Top Quotes: “Walking in My Joy: In These Streets” — Jenifer Lewis

Introduction

“When the Obamas left, I walked out of the room and down the hallway, taking a moment for myself. The next thing I knew I was flat out on the floor. That’s right, I had fainted. Passed out on the historic floors of the gotdamn White House. This is the kind of shit that only happens to me. The entire night my feet were killing me. Pulsing in heels that had cut off my circulation minute by minute. I refused to take those shoes off because I had to be cute. It was Michelle Obama, for Christ’s sake! Mrs. Fashion herself. I also failed to mention that one bite of fucking pastry was the only thing I had eaten that night. I guess there’s a price to pay for strutting around the White House in eight-inch Louboutins all excited and forgetting to eat.

The medical marines were called immediately. The White House doctor came rushing to my side. I was the belle of the ball, the center of attention. The drama was fitting, really. They gave me some water and Christmas cookies. I politely asked if they had anything better to eat. I mean, this was the gotdamn White House! Ain’t yall got any air-fried chicken wings up in this bitch?! Next thing I know I’m in a wheelchair, being escorted out of the White House. They saluted my ass and said that’s enough of you! Ain’t nobody got time for all of your shenanigans in these White House streets. I was the last person out the doors that night. They literally dumped me at the front gate, closed it behind me, and put a chain lock on that bitch to keep me out. “I never got my sugar!!” I screamed out as I clawed and banged on the gates. I quieted down, quickly imagining a sniper might take me out. I’m kidding!!!!! No, I’m not.”

“I wiped the sweat from my head. Frustrated that divas have to sweat at all, I fluffed my ‘fro.”

“Relationships are challenging. I don’t even think I like kissing! Most times I just want them to get on with the sex already. Who’s with me? I told myself, It’s just a cup of coffee.

Tony and I met for coffee at a Starbucks on a Friday afternoon. When I arrived, I saw him seated in the back. I’m not used to sitting in the back of places. You know me: I’m comfortable front and center. I thought it was a little odd to tuck ourselves back there in the corner, but he looked so good, I also thought, What the hell.”

“Kinloch’s population is three thousand. At one point, it was the largest all-Black, self-governing municipality in the United States. Today, it barely exists. Its residents relocated to make way for an expansion of the airport. Ah, the things this country does to communities of color.

Kinloch was a poverty-stricken community. And yes, there were times when I was hungry as a child.

Kinloch sits just west of Ferguson, Missouri, where, throughout the 1960s, I was warned never to go alone. We were not welcome in Ferguson because it was a white community. But, you see, Ferguson had a movie theater and Kinloch did not. Almost every Saturday afternoon, there I was, a twelve-year-old kid sitting alone in the dark balcony with my seventy-five-cent popcorn, imagining myself starring up there on the screen. I was unaware of the evils of the world. I had a dream and would let nothing interfere with it.”

“I had recently begun to wear my hair in an Afro again. It was a symbol that screamed, I LOVE ME! I see my curly hair as antennas to God. We always fussing with it, but Black hair is powerful. Black hair is the only thing on the planet that defies gravity.

I remember thinking, I’m doing so good on my own. The truth is, as a little girl I never envied Cinderella or her fucking slippers. I never saw a husband in my dreams. I never saw a white picket fence. Over the years I had come to believe Jenny Lewis just wasn’t meant to be somebody’s wife. Ain’t no way I was going to have anybody telling me what the fuck to do.”

“Every time I visit St. Louis, I ask my brother Larry to drive me through Kinloch. It’s a ghost town now, but it is a bittersweet thing I’m adamant about doing. As we drive through, I blink my eyes and I’m transported back in time. I can see all the sights again. Smell all the scents.”

“The day we first made love was the day everything changed for me. One afternoon we snuck up into the bedroom and purposely ran out of conversation. He took his clothes off and stood there, a statue built by the gods. We made unforgettable love. I was at my best, basking in every inch of his body.”

“Usually when I have big decision to make I go hiking. Nature is my partner in life. The trees talk to me, help me know where to go next. Yes, bitch, I’m crazy. But aren’t we all?”

“I started off 2020 in the hospital with my second torn rotator cuff. I tore my right rotator cuff many years ago, and I was warned that the left shoulder would inevitably need surgery too. On January 7, I found myself lying in triage, awaiting God’s fate. I felt vulnerable and disoriented. This was not where I, the alpha, belonged. I should have been having sex with three men somewhere.”

“1 went to see an acupuncturist. She touched my swollen face with such tenderness and care. She said, “Miss Lewis, this is a bacterial infection involving the inner layers of your skin. It specifically affects the derms and subcutaneous fat.”

“Fat? Bitch, I just lost six pounds.”

She smiled and gently said, “You should have a biopsy. I’ve never seen it this big in the face area.”

Gotdammit, biopsy? Is it cancer??? Not on my face.

God, noooooo. I sat in my car and called everyone in Hollywood I knew who’d had work done. It took me two years to get through the list. Just kidding. But it would have.”

“They admitted me to the hospital, and I got wheeled up to room, yep, 69. I thought, well, y’all already know. The hospital robe did absolutely nothing for my Coke-bottle figure.”

“When my phone lit up, it was my only signal that there was still a world out there. My dear friend and congresswoman Maxine Waters rang me.

“Jenifer,” she said in her unforgettable voice.

“Maxiiiine,” I shouted back, shaking.

“Buckle up,” she said. “You know this COVID pandemic isn’t going anywhere any time soon.””

“Every room in my home has a name. Jason and Michiko were staying in the guest room called Egypt. All four boys were staying on the bottom floor, the room we affectionately call the Dungeon. I named it that when DJ stayed downstairs, to establish the pecking order. Kinloch is my home-away-from-home room. There’s a sitting room named Africa where I often relax and sit by the fire. And of course Butters has his own room in the east wing, simply called Butters.”

“It seemed my phone was doubling as a crisis and emergency hotline. Once, it was three in the morning and my phone read, “Funny Ass Diva-G.” That meant Kathy Griffin was calling. Now, look, I knew Kathy Griffin, but not well enough for her ass to be calling me at three o’clock in the morning.

“Kathy?” I said.

“Jenifer?” I heard her say quietly. Now, this bitch ain’t never said nothing quietly. There was no intellectual wit coming out of her mouth. Her voice was honest and slow. “I think I’m in a little trouble. I took some sleeping pills. I think too many. And I don’t want to die.

“Don’t move, baby gurl, I said. “I’m on my way.”

We both had the understanding that calling an ambulance was out of the question. Aside from the fact that it would be all over the trades, there were no beds at the hospitals. There was nowhere to run to. Ambulances were blaring all throughout the city, rushing in COVID patients. Rolling Kathy Griffin into a hospital at this point would be more of a death sentence than a Hail Mary. This was in my hands.

Kathy had recently finished reading The Mother of Black Hollywood. If nothing else, based on my experience with mental health, she knew I would listen and help any way I could. I strapped three masks onto my face. My heart was pounding. I hadn’t been inside another human’s home in nearly nine months. I had to put my fears of COVID aside. This was Kathy mothafuckin’ Griffin, and if I had to kick down her big-ass door, stick my fingers down her throat, and/or slap the living shit out of her, then that’s exactly what I was gonna do.

I raced up to her front door. I couldn’t get to the top of the steps quick enough. Gotdamn celebrities in these big-ass houses. All up in the hills and shit. I didn’t even have to knock. She opened her big-ass door. She looked at me like an innocent child, as pale as a ghost, weighing all of sixty pounds. I hugged her, picking her up from the ground so she would know I wasn’t gonna let her fall.

“How many did you take, baby?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

I held her by her shoulders, looked her dead in her eyes, and said, “How many, bitch?”

“I got most of ‘em out,” she replied.

“You gotta walk a straight line for me, baby. Prove it. Show me.”

She did.

After making her drink several glasses of water, I took her upstairs and tucked her in and did something reserved only for my daughter: I kissed her forehead.

She fell sweetly asleep. I told her I would sleep on the sofa downstairs, but I never left her bedroom. I never closed my eyes. I watched Kathy Griffin breathe all night long. Nothing was funny. We were both fragile.”

“Over coffee the next morning, I let it rip (as gently as I could).

“Kathy, you know I love you. I’m glad it was me you called, but, baby, I don’t have time for this kind of shit. Everybody knows you’ve been through hell. But everybody’s going through hell right now, in the middle of this pandemic. You don’t get to quit, bitch. There are women who have fought great fights and didn’t quit. Did Jane Fonda quit? Did Harriet Tubman quit? Did Ruth Bader Ginsburg quit? Nobody dies on my watch. Now, gather yourself, call your shrink, and get your skinny ass into rehab. Hurting yourself ain’t gonna help nobody. Summoning my inner Aibileen Clark from The Help, I told her, “You is smart. You is kind (well, maybe not kind). You is important. Don’t call me for this kinda shit no more. I got four boys at my house I’m supposed to take fishing today. Now I’ve gotta go.”

I looked at her one last time before I left. I had a deep knowledge that either she’d be okay or she’d be too scared of my ass to try anything stupid again. I quietly prayed for both.”

“During the pandemic, 41.1 percent of people reported symptoms of anxiety and/or depression disorder compared to the 11 percent of reported symptoms in the years before 2020. For essential workers, it was 12 percent more.”

“Keisha and I spent the next four days as gluttons. We consumed everything we want es, exactly at the moment we wanted it. Tequila in the morning, coffee at night, donuts midday, the pool boy every moment in between. I’m kidding!!!! No, I’m not.”

“I was at Bette Midler’s birthday party. I got so drunk. The reason I remember my age the year I moved out to LA is because I said, in a stupor, “Bheette, Imma be dirty-dree!

“You know what happened to Jesus when he was thirty-three, don’t cha?” she responded.

Only Bette. Bitch. (Don’t y’all tell her I said that.)”

“My New Year’s Eve tradition is to read and review my entire journal from January to December. What did you do with a whole year, Jenny? Where d’ya go? Why’d you go? Who’d ya help? Who’d ya cuss out? And above all, Who’d ya sleep with? Okay, Who didn’t ya? Just kidding, y’all. No I’m not.”

“Yes, you heard me correctly. The Optimum Health clinic strongly suggests at least TWO (2) wheatgrass enemas daily. The Institute swears by this shit. The Triticum aestivum plant — wheatgrass — is a superfood. As a micro-green or in juice form, it’s highly regarded in the wellness community as a potent health food with amazing benefits; promising to boost digestion, metabolism, and immune system responses.”

“Blondie Karen laid a human-size towel on the table and instructed me to get undressed, lie on my left side, and relax. I followed her directions. Well, minus the relaxing part. You try relaxing while some white lady pumps some green juice into your anus. She asked me to clench my butt cheeks for five minutes while the wheatgrass did what it was meant to do.

She looked at me, impressed, after we were done. I gave her a wink, thinking bitch, please. Mama knows what she’s doing, with her buttcheeks.”

“As I pushed the ignition, I came to terms with how wrong I truly was. The ignition did not ignite. I did. I discovered a new meaning for “pedal to the metal.”

When I was a child, my aunt Membry always told me to keep a pot in the back seat of the car in case of an emergency. She used to drive us back and forth to daycare and never wanted to stop for a bathroom break, so when we needed to go, she’d pull out the pot from her trunk and we’d do our business. When we were done, she’d toss it out the window carelessly, splashing whoever was on the side of the road, and kept it moving. The bitch was brilliant. I pulled out my emergency pot. Unbuttoned my pants. And crawled into the back seat.”

“After I shared the things that had broken my heart, I asked the staff to turn up all of the lights so I could see those beautiful faces in the audience. Then I asked them to turn them down — the people were hideous!!!! I’m kidding. No, I’m not.”

“I walked into the restroom, where a stunned and beautiful eighty-year-old woman looked at me as though she had just lost her breath. I slipped into the stall to do my business, and when I came out, there she was, still there, stunning. She walked slowly toward me as I washed my hands. I smiled. As she shuffled over, I held that smile. She came close to me and whispered into my ear: “My husband raped me. They made me marry him. I’m eighty-two. I read your book. I have now left him.”

Chills shot down mv spine. I held her.”

““If you can only be tall because somebody is on their knees, then you have a serious problem. And my feeling is that white people have a very, very serious problem, and they should start thinking about what they can do about it. Take me out of it.”

-Toni Morrison”

““The hell I’m not, I shouted back. “Get the fuck up out my way, Jeffrey. This shit is OVER!”

He doubled down, throwing himself spread-eagle across the door. The biggest mistake he ever made was to look me in the eye and let me know he had a plan to keep me captive. Now, y’all know even back then I didn’t want nobody fucking with me in these streets. My screams were so loud that the entirety of Los Angeles County woke up. My voice has always been my greatest weapon.

“HELPPPPPPPPP!” I screamed as he moved toward me, peeling himself away from the door. At that age, my voice could pierce the walls. My vocal cords were me-teoric. “LET ME THE FUCK OUTTA HERE, JEFFREY!” I exclaimed, warning him he was in for trouble. “BACK UP, LAWYER BOY!” He took a step toward me. Now, listen. I know this nigga was not about to hurt me, but my rage and disdain for him was uncontrollable, so I popped him right in the face. I was still doing Jane Fonda’s workout, bitch. So I knocked him to the floor. I saw red, and ding, ding, ding, I won the match. When Jeffrey stood up, he was missing a tooth. He was bleeding from his nose. The left side of his face was completely altered.

I walked out the door, got into my Mazda 323, and drove away. In my rearview mirror, I saw a police car rolling up to Jeffrey’s driveway. Po’ bastid.”

“Let me pause here and say that I always nicely ask my travel agent to do her best to hook me up with a handsome, well-informed tour guide with white teeth, and a hot body. Little Jenny Lewis wants only the foiiiiinest of the foine guides. I promise y’all I never touch any of them. Okay, yes, I did. Okay, no, I didn’t. Yes, I did. Okay, not on this trip, but ONE TIME I did in a different city. I digress.”

“The balloon lost its rhythm, and we began to descend, far too quickly, toward the ground. I imagined the headlines: DOUBLE D CUP DIVA GOES DOWN IN THE DESERT. This was one hell of a trip. We crashed. Everyone was safe, but the loud thud and impact gave me one thought and one thought only: I want to go home.”

“