Actress and comedienne Mo'nique celebrates her Oscar for a Best Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role for the film Precious: Based on the Novel 'Push' by Saphire during the 82nd Academy Awards Sunday at the Kodak Theater in Hollywood. (Mark Ralston / AFP/Getty Images)

By Michel Martin

Did you stay up late to watch the Oscars?

Every year, I tell myself I am going to act on the good sense I was born with and GO TO BED because:

1) I need the sleep

2) I can read about it later

3) I can watch at least some of it later

4) All I really care about is what the women are wearing (who am I kidding, and please refer to #2).

And then every year I do the same thing, and watch anyway.

This year, though I had a good reason to watch -- in part, because I had actually managed to see a number of the contenders (not Avatar -- I just have not had four hours out of my life to get there: three hours in running time, plus travel time to get there. I'll admit it. Sorry. I still keep waiting for Boston Globe film critic Wesley Morris to baby sit) -- and because there was the whole historic aspect of the thing.

There was the whole Hillary-Bill/Obama overlay to the Best Director's race. Think about it: Kathryn Bigelow was nominated for The Hurt Locker; she was formerly married to James Cameron, who was nominated for Avatar and they were both in the same category as Lee Daniels who was nominated for Precious, only the second African-American to make it to the best director nomination. And you can take it too far, but there is clearly politics involved -- a sense of "Isn't it about time?" -- along with the question of excellence, however defined.

Having been a judge for many awards in my own field -- for the Emmys (because I have one), for the Joan Barone (because I have one), and for a number of others, I know that I vote based on any number of criteria, including what I want to see more of, such as more street-level reporting, more individual effort, or to encourage the underdog, or uncommon courage, or technical brilliance.

So that's one reason I wanted to watch. What did the Academy Awards voters want to see more of?

Our Monday discussion:

Why does the Academy love Black people in pain?

Mo'Nique's riveting portrayal of Mary, the abusive mother of Precious (played by Hollywood breakout star Gabourey Sidibe), was certainly the kind that gets attention. I don't think anyone begrudges her that statue. But one issue that people are talking about is the one that Bennett College President Julianne Malveaux writes about in her recent column.

She says, "While I am glad for Mo'nique's victory, I did not relish the Precious story of welfare pathology making it to the screen. Why not more positive roles for African-American women?"

Our guest Reginald Hudlin, himself a Hollywood player, told us this isn't a black issue but, well, a Hollywood thing. Remember, all the white women playing prostitutes who were winning awards a while back? And let's face it, the bad guy gives you so much more to work with.

I'm no film expert. Just putting it out there.

Now, I need some caffeine.

Lester K. Spence

By Lester K. Spence

On a recent Tell Me More conversation titled "Black Male Privilege?," host Michel Martin talked with L'Hereux Lewis, an assistant professor of sociology at City University of New York, about the controversial issue of "black male privilege." Now off the rip, it would seem that the term itself is a contradiction.

How the hell can black men have privilege if there are more of them in jail than any other population, fewer in school than damn near any other population, and work as the poster child that drives black and non-black political attitudes rightward?

An anecdote might work here.

A few years ago, I delivered a talk at the Public Health School at the University of Michigan. Afterwards I met a young Ph.D. student who told me her research was on gender gaps and sexual bargaining practices. Basically, she was interested in knowing how the gender gap that exists in black communities influenced safe-sex practices.

Were women in neighborhoods with few eligible black men more or less likely to engage in dangerous practices?

What she found was that black women in these types of neighborhoods were far more likely to engage in unsafe sex practices, and far more likely to engage in practices they didn't want to engage in, than their black female counterparts in other environments. When I pressed her as to why she thought this was the case, she talked about bargaining power -- the very thing that Dr. Lewis and Michel Martin talked about in the interview. Because black women felt they were competing with other black women for a limited resource (black men) they felt they were powerless to negotiate the terms of their sexual relationship.

Now, we know that men are scarce in these neighborhoods for structural reasons. We also know that not all men benefit here. But those men who are able to navigate the system are able to use this to their benefit.

There are two aspects of privilege at work here.

The first aspect is the resource itself. Whether we are talking about negotiating relationships, or getting jobs, the few black men who are able to navigate the system "get more stuff." That is they get more resources, and negotiate from a better position than their black female counterparts.

The second aspect -- and this is the critical one for me -- the one that I wished Dr. Lewis and Michel Martin could have spent more time on, is the way this dynamic related to construction of issues deemed important to black communities. The very fact that the "black male crisis" is synonymous with the "black crisis" is a testimony to the way that black male privilege constructs what we think of as "black politics," what we think of as important enough to convene symposiums, to have boycotts and marches, to urge legislation for.

I have a book on my shelf about black women's studies edited by Gloria Hull, Patricia Bell Scott, and Barbara Smith titled "All the Women are White, All the Blacks are Men, But Some of Us are Brave" (italics mine).

There are questions I have of Lewis' work, but it is clear to me that he's beginning a conversation that is definitely worth having.

Lester K. Spence is an assistant professor of political science at Johns Hopkins University. His book Stare in the Darkness: Rap, Hip-hop, and Black Politics will be published in August 2010. He shares his insight on his blog The Future is Here.

By Michel Martin

Sniffle, sniffle. Cough, cough.

Oh, sorry; excuse me while I (cough) -- I was just, you know, trying to get it together here.

I appreciate my colleague Lynn Neary for stepping in on short notice. It's a hard call to make -- if you were raised with a strong work ethic, as I was -- to have to call people at home first thing in the morning and say, "I just can't do it. I can't get in the car. I can't make it, the room is spinning. I have a fever." Well, it's hard.

I know that I was not much use to anybody on Monday and Tuesday but I still hated making that call. I feel like I'm letting people down -- the people who worked hard to set up interviews for me, the people who were looking forward to talking to me in particular and not just to somebody at NPR, (hey, it happens) the people who have to figure out how to cover for me. I hate to let them down.

And it's not because I am afraid I'll lose my job. I'm not.

But, every time I do have to call in sick, it does make me think about all the people who are or who might be afraid they would lose their jobs for doing what I just did, however necessary.

This is not a simple issue and I realize that. There are very small businesses that rely on a small cadre of workers to get things done; every job is not suitable for temp labor and can't afford it anyway. I know how it throws me into a panic when my babysitter is sick. It's a ripple effect: if she doesn't work, then I can't either. But people do get sick. Nobody wants to be sick (but it happens), especially to people in certain fields.

The question I have is, with a majority of women in the paid labor force, why is this still a matter of private anxiety, and not a matter of some -- some -- shared social concern?

State troopers swing billy clubs to break up a civil rights march in Selma, Ala., on March 7, 1965. The day would later become infamously known as "Bloody Sunday." (AP Photo)

By Lee Hill

This Sunday marks the 45th anniversary of the March on Selma, also known as "Bloody Sunday."

It all started when police in Marion, Alabama shot Jimmie Lee Jackson, a young black man, during a voting rights rally. He would later die from that gunshot injury suffered in February 1965. His murder outraged members of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), led by a young John Lewis (now a 12-term U.S. Congressman from Georgia). So on March 7, 1965, the group of black activists did what they knew best -- they marched.

More than 500 protesters mobilized to march from Selma to the state capitol in Montgomery, the throne of the late Gov. George Wallace, a staunch segregationist at the time.

But the demonstrators made little traction before Alabama state troopers unleashed a torrent of tear gas, whips, batons and all manner of brutality aimed at immobilizing the SNCC and silencing their chants. John Lewis and many others were hospitalized because of their wounds. The beatings were televised for the world to see.

It was bloody, and it was Sunday.

Tensions Boil In San Diego's 'Post-Racial' America

Since the 2008 election of President Barack Obama, some argue that we are now living in a post-racial America -- no more racism, no more color-coded strife. Prejudiced whites and self-hating blacks finally see a tangible reason to abandon their ill-informed ideologies and embrace unity, respect and equality.

Kumbaya? Not so fast.

Let's glance over the country to our neighbors out West, where racial tensions have reached a tipping point on the campus of the University of California, San Diego (UCSD).

Just weeks ago, members of several UCSD fraternities thought it amusing to "commemorate" Black History Month with -- you guessed it -- a "Compton Cookout" party.

In case you were not invited, here's an excerpt of the invitation that describes the venue's dress code, as posted to Facebook.com:

For girls: For those of you who are unfamiliar with ghetto chicks-Ghetto chicks usually have gold teeth, start fights and drama, and wear cheap clothes - they consider Baby Phat to be high class and expensive couture. They also have short, nappy hair, and usually wear cheap weave, usually in bad colors, such as purple or bright red. They look and act similar to Shenaynay, and speak very loudly, while rolling their neck, and waving their finger in your face. ...

And, of course, a (self-described) 'Jiggaboo' magically surfaced to defend the whole ordeal:

Apparently, the after-party spilled onto the airwaves of the campus television station, where, during a broadcast, angry black students were dismissed as "ungrateful ni**ers."

Since discussing this on Tell Me More, there have been more festivities.

A noose was recently found hanging on the campus and, just Monday, university officials reported a prominent campus statue being topped with a Ku Klux Klan-style hood.

Here's a news report of the reaction (as reported by KTLA-TV in Los Angeles) from black students on the campus, which make up less than 2 percent of the student population at UCSD:

It's no secret; I grew up in the tradition of the black church. There's a song we used to sing that some of the elders said reminded them of the Civil Rights Movement. Here's a lyrical excerpt:

We've come this far by faith,
Leaning on the Lord.
Trusting in His Holy Word,
He never failed me yet.

And, oh,
Can't turn around.
We've come this far by faith.

But how far have we really come since "Bloody Sunday"?

The ladies of the Zeta Tau Alpha, Epsilon chapter, of the University of Arkansas, compete in the 2010 Sprite Stepoff. (greatestsorority / YouTube)

By Teshima Walker

I don't know whether I've ever mentioned that I pledged a sorority when I was in college. My father insisted that I become a member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Incorporated (AKA). I indulged him. He's a good daddy. So, I spent about two years working with my "sisters/sorors" (other women who joined the same organization) in voter registration drives, editing the school newspaper and protesting a few "injustices."

I was also a member of AKA's step team.

"Step," for those of you who haven't heard, refers to synchronized dance or drill movements. African-American members of Greek-letter organizations are said to have pioneered "stepping." It's beautiful to see. Picture this: nine young women, dressed identically, moving with precision. They dance. They stomp and clap doing several intricate "hambone" movements which include hand-hitting-chest or hand-slapping-thigh motions. And, they "signify" (talk about how cute they are and what wonderful things they've done through their membership to make the world a better place.)

Recently, Coca-Cola (via Sprite) hosted a national "step" show competition and a white sorority, Zeta Tau Alpha, was the original champion. Here's a clip of their performance:

There was a huge outcry following the event. And, later, Coca-Cola said there was a scoring error during the competition and has since announced that the young white sorority will have to share first place with the members of AKA from Indiana University.

The AKAs are black.

I almost hate to say this, but I saw the tape. The members of Zeta Tau Alpha kicked their competitors' behinds -- hands down. Yes, they did.

Those young women shouldn't have to share the prize -- $100,000 in scholarships. They earned their victory. "Stepping" may be an African-American tradition, but competition is just that. You've got to put on the best performance and get the highest score. Besides, my sorors, the AKAs at Indiana University, should have too much pride to accept some lame "scoring error" excuse. They should turn down the money and graciously send a congratulatory note to the members of Zeta. And, my sorors, the AKAs at the University of Arkansas (they trained the members of Zeta Tau Alpha to compete in the stepoff), should speak up about their role in expanding the "step" tradition beyond the black community.

Who knows, maybe it's time for stepping -- like jazz and hip-hop -- to be exposed to a more diverse college student body. I'm curious to see all of the interesting and fun things that people will create in stepping.

Zeta Tau Alpha member and step team co-captain Alexandra Kosmitis will talk about the Coca-Cola competition tomorrow on Tell Me More with host Michel Martin.

Thanks for listening.

Dorothy Dandridge staring in Island in the Sun (1957). (Hulton Archive / Getty Images)

By Lee Hill

Tell Me More is moving full speed ahead with its pre-Oscar multimedia series Divas On Screen, beginning today with a profile of the classic late entertainer Dorothy Dandridge. TMM producer extraordinaire Monika Evstatieva has assembled a dynamic series of commentaries by author Mia Mask focusing on five trailblazing actresses, all of whom have had a profound impact on the portrayal of black women on the big screen.

Tune in (and log on) daily this week to hear more about legendary performers (in order) Pam Grier, Whoopi Goldberg, Oprah Winfrey and Halle Berry. And if you miss a day, no worries. We've put together a series hub that houses both on-air and online multimedia components for each installment. Just click here throughout the week for more.

Meet you back here tomorrow.

By Rob Sachs

Working on a radio program like Tell Me More, we're charged with presenting an hour's worth of airtime each day. We need to be timely, engaging, and bring on guests who will both surprise and enlighten. To be sure, some of our interviews are booked the same day the program airs, such as in the case of breaking news. But other interviews can take months of preparation: case in point, Wednesday's conversation with the Black Eyed Peas.

I first thought about arranging this interview back in December when I noticed the band would be coming through Washington on tour, promoting their album The E.N.D. They would be playing at the Verizon Center, which is just a few short blocks away from NPR's DC headquarters. The Black Eyed Peas seemed like a great fit for our program. Not only had they achieved widespread commercial and critical success, they also have compelling personal stories we felt would connect with our listeners.

So what goes into planning? It's a lot of emails; a lot of phone calls; and finally, a lot of favors. The BEP's schedule didn't permit them to come into our studios so we had to go on-site and interview them before the concert. This meant asking our guest host Lynn Neary to work well into the night for us, asking the NPR's News Division to loan out one of their audio engineers, and asking my own wife to be ok with putting our daughter to bed on her own (a task we usually share). Once our team made it to the Verizon Center, we were shuttled by handlers from one location to the next, at each stop a new security person had to verify our credentials.

After over an hour and a half of standing around, we finally got the call; it was our turn to interview the group. As the producer, questions raced through my mind: was the room going to be quiet enough? Would the sound engineer have enough space to mic everyone properly? Did I give Lynn enough background material to help her prepare for the interview? And, most importantly, was the group even going to answer our questions sincerely? All this was unknown right up till the moment we sat down. But once things got started, I knew we were going to be ok. Lynn immediately was able to make the group comfortable and the conversation wound up being both natural and easy going. When you hear the interview you would have never have guessed all the work it took to get those 10 minutes with the Black Eyed Peas, but now you know.

Thanks for listening.