Why Prince Harry and Meghan Markle's Engagement Hits Home With Me

I’ve never understood America’s fascination with British royalty. But the engagement of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle has captured my attention — along with the rest of the world. 

This past Monday morning when I glanced over the headlines I may have missed over the long Thanksgiving break, of course all the top stories were all about Prince Harry and Meghan.

My initial reaction was one of apathy. Why should we care what the British Royals are up to? What do these pending nuptials have to do with the everyday life of the average American? Hell, how does this engagement affect the everyday life of the average UK citizen?

Apparently, a lot of people do care about the Royals. An African-American female friend told me that her social media feed was buzzing with excitement about the history-making event: a black girl becoming a real-life princess. 

After talking to my friend, I decided to actually read one of the articles about the Prince Harry-Meghan Markle engagement. A New York Times piece revealed several things I didn’t know — mainly, that Meghan is American.

But the main detail in the article that jumped out to me is that Prince Harry and Meghan will be known as the Duke and Duchess of Essex once they’re married.

Reading this detail, I had a sense of deja vu and art imitating life. I flashed back to early drafts of my novel “The Chloe Chronicles” from the ‘90s. In that version of my novel, a character named Gigi, who is a mixed-race young woman like the main character Chloe, runs off and marries a duke she meets while the girls are attending a prep school in London. Where do Gigi and Duke D'Arbanville live after they elope? Essex.

Or maybe it was Sussex. It was one of those British places that end with “-ex.”

Why, you ask, did I write a plot line involving a young nobleman if I don’t care about royalty? Well, the Duke D’Arbanville character in the early draft of “The Chloe Chronicles” is a villain who abuses Gigi. I was trying to show that just because someone is rich and famous doesn’t necessarily make him “Mr. Right.”

My novel aside, another detail about Prince Harry and Meghan that is of even greater interest to me is that I am now seeing my own family reflected among British royalty. I'm an African-American man who grew up with three white stepparents and four biracial siblings. The fact that a young woman who resembles my sisters is marrying into arguably the most famous family in the world is pretty cool.

And seeing a cross-cultural union among such powerful people with a global profile is important in these times where we all seem to be so divided. 

So, as someone who never really cared much about the Royals, I guess I’ve come to realize that what they do and the example they set for the world is kinda important after all.

(I will be publishing a new, updated edition of "The Chloe Chronicles" in 2018. Check my website, Chrisbournea.com, for details.) 

Every Filmmaker Should Read 'Independent Ed'

If you're a filmmaker and you haven't subscribed to Alex Ferrari's "Indie Film Hustle" podcast, do so immediately. On a recent episode, Ferrari talked about actor/filmmaker Ed Burns' excellent book, "Independent Ed: Inside a Career of Big Dreams, Little Movies, and the Twelve Best Days of My Life."

"Independent Ed" is a must-read for anyone who wants to break into the movies. Rather than a full-fledged autobiography, the book gives an inside look at how he's blazed a non-traditional path in the film industry. Despite having success in mainstream movies such as "Saving Private Ryan," much of Burns' career has been spent making small, independently financed movies ‒ often out of his own pocket.

In "Independent Ed," Burns relates that he grew up working-class on Long Island, N.Y. His parents were supportive of his dreams, but also practical. When the aspiring writer/director decided he wanted to go to NYU film school, his police-officer father told him, "Look at your grades and look at my salary. And let's rethink NYU."

Burns ended up going to Hunter College and eventually landed a job as a production assistant on "Entertainment Tonight." Rather than wait to be discovered, Burns decided to jump in and make an indie movie. His father helped finance his $25,000 feature debut, "The Brothers McMullen." 

Burns edited the family comedy-drama in his free time, using the equipment he had access to at "Entertainment Tonight." Despite his hard work and ingenuity, Burns' low-budget feature was rejected by every major film festival, and even some minor ones. But as fate would have it, Burns found himself in the same room with Sundance Film Festival founder Robert Redford when the legend did an interview with "Entertainment Tonight."

Burns worked up the nerve to slip Redford a tape of his movie, and Redford actually accepted it and passed it along to the festival programmers. Through this unlikely chance meeting, Burns got into Sundance and his movie became the toast of the festival, acquired by 20th Century Fox and going on to earn $10 million at the box office (a decent sum for an indie flick back in 1995) and landing him a three-picture deal with the studio.

Despite this early success, Burns went on to have a hit-and-miss career as a director and actor. Some of the movies he wrote and directed, such as "She's the One" with Jennifer Aniston, earned critical acclaim and decent box office, while others, such as "No Looking Back," went ignored. And while he became a steadily working actor, he never became a huge box office draw like Tom Cruise.

Instead of giving up and quitting the industry, Burns decided to return to his roots and make no-frills, low-budget indie movies the way he did at the very start of his career. He made "Newlyweds" with just $9,000, using a camera he owned and asking actors to wear their own clothes and do their own hair and makeup. He managed to turn a handsome profit, releasing on iTunes instead of the traditional theatrical model.

There are two ways to look at Burns' story. One is to get depressed. If a handsome movie star who won the lottery with his very first low-budget movie and was mentored by the likes of Robert Redford and Steven Spielberg encounters rejection, what hope do the rest of us average joes have?

The other way of looking at Burns' story is inspiration, which is how I see him. Arguably, you can learn more by studying the up-and-down career of someone like Burns than those who have had a nonstop stream of blockbusters. Burns is a shining example of someone who has managed to continue to make movies on his own terms, simply for the love of storytelling and forged his own path through trial and error and a lot of persistence. 

Reading "Independent Ed" will uplift you, show you that dreams do indeed come true, and prove that there is more than one way to make it in show biz.  

Summer Beach Reads - With A Dash Of Diversity

I've come across several lists of the best summer beach reads, and none of them have much diversity. So here are a few of my recommendations:

A Day Late and a Dollar Short by Terry McMillan - An enthralling story told from several different perspectives about a black family coping with divorce, health challenges and other everyday problems.

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz - Like Macmillan's book, this story about a nerdy Dominican-American fanboy is told in the voices of different characters.

Rock Star by Jackie Collins - The late, great Collins was the queen of the juicy summer beach read. The diverse cast of characters in this page-turner features a Teddy Pendergrass-type soul singer and a young Mariah Carey-esque pop diva.

We Need Documentaries More Than Ever In The 'Fake News' Era

Documentaries have taken on a new importance in an era when even mainstream media organizations are being accused of disseminating “fake news," according to a recent panel discussion about the media's role in society. 

“Documentaries in the Post-Truth Era” was the topic of the panel discussion, which took place during “Doc Day." The May 23 event was part of Le Marché du Film, an international moviemaking conference affiliated with the Cannes Film Festival in France. 

The panel discussion was of special interest to me as an independent filmmaker who journeyed to Cannes to promote my documentary, “Lady Wrestler: The Amazing, Untold Story of African-American Women in the Ring.” 

Documentaries serve a larger purpose beyond shedding light on a specific subject, said Christophe Tardieu, director general of the Centre National du Cinéma, which stages Doc Day. 

"Documentaries are essential for understanding the world," Tardieu said. 

Documentaries also bring voices to the forefront that wouldn’t be heard elsewhere, said Kathleen Lingo, executive producer of “Op-Docs,” The New York Times’ video series that gives independent filmmakers and journalists a platform to explore different subjects. 

"We're open to filmmakers from all around the world, and really diverse voices," Lingo said, "which is why I'm here at Cannes."

Documentaries play an important role of exploring complicated issues in an in-depth format, as opposed to posts on social media platforms that don’t offer enough context, said Laurent Richard, an investigative filmmaker and founder of the Freedom Voices Network. 

"The documentary can bring complexity,” Richard said. “This is the difference between a tweet and a feature-length documentary." 

Part of the discussion centered on whether channels such as PBS have an obligation to broadcast programming that give all sides of an issue, rather than just the so-called “liberal” perspective. 

PBS and other outlets often don’t get credit for exploring many perspectives, including points of view that can be described as “conservative," said Kathy Im, director of Journalism & Media at the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation.

“If you look at the body of work supported by liberal organizations or public television, it's quite diverse,” Im said. “I think our work is being mischaracterized." 

Documentary filmmakers can advocate for a particular cause but still give opposing views, which can help broaden their audiences, said Carrie Lozano, director of the IDA Enterprise Documentary Fund. 

Documentary filmmakers should “find a way to tell the stories in a way that can reach more people,” she said, “and that can be done a lot of the time.”

Including many different perspectives can ultimately make a documentary more interesting to watch, Lingo said. "Instead of focusing on an 'us vs. them' mentality, it's about finding the great story and trying to have these difficult conversations.” 

And of course, no panel discussion about documentaries would be complete without a dialogue on how filmmakers can find more funding to tell their stories. 

Rather than randomly applying for every possible grant, Im suggested that documentarians work as hard as they can to match their subject areas with the interests of potential funders: "It's almost like we need a matchmaking site: 'I want to make a film about this' and 'I want to fund a film about that.'"

What I've Learned As An Author Over The Past Year

It was one year ago today that my good friend Raymond Lambert and I debuted the book we wrote together, "All Jokes Aside: Standup Comedy Is a Phunny Business," at a series of events in my hometown of Columbus, Ohio. Two of the major highlights were a launch event at the Funny Bone comedy club hosted by WBNS 10TV anchor Jerry Revish and a book signing and author talk at the Barnes and Noble bookstore in the Easton Town Center shopping mall. 

I have to give a big shout-out to Eric Troy, a mutual friend of Raymond and I who organized these events and generated a lot of great press and buzz for the book. I also have to acknowledge Agate Bolden Books Publisher Doug Seibold, who gave the go-ahead to the book proposal Raymond and I submitted and then patiently edited our manuscript. 

"All Jokes Aside" tells Raymond's fascinating, multifaceted life story:

How he was shaped by his working-class upbringing in Wilmington, Del., raised by teen parents, and became the first in his family to go to college. Raymond is a proud alum of Morehouse, the venerable Historically Black College that is the alma mater of many African-American icons, including Dr. Martin Luther King.

While writing the book, Raymond and I found we have some things in common: He was among a handful of Black kids at the Catholic school he attended growing up and so was I. Raymond went to Morehouse; I graduated from Eastmoor High – nicknamed "The 'Moor House."

Raymond's stint as a Wall Street investment banker in the go-go '80s. Raymond eventually left the hustle and bustle of Manhattan to move to Chicago to work for Chris Gardner, the internationally renowned businessman whose life was the subject of the blockbuster movie "The Pursuit of Happyness" starring Will Smith.

How Raymond and Morehouse buddy James Alexander joined forces to break away from their secure, well-paying jobs in the financial services industry in the '90s to found the legendary All Jokes Aside comedy club in Chicago. All Jokes Aside became a "star factory" that helped launch the careers of Dave Chappelle, Chris Rock, D.L. Hughley, Carlos Mencia and Oscar winner Mo'Nique, among many other Kings and Queens of Comedy. 

In the past year since we launched "All Jokes Aside," I've learned a lot. One of the biggest insights I've gained is that even though the All Jokes Aside comedy club closed its doors around 2000, its legacy lives on and continues to have a tremendous impact on pop culture. Even after spending two years writing and researching the "All Jokes Aside" book with Raymond, I'm still amazed to learn about the far-reaching influence the club had and continues to have. 

One day, my good friend and fellow author Andrew Miller emailed me a link to comedian Marc Maron's popular "WTF" podcast. During the podcast, comedian, actor and writer Deon Cole of "Blackish" and "The Tonight Show" fame talked about how All Jokes Aside helped him get his start.

And just a week ago, I was listening to one of my favorite radio shows, NPR's "Fresh Air," and comedian W. Kamau Bell mentioned working at All Jokes Aside early in his career. The funny thing is (pun intended), is that I almost turned the show off when Bell talked about interviewing white supremacists for his CNN show, "United Shades of America." I was offended by the concept of giving a platform to hate groups to spread their toxic message, but I figured I should hear Bell out.

Ultimately, I'm glad I tuned in long enough to hear Bell give "All Jokes Aside" a big shout-out. 

To hear the "Fresh Air" episode with Bell (he mentions All Jokes Aside about 22 minutes in), click here. 

And for more information about "All Jokes Aside" and to pick up your copy, click here. 

Are Men 'Allowed' To Be Feminists?

I sat in the front row of a local concert venue, applauding my friend who happens to be a musician as she performed with three other talented female artists in celebration of International Women's Day on March 8. 

At one point in the show, my friend addressed the audience: "Let's give all the men a round of applause for coming out."

While I appreciated the recognition, there was a part of me that felt I didn't deserve it. Why should I and my fellow male concertgoers be patted on the back for doing the right thing? Why should anyone be applauded for doing the right thing?

This experience has me reflecting on how far we've come ‒ and how far we still have to go ‒ in what used to be referred to as "the battle of the sexes." This issue is especially relevant at this time of year during the observance of Women's History Month.

It's still considered unusual for men to be interested in issues that concern women, but issues that concern men are supposedly of interest to everyone. For example, I was the literal "odd man out" at the International Women's Day Concert. But it's perfectly acceptable for women to get caught up in March Madness and accompany their husbands, boyfriends and male associates to watch basketball games at sports bars.

Gender relations are of particular interest to me as an artist whose debut movie, "LadyWrestler: The Amazing, Untold Story of African-American Women in the Ring," and debut novel, "The Chloe Chronicles," are centered on the stories of women. 

I didn't set out to make a documentary about women's sports. Nor did I tell myself, "I'm going to write a book about a female character."

In the case of "Lady Wrestler," I simply came across an interesting story about black women who excelled in the male-dominated world of professional wrestling back in the 1950s, '60s and '70s. As a journalist, I'd like to think that I can identify a good story that needs to be told.

In the case of "The Chloe Chronicles," I didn't consciously try to tell a story with a female main character. I simply got an idea for a novel with male and female characters of many different races, and the title character happens to be female. I just decided to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard, as it were) and tell the story that was in my head. I didn't give any thought as to whether it was "proper" for a guy to tell a story with a female main character. Who cares, as long as readers find the story engaging?

As a journalist, you have to be versatile and have the ability to tell stories that include several different perspectives. So when I got the opportunity to assist businessman Raymond Lambert in writing his memoir about his legendary Chicago comedy club, "All Jokes Aside: Standup Comedy Is a Phunny Business," I jumped at the chance. 

In Raymond's case, I didn't consciously tell myself, "Okay, now I'm going to co-write a book about a man." Once again, I simply saw a good story that needed to be told.

If we're ever going to achieve true equality, men are going to have stand up, raise our voices and champion issues that affect women. We men are going to have to have the courage, the integrity ‒ the balls ‒ to step outside of society's traditional roles and resist the urge to remain silent and "stay in our lane." 

"Can men be feminists?" I asked my friend, a woman who attended the International Women's Day Concert with me. She said yes, that it's okay for men to use that label as long as they're "woke."

An interesting coincidence: a couple of hours after I wrote the original draft of this post, I walked into my office building and encountered a woman passing out flyers for a "lunch and learn" Women's History Month presentation. She handed flyers to the two women ahead of me, but when she saw me (a guy) approaching, she literally turned her back and walked away. 

How did she know I wasn't a "woke" man who would appreciate the Women's History Month presentation ‒ which, of course, I would have. 

Would I label myself as a feminist? If being a feminist means supporting women's rights ‒ and human rights, in general ‒then the answer is yes.

But why does the label even matter? As a writer and filmmaker, I'm going to continue to try to tell good stories, regardless of the gender of the characters.

A good story is a good story. Period. 

'Get Out' Is Just One Way To Tell A Multiracial Story

Jordan Peele's blockbuster horror comedy "Get Out" just became the first movie by an African-American writer/director to break $100 million at the box office, according to an article in Diversity Inc. 

"Get Out" portrays the literal mayhem that ensues when an African-American man accompanies his white girlfriend home to meet her parents. Another movie with a multiracial cast that is sure to rake it in at the box office is "The Fate of the Furious." The latest installment in "The Fast and the Furious" franchise opens April 14.

"Get Out" and the "Fast and the Furious" movies represent two very different approaches to storytelling and race relations. "Get Out" confronts race head-on. In "The Fast and the Furious," the race of the characters is almost irrelevant.

I took a path that is somewhere in between these two approaches when writing my novel, "The Chloe Chronicles." The story centers on the globe-hopping adventures of an exotically beautiful, multiracial young woman named Chloe Bareaux. 

Like "Get Out" and "The Fast and the Furious," "The Chloe Chronicles" features characters of different races. In the novel, the issue of race comes up whenever it's relevant, but it's not the central theme of the plot.

Here are some challenges that I encountered in telling a story with characters from different cultural backgrounds and how I tried to overcome them:

Walking in my characters' footsteps. The first part of "The Chloe Chronicles" takes place in Paris, where Chloe's African-American mother, Maxine, moved before giving birth to Chloe. To accurately portray the details of Parisian life, I studied travel guides and French phrase books, watched travel shows and feature films set in France, and even took a trip to Paris. 

Walking down the actual streets and visiting the landmarks where my characters interact helped me in visualizing the action, and hopefully makes the story more vivid for readers.

Revising as needed. Chloe eventually moves to New York and becomes a famous fashion model. Before her career takes off, she shares an apartment with several other models from around the world. 

One of Chloe's roommates is a Latina named Graciela. Like Chloe, Graciela is using modeling as a steppingstone to realize her real ambitions. Whereas Chloe has always been in love with the movies and aspires to act, Graciela's pipe dream is to become a singer.

Graciela was originally supposed to be Brazilian. But while researching, I realized Portuguese is spoken in Brazil. If Graciela's native language was Portuguese, she most likely would not sing in Spanish and wouldn't be able to become a Latin pop star, as the plot goes. So I changed Graciela's country of origin to Venezuela.

Addressing race in a culturally sensitive way. When Chloe's mother, Maxine, meets a wealthy French entrepreneur named Jacques, who eventually becomes Chloe's stepfather, their cultural differences are apparent. Jacques is smitten with Maxine when she attends a charity ball he throws. He flirts with her and finds a culturally sensitive way to ask this black woman who speaks with an American accent about her background. 

This excerpt shows how the interaction between Maxine and Jacques plays out:

     “‘Maxine Bareaux,’ that’s a lovely name,” he said in his sexy accent, looking at her with his light brown eyes, which glinted with flecks of green and gold in the twilight.
      She fanned herself, starting to feel a little warm in spite of the chill in the air. “Merci.”
     “It sounds French, but your accent is American?”
    “Yes. Louisiana Creole. I’m originally from New Orleans.”
    “Ah, New Orleans,” Jacques said, as if fondly recalling the name of a lover.“I used to go there often as a young man when I was in the navy. That city gave me many good times and a lot of great memories. It’s such a vibrant city, with its jazz and great food and beautiful women.” He looked at her pointedly. 

A new, updated edition of "The Chloe Chronicles" is due out later this year, and I'll post details soon.

(In addition to penning "The Chloe Chronicles," Chris Bournea is the co-author, with Raymond Lambert of the acclaimed non-fiction book "All Jokes Aside: Standup Comedy Is a Phunny Business." Bournea is also the director of the forthcoming documentary Lady Wrestler: The Amazing, Untold Story of African-American Women in the Ring.)

Blacks' History With The Catholic Church Is No 'Joke'

The season of Lent, which just got underway, is one of the biggest traditions in Catholicism. An interesting coincidence is that both I and Raymond Lambert, my friend and co-author of the book "All Jokes Aside: Standup Comedy Is a Phunny Business," went to Catholic school. 

"All Jokes Aside" chronicles Raymond's legendary Chicago comedy club of the same name, a "star factory" that helped launch the careers of Steve Harvey, Oscar winner Mo'Nique, Chris Rock, Dave Chappelle, Carlos Mencia, D.L. Hughley and many other Kings and Queens of Comedy. The club was also the subject of the acclaimed documentary "Phunny Business," which debuted on Showtime in February 2012 during Black History Month.

One of the funny anecdotes Raymond shares in "All Jokes Aside" is his experience in the 1970s as one of only a handful of black students attending Salesianum, an all-boys Catholic college-prep academy in Wilmington, Del. (A really cool video retrospective of Raymond's recent return to Salesianum in which he imparts life lessons to current students is available by clicking here.)

The following is a passage from "All Jokes Aside" that ended up on the "cutting room floor" and didn't make the final version of the book. The passage describes the historic relationship between African Americans and Catholic schools. Many of these descriptions apply to both Raymond's experience at Salesianum and my own experience attending Holy Spirit School in Columbus, Ohio:

The Lamberts were not unusual in sending their son Raymond to Catholic school at Salesianum. There has been a long-standing relationship between the African-American community and the Catholic Church, dating back to at least the early 1800s. This is according to the book "Growing Up African American in Catholic Schools," a 1996 volume published by Teachers Press and edited by Jacqueline Jordan Irvine and Michèle Foster. 

In the 1950s and '60s, when many predominantly black schools were under-funded and before the integration of public schools became widespread, Catholic schools provided an alternative for African Americans to receive a quality education. Catholic parishes historically courted African Americans "in the hopes of swelling the numbers of African Americans who would require or desire a Catholic education," according to "Growing Up African American in Catholic Schools."

The authors "refute the notion that African American students who meet success in Catholic schools are middle-class African Americans who would do well in most U.S. schools," according to a review of the book published in the Harvard Educational Review. 

"In fact, their evidence indicates that the students who are best served and make the greatest gains in Catholic schools are those who are worst served in the U.S. public schools. The authors also make clear that Catholic schools continue to educate a particular population well, even though they spend less per student and thus have fewer materials and resources." 

For example, the Holy Angels School in Chicago devoted resources to helping working-class and poor urban youth achieve their full potential, regardless of economic status.

"Growing Up African American in Catholic Schools" features the perspectives of black people from all walks of life who attended Catholic school and "are successful and who possess such qualities as resiliency, accommodation to the dominant culture without assimilation, and retention of their positive cultural identities."

(In addition to co-authoring "All Jokes Aside: Standup Comedy Is a Phunny Business," Chris Bournea directed the forthcoming documentary "Lady Wrestler: The Amazing, Untold Story of African-American Women in the Ring.")

My Cringe-Worthy Moment With Faye Dunaway

There were many moments that stood out at this year's Oscars. Two of the most moving, in my opinion: 

The "Hidden Figures" cast introducing real-life NASA hero Katherine Johnson, who received a much-deserved and long-overdue standing ovation.

Viola Davis' amazing, touching acceptance speech, during which she offered the poignant insight, "There's one place that all the people with the greatest potential are gathered... the graveyard."

But, of course, the one moment that everyone is still buzzing about is the one that is being described as "the biggest flub in Oscar history": living legends Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway wrongly announcing "La La Land" as the Best Picture winner before the error was corrected and "Moonlight" was crowned the real champ.

Accounting firm PwC, which tabulates the Oscar votes, has taken full responsibility for the mistake and issued apologies to the Academy, the cast and crew of both "Moonlight and "La La Land," Beatty and Dunaway. But the moment will live on in infamy as one of the most cringe-worthy in television history.

I had my own cringe-worthy moment with Faye Dunaway 20 years ago. And like her Oscars flub with Warren Beatty, it all resulted from an innocent mistake.

It was 1997 and Dunaway was starring in a touring production of Terrence McNally's Tony Award-winning Broadway play "Master Class," based on the life of opera diva Maria Callas. I was a young writer at the time and aspired to one day become a playwright, so I felt it was important to see top-notch theatrical productions when they came through town. 

Seeing "Master Class" was, well, a master class ‒ pun intended. I enjoyed the show when it played the Palace Theatre in my home base of Columbus, Ohio. After Dunaway's curtain call, I waited outside the stage door for her to come out and sign my Playbill.

Dunaway's legend wasn't lost on me. As a Gen X latchkey kid, cable TV was my babysitter and I grew up watching endless showings of "Mommie Dearest" on HBO. I was an avid fan of the biopic in which Dunaway portrays silver-screen queen Joan Crawford, as told from the perspective of Crawford's daughter Christina.

I think the reason I related so much to "Mommie Dearest" was that Crawford reminded me of my father figure, my maternal grandfather whom I called "Daddy Bob." It may seem odd to compare a working-class African-American man to a glamorous Caucasian female movie star. But there were some definite similarities. 

Crawford and my grandfather were from the same generation. Both were demanding and had grandiose personalities that ensured they were always the center of attention. Both could be temperamental and unpredictable ‒ sweet and nurturing one minute, ranting and raving the next. And both had impossibly high standards for their children ‒ though my grandfather's over-the-top antics certainly never rose to the level of abuse like Crawford.

For example, a scene in "Mommie Dearest" that hit home for me was the one in which Crawford wakes up Christina and her brother in the middle of the night and makes the children chop down rose bushes. There was a similar incident one summer when my grandfather pulled me away from my favorite TV show to make me trim hedges that were already perfectly manicured because doing chores was the way I was supposed to express my love and devotion to him. 

I want to reiterate that I'm not equating my grandfather's arbitrary rules with Crawford's outright abuse. But as a child, I could relate to Christina Crawford's exasperation over her mother's insistence on making her do a pointless chore.

So when Dunaway emerged from the stage door that night in '97 at the Palace Theatre, I shyly asked her to sign my Playbill and she couldn't have been more friendly and accessible. But the moment turned cringe-worthy when I naively informed her, "'Mommie Dearest' is one of my favorite movies of all time." She actually winced.

At the time, I wasn't sophisticated enough to know that "Mommie Dearest" is considered one of the most disastrous movies ever made. Upon its release in 1981, the movie won multiple Golden Razzies, which recognize the worst in film and serve as a counterpoint to the Oscars. I didn't know that critics had savaged Dunaway's performance as going way too far in chewing the scenery.

But "Mommie Dearest" has become a camp classic over the years and developed a loyal cult following, myself included.

Despite my faux pas in bringing up "Mommie Dearest," Dunaway was polite (after I made her wince), dutifully gave me her autograph and wished me well.  No, she didn't beat me with a wire hanger :-) (You'd have to have seen the movie to get the joke.)

(Chris Bournea is the co-author, with Raymond Lambert, of the book "All Jokes Aside: Standup Comedy Is a Phunny Business." Bournea is also the writer and director of the forthcoming documentary "Lady Wrestler: The Amazing, Untold Story of African-American Women in the Ring.")

How I Lost My Accent (Mark)

I sat in the newsroom of the publication where I worked as a reporter, listening with interest as my Latino colleague explained to one of the graphic designers about how important it was to include the accent mark in his surname when his byline appeared in the paper. For the purpose of this writing, I've changed details to protect my colleague's privacy, so let's just say his surname is "Díaz."

"I can relate," I told my colleague. "My last name is supposed to have an accent mark, too."

This incident happened in the early 2000s, and in hindsight, I can see that there are some important distinctions between my colleague's situation and my own. For me, the accent mark in my last name, Bournéa (pronounced bor-NAY), is optional. For my colleague, however, including the accent mark in "Díaz" is not just about ensuring that his name is spelled properly, it's about identity. The accent mark is an essential part of who he is.

With the complex issue of immigration front and center these days, I've been thinking a lot about ethnic identity. As an African-American man, I feel solidarity with people of color around the world, including immigrants who have made the brave and often traumatizing journey to build new lives in this country. 

My Latino journalist colleague hails from an immigrant family ‒ his mother and father are from two different Latin American countries. But I would have to go back multiple generations to identify an ancestor from a "foreign" country.

Like many African Americans, my family history is complicated by forced immigration ‒ slavery. As is the case with millions of black people, my heritage is made up of both African and European ancestry. 

According to family lore, Bournéa is of French Creole origin and my family's roots extend to Louisiana, which was, of course, once owned by France. I've never done genealogical research to confirm or refute this. 

I've flip-flopped back and forth over the years on whether to use the accent mark in my name. When I began my career as a journalist in the '90s, typesetting programs were less advanced and the accent mark in Bournéa was fairly difficult to reproduce in print. So for most of my adult life, I haven't used the accent mark.

But a few years ago when I published my first novel, "The Chloe Chronicles," it made sense to insert the accent mark in my author byline, since much of the story takes place in modern-day Paris. The plot centers on the globe-hopping adventures of an exotically beautiful, multiracial young woman named Chloe Bareaux who becomes a world-famous fashion model and finds romance along the way. (Shameless plug :-)

The accent mark issue surfaced again last year when I co-authored the book "All Jokes Aside: Standup Comedy Is a Phunny Business" with Raymond Lambert about his legendary Chicago comedy club of the same name. Our very patient editor, Doug Seibold with Agate Publishing, asked how I would like my name to appear on the cover, since he'd seen my byline with and without the accent mark.

After thinking it over, I decided once again to abandon the accent mark. It wasn't about trying to "American-ize" my last name or ensure that no one mistook me as "foreign." It was a business decision based on the assumption that I'd come across as more professional and be taken more seriously as a writer if I don't have some pretentious, "French-i-fied" flourish in my byline. 

After all, I was born and raised in Columbus, Ohio, and I'm decades ‒ if not centuries ‒ removed from any French ancestry I might have.

With the seemingly relentless focus on immigration in recent weeks and talk of border walls and travel bans, I've gained a new appreciation for those who, unlike me, can't simply erase their accent marks ‒ or their verbal accents, for that matter. 

Every now and then, someone inquires about the origin of my last name, posing the question, "Where are you from?" It's obvious that what they're really asking is, "Are you a foreigner?" 

Most of the time, I play dumb and reply, "I'm from Ohio," which usually results in a change of subject. But sometimes I attempt to explain my complicated family history.

As a native-born American citizen, I have the ability to "code switch," choosing whether or not to use the accent mark in my last name when it's convenient ‒ or inconvenient, depending on the situation. But for people like my Latino journalist colleague, by taking pride in their unique cultural markers, they make an important statement: They belong here like everyone else.

(This is the first in a series of posts that I plan to occasionally publish on the theme "What Does It Mean to Be An American?" I'll share my perspectives and interview others about their experiences in this multicultural society we live in.)

With Politics Dominating The Headlines, 'Hamilton' Seems Even More Relevant

With politics dominating the headlines and debates raging about the checks and balances that the founding fathers put in place, the smash Broadway musical "Hamilton" seems more relevant than ever.

On Super Bowl Sunday, "Hamilton" grabbed headlines yet again when Phillipa Soo, Renée Elise Goldsberry and Jasmine Cephas Jones performed "America the Beautiful" during the game's pre-show. The women, who originated the roles of the Schuyler sisters in "Hamilton," added lyrics to make the song more inclusive, according to Slate Magazine. When they sang "crown thy good with brotherhood," they added "and sisterhood," which elicited cheers from the crowd.

With its uncanny ability to speak to these ever-changing times, "Hamilton" is the hottest ticket in town ‒ not only in its perpetually sold-out Broadway run, but in every city the musical visits on its national tour. So when I heard that the "Hamilton" tour was coming to my neck of the woods, I vowed to land a ticket. I can't wait to see "Hamilton" in Cleveland during Playhouse Square's 2017-18 season.

The occasion will have a special significance, since Playhouse Square is the venue where I presented the play I wrote and directed, "The Springtime of Our Lives," in June 2014.

There's just one problem: neither the website for Playhouse Square nor "Hamilton" lists the dates or for the Cleveland engagement or allows you to buy tickets. Since "Hamilton" tickets are bound to sell out instantly, it seems like the only thing to do is to monitor the websites every day to check for when tickets go on sale.

Unless you do this:

Buy a season ticket for Playhouse Square's current 2016-17 season. In the coming months, you'll be given the option to renew your season ticket for the 2017-18 season, which, of course, includes "Hamilton."

The fact that I ended up buying a season ticket for Playhouse Square was one of those "happy accidents" that life hands you. I live in Columbus, which is more than two hours south of Cleveland. But buying a ticket for Playhouse Square's entire season comes with the added benefit of seeing shows I wouldn't ordinarily see. I look forward to driving to Cleveland to "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time," "Something Rotten!" and "An American in Paris."

In fact, since I'm a writer and director who plans to eventually revive my play "The Springtime of Our Lives" and bring other theatrical productions to the stage, attending shows at Playhouse Square will be educational ‒ an informal "drama school."

Rather than purchasing tickets for a theater's entire season, I'm sure most "Hamilton" fans would prefer to see only that show ‒ and maybe see it multiple times since it's become such a cultural phenomenon.

But buying a season ticket is a relatively inexpensive way to support other deserving shows and to broaden your cultural horizons.

(Chris Bournea is the writer and director of the forthcoming documentary "Lady Wrestler: The Amazing, Untold Story of African-American Women in the Ring." Bournea is also the co-author, with Raymond Lambert, of the book "All Jokes Aside: Standup Comedy Is a Phunny Business.")

'Hidden Figures' Success Astounds Even Black History Experts

This past Martin Luther King Jr. Day weekend, my mom, sister and I left a local movie theater in my hometown of Columbus, Ohio, in disbelief in what we had just seen onscreen. The movie was "Hidden Figures," and each of us couldn't believe that we had never before been exposed to this true story about African-American female mathematicians and engineers whose brilliant work helped NASA launch the legendary 1962 space flight of John Glenn, a fellow Ohioan who recently passed away. 

My sister is herself a black female engineer, but even she had never heard of this amazing and inspiring story until the movie's release. 

Could anyone have predicted that a movie about African-American women excelling in a field in which they aren't traditionally associated would rocket (pun intended) to number one at the box office, beating out even the latest installment in the behemoth "Star Wars" franchise?

"Hidden Figures" has not only received one of the coveted Academy Award Best Picture nominations, the movie has raked in more than $100 million at the box office ‒ a bonafide blockbuster. Since the movie was produced for just $25 million (modest by Hollywood standards), it has turned a quadruple profit. 

The success of "Hidden Figures" is especially phenomenal, considering it disproves Hollywood's widespread belief that in this digital age of a million entertainment choices, moviegoers won't flock to character-driven movies with women as the lead characters ‒ especially ones that don't have eye-popping action and special effects.

The story of the real-life women behind "Hidden Figures" has surprised even those who are well-versed in black history. When appearing on "The View" on Martin Luther King Day, Van Jones, a former staffer in the Obama White House and an outspoken activist, 'fessed up that he was unaware that black women were instrumental in the history of space exploration.

"I'm an African-American civil rights dude. It's my job!" Jones declared, referring to his responsibility of being informed about black Americans' achievements.

Tavis Smiley expressed similar amazement when "Hidden Figures" star Octavia Spencer recently appeared on his PBS talk show to promote the movie.

"How did I miss this [story]?" asked an incredulous Smiley, author of such best-selling books as "The Covenant with Black America" and "How to Make Black America Better."

"It's a strange time and people have to chart their course," said Spencer,who has been nominated for a Best Supporting Actress Oscar. "You have to determine how you're going to be part of the solution, and for me it's about putting positive images out there."

Following the lead of "Hidden Figures," I hope to also put out positive images of African-American women with the upcoming release of a documentary I wrote and directed, "Lady Wrestler: The Amazing, Untold Story of African-American Women In the Ring." 

"Lady Wrestler" chronicles the story of sisters Babs Wingo, Ethel Johnson and Marva Scott ‒ African-American women who garnered international success with their athletic grace decades before another African-American "sister act" ‒ Venus and Serena Williams ‒ captured the world's attention. 

"Lady Wrestler" features in-depth interviews with Johnson and other wrestlers who rose to fame in the 1950s and '60s, such as Ramona Isbell and Ethel Brown. The documentary also features commentary from the wrestlers' children on what it was like to grow up with a mom who could take down most men in a matter of seconds.

Like "Hidden Figures," "Lady Wrestler" brings to light yet another "hidden" piece of history about the contributions of African-American women in an area where you don't often see either black people or women ‒ especially back in the day. 

I'll be posting periodic updates about "Lady Wrestler" as the film's release approaches. In the meantime, you can find out more at Ladywrestlermovie.com.

Like President Obama, I Learned The Value Of Diversity From My Interracial Family

"For me... writing was the way I sorted through a lot of crosscurrents in my life ‒ race, class, family. And I genuinely believe that it was part of the way in which I was able to integrate all these pieces into something relatively whole." ‒ President Barack Obama


With only a couple days left in President Barack Obama's administration, I ‒ like the rest of the country ‒ am looking back on his legacy. There will be countless Obama retrospectives published this week, and this is an especially reflective time for those of us who are African American.

If you're looking for an in-depth, objective analysis of Obama's policies and the effect they had on America and Black America, in particular, this isn't it. This is an intentionally personal reflection on Obama's presidency. 

It certainly has been a major step in the right direction for Americans to have seen a competent black man and his intact, functional family in the White House for the better part of the past decade. I love the fact that black children ‒ especially my nieces, nephews and cousins ‒ will grow up taking for granted that an African American can hold the highest office in the land. It's important for people of all races to see ourselves reflected in our leaders.

One significant way that I see myself reflected in Obama is that, like me, he grew up in an interracial family. Unlike Obama, both my parents are black. And while I'm not biracial like the nation's 44th president, I do have three white stepparents and four biracial younger siblings. 

Obama pondered how his mixed-race heritage led to his ability to relate to voters from different walks of life ‒ and they to him ‒ in Ta-Nehisi Coates' excellent piece in The Atlantic, "My President Was Black." In a series of interviews, Coates elicited some very candid responses from the soon-to-be-former president.

Coates makes the following astute observation about Obama, with regard to race relations:

Obama's early positive interactions with his white family members gave him a fundamentally different outlook toward the wider world than most blacks of the 1960s had. Obama told me he rarely had "the working assumption of discrimination, the working assumption that white people would not treat me right or give me an opportunity or judge me [other than] on the basis of merit."

He continued, "The kind of working assumption" that white people would discriminate against him or treat him poorly "is less embedded in my psyche than it is, say, with Michelle."

I can relate to Obama's words ‒ and maybe it's because, like him, I was raised in an environment where diversity was the norm. I grew up in the 1970s and '80s in Columbus, Ohio, with a white stepfather and two white stepmothers. 

The Buckeye State's capital city may not be one of those "coastal elite bubbles" we've heard so much about since the presidential election last fall ‒ in fact, it's smack-dab in the heart of fly-over territory. My hometown is in the center of a swing state that turned "red" and went for Trump. But the east side neighborhood where I grew up was integrated and afforded me the luxury of ignorance. I was blissfully unaware that my blended family was in any way "abnormal." 

I was one of only a few black students at my Catholic grade school. I then transferred to the majority-black public high school a few blocks from my house. In the late '90s, I graduated with honors with an English degree from The Ohio State University, which has a very diverse, international student body and is like a mini-United Nations.

As an adult, I've made my career as a journalist and have worked in both predominantly black and predominantly white organizations.

I've felt comfortable in each of these environments. Like Obama, when I encounter people who are different from me, the "working assumption of discrimination" isn't automatically embedded in my psyche. 

Is this because of my "positive interactions with [my] white family members," as Coates observed of Obama? Is it because, like Obama's white grandparents, my white step-grandparents treated me well during childhood visits to their farm in rural, lily-white Mt. Gilead, Ohio? Mt. Gilead is a place where you would have seen a sea of "Make America Great Again" yard signs had you driven through there leading up to the election.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not espousing the "Diff'rent Strokes" approach to diversity ‒ the notion that black children raised in white environments learn to assimilate and, therefore, tend to be more successful in life. This isn't necessarily the case.

Overall, I had positive experiences with my white family members and classmates growing up. But I've read many accounts of African Americans and other people of color who were adopted into white families and/or went to mostly white schools who were bullied and discriminated against or, at the very least, felt isolated and marginalized, that they never truly fit in.

Just this past Martin Luther King Day, NPR's "Fresh Air" featured an insightful interview with acclaimed African-American journalist Nikole Hannah-Jones in which she discussed the nation's historical reluctance to desegregate schools, her painstaking decision to continue to send her daughter to a segregated school in New York City, and her own painful experience of attending a nearly all-white school in Iowa growing up. Hannah-Jones expounds on the issue in her article in The New York Times Magazine.

I'm certainly not naive enough to believe that we live in a colorblind meritocracy. Rather than this simplistic world view, I take a more nuanced philosophy from Obama. The example he set is that when people of any race have positive experiences with diversity early on, it can give them the tools to navigate a world in which there are many people who don't look, act or think like you. 

(Chris Bournea is the co-author, with Raymond Lambert, of the book "All Jokes Aside: Standup Comedy is a Phunny Business." Bournea is also the writer and director of the soon-to-be-released documentary "Lady Wrestler: The Amazing, Untold Story of African-American Women in the Ring.")