My Love/Hate Relationship With My Voice

Recording narration for my
documentary, "Lady Wrestler."

"Baby I just can't stand to see you happy. More than that, I hate to see you sad. Honey, if you left me, I just might do something rash. What's this strange relationship?" 
- Prince, "Strange Relationship"

As writers, we're told to find our voices. I've always had a love/hate relationship with mine - my speaking voice, that is.

The other night I was thrilled to attend a concert in which several musician friends of mine performed in a prestigious concert series at a historic theater in my hometown of Columbus, Ohio. 

During intermission, on the way back to my seat from a trip to the men's room, I ran into another friend who happened to be working as an usher at the event. She introduced me to her friend, who was also ushering. This older woman whom I'd never met before in my life inexplicably began talking in a low voice like Smaug the Dragon from "The Hobbit." Turns out she thought she was being funny by mocking my deep voice!

I wish I could dismiss this woman as some insensitive moron who is on the verge of senility. But over the years, a couple of friends who are otherwise nice, considerate people have also mocked my voice, thinking they're being oh-so cute and oh-so clever with their "good-natured teasing."

I'm all for not taking one's self too seriously, but making fun of the deepness - or lack thereof - of someone's speaking voice is just as obnoxious as mocking someone's accent. It sends a message that the person being mocked is "foreign," abnormal, that they don't fit in.

I would love to be able to fit in and be just like everyone else. I'm sure Dennis Haysbert is a fine actor and probably a really nice guy, but I don't want to be told I sound like the Allstate Guy. 

I'm often overcome with envy when I hear a man with a high-tenor voice, one that will never carry bass tones across a room and make people turn around and look at him the way mine does.

There was one time when I was meeting in a library with a journalist colleague near a table where two middle-school girls appeared to be studying. When I spoke, one of the girls started repeating everything I said in a mocking voice, like a playground bully making fun of another kid. I simply said, "I don't know what their problem is," and my colleague replied, "I don't, either" - a mild rebuke that silenced the prepubescent mockingbird.

From an intellectual standpoint, I can understand why some people would think it's okay to make fun of a man with an exceptionally deep voice. Because having a deep voice can be perceived as a sign of manliness and virility, making fun of a guy with a deep voice is sort of like a backhanded compliment. It's like cracking the lame, tired and equally offensive "How's the air up there?" joke to a tall guy. (By the way, I'm tall too, but at 6-foot-1, apparently not tall enough to frequently be teased about my height.)  

As sensitive as I am about my voice, I can't imagine what it's like for women with deep voices who are sometimes mistaken for men over the phone!

Truth be told, I can sometimes resort to "voice prejudice" myself. When I hear a man with a particularly soft or weak speaking voice, it's like nails on a chalkboard.  

Though people have occasionally mocked or outright insulted my voice, I've had just as many - or more - compliments on the way I sound. I've been told my voice is soothing and asked if I sing (I do, badly, not even being able to stay on-key singing "Happy Birthday"). 

One time at my day job when I was assigned the task of answering phones and fielding calls from random people seeking information, a woman on the other end of the line told me I have a sexy voice.

As a journalist, I occasionally record my interviews with people. When transcribing interviews, I usually fast-forward over the parts when I'm asking questions because I can't stand the sound of my own voice. 

But there are times when I  come across my voice on a recording and think, "Hmm, I don't sound too bad. Actually, I sound kind of nice." It is truly a love-hate relationship. 

And the funny thing is, I've been paid to do professional voice-over work. My voice has been featured in a couple of different commercials that have aired on radio stations far and wide in my home state of Ohio. A coworker once told me she got a kick out of hearing my voice on the local country station as she drove into work.

In the late 2000s, when I worked full-time at ThisWeek News, a community newspaper chain in my hometown, I was tapped to host the paper's "vodcast." In this weekly online newscast, I and a few of the sports reporters recited a roundup of stories from around central Ohio from a  makeshift teleprompter. When I asked my friend and colleague who produced the vodcast why he chose me for this assignment, he replied, "That voice."

And when it came time to record the narration for "Lady Wrestler," the soon-to-be-released documentary I directed about African-American female wrestlers in the '50s, '60s and '70s, I cast myself as the narrator. I've received compliments from people who have seen the documentary on my voice-over work. 

So these unique pipes that God blessed me with must be good for something. 

Diversity On The Big Screen Is An Ongoing Battle

As we reflect on Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s legacy today, it's apparent, unfortunately, that many of the battles he fought still have yet to be won.

One of Dr. King's greatest victories is memorialized in the Oscar-nominated movie "Selma." One of the best historical dramas of all time, the movie chronicles the march from Selma to Montgomery, Ala., that eventually led to the passage of the Voting Rights Act of 1965. 

While it's certainly an achievement that "Selma" was nominated for both a Golden Globe and an Academy Award for Best Picture, many of the film's fine performances were overlooked. It's unbelievable that David Oyelowo didn't receive a Best Actor nod for his spot-on portrayal of Dr. King.

But perhaps the biggest oversight is the lack of a nomination for "Selma" director Ava DuVernay, who could have made history as the first African-American woman nominated for Best Director. The nearly all-white list of nominees for Best Director, Best Actress and Best Actor has only happened one other time in the past two decades.

And in an ironic twist, this year's Oscars were announced on Jan. 15 - Dr. King's birthday.  

The lack of diversity in the nominees has drawn wide criticism. For an insightful analysis of how the Hollywood awards machine operates and how the "Selma" "snub" happened, I highly recommend New York Times columnist David Carr's commentary. 

The Rev. Al Sharpton, who got his start working alongside Dr. King as a teenager, has called for an emergency meeting to address the issue.

"While it is good that 'Selma' was nominated for Best Picture, it is ironic that they nominated a picture about the racial shutout around voting while there is a racial shutout in the Oscar nominations," Sharpton said in a statement. "With all of the talent in 'Selma' and other black movies this year, it is hard to believe that we have less diversity in the nominations today than in recent history."

As "Selma" powerfully conveys, progress often isn't linear. It took three attempts, many sacrifices on the part of thousands of people of different races, brutal beatings and even several race-related murders for the voting rights march to succeed and achieve its ultimate goal.

Rather than be discouraged by the virtual shutout at this year's Oscars, those of us who are storytellers need to keep telling stories that celebrate diversity. And those of us who enjoy good stories need to support them by exercising our right to vote at the box office. 

We need to keep marching on. 

Small Movies With Big Heart Are The Real Golden Globe Winners

"Selma," directed by indie filmmaker Ava DuVernay,
 is one of the most powerful historic dramas ever made.

Most of us watched the Golden Globes from the comfort of our living rooms Sunday night. But the good news is that for those of us who aspire to tell stories on film, star-studded awards shows are more accessible than ever before.

Of the five movies nominated for Best Motion Picture, Drama, four were made for relatively modest budgets: "Selma," "The Theory of Everything," "The Imitation Game" and "Boyhood" (which won the big prize) were all made for $20 million or less. (I couldn't find the budget for the fifth nominee,  "Foxcatcher," listed the Internet Movie Database or anywhere else online.)

While $20 million may be out of reach for the average indie filmmaker, it's considered a shoestring budget in Hollywood. The innovative "Boyhood," which traces a boy's development as actor Ellar Coletrane literally ages onscreen, was made for just $2.4 million, spread over 12 years of production.

With crowd-sourcing and constantly evolving technology that has dramatically brought production costs down, moviemaking is a much more democratic medium than in decades past when big studios dominated.

Even big stars recognize the value of small, character-driven movies.

"Thank you for keeping small movies alive," George Clooney said upon accepting the Cecil B. Demille award for career achievement. "The big ones do fine. It's the small ones that need support."

The most inspiring story at this year's Golden Globes was that of "Selma" director Ava DuVernay, who was the first African-American woman to be nominated for a Best Director Golden Globe (Richard Linklater won for "Boyhood"). DuVernay, who started out as a publicist, self-financed her first two films, the excellent "I Will Follow" and "Middle of Nowhere," of just $50,000 and $200,000, respectively.

"Selma" is truly one of the best movies of this or any other year, brilliant capturing the historic 1965 Selma to Montgomery voting rights marches and documenting the incredible sacrifices of Dr. Martin Luther King and countless everyday activists.

The success of "Selma" and of DuVernay proves that dreamers really can make their dreams come true. And anything is possible.

Gender Bias Shouldn't Play Lead Role In Storytelling

Over the holidays, a nice surprise was seeing the new remake of "Annie" with my mom, sister, teenage niece and two school-age nephews. "Annie" was a surprise because I didn't think I would like it, but it won me over.

When I saw the trailer for "Annie" last fall, I frankly had no interest in seeing it. Although as a kid I enjoyed seeing the 1982 movie version directed by John Huston and starring Albert Finney as Daddy Warbucks and Aileen Quinn in the title role, this new update didn't look all that appealing to me. There wasn't a particular reason I didn't want to see the new "Annie" at first; it just didn't look interesting.

However, I became fascinated by the "Annie" remake after reading a slew of negative reviews on Metacritic.com. As a writer and filmmaker myself, I became curious to see if the new "Annie" is as much of a train wreck as some critics have been saying it is. 

To my pleasant surprise, I really enjoyed "Annie." Quvenzhane Wallis strikes the right mix of "adorable" and street-wise foster kid in the title role and Jamie Foxx hits the right notes of funny and sincere as Will Stacks (the 21st century version of Daddy Warbucks). In contrast to the harsh reviews, I found "Annie" to be an entertaining family movie with decent singing and acting - performances that are certainly passable for a children's musical.

"Annie" also seemed to hold the attention of not only my niece, but my two young nephews, as well. When I mentioned the "Annie" outing with my family to a friend during a New Year's gathering, she mentioned that she had taken her sons who are around my age to see the '82 movie. One of her sons, who was around 12 at the time, said upon leaving the theater that he hated the movie, especially the fact that it made such a big deal out of "a girl being tough."

As I told my friend, my reaction as a 10-year-old boy to seeing the '82 "Annie" was completely gender-neutral. It never occurred to me that as a boy, I couldn't relate to a story with a girl as a main character. 

"To me, it was not a story about a girl," I told my friend, "but a story about children." And since I was a kid, I could relate.

When an elementary school classmate recently posted on Facebook that she was excited about seeing the new "Annie" because she had always related to the character, I responded that I enjoyed seeing the '82 movie with my grandfather. 

"Yes, a boy can see movies with a girl as the main character," I wrote in my reply to my classmate's Facebook post. "Even my very traditional grandfather understood that." 

I had a similar reaction to another movie that I saw around the same age as a child, "Mommie Dearest." This biopic of screen legend Joan Crawford as seen through the eyes of her adopted daughter Christina was riveting to me as a kid. Christina's complicated relationship with her adoptive mother reminded me of my own relationship with my sometimes demanding and hard-to-please grandfather (without the infamous beating with wire hangers, of course!).

I'm glad that no one told me as a child that boys aren't "supposed" to like stories about girls. I'm glad that I wasn't conditioned with that kind of sexism, because it would have greatly inhibited my creativity as an adult writer. 

My debut novel, "The Chloe Chronicles," centers on the adventures - and mis-adventures - of a black French Creole girl named Chloe Bareaux and her mischievous best friend, Gigi Cartier. 

When I came up with the idea for "Chloe," did I set out to write a story with a female as the main character? Not necessarily. I set out to write the story that was in my head, and that story just happened to have a female in the lead role.

I've also directed a documentary titled "Lady Wrestler," about the experiences of African-American female wrestlers overcoming racism and sexism in the '50s, '60s and '70s. If I had been told as a child that boys aren't supposed to be interested in stories that center on the lives of girls and women, I never would have made "Lady Wrester."

Over the years, there have been "gender-blind" stories that have a universal appeal in which the main character just happens to be a girl. Two that come to mind are "The Wizard of Oz" and "The Hunger Games." Interestingly, neither of these stories have the female character's name in the title. 

If "The Wizard of Oz" had been called "Dorothy" and "The Hunger Games" was titled "Katniss," would they not be as popular because boys wouldn't read the books or see the movies? On the flip side, if "Annie" was titled "The Hard-Knock Life," would it have a broader appeal? 

In a recent interview on NPR's "Fresh Air," Meryl Streep related to host Terry Gross that despite being one of the most successful actors of all time, she still thinks women face obstacles in Hollywood. It's still rare to see a female as the main character of a big-budget, mainstream movie because men's experiences are seen as universal, appealing to all moviegoers, while women's experiences are seen as gender-specific and appealing only to women.

This stubborn prejudice against women is not unlike the way African Americans and other "minorities" are viewed by Hollywood gatekeepers. Most movies have white actors in the lead roles because white people's experiences are seen as universal, while black people's experiences are seen as race-specific.

It's a myth that people are only interested in stories about their "own kind," and that men only care about stories about men. A couple of male friends of mine were huge "Sex and the City" fans and eagerly tuned in each week to see what Carrie and her girlfriends were up to. (The show, of course, also had male characters, although they weren't the center of attention. And yes, these male "Sex and the City" fans are straight.)

The bottom line: if a good story is told the right way, it doesn't matter what gender or color the main character is.