Of Chick Balls and Big-Mouthed Women

By Donna Ladd Thursday, May 17, 2007 10:30 a.m. CDT

Frank Melton called me a "big mouth" on Councilman Ben Allen's radio show Friday. Sitting in my bedroom listening as Todd showered, I couldn't help but laugh. Heartily. Loudly. You know, in that big-mouthed kind of way that scares people who fear strong women.

Truth is, I've worked my whole life to be loud, proud and independent—and to speak up for myself and those around me, especially the powerless. That's why I can speak up to a man like Melton—who threatens to "cream" women reporters and puts young criminal friends in front of cameras to talk up a female district attorney's dress tail if she dares challenge his "unconventional"— illegal?—means of getting his face on TV.

Of course, I grew up in a culture where being an outspoken woman wasn't particularly appreciated. And, frankly, I still live in that culture. We all do.

Just look around us. How many women do you know personally who are afraid to speak up for themselves? How many female Mississippians bury their real voices inside a teensy-weensy version that doesn't know how to tell a man, "That's enough" (whether domestically or politically)? How many women run from speaking up for themselves until they are given no choice, and then end up covered with bruises, either physically or mentally?

Not to mention the mess too many men make on our behalf in public office—taking our rights away to get cheap votes.

Ladies, each of us must find our voice. We must join our voices together to speak out against bad policies and disgusting behaviors toward women. Or anyone.

We must use those big mouths—perhaps ringed in bright-red lipstick—to demand that violence against women in Mississippi be addressed head on. We must speak up and educate the people around us that women are not chattel, and we are not baby machines, and we are not on this planet to be punching bags for men who can't get their own heads straightened out. We must talk back—whether to yucks like Don Imus who reduced a champion team of athletes to "nappy-headed hos" to amuse other yucks, or to rappers who buy their gold rims by swiping credit cards through the buttocks of black women on music videos.

Women are the majority of the population, and we control the majority of the purse strings. That means that we can be heard by simply choosing how we spend money. We ought not spend a penny on entertainment that reduces women to raw meat. It's time to walk the talk with our Gucci bags, girlfriends.

But it's not all about boycotting the bad stuff; it's about using our big mouths to do good. You're going to see an extraordinary example of such positive girl-work this week at the 3rd Annual JFP Chick Ball. Three years ago, I came up with the idea to do an event to focus on female artistry—being that most of our local acts are male—and to raise awareness about the desperate problem of domestic violence in our state. As I'm not a fan of hoity-toity benefits that only dowdy rich folks can afford to attend, I wanted to do a young, hip event with people of all generations. (Almost, it is an over-18 event.) I wanted the cover charge to be cheap ($5), but give folks lots of ways to spend money for the cause (a silent auction, another $5 for door prizes). And I wanted it to be an event that celebrates chickdom, but with men who love women (and I mean in the respectful, we're-queens-kind-of-way) helping and partying along with us.

My busy staff hastily threw together the first two Chick Balls over a couple of weeks and still managed to raise about $5,000 to benefit the Center for Violence Prevention the first two times out. We were thrilled.

But this year magic happened. A couple of really cool Jackson chicks and musicians—Laurel Isbister and Tara Baker Blumenthal—started bugging me months ago about this year's Chick Ball. Could they get started on the planning? Well, yeah.

So two months ago, a committee of the chickiest, most wonderful women started meeting for lunch on Thursdays at High Noon—Emily Braden, Natalie Collier, Erica Crabtree, Infinite, Meeya Thomas, Deja Gray and Andi Agnew—to plan this year's Ball. As word got out, the committee kept growing. Volunteers started calling (sending the message that so many of us have been touched, or bruised, by domestic abuse). The door prizes started rolling in.

And these weren't the usual suspects who have long donated to JFP events. People were calling from all over the metro and beyond. Businesses in Canton called up to donate. The Delta Sigma Theta Jackson Alumnae Chapter wrote a check for $1,000. The Greater Jackson Arts Council offered to do invitations. The chick snowball just kept growing.

As I type this on Tuesday, we are amid a Chick Ball frenzy. The phone is ringing off the hook, and Ronni Mott is fielding the last-minute donations (which include a surprise pair of diamond hoop earrings for the silent auction from Carter's Jewelers worth $700, thanks to Natalie Piazza). Photographer Jennifer Carter walked in today with three gift certificates for $500 photo sessions. And we have artwork from heavy-hitter gallery owners as well as artists new to the whole selling thing.

(Oh, and the district attorney sent over a check for $100. So much for talking up that lady's dress tail.)

In other words, the Chick Ball is for everyone, whether you're hankering to hear Lisa Palmer and Josh Weiner or Infinite's rhymes. If you can just pay the $5 to get in and buy a Coke, come on down to Hal & Mal's Thursday night and enjoy great music. If you can afford to bid on diamond earrings and compete for an HC Porter, please bring your checkbook or credit card. We will also be selling Chick Ball t-shirts designed by Jakob Clark and blow-ups of fun JFP covers, and we'll take donations at the door (checks made out to Center for Violence Prevention).

So, ladies—and gentlemen who respect and love them—here's your chance. Regardless of the size of your mouth, you can speak up by joining us for a party you won't soon forget and raise money and awareness for a vital concern at the same time. You can wear knockout blingy outfits, or sit back in your jeans and admire all the shine on other people.

People, this ball is for you—big, sassy mouths and all. It's talk-back time.

See jfpchickball.com for details on the event and how to donate to the cause.

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