You can't cry on a diamond's shoulder...but they're sure fun when the sun shines
Elizabeth Taylor was, in the vernacular of the black gay community, the epitome of legendary overness (pronounced OH-vah-nesssss—start with a full throttled and excited "O" and end with a very long and sassy "S"). Expansively she rained glamour and personality all over our landscape fertilizing our imaginations and libidos with bejeweled sirenship. The size of Ms. Taylor's diamond footprint (it is a form of carbon befitting her) was/ is celestial in scope. Her passions were unfiltered and never egocentric. She made humanitarianism and scandal look both tasty and easy. I've heard from several people who knew her, as was reported in the June 2011 issue of Vanity Fair; Tim Mendelson, her former personal assistant, states to Sam Kashner, "she had a genius for creating chaos around her." Throughout this pandemonium she would remain aloft floating above the bedlam serenely untethered to the drama she had concocted. Like the beautiful gardenias she cultivated in her garden, she was regal and bewitching while surrounded by swarms of deadly—but utterly harmless to her—bees.
I mourn Elizabeth. She was one of The Ones, a select group of a few boldfaced names that I would have loved to get to know before they passed. James Baldwin I didn't get to know but Octavia Butler, thankfully I did. I admire Ms. Taylor for the obvious reasons as well as the not-so-apparent ones. She actually reminded me very greatly of my mother, not because of either woman's incandescent style or penchant for multiple marriages, but because they were both smart business women during a time when women "asked" not demanded and they were never apologetic for their flaws or accomplishments. La Liz (a name she hated) was branded long before we had LiLo, JLo, JHud, Branjolina, TomKat or any of the other silly concocted nicknames TMZ and Perez Hilton can slam together for puerile affect. Elizabeth was fiercely loyal to her friends and she was an independent thinker. How many of us go through life looking for the time or moment to make that move?--To not feel stupid or tense? To step up and say "Hello" or ask for a raise and push for better treatment? To affirm "I'm not looking for validation but to follow my dream and screw what people think?"
Elizabeth lived her life in the now. Her verbs were always action-oriented and in the present tense. She was always going, always doing, always living, always being...alive. What a grand feeling that must be! To live a life of bold unmuted colors. Not sitting back watching life but out in life not afraid of that first step (don't look down 'cause it's a dusey). We can learn much from these two women--Elizabeth and Gwendolyn. I've always said that Solstice was a composite of my mother and my two aunts. But I think there is some Elizabeth Taylor in Solstice too. They are both big, fast-living ballsy women. Man-eaters, husband-stealers. Sometimes Lilith, but never Eve. At home at the head of a bloodthirsty army or corporate boardroom as well as relishing their places in husseydom. They are gentle words casting softly or stunning vituperatives hurled venomously; not taking any shit from anyone yet looking-good-doing it kinda broads. Private lives lived publicly without appearing needy, ingratiating or panderous (sorry Nene.) And they both love jewelry. When Solstice was plotting the murder of a fellow student at university in my first novel Solstice, she chose to wear a matching amethyst ring and pendant set.
The next morning God sent an army of angels to wake up the sky ... It was something about Solstice that sullied them all, a dream of splattered blood on a freshly scrubbed floor. A cutting meandering fright, twinkling in that large and sparkly purple ring she had come to wear as of late. A radiant, glamorous peril in their midst.
But what Solstice, Elizabeth and my mother have in common is/ was an unwavering belief in their ability to affect the world around them, even in the tiniest ways. Most of us look for signs and augers to tell us if this decision or that decision is the right one. I think belief (or faith, if you will) is the obverse of the coin with fear. These women were bellwethers. The first person I knew who had a prenuptial agreement was not some Hollywood celebrity; it was my mother upon marrying her last husband. So many times we say the smart intellectual mind is too economical to think of faith but you must have it in order to not fear. Faith, that if we fail we don't lose but learn to carry on again. Faith, that whatever is fucked up at this moment won't or should not be our finality. It will get better. Maybe not easier, but better. Faith, that we are good--not pious--but good people. Faith that we are not vindictive, mean-spirited or dull. Faith, that even if seemingly naive, will lead you to the belief that all things will be all right. And as you believe your fears will dissipate. You soon realize that you can live your life on your terms and without the expense of repercussion from gossipers and haters. We can strive to be more confident and transcend the titles of "slut," "loser," or "faggot" and have the faith, as did Elizabeth Taylor, to embrace the entirety of ourselves. So I have embraced my drama, temper, procrastination and delayed adulthood and I go forth fearlessly and with faith (and hopefully with a David Yurman Armory sterling silver link with pave black diamonds bracelet I've been lusting for) and be my full fabulous-self.
legendary overness (pronounced OH-vah-nesssss—start with a full throttled and excited "O" and end with a very long and sassy "S"). Expansively she rained glamour and personality all over our landscape fertilizing our imaginations and libidos with bejeweled sirenship. The size of Ms. Taylor's diamond footprint (it is a form of carbon befitting her) was/ is celestial in scope. Her passions were unfiltered and never egocentric. She made humanitarianism and scandal look both tasty and easy. I've heard from several people who knew her, as was reported in the June 2011 issue of Vanity Fair; Tim Mendelson, her former personal assistant, states to Sam Kashner, "she had a genius for creating chaos around her." Throughout this pandemonium she would remain aloft floating above the bedlam serenely untethered to the drama she had concocted. Like the beautiful gardenias she cultivated in her garden, she was regal and bewitching while surrounded by swarms of deadly—but utterly harmless to her—bees.
I mourn Elizabeth. She was one of The Ones, a select group of a few boldfaced names that I would have loved to get to know before they passed. James Baldwin I didn't get to know but Octavia Butler, thankfully I did. I admire Ms. Taylor for the obvious reasons as well as the not-so-apparent ones. She actually reminded me very greatly of my mother, not because of either woman's incandescent style or penchant for multiple marriages, but because they were both smart business women during a time when women "asked" not demanded and they were never apologetic for their flaws or accomplishments. La Liz (a name she hated) was branded long before we had LiLo, JLo, JHud, Branjolina, TomKat or any of the other silly concocted nicknames TMZ and Perez Hilton can slam together for puerile affect. Elizabeth was fiercely loyal to her friends and she was an independent thinker. How many of us go through life looking for the time or moment to make that move?--To not feel stupid or tense? To step up and say "Hello" or ask for a raise and push for better treatment? To affirm "I'm not looking for validation but to follow my dream and screw what people think?"
Elizabeth lived her life in the now. Her verbs were always action-oriented and in the present tense. She was always going, always doing, always living, always being...alive. What a grand feeling that must be! To live a life of bold unmuted colors. Not sitting back watching life but out in life not afraid of that first step (don't look down 'cause it's a dusey). We can learn much from these two women--Elizabeth and Gwendolyn. I've always said that Solstice was a composite of my mother and my two aunts. But I think there is some Elizabeth Taylor in Solstice too. They are both big, fast-living ballsy women. Man-eaters, husband-stealers. Sometimes Lilith, but never Eve. At home at the head of a bloodthirsty army or corporate boardroom as well as relishing their places in husseydom. They are gentle words casting softly or stunning vituperatives hurled venomously; not taking any shit from anyone yet looking-good-doing it kinda broads. Private lives lived publicly without appearing needy, ingratiating or panderous (sorry Nene.) And they both love jewelry. When Solstice was plotting the murder of a fellow student at university in my first novel Solstice, she chose to wear a matching amethyst ring and pendant set.
But what Solstice, Elizabeth and my mother have in common is/ was an unwavering belief in their ability to affect the world around them, even in the tiniest ways. Most of us look for signs and augers to tell us if this decision or that decision is the right one. I think belief (or faith, if you will) is the obverse of the coin with fear. These women were bellwethers. The first person I knew who had a prenuptial agreement was not some Hollywood celebrity; it was my mother upon marrying her last husband. So many times we say the smart intellectual mind is too economical to think of faith but you must have it in order to not fear. Faith, that if we fail we don't lose but learn to carry on again. Faith, that whatever is fucked up at this moment won't or should not be our finality. It will get better. Maybe not easier, but better. Faith, that we are good--not pious--but good people. Faith that we are not vindictive, mean-spirited or dull. Faith, that even if seemingly naive, will lead you to the belief that all things will be all right. And as you believe your fears will dissipate. You soon realize that you can live your life on your terms and without the expense of repercussion from gossipers and haters. We can strive to be more confident and transcend the titles of "slut," "loser," or "faggot" and have the faith, as did Elizabeth Taylor, to embrace the entirety of ourselves. So I have embraced my drama, temper, procrastination and delayed adulthood and I go forth fearlessly and with faith (and hopefully with a David Yurman Armory sterling silver link with pave black diamonds bracelet I've been lusting for) and be my full fabulous-self.
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