Star Jones on why she loves Hollywoodâ€™s awards season and the price people will pay for fame.
I was recently having a conversation with a friend and the topic of shame came up. Over a glass of Sancerre, I was lamenting how shocked I was that one particular reality â€œstarâ€ had done some ridiculously over-the-top ghetto (not the place, rather the attitude) thing on television. I canâ€™t remember whether it was pulling hair, vomiting in the street, cursing at her children, spitting on her â€œbest friend,â€ hitting, pushing, or some other ignorant action, but trust me, it was so inappropriate and it was all in the news. The legitimate news! Iâ€™m talking right up there with the Tucson shooting, State of the Union address, and the Super Bowl. I said to my friend, â€œShe must be so ashamed for the whole world to see her act like that; how embarrassing!
My friend actually laughed at me and said, â€œGirl, sheâ€™s not ashamed or embarrassed. As long as sheâ€™s famous, sheâ€™s happy.â€
When did the quest for fame overtake the drive for excellence? When did starring in a sex tape rather than a breakout performance in an independent film become your entreÌe into stardom? When did becoming the third, fourth, or fifth baby mama of an athlete or a musician make you a â€œhousewifeâ€? When did posing with your behind up and your boobs out standing in front of a stripper pole make you a model?
When shame moved out.