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Race & Ethnicity

Reflections from a token black friend

"In the past, I've usually stayed quiet on these issues. Often, the pain of diving deep into them was too much to regularly confront."

Reflections from a token black friend

I am regularly the only black kid in the photo. I have mastered the well-timed black joke, fit to induce a guilty "you thought it but couldn't say it" laugh from my white peers. I know all the words to "Mr. Brightside" by the Killers.

I am a token black friend. The black one in the group of white people. This title is not at all a comment on the depth of my relationships; I certainly am blessed to have the friends that I do. But by all definitions of the term, I am in many ways its poster child. And given the many conversations occurring right now around systemic racism, it would feel wrong not to use my position as a respected friend within a multitude of different white communities to contribute to the current dialogue. I believe my story speaks directly to the covert nature of the new breed of racism — its structural side, along with implicit bias — and may prove helpful to many I know who seek a better understanding.


. . .

Growing up, I lived in the inner city of Boston, in Roxbury. I attended school in the suburbs through a program called METCO — the longest continuously running voluntary school desegregation program in the country, which began in the late 1960s. My two siblings and I attended school in Weston, Massachusetts, one of the nation's wealthiest towns. The place quickly became our second home, and alongside Boston, I would count it equally as the place I was raised. All three of us did very well by all standards. We had all been co-presidents of the school, my brother and I were both football captains, and all three of us went on to top-end universities.

For those wondering about the structural side of systemic racism, I'd ask you to consider a few questions. First: Why does METCO still exist? Segregation ended more than 60 years ago, yet there is a still a fully functioning integration program in our state. We haven't come very far at all. Many of our schools remain nearly as segregated as they were in the 1960s.

Second: What is the point? Weston improves its diversity. Without us, most of Weston's students would go through all those years seeing possibly three or four local black faces in their schools (and that's the reality for many white people in this country). As for the Boston students, most of whom are black, they receive a much higher-quality education. Property taxes, a structural form of racism meant to allow segregation to endure, have ensured that while schools have grown increasingly better in our suburbs, the inner-city schools continue to struggle with resources, attendance, and graduation rates.

Lastly: Why was I able to be so successful? A major criticism of the METCO program is that it doesn't produce better outcomes for its students than the city schools, so it just acts as a brain drain from the city. I am an exception. I held leadership roles in the school, was an accomplished athlete and student, and went on to what was, at the time, the best public university in the country. What's easily overlooked, though, is how my circumstances differed from the average student of color coming from the city. I came from a two-parent household. My mother was able to work from home our entire life, so she could take us places when we needed. Compared to other black families, we were relatively well-off financially, which afforded me a car in high school and thus allowed me to be highly involved. I had a stable church and home life and food security. This combination is uncommon for a young black kid in America.

In a piece my brother wrote reflecting on the current situation, he considered whether black privilege was real. He and I have both considered how our differences from the common story of black people made us "privileged." For instance, our immersion in the white community, our success in school and now in the workforce, and the fact that we grew up in a middle-class black household (highly uncommon in Boston) led us to believe we had somehow transcended the plight of the black man. Yet, what scared us both so much as we watched the videos of Ahmaud Arbery and George Floyd is that we clearly had not. In both cases, it could have been us. There is no escape. There is no level of success that will spare you. We are black men, and that is all that matters to some.

. . .

In the past, I've usually stayed quiet on these issues. Often, the pain of diving deep into them was too much to regularly confront. College changed many of my attitudes, but none more so than my full acceptance that racism is alive and well around me.

In college, I sought out more black friends, choosing to room with three people of color because I wanted to grow more connected to that side of my identity. The room afforded me a space to appreciate aspects of black culture and share stories of anger with people who looked like me. Many of my clearest interactions with racism occurred in college. It was there that I began to confront knowledge that roused more frustration within me, such as the war on drugs and its history as a weapon against black communities — although on every college visit, I watched people ingest more drugs and smoke with more impunity than I ever saw in the hood.

The length of my journey makes me inclined to be more patient with others in this process, as it's taken me this much time to wake up. We should all be reasonably patient with one another, but I would encourage individuals to not be patient with themselves and to treat these issues with the urgency they deserve. The anger on display over the past week should exhibit the need for change.

. . .

So many of my experiences growing up speak to implicit biases against black people. I think of how quickly others in school assumed I had a single mother, simply because my father, much like many of theirs, didn't visit school often. Or the number of times I've heard "you are so articulate" in a conversation where all I've shared is my name and other small personal details. Standing alone, each instance may seem insignificant or merely a compliment to my upbringing and education. However, the frequency with which I've received that comment tells otherwise. It reveals how a black kid speaking properly is surprising, and further, how it makes me appear worthy of sharing the person's company.

I also realized that the token black friend is not spared the realities facing a black kid from the hood. One morning, while getting ready for school, I heard my mother scream outside, followed by my brother sprinting down our stairs. In our 150-year-old home, every quick step down the stairs resembled a drumbeat. I followed my brother to find my mom standing at her car, visibly shaken, telling us, "He's running up the street. He took my phone." My brother and I, both barefoot, sprinted up our street and two others until we caught the culprit. I jumped on his back to stop him until my brother caught up, at which point Raj chewed him out and we took our stuff back — both too young and inexperienced in the ways of the streets to know we probably should have beat him up. The point is, though, we still had to go to school that day. And I remember being too embarrassed to tell any of my friends about what occurred that morning, thinking it would change for the worse the way they thought about me or where I came from every day.

I started carrying a knife during my junior year of high school. It quickly became a running joke among my core group of friends — whenever someone would say something out of pocket or stupid, we'd say, "Get the knife," and I'd comedically lay it on the table. What those friends definitely didn't know is that I carried the knife because I was afraid I might get jumped making my daily walk from the train station to my house late most evenings. How could my white friends from suburbia ever understand that?

. . .

In the wake of the past week's events, I've reflected on my interactions with the police. These interactions lifted the veil of black privilege I thought existed, though it was likely only afforded to me because of my military affiliation.

I was once pulled over in a cemetery, less than one minute after getting back into my car after visiting a friend's grave, only to be asked, "What are you doing here?" The cop had been parked right by me the entire time, so he obviously just seen me out at a gravestone alone.

"Visiting my friend's grave before heading back to school tomorrow, sir," I said.

The officer's aggressive demeanor changed only after I told him I went to the Naval Academy, at which point we entered a friendly conversation about his days at Norwich. What stuck with me is what he could've done in those cemetery back roads without another living person in sight — no witnesses, no cameras.

Another time, when I'd walked back to my best friend's empty house after a party, I accidentally set off the alarm, bringing the cops buzzing to his door. I wonder if the only reason it went so smoothly is because I quickly identified myself as a member of the military, opening their ears to hear the full story of what was happening. I think of what might've happened if they'd mistaken me, holding my military ID in my hand as I walked out the door, for something else.

It's tough to realize how rarely these possibilities occurred to me when I was younger. When I was pulled over numerous times, often without cause, driving to a hockey game in Weston or parked talking to my white girlfriend, I didn't consider that the cops might have had it against me. When I did witness these biases, I quickly brushed them off as insignificant.

Early in middle school, I arrived to our high school's football game with a group of friends, all white, to find three or four policemen standing by the entrance. I greeted them with a "Good evening, officers," and then quietly said to my friends, "You gotta befriend them so they are on your side later." My buddies thought it was hilarious, and I had succeeded in making the boys laugh. Looking back, I realize they didn't understand that I was speaking to something legitimate. I was no older than 12 or 13, and I already understood that the police would not be inclined to help me. It was only funny to my friends because they'd never had those sorts of conversations.

I think back to when my friends never understood why I wasn't allowed to play with water guns — or any toy guns, for that matter — when I was a boy. I'd be so excited to visit a friend's house and use their airsoft gun in the backyard. I used to get so frustrated when my mom told us it was "too dangerous" for black boys to do that and that someone would mistake it for a real gun. When I was 16, 12-year-old Tamir Rice was shot and killed while playing with a replica toy airsoft gun. I realized my mom was right.

I think of the way the black girls were treated as second rate in high school. Guys rarely tried to talk to them romantically, and if they did, others discussed it with an undertone of comedy. I never felt this way, personally, but didn't realize until college that my silence was compliance. I was participating in denying dignity to the black women around me.

This attitude from my white friends didn't end in high school, either. This past year, I was at a bar in Narragansett, Rhode Island, where I'd quickly befriended one of the guys my friend had brought with him. At one point, I expressed my interest in a girl who had just entered the bar. He asked me to point her out, so I did, also noting that she was black. He responded, "Yeah bro, she's cute, but you could have one of the white girls here!" I questioned his statement, and he realized it didn't fly with me. We eventually moved on and continued the night, but I couldn't get it out of my head. He truly didn't think anything of it when he said it. And he assumed that I would agree with him. To him, the preference for white women was undisputed, so he suggested it unapologetically. It was especially hard for me because, outside of that statement, there was nothing to suggest he was racist. He had treated me with nothing but love and admiration and accepted me into his crew. It was simply ignorance, which had probably been reinforced countless times. That was difficult to wrestle with.

. . .

These attitudes directly contribute to and maintain systemic racism within our society. Our disparate relationships with the police, along with messages sent to the black males when they "speak properly," or to black girls about their inferiority (spoken or unspoken), paint an inaccurate picture of what a black person is supposed to be. These attitudes foster the ignorance and apathy that is so rightly being called out right now. They ensure the survival of this corrupt system.

I think of times when my own ignorance let me buy into the insensitivity shown toward the black struggle, often to induce laughs. During a visit to a Louisiana plantation during my sophomore year of high school, I shamefully recall posing for a picture with a noose around my neck. I remember walking around downtown New Orleans later that evening with it around my friend's neck, me jokingly walking him like a dog. Two black guys on the street, a bit older than us, said to me, "That's not fucking funny, bro." I immediately filled with guilt upon recognizing my stupidity, and I struggle even today to understand what made me think either were permissible at the time. Sharing that story relieves some of the guilt, yes, but it also speaks to how being wrapped up in white teen culture led me to buy into, and even spearhead, the insensitivity that is often exhibited toward issues of black struggle that are incorrectly categorized as "in the past."

If you don't agree, why did none of my white friends call me out for it? Yes, we were young at the time, but I'd ask: Why didn't we know any better? We assumed the pain of that type of racism was dead, but we all just witnessed a modern-day lynching on camera.

Then there are the instances most white people will recognize, though they probably never knew how damaging their words were. Every token black friend can recall the times when a white friend chooses to dub you "the whitest black kid I know." It's based on the way I speak or dress or the things I'm into, and it's a comment on me not fitting the image they have of a black person. When I resist accepting such a title, the white person claims it's a compliment — as if the inherent superiority of whiteness should leave me honored to be counted among their ranks.

More impactfully, it suggests that my blackness is something that can be taken from me. That my identity as a black man fades because I am into John Mayer or I've visited the Hamptons. And further, it assumes that my black identity is not something I am proud of. It ignores the fact that the acculturation and assimilation I experienced growing up with all white friends was not voluntary. It suggests that my blackness is a burden, when in fact, minimizing my blackness was most often my burden. Another example: when I am criticized by my white friends for code-switching when I am with my black friends, just because they don't understand the slang and how it connects black people to a common culture.

The biases are evident; you just need to pay attention. Believe me, because I wasn't spared from buying into them myself. It wasn't until I got to college that I began to realize how much subconscious effort I'd put into being as unstereotypically black as possible. Whether in my choices concerning the way I dress, speak, or even dance, I noticed that, without realizing it, I'd habitually quelled aspects of my black identity. And based on that ability, I consistently inflated my self-worth and considered myself superior to my fellow black brothers. I had unknowingly bought into the very biases set out against me.

. . .

I'd emphasize that most white people do not understand their level of ignorance — especially the good ones, who mean well, and that negligence is part of the problem.

Many of the white people I know have no concept of the role they've played, passively or actively, in perpetuating these conditions. They have no idea how much we long to hear them speak up for us and to embrace some of the discomfort around these issues with us. Furthermore, the good ones are oblivious to the level of overt racism still out there. I have been among my white friends each time I've been called "nigger" by a stranger. And every time, my white friends seemed shocked. They had been misled to believe that kind of overt racism only happened in the past (or in To Kill a Mockingbird). Comfortingly, they always verbally leaped to my defense, and the savior complex within them encouraged them to seek retribution.

In one vivid case, at a bar in Cape Cod, after I'd just finished a conversation with a friend, one guy, not realizing I was still in earshot or aware of my relationship with this friend, came over to him and asked, "You really talking to that nigger?" My friend was stunned but immediately came back at the guy, his anger for me visible. He then came to me, boasting that he has black friends as if that should warrant him a pass.

As much as each situation ruined my night, everything after went well, and I was embraced by a group of allies who wanted to fight for me when they heard that word. I had no further reason to be upset. Yet, probably only the friend who walked ahead of the group with me knows I cried my eyes out the entire walk home, unable to explain how that word garnered so much control over me.

The problematic result of these overtly racist situations is that good white people feel liberated from any responsibility concerning the privilege, structural racism, and implicit biases that do not make them racist themselves, but that they do benefit from. This moment is one of the first times I have felt it was not only okay but encouraged to share these things.

If there is one thing every token black friend knows, it is that we are not to provoke serious discussions of racial issues among our white crowd. We should only offer an opinion on such matters when invited to do so by our white peers. Further, we should ensure that the opinion is in line enough with the shared opinion of our white friends, as to not make it too awkward or ostracizing.

It doesn't need to be, and shouldn't be this way. Many of us are eager to share our stories, and we have been waiting for the invitation to do so.

. . .

I am comforted when I see white people call things out for what they are. When my friends and I rented a 16-passenger van for a New Year's Eve trip to Montreal, we found ourselves held up at the border coming back. The older agent, surveying the passengers, asked how we all knew each other, to which we answered, "We all went to high school together." The officer then followed up by singling me out, "And how do you fit in here?" What he was suggesting about my place in the group of all white guys was telling enough, and the guys I was with were quick to support me and point it out to their parents when debriefing the trip once we arrived home. If only they knew how often I'd experienced situations like that one. White people should know that we need more conversations about little things like this. It's not our job to heal the world, but if we can start by getting people to question small interactions and beliefs, we can begin moving toward progress.

The white friends I grew up with have shared with me how thankful they are to have had me in their lives during their developmental years. They wonder what attitudes they might harbor if they hadn't had a black best friend their entire lives. They arrived at college to befriend kids who had never met a black person in their lives, and they encountered countless out of pocket statements from those individuals.

I am constantly thankful that I grew up with genuine white friends, unlike many of my extended family members. My cousin said to me once, "I don't like being around white people… I always feel like they hate me." I was able to learn that, more often than not, that isn't the case. Still, my cousin points to the overwhelming sentiment that black lives are not accepted or celebrated by white people.

Recent events present a unique opportunity to begin conversations that have been waiting to happen for far too long. To both black and white people, I'd write that understanding is a two-way street. To my white friends, I'd tell you that while that's true, white people have a longer journey to get to where we need to meet. It is time for white people to muster the courage to call out those comments you hear from your parents or uncles and aunts. The pass has been given for far too long, and every time you don't speak up, you enable far worse words and behaviors. For those of you who think an old dog can't learn new tricks, I'd point to the numerous white adults who have texted me this week noting that they have been in their bubble for too long, and asking me to keep sending them content. It's time to pop the bubble.

My experience as the token black friend has allowed me a unique lens into many of the gaps that currently prevent mutual understanding between white and black people. I have spent so much time in the white community and enjoyed the privileges that come with that, yet I am still affected by these issues. Despite my story's obvious differences from that of the average young black man, I believe it speaks to the immediate need for change. Additionally, it serves as an example of a genuinely meaningful relationship between a black person and white people and emphasizes the ability of white people to be either allies or enemies.

I will never turn my back on the black community. You'll bump our music and rep our athletes, but will you stand with us when it's not convenient? The pain is real. The stories are real. Our call for help is real. My uncle posted on Facebook yesterday, "When the dust settles, I wonder if anything will actually change?" To be honest, I'm not sure how quickly or how much things will change. But I know that one thing is directly within our individual control. You can celebrate black lives by making a choice to inquire about them, to educate yourself, and to question many of the norms around us. You no longer have the excuse of being unaware of your own ignorance. I'd reword my uncle's post to a question that we should all ask ourselves: "When the dust settles, I wonder if I will actually change?"

"No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite." — Nelson Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom

This article originally appeared on Medium and was first shared here on 6.19.20. You can read it here.

Photo courtesy of Kerry Hyde

Do cat buttholes touch every surface they sit on? Science answers.

Cat owners sometimes have unique questions that even Google doesn't always have the answer to. This is probably the sole reason cat forums exist, but one kid who needed a 6th grade science project decided to skip the cat forums for answers and instead use the scientific method. Kaeden Henry, a sixth grader living in Florida, bravely pondered a question few (if any one) has been brave enough to ask: do cat buttholes touch every surface they sit on?

Since cats do whatever the heck they want, training them not to jump on kitchen counters is a feat even Hercules struggles to complete. These fierce felines don't care if you're cooking dinner or trying to get comfy in bed. If they want to sit somewhere, they're going to do it. The thought of cat butts on that expensive Serta pillow designed to feel like you're sleeping on a cloud can gross people out, but thanks to Kaeden, you no longer have to wonder if the butthole itself is also making contact.

Courtesy of Kerry Hyde

The curious sixth grader is homeschooled and well-versed in the scientific method thanks to her mother's PhD in animal behavior with a concentration in feline behavior. And, since they own cats, the science experiment was pretty straightforward (and directly impactful).

To complete the experiment, Henry and his mom, Kerry Hyde, bought non-toxic lipstick and applied it to each of their cat's anuses. Then, the cats were given commands.

Courtesy of Kerry Hyde

"Non-toxic lipstick was applied to their bum-bums, they were then given a series of commands (sit, wait, lie down, and jump up. Side note: Both cats have been trained since kittenhood with a variety of commands, they also know how to high-five, spin around, and speak.), they were compensated with lots of praise, pets, and their favorite treats, and the lipstick was removed with a baby wipe once we collected our data in just under 10 minutes," Hyde wrote in a Facebook post.

The results? Turns out that, no, cat buttholes do not touch every surface cats sit on. Now, let's all take a collective sigh of relief while we go over the details. Kaeden's experiment covered long-haired, short-haired, and medium-haired cats (if your cat is hairless, you better stock up on Clorox wipes just in case).

"His results and general findings: Long and medium haired cat’s buttholes made NO contact with soft or hard surfaces at all. Short haired cats made NO contact on hard surfaces. But we did see evidence of a slight smear on the soft bedding surface. Conclusion, if you have a short haired cat and they may be lying on a pile of laundry, an unmade bed, or other soft uneven surface, then their butthole MAY touch those surfaces!" Hyde shares.

Now every curious cat owner can rest easy knowing that as long as their cat has hair, their bare bottom balloon knot is not touching the majority of surfaces in their home.

Courtesy of Kerry Hyde

The amusing experiment caught the Internet's attention. People laughed and commented, with one person writing, "This is probably the most useful information I’ve learned from a science fair project."

"Good to know!...I can now eat my sandwich left on the counter with confidence!" another writes.

Courtesy of Kerry Hyde

"A+++!!! Whew!! I am very grateful for your sciencing on this subject. My fears from walking in on my cat sitting on my laptop keyboard and subsequently being grossed out and cleaning furiously in a hyper-ocd manner have been somewhat allayed and now maybe I won’t have to use QUIIITE so many wipes." someone chimes in.

"Finally.. Someone answers the important questions!!"

Mom with adult daughters.

Mother-daughter relationships are a bond like no other. For many girl moms, one of the markers of a parenting job well-done is when your adult daughters want to call you everyday.

It's something TikToker @coobellaa hopes will happen. So, she decided to ask her followers for parenting advice–specifically from 'girl moms' who have adult daughters who call them everyday. Her goal: to get their advice on how to keep her relationship with her daughter strong as she grows up, with hopes she will want to call her everyday when she's out on her own.

"Because I’m raising a future best friend, not just a daughter. Girl moms with grown daughters.. what’s your secret to staying close? 🥹🙏🏼💞," she captioned the post.

@coobellaa

Because I’m raising a future best friend, not just a daughter. Girl moms with grown daughters.. what’s your secret to staying close? 🥹🙏🏼💞 #mom #girlmom #momtips

In the video, @coobellaa is getting ready with her young daughter in the mirror. Within the video, she added the caption, "GIRL MOMS with daughters over 20 who still call you everyday...what's something you did while raising them that kept your bond strong?

Moms did not hold back. They opened up about the specific things that have helped them maintain a strong relationship with their adult daughters. These are 18 of the best insights:

1. "Physical affection. I made it a habit to give my kids a snuggle as soon as they woke up and before bed. It kept us connected even through the teen years."

mom, daughter, hug, affection, physical touchMama Said Love GIF by OriginalsGiphy

2. "My daughter is 34, she’s my best friend. I always believed her, I never judged, I gave tons of affection, and we did it together. I was a young Mom, and now a Gigi of 5. I always want more for her ♥️."

3. "Honestly I just made sure I gave them a place of love and no judgement. They knew I was the mom and not their friend but they also knew I could handle the truth better than a lie so lies were[n't] needed."

4. "Be honest, admit to my mistake and try to 'suggest' things once they became adults. I feel like teaching them to trust themselves, their ideas and consequences while at home was the best. I was there."

5. "I laid down with my daughter every night at bedtime and we talked about her day, well into her teens. Sometimes it was boring but I knew someday she may need something important so I always listened."

mom, bedtime, daughter, mom and daughter, listening hallmark hall of fame mother daughter GIF by Hallmark ChannelGiphy

6. "I let them say their truth and didn't try to change it even if it made me look bad I just had to change it this made me cry."

7. "I didn't have all of the answers. I never pretended to. I apologized often and tried to speak about differences when emotions weren't high."

8. "Be real and raw it’s okay to show vulnerability and always say sorry when you don’t hit the mark. Thank them when they show kindness empathy etc. See the best in them and reflect that back to them."

9. "Be honest (age appropriate), allow them to make their own mistakes, tell them that you are learning and make a safe space for them to tell you when you do something wrong and to take accountability ❤️."


safe space, parenting, moms, daughters, parentsyou're safe here season 4 GIF by PortlandiaGiphy

10. "Two things: first, we have 'the bubble'. You can say anything, swear, vent, confess to wrongdoing, etc w/o fear of punishment. It’s a safe space. Sometimes you just need to have a place to 'get it all out”'. Second, every time my daughter comes to me with anything my first response is 'do you need advice or do you need me to just listen?'"

11. "Don’t react… when they come to you with something unhinged as a teen, don’t let your face or words react in that moment! Gather yourself and have the convo HOURS later, no matter what it is!!"

12. "I show grace. I apologize. I’m transparent. I tell them I love them 100 times a day. I’m honest but kind. I’m their biggest supporter. They know I’ll always be here."

13. "'If it's important to you, it's important to me'."

important, family, moms, daughters, bondsBusy Philipps Tonight GIF by E!Giphy

14. "I always tell my daughter (who is 20) that we can sort out all problems together, big or small. Said that to her since she was little and she tells me absolutely everything. she's like my little sis🖤."

15. "My daughter is 22 and we are best friends! Always making time for 'girl time' quality time together. Knowing who she is and always having a safe place to come home to or a sounding board."

16. "I genuinely loved spending time with her, set boundaries but was always open with communication."

mom, daughter, selfie, gif, moms and daughters, parentingGIF by Better ThingsGiphy

17. "The fact they knew I’d be there no matter what, I was their mum not their friend but that nothing couldn’t be sorted. Now as adults I’m a friend as well a mum."

18. "I make sure she knows she’s loved no matter the situation. Even if it’s bad. I want the total honest truth. I believe she truly does trust me entirely! She calls me all the time!"

via JustusMoms29/TikTok (used with permission)

Justus Stroup is starting to realize her baby's name isn't that common.

One of the many surprises that come with parenthood is how the world reacts to your child’s name. It’s less of a surprise if your child has a common name like John, Mohammed, or Lisa. But if you give your child a non-traditional name that’s gender-neutral, you’re going to throw a lot of folks off guard, and mispronunciations are going to be an issue.

This exact situation happened with TikTok user Justus Stroup, who recently had her second child, but there’s a twist: she isn’t quite sure how to pronounce her child’s name either. "I may have named my daughter a name I can't even pronounce," Stroup opens the video. "Now, I think I can pronounce it, but I've told a couple of people her name, and there are two people who thought I said the same exact thing. So, I don't know that I know how to [pronounce] her name correctly."

@justusmoms29

Just when you think you name your child something normal! #2under2mom #postpartum #newborn #momsoftiktok #uniquenames #babyname #babygirl #sahm #momhumor

Stroup’s daughter is named Sutton, and the big problem is how people around her pronounce the Ts. Stroup tends to gloss over the Ts, so it sounds like Suh-en. However, some people go hard on the Ts and call her “Sut-ton.”

"I'm not gonna enunciate the 'Ts' like that. It drives me absolutely nuts," she noted in her TikTok video. "I told a friend her name one time, and she goes, 'Oh, that's cute.' And then she repeated the name back to me and I was like, 'No, that is not what I said.'"

Stroup also had a problem with her 2-year-old son’s speech therapist, who thought the baby’s name was Sun and that there weren’t any Ts in the name at all. "My speech therapist, when I corrected her and spelled it out, she goes, 'You know, living out in California, I have friends who named their kids River and Ocean, so I didn't think it was that far off.'"


Stroup told People that she got the name from a TV show called “The Lying Game,” which she used to watch in high school. "Truthfully, this was never a name on my list before finding out I was pregnant with a girl, but after finding out the gender, it was a name I mentioned and my husband fell in love with," says Stroup. "I still love the name. I honestly thought I was picking a strong yet still unique name. I still find it to be a pretty name, and I love that it is gender neutral as those are the type of names I love for girls."

The mother could choose the name because her husband named their son Greyson.

The commenters thought Stroup should tell people it’s Sutton, pronounced like a button. “I hear it correctly! Sutton like Button. I would pronounce it like you, too!” Amanda wrote.

“My daughter’s name is Sutton. I say it the same way as you. When people struggle with her name, I say it’s Button but with a S. That normally immediately gets them to pronounce it correctly,” Megan added.

After the video went viral, Stroup heard from people named Hunter and Peyton, who are dealing with a similar situation. “I've also noticed the two most common names who run into the same issue are Hunter (people pronouncing it as Hunner or HUNT-ER) and Payton (pronounced Pey-Ton or Pey-tin, most prefer it as Pey-tin),” she told Upworthy.

baby, newborn baby, baby girl, baby girl teddy, teddy bear, sleeping babyA newborn baby with her Teddy bear. (Representative image)via Canva/Photos

“Another person commented saying her name is Susan and people always think it is Season or Steven,” Stroup told Upworthy. After having her second child, she learned that people mix up even the simplest names. “No name is safe at this point,” she joked.

The whole situation has Stroup rethinking how she pronounces her daughter’s name. Hopefully, she got some advance on how to tell people how to pronounce it, or else she’ll have years of correcting people in front of her. "Good lord, I did not think this was going to be my issue with this name," she said.

Three months later, Stroup posted a video asking her TikTok followers for help giving Sutton a nickname. She said it was easy with her son, Greyson, because they can just call him Grey. But Sutton is a little more difficult. Her father calls her "Tonton," which drives Stroup up the wall. "You cannot be calling a girl Tonton," she exclaimed. Stroup's followers suggested they call her "Sutty," but the name she really liked was "Sunny."

@justusmoms29

Calling all Sutton’s to the conversation! #nicknames #momsoftiktok #momof2 #sahm #toddlermom #newborn #postpartum

This article originally appeared last year.

What really happened behind the scenes.

It was the 1990s and the Disney Animation department seemed unstoppable. Over the past decade, Walt Disney Studios Chairman Jeffrey Katzenberg and his army of directors, writers, and animators worked tirelessly to produce a shiny new animated movie for Disney every year, sometimes two or three times yearly. And by all accounts, it was working. These “little hits” they were pumping out for the big boss? Box-office miracles, all of them. Disney had cornered and perfected this market so well that audiences started to forget there were other animation studios out there. The time was known as the Disney Renaissance, and could you blame them? Between 1989 and 1999, Disney Animation truly had the Midas touch, and every movie they produced was imbued with once-in-a-generation movie magic.

Walt Disney Pictures, logo, magic, disney, films, disney renaissance Disney made magic happen in the 90s. Giphy

It began with The Little Mermaid in 1989 and was followed quickly The Rescuers Down Under in 1990 and Beauty and the Beast in 1991. Aladdin (1992) followed, then The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993), The Lion King (1994), A Goofy Movie (1995), Pocahontas (also 1995), The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996), Hercules (1997), Mulan (1998), and to cap off this incredible dynasty, Tarzan in 1999. Sprinkled between these hits were more hits from Disney's other studio, Pixar (Toy Story in 1995, Toy Story 2 in 1999, A Bug's Life in 1998). Though not technically part of the Renaissance, these hits only added to Disney's bank of classics.

The success seemed to make the team confident they could start doing stranger, quirkier films that strayed from the current cookie-cutter Disney model. But that hubris would lead to an epic battle within the studio. Though Katzenberg was dismissed in 1994, his mark had been made and the Renaissance was still moving ahead one until one of the most fraught productions in Disney’s history. Filled with creative clashes, drastic rewrites, personnel changes, and a rushed timeline, this project had the odds stacked heavily against it. That movie was Kingdom of the Sun.

Or, that’s what it would have been called if everything went according to plan. On December 10, 2000, at the El Capitan Theater in Los Angeles, Disney premiered The Emperor’s New Groove, a zany, highly funny comedy about a selfish young emperor who is accidentally transformed into a llama by his treacherous advisor. To return to his human form, he must rely on a peasant from the village, Pacha, whom he’s already wronged before the initial plot is underway. On paper, this had the potential to be a masterpiece. The cast was beyond stacked. David Spade playing the most David Spade-est characters of all time, a tart, conceited 17-year-old brat emperor named Kuzco; Eartha Kitt (!!) played Yzma, the emperor’s diabolical elderly advisor who secretly wishes to usurp him; and John Goodman played Pacha, the noble and kind village-dweller who must bring Kuzco back and return him to his human self. At the time, audiences were confused by the lack of grandeur, coming off the heels of Tarzan. (Although The Emperor’s New Groove received generally positive critical reviews, by Disney standards, it had underperformed, grossing $169.5 million on a $100 million budget.)


- YouTubewww.youtube.com

But back to Kingdom of the Sun. In 1994, fresh off the gigantic success of The Lion King, Disney Studios' President at the time, Thomas Schumacher, handpicked the movie’s original director, Roger Allers, to lead their next film, which would explore an ancient culture such as the Incas, Aztecs, or Mayans. Allers, alongside co-writer Matthew Jacobs, dreamt up an epic tale set in Peru, where a greedy emperor (voiced by Spade), bored by life at the palace, would trade places with a similarly looking peasant (to be voiced by Owen Wilson), resembling Mark Twain’s novel, The Prince and the Pauper. There were a few other Disney tidbits thrown in, like an evil god of death (Kitt) who sought to destroy the sun, and two love interests: the emperor’s betrothed fiancée Nina, and a llama-herder named Mata (voiced by Laura Prepon). It was perfectly lovely and entirely safe, ideal for its studio. James Berardinelli and Roger Ebert’s book, The Reel Views 2, describedKingdom of the Sun as a “romantic comedy musical in the ‘traditional’ Disney style.” The team even traveled to Machu Picchu in 1996 to immerse themselves in Incan culture and study artifacts and architecture.

This did not go over well with the studio. First, they had already done a version of The Prince and the Pauper, a Mickey Mouse short from 1990 that the studio paired with various at-home releases. The idea felt tired. They needed more, especially considering the “underperformances” of Pocahontas and The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Disney execs were worried that Kingdom of the Sun would fall into the same trap: too self-serious and too ambitious (they had flown to Machu Picchu, c’mon!). So, they called Mark Dindal to come in and punch up the material, naming him co-director. This is where things start to go a bit haywire.

Suddenly, the original director, now co-director, Roger Allers, calls up the singer Sting to compose songs for the movie. He agrees, under one condition: his wife, Trudie Styler, can come along and document the process (more on this later). They settled on the terms, and Sting and his collaborator began to work on eight original songs, each of which is “inextricably linked with the original plot and characters.” Only two songs made the final cut when The Emperor’s New Groove premiered, with three added to the soundtrack CD as bonuses. By the summer of 1998, Disney’s studio executives began to crash out.

Disney, Emperor's New Groove, David Spade, film, disney animationTurns out, the film was in shambles.Giphy

The film was in shambles, nowhere near where it should be for a 2000 release—and it had to be released then, due to various crucial promotional deals Disney had set up with Coca-Cola and McDonalds. Allers had gone wild, overstuffing the film with too many plot elements, eager not to repeat the tired Disney “formula”: a hero, a villain, and a love song. In a panic, the Disney executives devised a plan that would later be known infamously as a “Bake Off.” The crew was split in two.

“They gave Mark Dindal a small crew, and me a small crew, to come up with two different versions of the story. Which is just kind of awful to compete against each other,” recalls Allers to Vulture. On one side was Allers, who proposed a complex yet emotionally moving film that had the potential to rival The Lion King. Dindal was on the other side, but his pitch didn’t involve story elements or characters being cut. He suggested an entirely different movie. According to storyboard artist Chris Williams, “Even more than probably pitching a story or new characters, we were pitching a tone. We were suggesting a radically different tone than what Kingdom of the Sun had been. A lot of what was funny about it was just how preposterous it was. And I’d never heard Tom and Peter laugh before. They were almost literally on the floor laughing.”


The Emperors New Groove, angel, devil, scene, movie, DisneyIt wasn't really a pitch, like the movie ended up being, it was funny.Giphy

Roger Allers saw what was happening—this was the movie—and left the project. It was September 1998, and Disney had already wasted $30 million of its $100 million budget. Oh, and only 25% of the film was animated. They had about a year to pull off the heist of the century.

When they emerged from the “Bake Off,” Dindal and producer Randy Fullmer halted production for six months. They returned with The Emperor’s New Groove,a buddy comedy set loosely in Peru. It had become an entirely new film: most of the cast, except Spade and Kitt, had been fired. It was leaner: fewer characters, simpler backgrounds. They squeaked by the deadline and somehow managed to release a movie that year.

And that would have been the end of it. Kind of weird and tonally different Disney film breaks even. Nothing more to see. That is, if not for Sting’s wife, documentarian Trudie Styler, who had been capturing all of the drama from the sidelines. Remember Sting’s ultimatum at the beginning? Styler kept her promise, creating a documentary called The Sweatbox, named for the screening room at Disney Studios in Burbank that had no air conditioning and caused the animators to sweat while their work was being inspected. What began as a behind-the-scenes vanity project for her husband transformed into an unprecedented glimpse behind the curtain at the corporate dysfunction at Disney.

Sketch, Disney, Emperors New Groove, Disney, behind the scenesSketches from Kingdom of the SunDeviantArt

But while The Emperor’s New Groove has found a niche cult following since its release, The Sweatbox can’t be found… anywhere. The 86-minute documentary, which Disney approved, was initially scheduled for release in 2001 and even enjoyed a few screenings, including a worldwide premiere at the Toronto Film Festival and an unpublicized one-week run at the Loews Beverly Center Cineplex in Los Angeles. Reporting on The Sweatbox, Wade Sampson wrote:

“The two executives did come across as nerdy bullies who really didn’t seem to know what was going on when it came to animation and were unnecessarily hurtful and full of politically correct speech. They looked like the kids in high school that jocks gave a “wedgie” to on a daily basis. How much of that impression was due to editing and how much was a remarkable, truthful glimpse is up to the viewer to decide.”

Now and then, a brave vigilante dares to post a clip of The Sweatbox online, but Disney always removes it. But it’s funny how things end up: after the first screening of The Emperor’s New Groove, someone from Disney leadership said, “We’ll never make that kind of movie again.” Yet, since then, Disney has released a direct-to-video sequel named Kronk’s New Groove, an animated TV series, and various games based on that “cursed movie.”

Seems like the Emperor didn't throw off Disney's groove after all.

Woman is disgusted after learning the truth behind lasting spray tans.

Not everyone tans easily, and for some, reducing the risk of skin cancer and premature excess wrinkles is more important than laying out with a bottle of baby oil. For those who want a tan without the massive amounts of UV exposure, spray tanning is a good option. You can get the sun-kissed, recently back from vacation look without the risk.

The process is simple. You walk into a room and someone comes in with what looks like an airbrush gun and sprays a nice even layer or two of artificial melanin on your skin. It can even out your skin tone, leaving your skin looking healthy and more vibrant. There is a catch though–it's temporary.

spray tans; spray tan care; hygiene after spray tan; how to make spray tan last; truth behind spray tansPhoto credit: Canva

Technically a summer tan acquired the old-fashioned way is also temporary, but it generally takes weeks or months to completely fade away. But a spray tan only lasts about 5-10 days depending on how well you "care" for it. A woman who goes by the name Miss Redacted on TikTok recently received her first spray tan, and when given the instructions for how to extend the life of her spray tan through "proper care," she was left flabbergasted.

Of course, when you get something done to your body you are expecting that there will be specific instructions on how to care for the new thing. Whether it's a piercing, a tattoo, or even a chemical peel, you expect an overload of informative care instructions before you're allowed to leave the place you received the service.

So the woman was not surprised to receive the rundown on making sure her skin remained glowingly sun-kissed for as long as possible. What she wasn't expecting was the lack of care. Or maybe the better description would be the lack of hygiene required to maintain her newly tanned skin.

Season 10 Episode 3 GIF by FriendsGiphy

"Recently I got a spray tan for the first time because I really like being tan but I don't want to have wrinkles later because I'm obviously very vain. So I went the first time and I expected that I wouldn't be able to shower normally for the first 12-24 hours, and that didn't bother me that much because I'm like, okay, I understand the tan has to set in. I can be gross for a half a day, a day max, whatever, it's not that serious," Miss Redacted says before explaining the woman who did her spray tan began talking her through the process.

The confused woman recalls a roommate in college who used to get spray tanned all the time as she put the pieces together on hygiene and spray tans. She tells the person doing her spray tan that she generally showers twice a day using soap and a silicone scrubber to wash her entire body, to which the spray tan artist immediately tells her not to use the scrubber on her body because it will take her tan off.

spray tans; spray tan care; hygiene after spray tan; how to make spray tan last; showeringPhoto credit: Canva

"I was like, 'Oh so don't use it the first shower?' and she was like 'No, like not at all.' And I was like 'What should I use instead of that?'" the first-time customer explains.

She was shocked to hear the artist tell her that she needed to switch to a washcloth and only use it to wash her, "underarms, your bikini area, and under your bra line." Again, Miss Redacted clarifies that means for the first shower only, but the artist reiterates not to put soap on your body "at all" for the first shower, only using a washcloth in the areas she previously mentioned. Once again, the woman was dumbfounded and asks again, what the spray tan artist means.

"I was like, 'what do you mean?' And she was like, 'if you want your tan to last the full 10 days, when you shower only use soap in those areas and just do water everywhere else,'" she says.

There was no getting around the idea that in order for the spray tan to last the woman was not going to be able to properly wash herself and she was thoroughly uncomfortable with that idea, informing the artist that she was going to continue to bathe regularly. Miss Redacted was told that if she bathed like normal her spray tan would only last five or six days.

spray tans; spray tan care; hygiene after spray tan; how to make spray tan last; showerPhoto credit: Canva

"Because I got down this rabbit hole, I started reading about it on Reddit and some of the ways that girls were saying they maintained their spray tans is absolutely insane. Absolutely insane. Like y'all need a bath. Y'all need a...actually a hose down. Let's like put you in the yard with some Dawn, like you're one of the ducks in an oil spill. I think that's what's needed at this point," the woman jokes before clarifying that she doesn't think every woman getting spray tanned is avoiding bathing.

But when it comes to the ick factor over the ones who have been skipping the shower for weeks at a time, the woman isn't the only one feeling the heebie jeebies. Commenters are also shocked and a little grossed out.

One person summoned knowledge from the legal scholar, Elle Woods, saying, "I can see not washing for 24 hours in order to not activate the ammonia thioglycolate."

"I will just continue to embrace my Morticia Addams aesthetic then because I will be scrubbing," another woman says.

spray tans; spray tan care; hygiene after spray tan; how to make spray tan last; truth behind spray tansSome people would prefer to just not be tan than not fully clean themselves.Photo credit: Canva

"What do you mean? WHAT DO YOU MEAN," one person demands, seeking answers that likely involve soap and water.

"The first time I spray tanned, I used a washcloth and most of the tan came off. I knew at that moment people aren't showering properly. There is no way a spray tan is lasting 10 days," a commenter reveals.

Other people explain how they get their spray tans to last longer while continuing to shower daily by using tinted moisturizers and body lotions that have a gradual tanner in it. The consensus seems to be that regular spray tanning is expensive without finding an affordable alternative to maintain the tan between sessions while continuing to bathe, but spray tanning before a special occasion is preferred. Who knew hygiene after spray tanning was such an involved art form?

This article originally appeared last year.