Loni Love - I Tried to Change So You Dont Have To: True Life Lessons

D ont you just love that feeling when something good happens and you get to say to yourself, All my hard work has finally paid off. Like after a good divorce settlement or when you finally win ten dollars on a scratch-off after buying a lottery ticket every week for eighteen years.

For me, one of those moments happened on April 29, 2018, at the Pasadena Civic Center. Let me paint you a picture: I looked hot, decked out in a chic and glamorous chin-length wig I call my Anna Wintour and rocking a floor-length dress covered in all kinds of silver crystal and sequins. That heavy-ass gown weighed almost as much as I do.

I settled into my velvet chair in the cavernous auditorium and looked around. The room was filled with the biggest names in daytime television: Vanna White, Alex Trebek, Judge Judy, and the entire cast of The Young and the Restless. Rubbing shoulders with all those stars felt like an accomplishment on its own. But I was there as more than just a spectator. The event was the Daytime Emmy Awards show and I, along with the fabulous Adrienne Houghton, Jeannie Mai, and Tamera Mowry-Housley, had been nominated for our work cohosting the syndicated daytime talk show The Real. Wed only been on air five years, but we were up against three of the highest-rated talk shows on daytime TV: The Talk, The View, and Live with Kelly and Ryan.

Even though we worked our asses off to earn a seat at that table, we didnt think we had a shot at winning. We didnt have the big budget or the legacy of a show like The View, which has been a daytime staple for more than two decades. We couldnt afford to do lavish gift giveaways for our audiences, and we didnt book Hollywoods most coveted stars, like Tom Hanks or Denzel Washington. Not only that, we didnt look like the other shows, either. On The Real every host is a woman of color. We were the first and only daytime talk show without a white cohost. When we first hit the air, critics said wed never last.

Chris Harrison, the host from The Bachelor, was presenting the Emmy for our category. Just like he does on The Bachelor, Chris served the award with extra drama. He leaned into the mic and announced the winner with a few excruciatingly well-timed pauses: And the Emmy goes to[pause]the cohosts of[pause] When he finally said The Real, I was so stunned that for a second I didnt move. Then I came to my senses, jumped from my seat, and bolted to the stage. I was determined to grab that award before somebody from the National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences jumped in and said they changed their minds.

If youd been seated in the audience that night, you would have known immediately that we hadnt expected to win. The four of us were like a bunch of kittens running every which way. While I was hightailing it to the front of the room, Adrienne was running in the other direction, toward our staff who were seated a few rows behind us. She wanted to give them all a hug. Meanwhile, Jeannie was taking off her shoes getting ready to sprint like a track star, and Tam was busy kissing her husband, Adam, which is why you should never go to an awards show with a date.

I was the first one to make it onstage. I clutched the golden statuethe same award that Id seen Oprah Winfrey, Ellen DeGeneres, and Kelly Ripa win many times beforeand looked out into the crowd. I had worked so hard for this moment of recognition. Despite the missteps and disappointments along the waythe failed auditions, the deals that went nowhere, the big breaks that fizzled into nothingId finally arrived. As the rest of the girls leaped onstage to join me, I clutched our Emmy, savored the moment, and burst into tears.

* * *

I didnt get to Hollywood the way a lot of other people do. I wasnt a child star or the child of a star. I didnt write for a college humor magazine, study acting in New York, or know anyone in the industry. In fact, until I was in my twenties, my idea of hitting the big time meant holding down a regular nine-to-five desk job, with benefits. Where I come from, having an employee dental plan meant you were living the dream.

I grew up in the Brewster-Douglass Housing Projects on the east side of Detroit during the height of the crack epidemic. Back then, it felt like there were two options for girls like me: I could be a drug dealers girlfriend, or I could be the best friend of a drug dealers girlfriend and hope I got an invite when he treated her to a Big Mac and fries. I didnt grow up with fantasies of having a glamorous life because around me all I saw was struggle. Maybe one day meeting Tito Jackson was as big as I dared to dream. But that doesnt mean I wasnt doing everything I could to improve my circumstances.

As a kid, I was always going the extra mile. When I joined the school orchestra in fourth grade and the music teacher told the class to each pick an instrument, I didnt run like the rest of the kids to sign up for the violin, oboe, or even the sassy triangle. I picked something big, bold, and beautiful: the French horn. And when I needed to make some extra money as a teenager to buy clothes for school, I didnt start selling drugs, even though opportunities were everywhere. Instead, I started a little grocery delivery service, making trips to the corner store for Brewster-Douglass senior citizens who needed a tin of Spam, a pack of Newports, or a tub of off-brand cottage cheese.