It was an honor more than 45 years in the making, but Cicely Tyson finally took home an Oscar on Sunday night at the 10th annual Governors Awards in Hollywood, Ca.

As Cicely Tyson clearly demonstrated during Aretha Franklin’s funeral, she can elevate any moment. But of course, we knew that already.

At five feet, three inches, 93-year-old acting legend Cicely Tyson may be a petite woman, but her presence has always been larger than life—as was the hat she wore to pay tribute to friend Aretha Franklin last Friday.

1. At 3:30 p.m. Friday afternoon—a time which was already 30 minutes past the very optimistic target ending time on the agenda for Aretha Franklin’s homegoing—my wife and I left the house during Rev. Jesse Jackson’s speech to buy a mattress for a bed delivered to us the day before.

She could’ve simply stopped the show with that magnificent hat, but living legend, activist and still incredible actress Cicely Tyson’s final tribute to the Queen of Soul expressed the true breadth of excellence that Aretha Franklin represented—especially to black America.

I was watching Set It Off the other day because there’s never not a good time to watch Set It Off. Watching Vivica, Jada, Kimberly Elise (looking as homely as they could possibly make her) and Queen Latifah rob banks and be overly dramatic is one of my favorite pastimes.

If I am lucky enough to make it to 93, I want to be a fly 93 just like Harlem’s own, the legend, actress Cicely Tyson.

Susan Taylor is legend. But the term “legend” is nowhere near adequate enough for this woman, whose tenure as editor-in-chief of Essence magazine transformed both of their names into global powerhouse brands followed by 8 million readers. Living in the now, at 71-fighting-years strong, Taylor founded the nonprofit …

2017 has been, how do I put this succinctly, a fucking shit year.

The Emmys began last night with a skit featuring disgraced former White House press secretary Sean Spicer, a clear reference to Melissa McCarthy’s brilliant impersonation of him on Saturday Night Live,  and an act in which the consequencelessness of whiteness has never been better exemplified. Whatever hope there is…

I am convinced there is a writer — or, perhaps, a group of writers — on the How to Get Away with Murder staff whose sole job is to think of and craft the single Blackest scene they can possibly film that week while maintaining the show's integrity. Perhaps their job title is 'Blackness Grip" or "Cornel West" or…