| |  | | | | April 25, 2017 | Letter No. 83 | | | | | | | | | | | | Hey Lennys,
It's a gray day here in New York, but I am in the midst of a full-on spring fever. The couple of really warm days we've had make up for the ones where I've been walking around cold all day because I did not put on a coat. The switch has been turned, and I am full-on ready for adventures (going to the beach, those nights where you unexpectedly stay out until four in the morning because the weather is beautiful and why do you even need to go to sleep early?) and seeing where the sunlight takes me. Winter is for hibernating, springtime is for l-i-v-i-n-g.
But back to reality, aka, this newsletter. While the stories we feature this week are not all particularly spring-y, a lot of them are about women following their instincts to live the kind of lives they want to live, which is also what I try to do every spring (we are reborn like flowers! I'm not apologizing for my romanticism!). Kicking us off is the young country-music star Maren Morris, who writes about reconciling her love for the genre with the limited experiences women are allowed to have within it, and how she doesn't let that stop her from writing the exact songs she has in her heart, songs that reflect her wildly diverse interests. Our old assistant Dianca (hello Dianca!) interviewed the iconic Nichelle Nichols last year, and their conversation about representation and the importance of having a support system in place to achieve your dreams is as inspiring as her role as Lieutenant Uhura on Star Trek.
Elsewhere in the issue, Herdís Sigurgrímsdóttir writes about the recent murder of a young woman in Reykjavik — regularly named one of the safest cities in the world — and how the women of Iceland are coping in the aftermath. And we have a great interview with the artist and activist Kristiana Rae Colón, whose work is centered on reclaiming sensual joy as a means of liberation and social justice. We also have recipes from one of my favorite restaurants in the city, Jack's Wife Freda (these are very spring-y!).
And if you scroll all the way to the bottom of this newsletter, we have a little surprise for you! Some of our fav Lennys are coming out of this newsletter, "Take On Me"–style, and are following the sunlight directly into a town near you! The LENNY AMERICA IRL tour is happening in late May and early June. Tickets will be available for presale Wednesday, April 26 at 10 AM CST. Enter the promo code LENNYIRL at checkout tomorrow! Can't wait to see you all there.
x
Laia | | | | | | | | | | | | Moving My Beloved Country Music Forward | | | | By Maren Morris | | |
"Three chords and the truth" is the resounding motto for lovers of country music. Whether you write it, play it, or just sing along, our genre has always stemmed from artfully expanding on real-life situations; telling it like it is. In our current 140-character culture, a lyrical slap in the face seems to be more refreshing and necessary than ever.
This past year was one of the most exhilarating and surprising of my life. My debut album went number one, I won my first Country Music Award, I played SNL, and I won a Grammy (OK, I'll stop sounding like a braggy douche now), all while being in a landscape where the girls in my format were referred to as "the tomatoes of a salad," meaning just an "accessory" and "don't overdo it by playing too many of them at your station." In 2017. Hard to believe, right?
As with the best sweets, there's a dash of sour to make it interesting. Through every amazing experience I've encountered, the question I've had a hard time answering is: How do I hold on to those honest roots of country truth-telling while also asserting new ideas and words that may thematically and sonically veer off the ever-so-trodden path? Like most humans, I don't listen to one type of music, and I don't write about one type of feeling.
I write about sex and the self-inflicting pain of being the asshole at the end of a long relationship, being young and drunk with your girlfriends, or just having a meaningless but fun (and sometimes necessary) fling. Things that don't always make me look like a puritan saint, but they're unflinchingly honest, and I couldn't write it down on paper or sing it unless I went through it personally.
Life. Life is what I write about at the end of it all. The frustration I've had with the perspective of women in country music (who, until recently, were severely lacking in numbers) is that you either have to sing about being scorned by a lover or sing about thinking a boy is cute and wanting him to notice you. That's about as edgy as you can get. On top having to make songs that are down the middle and noncontroversial, there are the aesthetic pressures for a woman to be pretty and sexy but not sexual or have desires beyond winning a guy's affections.
Don't be mistaken, I really do love where I am 99 percent of the time, but the other percent is me hitting a wall in certain interviews where the interviewer just wants to talk about some outfit I wore or my haircut. Or trying to take seriously the guy who drunkenly slurs to me at my meet and greet, "Listen, Maren. Girls can't successfully release ballads to country radio," while I resist suggesting he take a breath mint. I'm totally willing and able to handle all of it for the most part, but the rest of the time I think to myself, Does this happen to my male peers? Perhaps it does, but it makes you wonder.
When I found out I had the most nominations of my entire genre at the 2017 Grammy Awards, I couldn't help but burst into tears of joy. No one was more shocked than I was, because my album, Hero, was a debut album, and it has a lot of different genre influences represented on it: country, pop, even notes of R&B.
As a new artist and as a female, it felt like a gigantic stomp in the pavement. Things were starting to change for the better, not just for female artists, but for all artists who care about being themselves even if it means sounding different from the commercial status quo. I felt the embrace and support from my fellow country artists, colleagues, and even the upper echelon of label heads and radio program directors. I was validated in that moment, and I will never forget it.
I'm about to start writing for my sophomore album, which is exciting and extremely daunting because there's the looming aspect of the proverbial "sophomore slump." How can I build off the success of my last album but also reinvent my sound enough to keep myself intrigued creatively, along with keeping my fans, and, well, reinvigorating my genre? I've grown into the woman I am even more after stacking a decade's worth of bucket-list moments into one year. From a number one album and a sold-out tour to watching my first two singles die in the top ten, those experiences will all come out in the wash. I know that whatever songs do fall out in the writing room (and I just hope they're fucking good), they will be the purest reflection of myself. A banjo or fiddle doesn't make a country song, it's the core-cutting truth that does, and I intend to explore it one day or beer at a time.
I love country music. In fact, we've had an ongoing relationship for quite some time. We can piss each other off because we make each other really look in the mirror and hold us accountable, and it's because we care. There will be distance, divide, love, and harmony (sometimes exclusively and sometimes all at the same time), but as long as there's respect and we allow each other to continue growing, we can move into the future in a really inspiring way. Truthfully, three chords and more.
Maren Morris is a Grammy Award–winning artist. | | | | | | | | | | | | A Death in Iceland | | | | By Herdís Sigurgrímsdóttir | | |
Her name was Birna Brjánsdóttir. Loved by family and friends, but otherwise unknown to the rest of Iceland. Until January 14, when suddenly the entire nation began to hope for her safety.
It wasn't just the thriller-like criminal investigation that sparked our interest. It wasn't solely that murders are exceedingly rare in Iceland, and that each and every case makes the national news. It was the fact that she was just a regular twenty-year-old girl. She had recently enrolled in philosophy at the University of Iceland, and she had been working shifts at a local department store.
When police released CCTV footage, desperately seeking witnesses, many of us thought: This could have been me. A whole generation of Icelandic women could picture themselves walking home on her wobbly feet, late at night after a long party, and, most significantly, alone.
We waited for a whole week after the investigation began, but it seemed like forever. The enormous popular interest spawned an immense number of tips on where she might be found, but to no avail. On the eighth day, they found her, washed ashore by the North Atlantic, stark naked.
Iceland, which is regularly awarded the title "most peaceful country in the world," has an exceedingly low rate of violent crime. In 2003, 2006, and 2008, not a single homicide was committed here. Add to that the feeling of closeness in a nation of only 330,000 people. Reykjavik's nightlife is a bit like Cheers, where everybody knows your name.
Icelanders also have an inherently insouciant approach to life in general. It runs on a scale from the profoundly stoic to devil-may-care heedlessness. Ask an Icelander how they plan to solve any impending problem and he'll answer: "þetta reddast!": it will all work out somehow.
Perhaps we all suffer from optimism bias, the tendency to consistently (and sometimes deliberately) underestimate the risk of negative consequences. The "it won't happen to me" syndrome. But Birna's death punctured that illusion.
In the course of the week Birna was missing, the case developed into one of the biggest criminal investigations in recent times, and was certainly among the top ten media frenzies. Fingers glued to the refresh button, we learned that her boots had been found by Hafnarfjörður harbour, close to Reykjavik. Soon after, Icelandic special forces were on a helicopter chasing after a Greenlandic fishing vessel that had been docked in the harbour and whose sailors had rented a car that was allegedly seen on the aforementioned CCTV tape.
Her blood was found in the car, police have confirmed, and local broadcaster RUV has sources saying that her ID was found in a garbage bin onboard the ship. She was finally found washed ashore on the black sand of Iceland's southern coast. Despite the strangle marks on her neck, the autopsy found that the cause of death was drowning. She was naked when she was found, but police have refrained from commenting on whether they found signs of sexual assault. One of the Greenlandic sailors is awaiting trial on the charge of murdering Birna.
With this single, horrific death, young Icelandic women, en masse, developed a fear for the stranger lurking in the dark corner on the lonely walk home. For years, I used to live just up the street from where Birna was last seen, and by god, did I stagger drunkenly home on the weekends. Though I'm not living in Iceland now and have swapped the partying for two small kids, Birna's death made me, and many women I know, reconsider our heedlessness. Some of my Icelandic friends were suddenly swapping the tipsy walk for a taxi ride. They would check on each other and text to let each other know that they'd arrived home safely. Some even say that they avoided partying downtown.
"I didn't know her, but it felt so close. She'd been partying at Húrra, where I frequently go, had grabbed a snack at my favorite kebab joint on her way home, and then walked a street that I walk every week," says Elín Inga Bragadóttir, 27, who works for Unicef in Reykjavik.
"I've never been afraid to walk on my own at nighttime," Anna Margrét Káradóttir, 33, says. As a DJ, actress, and singer, she has lived and worked in central Reykjavik and enjoyed the city's nightlife for years. The feeling of security has not even been limited to Reykjavik, she says. "It was the same when I lived in London. I guess I just never gave it that much thought. Until now. Suddenly I find myself opting for the unsufferably long taxi queue instead."
Even so, many resist changing their behavior. My sister Hildur, 31, is one of them. Ever since she moved to Reykjavik ten years ago, she has deliberately refused to participate in the tricks we all know. No keys between the fingers. No predialing of emergency numbers. She intensely hates the victim-blaming that supposes that women are somehow responsible for getting attacked. "I would hate it if I, in the aftermath of an attack, started accusing myself for not having been more prepared, rather than putting the blame where it belongs. An attack will never be my fault anyway."
And just like her, many young women are forcing themselves to keep calm and carry on walking home alone. The ease and freedom of movement are more valuable than the supposed preparedness.
Bragadóttir again: "I'm deliberately trying to relax, because the fear and anxiety doesn't do anyone any good. A few days after the incident, I forced myself to take a shortcut late at night. Heart pounding, I chose a dark alleyway over a longer route with streetlights. Exposing yourself to the fear is a good way to gain control over it. But it was also an act of defiance. I was simply exercising my right to exist in this world."
Are we deliberately suppressing our better judgment if we don't alter our behavior in the aftermath of Birna's death? No, not really, says social psychologist Dr. Ragna B. Garðarsdóttir, senior lecturer at the University of Iceland. "Many Icelandic women walk home alone precisely because the chances of an attack are very low. That's not optimism bias, but good judgment. Reykjavik remains a very safe place for women."
She's right. What happened was a gruesome crime, but it was also a freak occurrence, which defies crime statistics in Iceland. Statistically, the women of Reykjavik are still most likely to get abused or killed by their partner, in the supposed safety of their homes. It is awful to think that we've never experienced the same intense collective grief over their deaths. And it is thought-provoking that society instills in us a fear of the unknown, when it's the known that is most likely to hurt us.
But there's no reason to feel that we're overreacting either. What's happening in our heads is completely natural, and it will pass. Dr. Garðarsdóttir draws in another mechanism, the representativeness heuristic, which means that our actions are shaped by an event or information that is on the top of our minds. "Many women feel that it could have happened to them instead, so they believe that the risk is higher than it really is. They underestimate statistics on the real probability but overestimate the risk of being attacked because they feel that Birna is representative for them." The effect is likely to fade as time goes by, as more recent impulses and information push this event from the top of our heads, Dr. Garðarsdóttir assures.
If not before, then certainly in the summer. For Iceland is blessed with 24-hour daylight from the end of May until the end of July. Already by the end of April, you'll be blinded by daylight if you leave a club at 4:30 a.m. When I ask whether they think they will regain their feeling of security with more daylight, all of the women I talk to reply with an unequivocal yes. The endless daylight is a potent natural high, making us feel euphoric and invincible. It won't make us forget Birna. But it will aid the healing process, so that when winter rolls in again, we can brave the subarctic storms in our skimpy skirts and just walk home if we feel like it.
Herdís Sigurgrímsdóttir is an Icelandic writer. She covers anything from maternal health to sustainable urban planning, but, alas, most likely in a language you won't understand. | | | | | | | | | | | | Why Black Sex Matters | | | | By Naomi Extra | | |
In recent years, we have seen black feminist activists, scholars, and cultural workers in the same breath lay claim to sexual agency and the credo that Black Lives Matter. Think Beyoncé and her call to "get in formation." This was a call that included sexual pleasure ("when he fucks me good I take his ass to Red Lobster"), black queer vocal expression (Big Freedia's unapologetic declaration "I came to slay, bitch"), and the triumphant overturning of power structures that have and continue to oppress black and brown people. While Beyoncé might be one of the most visible examples of this kind of work, she certainly isn't an anomaly. Chicago-based artist and activist Kristiana Rae Colón has been gathering black and brown people into formation for several years now. As the founder of Black Sex Matters, she has created a unique space for exploring "how pleasure shapes visions of liberation." Black Sex Matters is an event series that brings together artists, activists, scholars, and community members for an evening of sex-positive performance and expression.
I first met Kristiana at the Cave Canem annual poetry retreat in 2014 — a space where black poets write, learn, and commune. That was also the summer that Eric Garner and Mike Brown were tragically killed by police. It was in the throes of these painful events that she began to organize. Kristiana and her brother began crowdfunding gas masks for protesters in Ferguson and then later organized a group of artists and activists that would become the #LetUsBreathe Collective. Since its inception, the collective has worked to create spaces for people in Chicago to engage with and respond to social-justice issues. I had the opportunity to talk to Kristiana about her art, activism, and, of course, specifically why black sex matters for black women.
Naomi Extra: How did Black Sex Matters come into fruition, and how does that work relate to what you've been doing with the #LetUsBreathe Collective and as an activist in general?
Kristiana Rae Colón: Black Sex Matters is an event series that I curate that celebrates sexuality and sex positivity in social-justice movements and liberation struggles. The concept behind Black Sex Matters is that our sexual power and our sensual power is the same substance as our creative power. And that if we are fragmented and disconnected from our sensual power, then we are fragmented and disconnected from our creativity. Liberated people, people engineering solutions for freedom, need full access to that creativity. I really wanted to program something that celebrated the wholeness of the black body, the black imagination, of black sensuality, of black love. That's the theoretical framework behind Black Sex Matters.
The event itself was a component of a play that I produced called Good Friday. It takes place on a college campus as a school shooting is unfolding and deals with sexual assault and sexual trauma, [and] I came up with Black Sex Matters [as a way to fund-raise for the play]. I wanted to balance out that really heavy content with something more joyful and celebratory. For Black Sex Matters, I invite artists and activists to speak in any oral medium. They have four minutes or less to perform a true story of sensual joy in any medium, be that poetry, spoken word, rap, song, comedy, storytelling. There's a panel of judges; they are curated as scholars or experts in the field of queerness, brownness, intersectionality. And there's burlesque features. Also, live painting and body-painting and lots of condoms and sex toys and sexy giveaways. The whole night is a really spectacular performance.
NE: I'd like you to talk a little bit more about sex positivity. Why is sex positivity important for black women? What do you see as at stake?
KRC: For me, what's at stake in the campaign for black women is a reclamation of space that has been historically denied. For black American women specifically, the legacy in this country is a legacy of rape. For our first several centuries on this continent, black women had no autonomy over their bodies. The way that that legacy has been internalized in really oppressing ways is still, I think, a deep wound for black American womanhood today.
For a black woman to fully and deeply own her body, and not just own it in the sense of not being enslaved in the way we would think of a couple centuries ago, but actually own her body in terms of feeling sovereign to make choices for her body without the influence of patriarchy, without the influence of internalized misogyny. From her own wholeness and her own self-love. I think that when women are most connected to their sexual power, they're most connected to their instincts, to their intuition, and to their wholeness and their creative magic.
NE: Who else would you point to as doing work we should know about in the area of black women's sexual agency and liberation?
KRC: So I'll just say that my favorite artist right now is Junglepussy. Junglepussy is such a badass. I will specifically lift up her song "Pop for You." I think she is doing some really interesting things musically. And then Chicago just has such a vibrant black and black queer burlesque scene that I've been really fortunate to work with through Black Sex Matters. Darling Shear, Cruel Valentine, JuJu Minxxx, and Po' Chop are amazing. Jeez Loueez is amazing. These are black burlesque dancers who are doing really phenomenal work. And then a collaborator and a co-conspirator of mine, Rashida KhanBey, does reclaiming your sexy dance classes that incorporate soul healing as a core foundation of sensual dance.
NE: How do you see issues of gender, sex positivity, and sexual agency showing up in activist spaces?
KRC: The two women that popularized the hashtag Black Sex Matters are black queer women. A lot of the preeminent organizations that have been operating under the banner of Black Sex Matters nationwide are led and run by the labor of black queer women. I think that has always been the case historically, but I think what this generation is trying to do is learn from the mistakes of black nationalist movements past that I think were severely crippled by patriarchy, and severely crippled by internalized misogyny.
The Black Lives Matter movement today is doing a much better job of addressing that, and being intentional about organizing through a black queer feminist lens, and then also centering and uplifting gender-nonconforming identities. From my critical perspective for black liberation, those that are most marginalized must be centered first. Folks with multiple identities that are oppressed are those that should be uplifted, centered, and amplified, whether that be gender nonconformity or ability.
Understanding that blackness is not a monolith and within blackness the nuances of gender, sexuality, and ability are factors that we must fully embrace and love all black people and fight for the freedom of all black people, including trans black people, including black queer women, is incredibly important to this historical moment.
This interview has been condensed and edited.
Naomi Extra is a poet, writer, and doctoral student in American studies at Rutgers University–Newark. | | | | | | | | | | | | Killer Brunch Recipes from Jack's Wife Freda | | | | By Julia Jaksic | | | |
| (Photos by Henry Hargreaves) |
I've only been to Jack's Wife Freda, a restaurant with two locations in Manhattan, a handful of times, but every time I've been there, I've left happy as a clam, a little drunk on cantaloupe mimosas, and thankful that I can share a meal with friends in such a cozy spot. Started by husband-and-wife team Maya and Dean Jankelowitz in 2012, this is one of my favorite brunch destinations in the city. Spring is a particularly good time for brunch, whether you go to a restaurant or have a bunch of people over to your house for a lazy day of good food, drinks, conversation, and record-playing. So here are three recipes from their new cookbook, to get you in the mood for a lil' party planning of your own.
"I approach brunch with dishes that can be made in large format and left out for everyone to pick at," said chef Julia Jaksic, who developed the recipes alongside Maya and Dean. "One of my favorites is a large pot of creamy, buttery French-style soft-scrambled eggs, along with a few different types of toasts and toppings like smoked salmon, goat cheese, caper berries, and caviar if it's a celebration." I am getting hungry just thinking about it! I think these three recipes would make an excellent addition to any brunch (or lunch! Or dinner!) party in your future.
—Laia Garcia
BLOODY MARY MUSSELS
Yields 2 servings
This is a bold and spicy preparation for mussels, borrowing from the favorite brunch classic. Fresh horseradish gives it a nasal-clearing kick, while the celery lends a bit of freshness.
1 lemon
1 (28-ounce) can whole peeled tomatoes
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon celery salt
1 tablespoon hot sauce, optional
1 piece fresh horseradish, roughly 4 inches long
2 pounds mussels
3 garlic cloves
2 celery stalks
1 tablespoon olive oil
Kosher salt
1/4 cup white wine
Toasted baguette, for serving
Cut the lemon into quarters, removing the seeds. In a blender, combine the tomatoes, Worcestershire sauce, black pepper, celery salt, juice from 2 lemon wedges, and hot sauce (if using); blend until smooth.
Peel the horseradish and grate using a Microplane, add to the blender, and blend again until well combined.
Clean the mussels by rinsing them under cold water and pulling off any beards. If you spot any open mussels, discard them.
Mince the garlic and slice the celery across into 1/4-inch half-moons. In a large pot over high heat, add the olive oil, garlic, and celery, stirring until the garlic begins to toast. Add the mussels, stirring to combine with the garlic and celery. Season with salt, add the white wine, and cover to allow the mussels to open, 3 to 5 minutes. Once opened, add the sauce to the pot of mussels and stir to combine. Cook for 1 to 2 minutes to allow the sauce to heat up, and give one last stir to incorporate all the sauce from the bottom of the pan.
Serve with a toasted baguette and the remaining 2 lemon wedges.
NECTARINE AND PLUM FRUIT CRISP
Yields one 9-inch pie/8 to 10 servings
We change our crisp seasonally depending on what fruits are the ripest and most abundant. You can substitute any fruit in the recipe below. We're particularly partial to stone-fruit season in late summer, so this nectarine-and-plum iteration is one of our favorites. Add a dollop of labneh and a drizzle of honey before serving.
4 nectarines
6 black or red plums
3/4 cup packed brown or other preferred sugar
Zest and juice of 1 lemon
3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons flour
3/4 cup rolled oats
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) butter
Pinch of kosher salt
Use a 9-inch glass, ceramic, or metal pie dish to bake the crisp.
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Cut the nectarines and plums into wedges, discarding the pits. Add 1/2 cup of the brown sugar to the fruit and stir to combine. Add the lemon zest and juice and 2 tablespoons of the flour to the fruit, and mix well. Let the fruit sit for a few minutes, then transfer to the pie dish, making sure to stir the fruit once before transferring.
In a small bowl, combine the remaining 3/4 cup flour, the oats, remaining 1/4 cup brown sugar, the cinnamon, and the salt. Using a pastry cutter or your fingers, work the butter into the flour mixture until it comes together and small pea-size lumps begin to form. Cover the fruit with the topping and refrigerate for 20 minutes. Put the pie dish into the oven on top of a baking sheet to catch any juices that overflow.
Bake for 1 hour to 1 hour and 15 minutes, or until the topping is golden brown.
MELON MIMOSA
Yields 4 servings
This take on the classic brunch cocktail uses our homemade cantaloupe juice. Cantaloupe juice is such an unexpectedly refreshing drink, velvety and sweet. The key to this recipe is a very good, very ripe cantaloupe. Look for a cantaloupe that feels heavy for its size and leave it to ripen at room temperature for 2 or 3 days until it develops a pleasantly floral and sweet smell. If your melon doesn't ripen perfectly, just add a touch of sweetener: honey, agave, date sugar, or organic granulated sugar.
4 ounces Lillet Blanc
4 ounces cantaloupe juice
Champagne or other sparkling wine
To make the Cantaloupe Juice:
1 whole ripe cantaloupe
Sweetener of choice
Using a large knife, cut off the top and bottom of the cantaloupe. Stand the melon on a flat surface and remove the outer rind, following the natural curve of the melon in a downward motion, taking care not to cut off the fruit. Once the cantaloupe is peeled, cut it in half and discard the seeds.
Rough chop the melon into small pieces and place in a blender starting with 1 cup of water. Blend on the highest speed, gradually adding more water until the consistency is more of a juice than a smoothie. Add a sweetener of your choice to taste. Refrigerate and chill. Serve by itself or over ice.
Combine the Lillet Blanc and cantaloupe juice. Measure 2 ounces of the cantaloupe mixture into each of four champagne flutes. Top each flute with champagne.
From JACK'S WIFE FREDA: Cooking From New York's West Village by Maya and Dean Jankelowitz. Recipes by Julia Jaksic. Published by Blue Rider Press, an imprint of Penguin Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. Copyright © 2016 by NoamBennyLLC. | | | | | | | | | | | | Going Boldly Where No Man Has Gone Before | | | | By Dianca Potts | | |
Before I could name the planets of the solar system, I was a fan of Star Trek. I attribute this to my father, who grew up watching The Original Series as a kid in the '60s. As the daughter of a dedicated Trekkie, my love for Gene Roddenberry's enduring franchise was as hereditary as my nearsightedness. Together, we'd spend the weekends camped out on the couch in our living room, watching back-to-back episodes of The Next Generation. During commercial breaks, he taught me about the Prime Directive and the origin of the Vulcan salute. Episode after episode and year after year, I watched in awe as each captain of the Federation boldly explored the unknown.
From the very beginning, Star Trek broke boundaries by exploring issues like racism, sexism, ableism, and homophobia through the lens of science fiction. The series has helped us reimagine the margins of the future and the vastness of humanity's potential. It introduced us to a reality where intergalactic space travel can occur at the blink of an eye and where women like Lieutenant Nyota Uhura — first portrayed by the legendary Nichelle Nichols — are integral and respected members of their starship's crew. It gave us the capacity to dream bigger dreams.
Much like Lieutenant Uhura, Nichelle is a trailblazer. One of the first actresses of African descent to portray a character with a skilled profession on American television, Nichelle, in her role on Star Trek, drew attention to the lack of representation of women of color in Hollywood while illustrating the ways in which diverse narratives within media can inspire younger generations. Without her, Dr. Mae Jemison — the first black woman to travel to space — wouldn't be an astronaut. Whoopi Goldberg wouldn't have been an actress. It's not an exaggeration to say that Nichelle is a living legend.
In person, her demeanor is as regal as you might imagine and equally inviting. Like the embodiment of Lieutenant Nyota Uhura's first name, which means "star" in Swahili, Nichelle's energy shines bright. At last year's New York Comic Con, on the outskirts of a teeming crowd of cosplayers, I chatted with Nichelle about her childhood, the power of believing in your dreams, and the inevitability of a progressive future.
Dianca Potts: Your role as Lieutenant Uhura on Star Trek and your advocacy for women of color paved the way for so many women to pursue their goals. Was there a woman in your life who helped you achieve yours?
Nichelle Nichols: I had an aunt, my father's sister, who was just the most beautiful person. She was smart and glamorous and she took a liking to me. She taught me so much about the industry. When I told her I wanted to become an actress, she said, "That's wonderful, now let's get you signed up for classes so you can learn about your future profession." I listened to her and followed her advice and became exactly what I wanted to be.
DP: It sounds like she really helped you cultivate the skills you needed in order to turn your dream into a reality.
NN: Exactly. She took my dream seriously. She validated it.
DP: You came of age in an era where representations of blackness in television and film were scarce. How was your desire to pursue acting affirmed, despite Hollywood's lack of diversity?
NN: Back then there weren't as many people of our race in the industry, so those who were successful were very special to me. Whenever they were in a film or on television, I would watch them and study their work. My parents were also extremely supportive. I used to put together little shows and perform for them. They were wonderful about it and even gave me critiques on how to improve. Some family members thought that it was a waste of time. They thought that I should only spend time studying for my exams and preparing for college, but my dad always told them, "She'll take her exams, but she's going to be who she wants to be, not what everyone else wants her to be." My mother felt the same way. They always believed in me.
DP: In addition to acting, you're also a singer, an activist, and a philanthropist. Was there ever a moment where you doubted your path?
NN: A few times, yes. I once overheard one of my aunts, who I admired greatly, ask my father why I wanted to go into acting. That was the first time I heard anything negative about show business, and I was dejected because I respected her so much. Thankfully, my father interrupted her and said, "She could grow up to be the finest actor or singer or entertainer or whatever on the planet, and you would probably still say the same thing." I was listening in the other room, so after he said that, I made my entrance and gave her a twenty-minute show of singing and acting and won her over. It felt good to prove myself to her. That moment taught me that if you do something right and you put your mind and energy into it, not even naysayers can dismiss the value of your work.
DP: My dad is a Trekkie, so I watched a lot of Star Trek as a kid. Seeing black women like you and Whoopi Goldberg as part of the series was huge for me. As Lieutenant Uhura and as an ambassador for NASA, you've inspired women of color like Dr. Mae Jemison to pursue careers in STEM. When you first realized the impact of Lieutenant Uhura, were you surprised?
NN: I was so excited and impressed that black women and women of color were going where no man or woman had gone before with NASA. I've always been fascinated by the space program, even before the show. When I was a child, I read everything I could find out about space, and when people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always had two answers. I want to go into space, and I wanted to be an actress. In a way, I managed to do both.
DP: Throughout your career, you've witnessed monumental leaps in progress followed by moments of political unrest and regression. Do you think that a more inclusive and just future is still attainable?
NN: Absolutely. It is inevitable because that's who we are as a nation. But in order to get there, we have to prepare our children for it. We have to teach them and show them what's right by our actions. We have to give them the tools to become who they want to become, whatever that is, and most importantly, we have to respect their dreams. If someone wants to become the president of the United States, you can't say "Oh, no, you can't because you're black" or "You can't because you're a girl." You can be whatever you prepare yourself to be. You just have to define your dream and move toward it.
This interview has been condensed and edited.
Dianca Potts is a writer in Brooklyn and a Trekkie for life. | | | | | | | | | | | | Lenny IRL: The Tour Coming to a City Near YOU! | | | | By Lena Dunham and Jenni Konner | | |
Lennys,
We are coming to a city near you. Like, a city VERY near you. We are making it our mission to take Lenny IRL across America.
During these divided and painful times, we want to bring laughter, poetry, passion, and community to you and your friends. We want our Lennys to meet in rooms big and small-ish and to connect over their shared beliefs (equality), passions (GIFs of Beyoncé smelling a lemon), and fears (seafood is Lena's big one). We want to make the gorgeous sisterhood that Lenny has become into a living, breathing organism — and we want to give you a night out you won't soon forget.
So that's it — ten talented women crossing the country in one good-times bus with a few Cher wigs (sorry in advance) to bring you joy and remind you that there's more that connects us than divides us. Lena will be there, and along for the ride she has comedians Sasheer Zamata, Morgan Murphy, Charla Lauriston, and Jacqueline Novak; writers Jenny Zhang, Chloe Caldwell, Kaitlyn Greenidge, and Rachel McKibbens; and a performance by the radiant Waxahatchee (aka Katie Crutchfield).
A portion of the proceeds will benefit organizations making sure young women get the arts education they deserve. Join us, won't you?
With great gusto!
Lena & Jenni
Tickets will be available TOMORROW, WEDNESDAY APRIL 26 AT 10AM CENTRAL with the promo code LENNYIRL
Lenny fans get first dibs, so go to Lennyletter.com/IRL and find your city (tour dates listed below!)
May 31: St. Louis, MO, The Sheldon Concert Hall
June 1: Lexington, KY, Lexington Opera House
June 2: Chicago, IL, Harris Theatre
June 3: St. Paul, MN, Fitzgerald Theatre
June 5: Des Moines, IA, Hoyt Sherman Place
June 6: Milwaukee, WI, Pabst Theater
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | The email newsletter where there's no such thing as too much information.
From Lena Dunham + Jenni Konner. | | | | | | | |  |  | |
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