The Mother of Black Hollywood

by Jenifer Lewis

  Off-screen, I never thought of myself as “motherly.” But God knows that I play with everybody’s baby—in my family, among my fans, and even in the grocery store. I may be a high diva sometimes but nothing humbles my ass quicker than a cute little baby. When I was in love with Thomas, there was a point where I thought we would marry and have a baby. But, as time went on, having kids just fell off my to-do list.

  When Rachel and my Boat sisters suggested that I consider being more active in the lives of children, I was surprised. They weren’t saying jump into motherhood right away. They thought it would be good for me to start out by mentoring. I definitely had the energy for hanging with children, and had a sense of fun along with a desire to give back.

  Several months passed as I continued to work with Rachel and on my own until I felt more confident about embarking on my new venture as a “Big Sister.” Many of my friends supported my intention. Deborah Dean Davis wrote a letter of recommendation and Thom Fennessey was by my side from the start, going with me to the initial meetings with Big Brothers Big Sisters of America. I was in orientation with them to learn my responsibilities and their process.

  I went to the community center to meet lanky, adorable seven-year-old Charmaine for the first time. She was balled up under a table when I first laid eyes on her. She reminded me of myself when I collapsed on the floor of Beverly Heath’s friends’ kitchen. My heart was drawn immediately to this pretty, skinny, long-legged little girl. She was very shy and when I finally made her smile, she revealed an adorable snaggle-tooth right in front.

  Though I’ve never been shy a day in my life, the connection I felt to Charmaine was immediate, perhaps because I understood her circumstances. Charmaine’s “normal” resembled mine as a child back in Kinloch: one woman, holding down multiple jobs to support multiple children, by herself. It was my pleasure to share myself and my resources with this precious little girl.

  Charmaine and I established a routine where I’d pick her up once a week. She was always anxiously waiting for me at her door. We’d go somewhere fun or just hang out at my place. At first, I had no idea what the hell I was doing. One day, not being able to reach any of my girlfriends, I was forced to call my agent from Whole Foods to ask, “What do you feed a seven-year-old?” The first time Charmaine opened the refrigerator all she saw was a bottle of champagne and a jar of caviar. I ate pretty healthy, but usually ordered in.

  I loved every minute we spent together. It felt so good to do for Charmaine what had not been done for me. I’d take her to museums and movies and also made sure that she got outdoors and learned to enjoy nature. Plus, we went shopping a lot. Our first Halloween together, we spent an entire afternoon searching for exactly the right costume. At Toys ’R Us, I bought her Barbie dolls and books. In fact, I bought her everything I thought she might want. Well, as much as Big Brothers Big Sisters of America allowed. They had rules and regulations for everything. There was even a limit on how much time Big Sisters could spend with their mentees. I was around as much as possible, sometimes bending the rules. Charmaine had become more than a mentee.

  The first time Charmaine slept over was Thanksgiving. I slowly and gently brushed her hair and then read to her from her favorite book, The Eleventh Hour: A Curious Mystery. When I tucked her in, her sincere little voice said, “Thank you, Jenny.” It was the first time she called me by the name that pretty much only my family uses. I was scared to death thinking of the million things that could go wrong. I kept waking up to check on her and finally, just watched her sleep peacefully.

  I gave Charmaine lots of hugs, smiles, and laughter. I also found that, surprisingly, I drew from my mother’s attitude that you had to toughen up children to prepare them for life. For example, I wanted Charmaine to build her physical stamina. So as we hiked the hills, I would walk very fast, pushing her lanky, mildly uncoordinated little body to keep up.

  I think the day Charmaine had an asthma attack triggered by an allergy was the day I really understood what it was to be a mother. We were spending some casual time together and when Charmaine began to cough and gasp uncontrollably, I immediately put her in the car and sped to the hospital. She was fine, but sitting in that emergency room with her for four hours scared the shit out of me. I think I discovered that night what true love was.

  A few weeks later, I took Charmaine with me to the Magic Johnson Theater to see The Preacher’s Wife. I always loved watching my films with predominantly black audiences. In one scene with Denzel Washington, my character entered wearing a very unattractive outfit. A woman behind me shouted, “What the hell is she wearing?” I, of course, had gone to the theater incog-Negro, and Charmaine and I proceeded to laugh and laugh. She loved that her Big Sister was a “movie star.” When I had a new movie coming out, Charmaine loved to stay up with me until midnight, when we’d rush to the 24-hour newsstand to read the reviews in the morning papers.

  It was obvious that Charmaine was not the only one of us in need and we both benefited from our paths crossing. I monitored myself because I wanted to be a good example. I was motivated to “stay in my adult” and let Charmaine be the child (it didn’t always work out that way). I got hypnotized to stop smoking, and after Charmaine came into my life, there was never another one-night stand. And, believe it or not, I made sure never to expose little Charmaine to my cursing (not counting road rage!).

  I still had my issues, though. I was not in a relationship and was still trying to buy my mother’s love, despite confronting her about her treatment of me as a child. But my progress was undeniable. I was learning to sit with my feelings instead of acting them out. Let’s just say I was still the life of the party, singing, dancing and clowning around, but at least I wasn’t doing it on top of the table or on top of somebody’s head.

  One night I was driving and feeling comfortable that I knew the road well enough to glance up at the moon through the sun roof. Bam! I hit the guard rail. My car went into a 360 spin and I ended up in a ditch. The driver door was smashed in. I pried myself out and crawled up the embankment in total shock. When I looked down at the car, my first thought was that my body was dead in the car and my spirit had floated out of it. I thought of Charmaine and how I wanted to be in her life always. Then, I thought “Damn! The headline tomorrow will be: ‘Double D Cup Diva Dead in Ditch.’ ” The car was banged up, and so was I, but I felt that I could drive. It was a foolish decision, but I made it home safely.

  Charmaine and I had grown extremely close, so it was difficult to tell her that I would not see her while I went to New York to work with Spike Lee on Girl 6. She didn’t seem too disappointed, though, ’cause I sent her to Camp Hollywoodland for the summer.

  In New York, I had a great time hanging out with my cast members Theresa Randle and Naomi Campbell. We’d go to the spa together, to dinner, and to parties. It was all very upscale New York, a 180-degree difference from my early days trudging to Gray’s Papaya.

  One morning, Naomi called and asked if I wanted to join her for breakfast in one of her favorite restaurants in lower Manhattan. She was dating some czar at the time and had just returned from Russia. As we gorged on fresh black sturgeon eggs, who walked in but John F. Kennedy Jr. My heart leapt, my legs moved, and I was in front of him within seconds. I know it’s difficult to imagine Jenifer Lewis speechless but I just stood there like a sixteen-year-old in love. I wanted to say something intelligent. But the only words I could muster were “My God, you’re beautiful.” He looked me in the eye, took my hand, and said, “So are you.” Had he kissed my hand, I would have been walking around with it filthy to this very day.

  Charmaine’s mom, LaRhonda, had more on her shoulders than any woman should bear. Not only was she the sole provider for her children, but she had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. We didn’t become close friends, but we did sit down for long conversations. LaRhonda trusted me with all of her children. Charmaine’s three sisters all had Big Sisters, but I loved to scoop up all the girls myself and take them on spe
cial outings to the beach or Disneyland. But, there was tension among the siblings. It didn’t help that I was a well-off celebrity and that Charmaine was somewhat the “runt” of her sisters.

  As LaRhonda’s health deteriorated, Charmaine came to live with me full time. Eventually, we all agreed that I would become Charmaine’s legal guardian. It wasn’t exactly adoption, but legal guardianship allowed me to assume all responsibility for the little girl I loved so much.

  I promised LaRhonda that I would do my best for Charmaine, including getting her through high school and college. Immediately, I enrolled her in an expensive private school, because I wanted her to have the best.

  JOURNAL ENTRY: Was my mother depressed everyday of her life? Is it what I learned? Can I live another way? I’m fighting so hard. These realizations and revelations mean nothing Jenny, unless you hold on to them and don’t drop the ball. Don’t drop the ball baby.

  Becoming Charmaine’s parent helped me to better understand my mother’s predicament. I had just one child and could only imagine the pressure Mama felt trying to raise seven. Unlike Mama, I had the time and resources to focus on my child. I showered Charmaine with attention, listened to her, and encouraged her to talk about her feelings and what she wanted in life.

  I saw that Charmaine felt pulled by the sometime opposing forces of her birth family and me. The life she led with me was the polar opposite of her family’s struggle. Having grown up poor myself, I certainly understood the conflict she was feeling. Because LaRhonda had become too ill to care for her children, Charmaine’s two older sisters had been sent to live with relatives and her younger sister, Angelica, had entered the foster care system. I think Charmaine felt guilty that she seemed to have lucked out in such an extreme way.

  At first, as her Big Sister, I let Charmaine have her way on just about everything. She was quite artistic and when we made a birdhouse out of popsicle sticks, I let her stay up until midnight to finish it. I found out soon, however, that as Charmaine’s parent, I couldn’t always say “yes.” I now had to say “no” sometimes. That was hard for both of us.

  I didn’t want to replicate my mother’s superstrict approach and struggled to find the right balance between “big sister” and “disciplinarian.” For instance, I grew up poor, but our homes were clean. My mother said, “When I get home, this house better be spotless” and we knew there would be hell to pay if it wasn’t. But Charmaine’s standards were different from mine and her refusal to clean her room to my liking resulted in my putting her on punishment. Worse, it caused anger and resentment between us.

  My favorite cousin, Ronnie, who had become a professional hairstylist, came out to LA again to help with Charmaine. He was sweet as pie and so patient. He drove Charmaine to school, did the cooking, and styled Charmaine’s hair (which of course, she loved). Ronnie could dance. He could sing. He only had a high school education, but he was smart, fun loving, and a natural caretaker. It felt good to build a little family with Charmaine and Ronnie and the little apricot poodle, Cashoo, that I got Charmaine for her birthday.

  Sheldon Epps, the brilliant artistic director of the esteemed Pasadena Playhouse, asked me to perform there in a play, John Henry Redwood’s The Old Settler. My castmates were Christopher B. Duncan, Sally Richardson and the incomparable C.C.H. Pounder. Settler was the first straight (meaning non-musical) play I had performed in since college; I had done only musicals and concerts since. One night, after the final curtain, a young man peeped his head in my dressing room while I was removing my makeup. Oh, was he cute! I had taken a bite out of a Chinese pear, it was a juicy one. He said, “Can I have a bite?” Well, let’s just say he came in and had a bite. For the next nine years we would continue to take bites out of that Chinese pear. God help me.

  Enter Terrence Flack, my first boyfriend after a long dry spell. On our first date we hiked up Fryman Canyon, and he bent down to tie my shoe. I liked him on his knees. The rest, ladies and gentlemen, is history.

  I dated Terrence for a month and a half before I actually slept with him. I was trying to be an adult and get to know somebody before I launch into bed with them. As you all know by now, that had not been my modus operandi in the past.

  Over the months, I spent more time with Terrence. He was fun, he did not take my shit and he was not afraid of me. I could be myself with him and he made me laugh. Terrence was well-read and a true lover of music. He liked to tease me, making fun of my dramatics by calling me “Groan Crawford.”

  There were some red flags, like his “woe is me” attitude, which wasn’t that surprising, given his background. Of all the men I dated, Terrence had been the most abused. His mother was overwhelmed by her parental responsibilities and agents from the children’s services bureau were trying to place her children with other relatives. With the agents on her heels, Terrence’s mother bundled up her toddlers and headed for the Greyhound station. Just as she was about to board the bus, the social workers caught up with her. Little Terrence was sent to live with relatives who were far too strict. Terrence had survived, pretty much raised himself, graduated from college, and come to Los Angeles to pursue acting.

  I wanted to take care of him. I wanted him to take my hand and I wanted us to win. I wanted two little black kids who had grown up in poverty to go around the world and leave it all behind. Oops. We take ourselves with us, don’t we?

  Ultimately, I introduced him to Charmaine. I felt proud for her to see me with an intelligent, creative man. Terrence was supportive of my relationship with Charmaine as a trio, we had some good times together.

  I was happy at work and in my off-hours. My relationship with Terrence grew and I realized I loved him when one morning I actually cooked for breakfast. In truth, he may have thought I hated him after that! In fact, when my sisters see me on screen playing somebody like Mama Rose in The Temptations, serving up platters of fried chicken, collard greens, and peach cobbler, they call me up: “You may be fooling the audience, Jenny, but everyone in Kinloch knows you can’t cook.” When Charmaine went to summer camp, Terrence and I ran off to Paris. Late one night, we walked through the Pigalle area. He was a little ahead of me as we climbed a small hill. Terrence stopped, turned around and he reached both his arms out to me, pulling me up the hill saying, “Come on, baby.” It was one of the most loving moments. I think that this night I felt surrounded by angels, and he was one of them.

  I was becoming a woman of a certain age who was an endangered species in television and film. I felt especially grateful to have a vital career, including a schedule that allowed me to have a stable life at home with a child and a gorgeous man to love on.

  My maturity did not cause a shortage of excitement and glamour in my life, though. I was thrilled to go to work on Strong Medicine every day. Tammy Ader and Whoopi Goldberg were the creators and producers. I loved and admired them both. Strong Medicine was more than good, it was making history in that it was dealing with women’s health issues honestly. Plus it featured strong women who were breaking through the barrier of patriarchy. Girl power in these streets.

  I remember episodes about breast cancer, and anti-abortion protests. They even did an episode speaking to my own experience, in which my character, Lana Hawkins, became a mentor to a young girl who had come from hard times.

  Terrence and I took another much-needed vacation to Europe. His mood dampened the trip for me. He was often uncomfortable about me spending money on such luxuries. He felt it somehow compromised his manhood. We went to a fireworks display, in Monaco; it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, with the music of Tchaikovsky playing in the background. I looked around and didn’t see Terrence, who had been walking with me. He was sitting on the curb with his head down. He was overwhelmed. He felt unworthy. I had built this lavish life and he was thrown into it and apparently he was drowning.

  He had his insecurities, I had mine. We got tickets for The Phantom of the Opera in the West End in London. At dinner I asked, “Do you think I’m beautiful?” It was one
of the few times he looked me squarely in the eyes, answering, “Jenifer, you’re so beautiful sometimes it’s hard to look at you.”

  Looking to boost Terrence’s self-esteem, I got him a job on Strong Medicine. He needed the money and we stupidly thought being together night and day would strengthen our relationship. Of course, it had the opposite effect.

  JOURNAL ENTRY: I feel so foolish sometimes where Terrence is concerned. He could be playing me. Am I afraid of being alone? But I can’t take being with him at work and at home. He’s got to get the fuck out of Strong Medicine, it’s killing us, I believe.

  That’s what I wrote, but it is not what I told Terrence. Instead our relationship sort of limped along, both of us wanting it to work, but neither willing to admit it wasn’t. I was a bit surprised when Terrence proposed—by nearly throwing the ring at me. Suffice it to say, the moment wasn’t as romantic as I might have hoped. Ronnie was present. Terrence seemed detached during the whole thing. I was afraid to announce it to anyone. I didn’t even want to tell Charmaine.

  Terrance went with me to St. Louis for Christmas that year but I think he was stressing over whether he could handle marriage or not. We were still going on and off with our bullshit. Impulsively, we ran away after Christmas to Cancun to celebrate the new millennium. We said, “If the world does end, at least we’ll be somewhere pretty and together.” It didn’t work. We fought like dogs the entire time.

  As Charmaine entered her teens, everything changed. She turned into Regan from The Exorcist. We tangled—about homework, summer school, everything. She was secretive; of course I was frightened about drugs and was uncomfortable with some of the kids she hung out with. When Charmaine held a pool party while I was away, I lit into her and used the f-word over and over. I apologized profusely; I had been abusive and I was truly sorry. I felt even worse the next morning, when I had to leave Charmaine in order to fly to Florida to join Bette Midler and Kirsten Dunst at a campaign rally for John Kerry, the Democratic nominee for president. While in Florida, I got the call that my cousin Ronnie was in a coma in a hospital in St. Louis. I rushed home to sit by Ronnie’s side and hold his hand. Though he could not hear me, I thanked him for helping me raise Charmaine and told him how much we loved him. I hugged him and whispered in his ear, “You go on to sleep now, baby, if you want to. But hold on a minute, Ronnie, my hair looks like shit!” I knew he was laughing inside.