I grew up in a generation that was outside. Young people watching Stranger Things still ask: "Were 80s kids really outside like that?" Yesssssss. We d
I grew up in a generation that was outside. Young people watching Stranger Things still ask: “Were 80s kids really outside like that?” Yesssssss. We didn’t have cell phones. We simply had to check in from time to time, and be home by the time the streetlights came on. Our aunts and uncles had the same story. It was glorious!
The thing about it is outside was advanced level education. You were learning how to deal with sooooo many different personalities and you never knew who was going to show up on any given day.
In a sense I do not connect with the younger generations criticism about how Tichina Arnold’s character on the 1990s classic and hit sitcom Martin was treated because for millions of us it was real.
We were there at that time. The writers stuck to one of the golden rules: write what you know. If you were around a diverse group of people on a regular basis-no phones, no computers, scheduled tv-this was how it was. Sometimes there was laughter and joy, and then on the turn of a dime the energy could switch.
What they do not show you is that sometimes it could turn to an outright physical fight. Even short little me, literally got into fistfights with girls AND boys. (Not uncommon. Most of us took & maybe even gave licks)
Young people get into verbal disagreements on social media. We would go from playing and laughing one minute, to fighting for our lives from the position of being body slammed by a boy who didn’t like your tone, or the fact that people laughed at what you said the next. It was like living around people who carried unspoken wounds, quick tempers, and bruised egos. You learned to read a room fast and be prepared to fight or flee if you got it wrong. You learned to survive.
So it feels more than unfair sometimes for young people to demand we fluff pillows to prop up a cleaner and softer version than what was actually true at that time. (Now too.)
Pam’s character is the real deal, and while we are on the topic, so is Aunt Esther from Sanford & Son. We did not engage with folks through the filter of a screen. We were outside. We were in the room. And that’s just the way it was. We learned to hold our own in the most treacherous environments. That’s a true story.
That’s what it was like to hang around people in a world with no electronic distractions. You engaged with people for hours on and it didn’t always go lovely and beautifully. You just had to deal with the real. No script. No filter. It was what it was.
And exactly why are we pretending that men do not talk to women rudely?
Some people will verbally clobber women for asking about weight, marriage, spirituality, children etc. Valid. But shy away from true depictions of how rudely some men truly speak to women.
Some characters pass through TV.
Pam stayed.
Tichina Arnold gave us a woman who wasn’t pretending, wasn’t shrinking, and wasn’t performing softness just to make other people feel powerful.
Pam walked onto that screen like somebody we already knew.
The cousin who keeps it real.
The homegirl who notices danger before anybody else.
The friend who will roast you lovingly — and fight for you fiercely.
And for so many Black women — and a whole lot of other women too — she meant something.
Because Pam showed us things we rarely got to see done with dignity.
She was funny — but she wasn’t the joke.
Pam had timing.
Pam had presence.
Pam had that look that said, “I see through you.”
She could light up a scene and still hold her respect.
Her humor didn’t come from humiliation.
It came from intelligence — from knowing herself — from refusing nonsense.
There was power in that.
She didn’t beg to be chosen.
Pam loved love — but she never made love her whole identity.
She flirted.
She laughed.
She dated.
But she also worked, dreamed, rested, and lived.
She reminded us:
You don’t have to accept disrespect just to avoid being alone.
You don’t have to shrink so somebody else can feel tall.
And a lot of us needed to see that — especially those of us who learned silence young.
She held boundaries…and still had heart.
Pam was loyal.
Pam protected her best friend Gina.
Pam spoke up when the line was crossed.
She did it with warmth.
She did it with style.
She did it without fear.
She wasn’t the “angry Black woman.”
She was a woman who refused to be played — and still showed up with love.
There is a difference.
And it was healing to watch.
Their friendship mattered.
No jealousy arc. (Okay except when Biggie made a guest appearance and Gina & Pam made fools of themselves and embarrassed Martin but it was funny)
No betrayal storyline.
No punishment for two Black women shining together.
Pam and Gina represented what we all deserve:
friendship that celebrates you
friendship that checks you gently
friendship that stands beside you when life hits hard
That image still lives inside us.
She looked like us. She moved like us. She felt real.
The hair.
The earrings.
The laughter.
The strength.
The softness she didn’t advertise — but carried.
Pam felt like family.
And for women who grew up rarely seeing themselves reflected with warmth and humor, that reflection was a gift.
She deserved more flowers then — and she deserves them now.
Looking back, many of us realize:
She carried weight on that show.
She made scenes sparkle.
She held her own with giants.
Tichina Arnold poured craft, discipline, and soul into that role — and she kept showing up with excellence long after.
So today, we say it plainly:
Pam mattered.
Tichina Arnold matters.
And the women who saw themselves in her matter, too.
For every Survivor reading this:
You don’t have to become smaller to be loved.
You don’t have to laugh at being disrespected.
You don’t have to apologize for your voice, your standards, or your wisdom.
You get to be funny, brilliant, grounded, stylish, cautious, bold, loving — all at once.
You get to set boundaries without shame.
And like Pam, you get to walk into every room knowing:
“I belong here — and I don’t have to beg for it.”
Flowers given.
Legacy honored.
Gratitude spoken.
And we’re just getting started.
People from that time, who grew up in that time, recognize a talent like no other. She fearlessly hung right alongside a more seasoned comedic talent. A comedic genius. We were amazed. Many times she had Martin breaking character because he couldn’t help it. She got him. She got us, the audience, too and hasn’t let us go since.
Put respect on this woman’s name and the characters that she brings to life. Do not wait for others to do it. Show her all the love and give her her much deserved flowers.
It is not fair to her that every time we speak her name, on behalf of _____ (fill in the blank on any given day), a complaint soon follows. Her unique and dynamic talent knocked down obstacles and has kept her shining for decades against the odds.
WE must appreciate our own. That too is a form of deep and abiding self love.
Survivors like the comedic OG herself, Moms Mabley, showed us how it is done.