time on the couch and at the movies. I’m a kid that way… don’t need anything but the simple, beautiful, present human.”
