GED Section: The Irony of a Woke Pope
Source: Reach Media / Urban One
D.L. Hughley's Notes from the GED Section , always a blend of sharp wit and piercing commentary, often tackles pressing social and cultural issues with unflinching honesty. One of DL's takes a deep dive into the new Pope.
At a time when the term 'woke' is thrown around like an insult, it's funny how history sneaks up on us. The world has a new Pope, and some folks are losing their minds—not about his policies or his faith—but because he's got Creole ancestry. Quick history lesson for anyone confused: Creole means he's got a little Black in him. Yep, the holiest man in the Catholic Church is part of the very history some are working overtime to erase.
STAY INFORMED! CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP FOR OUR NEWSLETTER!
The irony? The teachings of Jesus, the original supposed 'woke' figure, promote values of inclusivity, compassion, and justice. But somehow, he's often depicted looking like Brad Pitt in Legends of the Fall . If Jesus came back today, he'd probably walk into a church, see that alabaster statue, and wonder, 'Who's the gymnast on the cross?'
It's wild, isn't it? People are scrambling to suppress Black history in schools, books, and media, yet here it is, shining through the Vatican like a beam of light. History is resilient like that. You can try to bury it, rewrite it, or ignore it, but the truth has a funny way of surfacing.
READ MORE DL HUGHLEY STORIES: GED Section: The Irony of a Woke Pope
GED Section: There's No More Guessing About How Donald Trump Feels
D.L. Hughley Is A Radio Hall Of Fame Class Of 2025 Nominee!
The new Pope's ancestry is a reminder that no matter how hard people try to dismantle the significance of Black history, it's deeply woven into the fabric of the world—even in places you'd least expect. And like I always say, if you're bothered by the Pope's Black side, wait till you really get to know Jesus.
HEAD TO THE BLACKAMERICAWEB.COM HOMEPAGE
The article 'GED Section: There's No More Guessing About How Donald Trump Feels' was created with the help of Jasper.AI
SEE ALSO
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Boston Globe
4 hours ago
- Boston Globe
At BAMS Festival, the full spectrum of Black culture takes the stage
Get Starting Point A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday. Enter Email Sign Up In the 'Beat Feet' dance tent, Stiggity Stackz offered breakdancing workshops, Boston Rhythm Riders demonstrated how to line dance to this year's Southern soul cookout staple 'Boots on the Ground,' and Chanel 'Ms.5678' Thompson taught guests how to move to Jamaican dancehall and Cape Verdean music. Advertisement Speaking after her session, Thompson said she aimed for an uplifting mix of music 'so that people felt joy, ultimate joy, that might be missing in these times that we're in.' It was also common to hear such sentiments from audience members. 'It's important for there to be hypervisibility of Black joy, because right now, I believe that a lot of politicians and even the media are profiting off of Black pain by sharing the worst of what we're going through right now,' said Melanie Wilkerson, 32, who was visiting from Brooklyn when her friends told her about the festival. 'We're going to liberate ourselves and find our joy in the process.' Advertisement Such a need especially exists in Boston, opined Ashé Brooks-Cook. The 42-year-old from Roxbury was at his fourth BAMS Festival. 'You look around, you see us, and there aren't many spaces and places where you see people that look like you, especially in mainstream Boston,' he said. 'So I love just being around my people, the atmosphere, the positivity, the music, the culture.' Hannah Betit (center) dances with others in front of the BAMS Festival stage. John Tlumacki/Globe Staff The festival offered inspiration from as far away as Africa — courtesy of a workshop by Afrobeats Dance Boston — and as nearby as the blocks surrounding Franklin Park. At the KidChella family stage, 21-year-old spoken word artist Val Lapree, who grew up in the neighborhood, read a piece called 'Wishful Thinking' that she wrote in the aftermath of the 2020 George Floyd murder. The poem was a sharp, critical look at the concept of 'Boston Strong.' Many of the local artists took advantage of their main stage performances to put together special presentations. Solari Blue into a high-energy revue. Likewise, Boston rap legend Advertisement Titi Ngwenya holds a carnation she bought at BAMS Festival while she listens to live music. John Tlumacki/Globe Staff R&B chanteuse Kasia Lavon had performed at a prior BAMS Festival as a background vocalist for rapper Red Shaydez. This year, she got to lead her own ensemble and highlight her powerful songwriting skills. Speaking after her set, Lavon said her band and singers had spent months planning and rehearsing every element of the set — including her bold red and pink outfit. 'It was important for us because this is home, and because so many people pour their hearts into this festival to honor Black culture,' said Lavon. Other local performers ranged from the dynamic precision of the recently formed dance crew The Peacekeepers. to the ultra-versatile Boston producer and artist Haasan Barclay, who leaned into his pop and hip-hop sides before strapping on his electric guitar for a blast of punk rock. Watching the crowds stream in after early afternoon sprinkles let up, BAMS Festival board chair While its Franklin Park presence shrank from two days to one this year, the festival expanded its reach with Advertisement Noah Schaffer can be reached at . Jeffrey Kelly can be reached at
Black America Web
8 hours ago
- Black America Web
Celebrating Black Music Month: Our Favorite Black Live Performers Of All Time
Source: Kevin Mazur / Getty Black Music Month is coming to a close, but not until we celebrate the top Black live performers of all time. From Beyoncé, Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston and more, check out a gallery of our favorites inside. Black Music Month is a recognition of the profound impact Black artists have made across every genre and generation. From genre-defining vocals to mind-blowing stage presence, these performers haven't just influenced music, but they've shaped culture. Some modern day favorites include Beyoncé, who literally continues to break records around the world. Others include the late, great Michael Jackson, who left a legacy as the King of Pop. He redefined what it meant to be a global superstar with his signature dance moves, timeless sounds and lasting impact. These are just 15 of our personal favorite live performers. If you feel we missed someone, comment your favorites below. These legends didn't just perform—they transcended. Happy Black Music Month! Let's give flowers to some of the greatest to ever do it (in no particular order): Celebrating Black Music Month: Our Favorite Black Live Performers Of All Time was originally published on Source:YouTube The undisputed queen of the stage, Beyoncé continues to set new standards. From Homecoming to the Renaissance tour, her performances are visual art, vocal excellence, and Black pride in motion. Source:YouTube The King of Pop redefined what it meant to be a global superstar. From the moonwalk to 'Thriller,' MJ's impact is eternal, inspiring generations of performers. Source:YouTube With one of the most powerful voices in history, Whitney could make the national anthem feel like a love song. Her ballads, beauty, and range made her a true icon. Source:YouTube A boundary-breaking genius who owned the stage like a rock god, Prince's electrifying performances and androgynous style made him a revolutionary in music and identity. Source:YouTube With cinematic visuals and chart-topping hits, The Weeknd's evolution from enigmatic mixtape artist to Super Bowl headliner proves he's one of the greats of his generation. Source:YouTube Despite controversies, Breezy's talent is undeniable. His dancing, vocal range, and dedication to performance make him a modern-day showman. Source:YouTube The blueprint. With smooth moves, classic R&B hits, and that Vegas residency, Usher has remained a fixture in music for over two decades. Source:YouTube The Godfather of Soul laid the foundation. His funky footwork, powerful shouts, and relentless energy made him the original stage-killer. Source:YouTube The Queen of Rock & Roll turned pain into power. Her raspy vocals and commanding performances made her one of the most respected artists ever. Source:YouTube From whispery vocals to crisp choreography, Janet created a lane that's still being traveled today. Her Rhythm Nation era is still iconic. Source:YouTube The visionary. Missy's visuals, production, and flows changed the game forever. And she still hasn't missed. Source:YouTube The ultimate dance-floor commander, Ciara burst onto the scene with 'Goodies' and has kept us moving ever since. She's a pioneer in merging R&B with crunk and pop, and her influence can be felt in today's new wave of performer-dancers. Source:YouTube A creative force and one of the most dynamic performers of her generation, Teyana Taylor is an artist's artist. Blending 90s R&B grit with cinematic flair, her live shows are a masterclass in choreography, emotion, and stage presence. Source:YouTube The architect of psychedelic rock and one of the most iconic guitarists in history, Jimi Hendrix didn't just perform—he unleashed sonic revolutions. With his electric energy, improvisational genius, and groundbreaking use of distortion and feedback, Hendrix captivated audiences from Woodstock to Monterey. Source:YouTube The prophet of reggae, delivered revolutionary messages with a calm fire, moving the world to unity and resistance.
Yahoo
8 hours ago
- Yahoo
Coming out to my religious parents was terrifying. I never expected a miracle
I had been rehearsing my coming-out speech to my parents for over a year. 'Hey, mom and dad, I think I'm gay.' Or, 'I believe I'm a lesbian.' Or, 'I'm pretty sure I'm queer.' But those approaches would be too provocative, an invitation to discuss. I needed to be more direct. My fantasy was to hear them say, 'Of course, honey, we've been waiting for you to tell us. we've known you're gay since you were a toddler.' I thought my dad might step up. He had always been my ally. As a kid, we bonded over Radio Mystery Theater. Once a week, we sat in the car eating chocolate-covered raisins, listening to that week's murder mystery. I flew to Wisconsin from NYC for a long weekend to reveal my secret. I was 25 and had been hiding it for six years. It was time to reclaim my crown of sovereignty. Time to stop living a lie. My parents, smiling proudly and dressed in polyester, greeted me at the Madison airport with hugs and kisses. We spent the drive to a nearby restaurant discussing their retirement plans, sharing news about my sisters and their kids, and priming me for a conversation about a man in my life. Dad was an ordained deacon with the Milwaukee Diocese. My parents were always devoted Catholics, but after my brother's suicide, they'd become charismatic Catholics who spoke in tongues. Good for them, I thought. They seemed happier, but I never bought into the ceremonial facade of the church. I waited till dinner was over and, after a few bites into my cherry cheesecake, blurted out, 'I need to tell you something.' 'What's that honey?' my dad asked. 'So, I'm gay.' Silence filled the restaurant. It seemed every clink of dishes and chatter from the servers stopped on cue when I spoke the word gay. My parents looked at each other, then averted their gazes. I tried to stuff another bite of my dessert out of anxiety, but the taste of shame soured the cheese. I had committed a carnal sin…unforgivable. Dad pushed away his rice pudding, gesturing for the check. Mom looked down at her Jello and said, 'How can you do this to us? We've been through so much.' I sank into my chair, wanting to slip under the table and through the earth to be back in New York, in the arms of Diane. I tried to muster a response, 'Well, I've been through a lot too, Mom, but I can't keep this a secret any longer.' Dad grabbed his jacket and said, 'Let's go. We'll talk about this at home.' When I was at my most vulnerable, he still prioritized his ego. He didn't want any of the strangers around us to know what I'd said. He worried about what they would think of us as a family. Of him as a father. At that moment, I was certain I had lost their love forever by the look on their faces. We spent the rest of the weekend in silence. Avoiding all topics related to relationships. A visit to my sister was redeeming when she let me know she was aware of it and was okay with it. So, I left Wisconsin, figuring that my relationship with the most important people in my life, especially my dad, was now over. I returned to New York sad, lonely, and confused. Was this worth it? My girlfriend was president of the Sirens, the NYC women's motorcycle club. We were a conspicuous couple. Usually sporting black leather jackets and chaps, spiked hair, combat boots – kinky, dark, 80s style—attending drag night at the Copacabana, leading the Pride Parade with the Sirens, and making appearances at downtown performance art venues. My drug use escalated. I'd ride my motorcycle across 9th Street in Manhattan doing 60 MPH, high on coke, catching all the lights—a lethal gamble. Whether I lived or died was of no concern. I was already dead to my parents. A year after I came out to them, they came to visit NY and stayed with my aunt, who lived nearby. They reluctantly agreed to meet Diane. That was a disaster. They were cordial but cold. She was tough looking, I'll give them that—but so was I. The only redeeming quality in their eyes is she came from a catholic family. I drove them to Laguardia to catch their flight back home and stayed with them at the gate until their plane departed. I was complaining of wrist pain from an old dance injury that wouldn't heal, saying, 'I haven't been able to lift anything with my right hand for the past year.' They asked, 'Why don't you let us pray over it?' I thought, are you Frickin' kidding me? And said, 'Oh, you don't have to do that.' But they pressed, and finally, I said, 'Ah, okay, I guess,' as I internally rolled my eyes. We found a quiet corner near the gate. I felt embarrassed—I was too cool in my leather jacket, but it was my parents. I couldn't refuse; I never could. Maybe this was their way of saying they still loved me, or perhaps they were really praying for me to be straight. Speaking in a language I had never heard, they held their hands over my wristband. While they said it, I repeated it in silence; I believe, I believe, I think as I scanned the airport for anyone I might know. The verbiage I heard from them sounded like a mishmash of Scandinavian, French, and Portuguese with the guttural sounds of German. It lasted about five minutes. I said thanks and watched them fly into the sky, wondering if I'd ever see them again. Two days later, I tested the pain in my wrist. Nothing changed. It was still there. A day later, I grabbed my bag off the floor, lifted it to my shoulder, and realized the pain was gone. I froze in awe. I didn't tell anyone about the airport scene except my roommate, who said, 'Huh, that's wild.' It stirred something inside that made me question the world, life, spirits, and God. I continued to numb myself with pot and fuel myself with coke. I eventually broke up with Diane and started going to AA meetings. Alcohol wasn't my thing, really, just what I used to cure cottonmouth and temper the effects of coke, but it was all a means of checking out. A year of sobriety led me to graduate school, where I pursued a career as a therapist, thinking that my experiences would benefit others. I was napping during winter break of my second year when a voice awakened me, saying, 'Dad's going to die.' I jumped up off the couch, looked at my pillow, and thought, 'What the fuck was that? Have I gone crazy? Holy shit, now I'm hearing voices. No way.' I paced the apartment and called a friend. I thought, should I call him? Nah, Dad is fine. It was just a bad dream. What would I say if I called him? I heard a voice that said you're going to die? The next day, my oldest sister called sobbing. She said Dad had died while taking a nap on the couch that afternoon. I tried to tell her about my apparition from the day before, but she couldn't take it in. We just cried together. I flew to Wisconsin the next day. It was mid-January when we celebrated his life. I stayed with my mom and slept with her instead of on Dad's waterbed in the next room. I'm not sure why they slept in separate rooms, and I didn't ask; I didn't want to know. The night before his wake, I woke to a cool breeze streaming through the room. The heat was blaring; Mom was asleep, and no windows or doors were open. I sat up and thought, Dad, is that you? I was sure he came to visit to remind me of our connection. He was only sixty-eight years old, mostly healthy, a bit overweight, and just taking an afternoon nap, just like I had the day before. Two hundred deacons attended his funeral from the Milwaukee diocese. I felt a mix of awe and doubt about this religion as I watched the ceremonial flow of robes entering the church. A little Irish priest came up to me after the funeral and said, 'I know you're sad and it's hard to say goodbye, but I think he can do more for you now than he could when he was alive.' I returned to New York, to grad school, to my life without my dad. That spring, we had a substitute professor for a few of our classes. The relief instructor who walked through the doors of my classroom is the woman I married and have been with for thirty-two years. I'd like to think that Dad was behind our meeting. That he posthumously accepted me for who I was. Voices is dedicated to featuring a wide range of inspiring personal stories and impactful opinions from the LGBTQ+ community and its allies. Visit to learn more about submission guidelines. Views expressed in Voices stories are those of the guest writers, columnists, and editors, and do not directly represent the views of The Advocate or our parent company, equalpride. This article originally appeared on Advocate: Coming out to my religious parents was terrifying. I never expected a miracle
