The Root: My Husband's Too Hard on My Daughter

"I don't like the way my husband disciplines my 9-year-old daughter from a previous relationship. He doesn't speak down to her or hit her or anything, but he seems unnecessarily hard on her sometimes by taking away her electronics or TV access for long periods of time or restricting her activities excessively. He doesn't have any children yet and insists that he would discipline the children we have together the same way, but there's no way to tell because, again, we don't have children together. I asked him to let me handle any discipline from now on and told my daughter that would be the case. I was trying to solve the problem, and instead it started a big argument with my husband. I want to respect my husband, but I also want my daughter to be treated fairly. What do I do?"

Disciplining children is a common point of disagreement between partners, and it's even trickier in blended families like yours, where there is a nonbiological parent taking on the full-time responsibility of raising a child. From your letter, it's clear that you are frustrated (and your husband is, too). But the good news is, with improved communication between the two of you and your daughter, this can be fixed.

I'm going to guess that since you married him, your husband is a good guy who wants the best for your daughter, just as you do. It's time for a candid conversation to fix the discord between the two of you. You have two major issues to address: disciplining your daughter and fixing the rift that you caused by pushing him out of a necessary family dynamic. 

Even when parents disagree, it's important that they put up a united front ... well, in front of the kids. As the child of parents who were all too aware when they didn't see eye to eye, I learned early how to exploit it to my advantage, which only caused more problems (more so for them than for me, but still). By taking away your husband's ability to discipline and informing your daughter of this, you've undermined his position in the household. No adult would take kindly to that.

Although your daughter is not your husband's biologically, he is taking on the day-to-day responsibilities of providing for, protecting and caring for the child you are raising together. That gives him a right as a parent -- biological or not -- to participate in how she is raised, including her discipline. The issue isn't whether or not he can discipline but how it's done. 

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The Root: Kerry Rhodes- Gay? Straight? Who Cares?

I said I wasn't going to touch the "Kerry Rhodes drama." If you stick to higher-end news sites, you have no idea what I'm talking about. If you occasionally find your way to urban-gossip sites to pass your lunch hour, then you know exactly what I'm referring to.

See if you can keep up with this one. I'll try to make it easy.

Rhodes is a former NFL player. Last week, photos appeared online of him and a man named Russell "Hollywood" Simpson. The images hinted at a close relationship between the two, and bloggers speculated that the pair were lovers. Not so, said Rhodes in a statement to TMZ: "Photos have been circulating of my former assistant and I that have caused some rumors regarding my sexuality, and I wanted to address the situation … I am not gay. The shots were taken during a past vacation in a casual environment with my entire business team. I know a lot of people are recently talking about athletes struggling to come out to their fans right now, and I support them, as well as wish those individuals comfort."

Simpson, who says he did not release the photos, didn't take kindly to Rhodes' statement. In turn, he gave an interview to Baller Alert in which he alleged that he had a relationship with Rhodes for more than a year and that at one time they lived together. He also released another set of pictures featuring himself and Rhodes, including one in which the men are sharing an inner tube on vacation, a photo that to some, hinted at more than a working relationship. Simpson also released text messages allegedly exchanged between the two men in which they wrote, "I love you" and shared how much they miss one another.

"What pissed me off about the whole situation is when he and I stopped talking and the pics got out," Simpson told Baller Alert. "He said that he was not gay. To me, he shouldn't have said sh--. If you're not going to tell the truth, don't try to make me look stupid.“

At this time, Rhodes has not responded publicly to Simpson's allegations.

Just for the record, I have no clue whether Rhodes is gay or not and offer no speculation. But say he is, as Simpson alleges. I would know it was dead-wrong to "out" him.

As much interest as we might have in celebrities' lives or in salacious gossip, celebrities only need to share their talent with us. It's not really our business whom a celebrity dates, has sex with or marries.

This is doubly true when it comes to sexuality.

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The Root: What Becomes of Brokenhearted Men?

"Why is it always the women who are heartbroken and disappointed, as opposed to men?" --S.D.

I'm unsure where this idea came from, but I've heard the assumption that "men don't have feelings" enough to recognize that among some people, it's a prevailing idea and one that couldn't be further from the truth. Of course men get heartbroken and disappointed. They are human. Those feelings aren't reserved for women.

It's as though women who say this have never heard of Kanye West's 808s & Heartbreak. That was a whole aching album from an incredibly heartbroken man going through the five stages of grief. Take it old-school back to Lenny Williams and "Cause I Love You," in which he has a full-on meltdown singing about how lonely he gets: "Oh, oh, oh!" If you didn't catch it, that was the sound of a broken heart. Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes let loose on "I Miss You," making it clear to anyone listening that Melvin is disappointed, agitated and in dire need of his ex. Those are just a few of my favorites; I could make a list of hundreds if challenged.

For clarity, men are not women with penises. Via nature, they're wired differently, and via nurture (i.e., socialization) they're usually taught to respond differently from women -- for instance, holding back tears that women might let flow or clamming up when women would want to talk.

Some women make the mistake of assuming that men don't have feelings just because, in general, they don't express them the same way women do. And some women use that faulty reasoning to treat men with less care than they should, which is never OK. Expressing their feelings differently doesn't mean men don't have them. 

It sounds as if you may be in the midst of your own heartbreak and don't understand why the object of your affection doesn't feel the way you do. If it was a casual relationship, he may not. Guys don't tend to put as much emphasis on being in a relationship as women do; nor do they tend to define themselves by their relationship status.

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The Grio: 'Central Park Five' P***ed Me Off.. But For Unexpected Reasons"

If I’d known last week that last night PBS would air the The Central Park Five, a documentary about the black and brown Harlem-bred boys wrongly convicted for raping, assaulting and attempting to murder “the Central Park jogger,” I still would have paid the money I did to see it sooner.

I listened to friends sing the film’s praises when it debuted in theaters last November. I was interested in the subject matter, of course. How could I not be? I didn’t even live in New York in 1989. Yet, off in the suburbs of Maryland, the brutal beating and rape of a white woman allegedly by a “pack” of black and brown male teens who confessed to the crimes, then recanted — claiming they had been coerced by the NYPD — was a hot topic for the local news. We followed the trial through the convictions, and I, at 9 years old, don’t recall anyone ever questioning the boys’ guilt. It was a given that they did it.

“In the back of my mind I knew we wasn’t going to beat this case,” said one of the wrongfully convicted men, Raymond Santana, in The Central Park Five. “It was in the paper too much, too many people were against us… People had washed their hands with us.”

The background

I’d moved to New York by 2002, the year the real attacker of the Central Park jogger, Matias Reyes, came forward with the truth. He had raped and beaten the victim — and DNA backed up his confession. The convictions of the five innocent boys — by then, men — were vacated. Few could believe, or didn’t want to believe, that the boys who had confessed all those years ago were actually innocent. Donald Trump, who infamously called for the restoration of the death penalty to punish the boys — teenagers — didn’t even put forth the effort to apologize.

A decade later, the city still has not admitted to any wrongdoing and a civil suit for $250 million is pending.

I knew enough of this before watching the film. It was enough to determine that a chunk of five young men’s childhoods had been stolen. They were railroaded by institutions that were supposed to protect them. Even if they could win their civil suit, there is no amount that could be paid to restore their lost time, ameliorate their hurt and anguish or make up for the unfairness of it all. The idea of the injustice and inhumanity that led to their convictions, sentencing, and lost years in jail angered me just to contemplate it.

So I avoided seeing The Central Park Five because of that. I figured I’d get around to it on that elusive “someday” when we’ll all do the things that we’ve been putting off as long as possible. But then a friend, one who had seen the documentary already, asked if I had seen it yet. I told him the long version of the truth, to which he replied, “D, you gotta see it.”

At 1 a.m., I opened my laptop and rented it from Amazon Instant video.

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Clutch: DMX: The Line Between Entertainment & Exploitation

I’ve always liked DMX’s persona. That, of course, comes with some qualifiers. I had to ignore the violent and misogynistic imagery in most of his lyrics, which I was much more willing to do in X’s heyday a decade ago, than now.  I liked his music, like it still, for the growling voice over Swizz Beats lyrics, the passion X spits his lyrics, and the overall energy of his music, which unexpectedly, has held up over time.

But I digress.

Over a decade since his prime, the drum for DMX beats on. He’s as relevant as ever—but mostly for all the wrong reasons. Yes, he hopped on stage during the Alicia Keys’ concert at MSG and the crowd went wild. But these days, his name makes headlines usually for his latest arrests. The offenses include driving without a license, drug possession, animal cruelty and perhaps most baffling of all, impersonating an FBI agent. Then there’s his alleged ten children, most of which were conceived outside of his marriage, which still hasn’t been dissolved. His estranged wife, Tashera has been on “Starter Wives Confidential” discussing their relationship, and written a book about it. Together, they have been featured on “Couples Therapy”, then most recently on “Iyanla’s Fix My Life.”

In case his ongoing erratic behavior over the years didn’t clue you in that something is wrong with X, his appearance on the latter two shows, and specifically on Sunday’s Iyanla, Fix My Life should have. He was twitchy, nervous, switching seamlessly between shucking responsibility, martyrdom, rage, guilt tripping and rambling so much that Iyanla finally just asked DMX what everyone watching at home was thinking, “Are you high?”

He said, “no.” In a post-show interview with Jet magazine, X insisted again that he was sober. In a separate interview, his son, Xavier was asked if his dad was high and said, “I don’t know.” That Vanzant, or anybody else, even had to ask said enough. There was a collective agreement—on Black Twitter, at least— that he was lying anyway.

I don’t know exactly what is wrong with ol’ Earl “DMX” Simmons or what he needs. That’s over my head. But I know what he doesn’t need is cameras trained on him for viewers to sit at home and gawk at him, feel pity for him, or worse, laugh at his disease.

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The Grio: Why I Became Hopeless About Hip-Hop

When corporate sponsor Reebok finally bowed to pressure from pissed off listeners and fired pro-rape spokesperson Rick Ross last week, and then Rick Ross apologized, seeming one thousand editorials were launched advocating for reform in hip-hop. Reebok’s stance gave some hope that rappers regularly could be held accountable for their lyrics, that with enough protesting, petitioning and calling out, a change would come.

Reebok was right to let Ross go. Ross was right to issue a real apology. But is change coming like a Sam Cooke hook? Please.

Need proof? On the heels of this debacle, 17-year-old Chicago rapper Chief Keef tweeted yet another misogynistic lyric, ostensibly taking advantage of Ross’ controversy to promote a new single.

I am supposed to pen a witty editorial, calling for reform, demanding the time is now, or some such. But I have officially long since given up on hip-hop.

The tattered history of hip-hop reform

I feel like I’m not supposed to say that. At the very least, I should be drawing some proverbial line in the sand, adding to a heap of essays calling for the end of the degradation of women, how it’s unacceptable and how we must hold rappers accountable and blah, blah, blah. I should… but I’m out of steam. I lack effort. And patience. I’m throwing in the towel. It’s not because I’m lazy or don’t think any of that should happen. I just think it’s an effort in vain. I’ve given up on changing what’s wrong with hip-hop.

I’ve been a fan of hip-hop for about 20 years. I was a kid in 1990 when 2 Live Crew’s As Nasty As They Wanna Be was declared “legally obscene” and banned in parts of Florida… and then that ruling was overturned. The lyrics didn’t change. At all. And to be clear, I don’t support censorship, but do advocate having a conscience, which few rappers, then or now, seem to have.

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