Lifestyle
Where did Barry Jenkins feel safe as a kid? Atop a tree
Barry Jenkins at the world premiere of Disney’s “Mufasa: The Lion King” at the Dolby theater in Hollywood, California, December 9, 2024.
LISA O’CONNOR/AFP via Getty Images/AFP
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LISA O’CONNOR/AFP via Getty Images/AFP
A note from Wild Card host Rachel Martin: It is virtually impossible to watch a Barry Jenkins film and not be emotionally changed. You can’t watch the scene from the Oscar-winning film Moonlight, where Juan teaches Little to swim without seeing the full humanity of both those characters — the fragility and strength and desperation and love all at the same time.
Barry Jenkins never set out to make movies for the masses. He’s a champion of independent film who tells stories about Black life in America — from a film about a one-night stand in San Francisco in the early 2000s to the limited series based on the Colson Whitehead book, The Underground Railroad.
But that’s the thing about art and movies in particular. No matter how specific the experiences reflected on screen, if the story is told as true as it can be — as authentically as possible — the work transcends boundaries. It will mean different things to different people, but it will mean something. And Barry Jenkins has made films that matter in the most profound ways.
So when I tell you that Barry Jenkins is making the newest Disney movie, Mufasa: The Lion King, maybe you need to take a beat because this is the indie filmmaker taking a big swing in the completely opposite direction. But then you remember that Barry Jenkins wants his films to make an emotional imprint on us. And if a little “Hakuna Matata” doesn’t make you feel joy, then I don’t know what will.
The official trailer of “Mufasa: The Lion King.”
YouTube
This Wild Card interview has been edited for length and clarity. Host Rachel Martin asks guests randomly-selected questions from a deck of cards. Tap play above to listen to the full podcast, or read an excerpt below.
Question 1: Where would you go to feel safe as a kid?
Barry Jenkins: I grew up very poor — in the world that you see dramatized in Moonlight. And I lived in this housing project — I think it was built as barracks, probably for soldiers — and then became public housing.
Martin: This is in Miami, we should say.
Jenkins: This is in Miami, exactly. And in the middle of this complex, there was an old, like, laundromat, like a washhouse. And it was this one-story, maybe like 20-by-10-foot thing, the structure. But it had this flat roof and there was this massive tree above it. And I remember as a child, if things were too heavy or there was too much going on, I would go and I would climb up in the window to get onto the roof and then I would jump onto the tree and I would squirrel up into the very top of this tree — like so high that if someone was walking by, they would never know someone was up there. And I would just go up into this tree and I would just sort of just listen to the sounds of the day. I would just clear my head. And I think I would just stay up there until I felt like I was ready to sort of reenter the world or reenter my life. I haven’t thought of that in a very, very long time because the idea of me climbing trees now is crazy. But yeah, that’s what I would do.
The official movie trailer for “Moonlight.”
YouTube
And it’s interesting, later in life I would sometimes go on these long walks as a teenager and I would find these empty houses that had fruit trees in the backyards, you know, it’s Florida, it’s Miami — grapefruit trees, avocado trees. I guess I climb trees a lot. I would climb trees to go feel safe.
Martin: And to get perspective probably. I mean, there’s something about getting high above the din of life and the hard things.
Jenkins: Yeah, it’s weird. There’s a version of it that maybe is: you’re trying to avoid all these different things, but I think solitude can be very fortifying as well. And to sort of recenter yourself before you reenter the rigors, the demands of everyday life, especially that life, because it was a lot for a child to process.
Question 2: What is something you still feel you need to prove to the people you meet?
Jenkins: Because of where I came from and what I do, that there’s just always this version of me that feels like I’m not enough, you know? That I constantly have to prove, to reaffirm my ability, my value, my merits. And so any time I walk onto a set, I walk into a conversation like this — and it sucks because it’s the antithesis to us actually communicating and connecting — is me bringing this voice in the back of my head that feels like, “I am just simply not enough. I’m not good enough.”
The flip side is, you know, it keeps me very driven. I am trying to put my full self, I am trying to just be unimpeachably affirmative, of value, of merit — just of merit. And I think it’s something that will always be with me, unfortunately, because I don’t think it’s something that adds value.

Martin: You haven’t experienced it abating over time?
Jenkins: No, no, no, I have not. I made this film If Beale Street Could Talk, which is an adaptation of James Baldwin. And there’s this great quote that we put into the movie. It’s taken directly from the book: “The children have been told that they weren’t worth s*** and everything around them proved it.”
It’s, on one hand, a very lovely, beautiful book, but also a very angry, justifiably angry, book. And something of that line just stays in the back of my head. And for some reason, I feel like I’ll always be working in the opposite direction to disprove it, you know? That I’m not worth s***. And so that’s it. So I’m going to give you the honest answers, Rachel Martin.
Question 3: Do you think there’s order in the universe or is it all chaos?
Jenkins: I think it’s all chaos. I really do. I have to believe that.
Martin: Woah. People usually give the complete opposite answer — that there is order because they have to believe that — because the alternative is so unsettling.
Jenkins: The alternative is unsettling. But there’s also something quite beautiful about it as well. I do believe that the universe is chaos and our role in it, which is I think the beauty and the agony of life, is to make sense of it and to try to create order, but to do it ethically, to do it in a way that’s spiritually balanced.
I truly and fully believe that, because if the universe was completely the situation of order, I think the history of me, you know, I’m the descendant of African slaves — what order gave birth to that path? That certainly came out of complete chaos and horror. But I think we can take that chaos and create something quite profound. I really do.
Screenwriter Tarell Alvin McCraney (left) and writer/director Barry Jenkins (right) accept the Best Adapted Screenplay award for “Moonlight” onstage during the 89th Annual Academy Awards at Hollywood & Highland Center on February 26, 2017 in Hollywood, California.
Christopher Polk/Getty Images/Getty Images North America
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Christopher Polk/Getty Images/Getty Images North America
I mean, Rachel Martin, it is December 2024. You’re going to tell me the last five years on this planet, you know, have been orderly? They have been beyond chaotic. I mean, beyond. And when we go out and create work — when you do these interviews, when I create these films — I do think we’re all trying to have conversations, dialogue, to make sense of all this chaos, to show that we’re all navigating it in our own ways and we are just doing the best we can.
Martin: Indeed. And I think when people give the opposite answer — that there’s order — it’s their projection of order that makes the chaos manageable. You know?

Jenkins: It is true. I have to be honest and say most of the people who come onto the show — myself included — we’re speaking from places of extreme privilege. Not all of us, but quite a few of us. And I just can’t ever really sit in that place.
Lifestyle
‘The Invite’ is a marriage comedy with sex and heart
Lifestyle
L.A. Affairs: It’s hot when a man drives to me. But would this new guy make the trek from the Valley?
I met Dan on Hinge.
He lives in Woodland Hills, and I live in Venice. In Los Angeles, this is considered a long-distance relationship. In another city it might be nothing. Here, it’s a factor.
But I believe that with the right person, you can make anything work, so I stay open. I’m a native New Yorker, and if I were living in Brooklyn and a guy lived on the Upper West Side, that would be a 45-minute subway ride, which is truly nothing in New York. So with that same logic, I try to have flexibility with men in L.A.
When we started planning our first date, Dan suggested three options: a hike on mushrooms, a wine tasting or a walk on the beach.
A hike on mushrooms is something I’d only do with someone I already trust, not someone I just met online. I don’t do first-date hikes because I don’t like feeling trapped if the guy’s a dud. So I chose the wine tasting.
Then I learned the wine tasting was in West Hills.
On a Friday night, driving there from Venice would be insane. So I said I didn’t want to meet there because of the traffic. He suggested Malibu. That was also not ideal on a Friday.
I was getting annoyed — this was a pink flag because in my dating world, the guy is supposed to come to the woman’s neighborhood in the early days. I’ve gone out with plenty of men from the Valley who effortlessly suggested they come to me. It’s not rare or impossible.
I suggested he come to the Westside. I didn’t specifically say Venice, and in hindsight, I probably should have. He landed on Brentwood, which was manageable for both of us. On our first date, we met at an Irish pub on Wilshire Boulevard. He was cuter and more interesting than I had expected, and with the Guinness flowing, we had fun.
When I got home, he texted me: “Well, I like you 🙂 Less the tik tok and the lack of rock music in your life, but it’s not a deal breaker — there are other qualities 🙂 What are your thoughts?”
I noticed the slight negativity but was mostly dazzled that a man texted immediately after the date to say he liked me. In the modern dating economy, this felt rare.
The next day, both of our evening plans fell through, so we made a last-minute date. The wine tasting he originally suggested still sounded like fun, and although it meant me driving to the Valley, I was up for it now that we’d met.
We sipped flights at Malibu Wines & Beer Garden in its airy, romantic courtyard and played a flirty version of Truth or Dare. Halfway through, he dared me to kiss him.
We ended with sushi on Ventura Boulevard and a short make-out session in his car. He invited me to Thanksgiving at his uncle’s, which felt too soon, but also sweet.
After the second date, he texted and said he had his kids that week and was also hosting an event on Thursday, so his only day to meet was Wednesday. I said great.
On Tuesday night, he checked if we were still on, and I said yes.
Then he texted: “I’m flexible on time but not on location. I have a big event on Thursday, hopefully you can come to me again.”
My stomach tightened. This again?
So I texted back: “I drove to you last time, which was a bit of an exception for me especially in the early days, but the wine tasting location sounded special. Usually guys come to my area. How about we switch it up this time?”
He replied: “I appreciate the effort! Because of my event, I’d rather be close to a computer just if needed … Here is what i offer:
— I’ll come to your area anytime next week/end
— Lunch/dinner on me
I want to continue where we stopped last time 😉 No pressure of course, but let’s snuggle”
I responded: “Ok let’s meet next week. Snuggles sound nice … let’s see what happens …”
Then he wrote: “So I won’t see you tomorrow?”
I replied: “Unless you wanna come to me and bring your laptop along, let’s rain check until you have more flexibility.”
He said: “Dang, you are hard. I’ll let you know tomorrow around midday if it’s ok.”
And then — surprise — he decided to come.
He drove to Venice for a 5 p.m. date. He said his ETA was 5 p.m., and it ended up being 5:25 p.m., typical 405 Freeway.
When he showed up, he was in a cranky mood. On our way to KazuNori in Marina del Rey, I thanked him for picking me up and told him I think it’s hot when the guy comes to the girl.
“You’re just saying that because you want me to come to you more,” he said, not playfully, but aggressively.
That was basically the end for me. But there I was, in his car, heading to dinner. So I stayed pleasant and tried to make the best of it.
I shared that in the early stages of dating, I find it’s good etiquette for the guy to come to the woman’s neighborhood. He immediately disagreed and started ranting about how dating rules are ridiculous and how they swing in women’s favor. He resented paying for dates and declared he wasn’t looking to “sponsor a woman’s life.”
“If women want equality and equal rights,” he said, “then it should apply all across the board, including dating, and the man shouldn’t have to pay.”
I said women don’t actually have equal rights because we get paid less than men and often receive lower salaries than men in the same position.
I tried to change the subject and reset the mood, but he insisted we keep hashing it out.
I tried to explain masculine/feminine dynamics: providing and protecting, giving and receiving.
“What does the man get out of this arrangement?” he asked.
It was like watching someone’s personality warp into Mr. Hyde. Then he brought up another point: He’s a single dad of two kids, so he gets tired; and because I don’t have kids, that should factor into who drives where.
At this point, I was barely engaging and focused on eating my hand rolls, and I couldn’t wait to get home.
The check came, and I happily split it, wanting nothing further from him.
In the car back to my place, he remarked: “It’s obvious we’re never gonna see each other again.”
Obvious, but did it need to be stated?
Then he showed me a Spotify playlist he’d made for me of his favorite electronic music, because he knows I like EDM.
“Oh, that’s sweet,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s how I show interest. Through things like this, not who drives to who,” he replied.
When I got out of the car, we wished each other luck, and I headed inside and shut the door.
Two hours later, he sent me the playlist. I’ve yet to listen to it.
It wasn’t the distance that ruined it. It was the resentment. I’m not looking for a man who feels burdened by the effort. I’m looking for a man who sees the value of courting a woman in the first place.
The author is a writer, comedian and former psychologist who lives in Venice. She is the creator of the new vertical series “Manfari.” She’s on Instagram: @solange_neue and @manfari.show.
L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.
Lifestyle
Smithsonian chief emphasizes ‘accuracy and integrity’ after White House report
Lonnie Bunch III is the 14th Secretary of the Smithsonian. He’s pictured above in September 2017.
J. Scott Applewhite/AP
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J. Scott Applewhite/AP
In a memo addressed to staffers sent Tuesday, the secretary of the Smithsonian, Lonnie G. Bunch III, defended the institution after the White House issued a 162-page report that characterizes the National Museum of American History as a place which has become “subject to institutional capture by a radical, activist ideology that is fundamentally opposed to telling the noble, honest story of the great country we know and love.”
In his email, which NPR has obtained, Bunch wrote in part: “While there will always be room for improvement, this report is not a fair characterization of the work and totality of the National Museum of American History. At the Smithsonian, our work is driven by scholarship, accuracy and an uncompromising commitment to tell the fullness of America’s story. As public servants and the keepers of this institution, we are charged with helping a nation find understanding, hope and clarity and as part of that duty, we are dedicated to excellence, reflection and growth.”

He continued: “We remain focused on what grounds us: a steadfast commitment to scholarship, nonpartisanship, independence, accuracy and integrity. For nearly 180 years, the Smithsonian has worked alongside partners across government — from the White House to Congress to our governing Board of Regents — guided by our enduring mission to increase and diffuse knowledge. That purpose remains: to pursue knowledge with rigor and to serve the American public with clarity and care.”
The White House report was issued on July 4 by the Domestic Policy Council under the title “Saving America’s Story: How Ideological Capture at the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of American History Erases Our Heritage.”

The council faults the National Museum of American History on a multitude of fronts, saying it underemphasized the Founding Fathers and early colonial and Revolutionary history; was not sufficiently celebratory of the country’s 250th anniversary; and that it engaged in “anti-white,” “illegal alien” and transgender activism.
It also accuses the museum of trying to “indoctrinate” teachers and students through its exhibitions, programming and teaching resources.
In the report, the council also specifically criticizes museum director Anthea Hartig, who has led the National Museum of American History since 2019 and is concurrently the president of the Organization of American Historians, calling her “an activist advancing an ideological agenda contradictory to the museum’s founding purpose of fostering patriotism.”

The Trump administration has made the Smithsonian museums one of its primary targets in its efforts to reshape cultural narratives to align with its viewpoints. In August 2025, the White House requested a “comprehensive internal review” of eight Smithsonian museums, including the National Museum of American History, following an executive order issued by President Trump in March 2025 in which he called for the removal of “improper ideology” from the Smithsonian’s offerings.
According to the Smithsonian’s charter, all of its 21 museums, 14 education and research centers, and the National Zoo are meant to be run independently of the federal government. The Smithsonian is overseen by Bunch and a board of regents, which includes Vice President Vance, Supreme Court Chief Justice John Roberts and other members appointed by Congress.
In an interview with NBC’s Meet the Press on Sunday, Bunch spoke about the Smithsonian’s 250th anniversary special exhibition at the Smithsonian Castle, which is called “American Aspirations.”
He told NBC: “It’s really important for people to understand that America is much an ideal as it is a place, that it’s a series of aspirations that have really shaped who this country is. And so for me, what is so powerful is to say, ‘Let us honor the words of Thomas Jefferson and the founders, but let us use those to challenge us to be better.’”
Jennifer Vanasco edited this story.

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