An audience member during a recent episode of the ABC show “The View” called Whoopi Goldberg an “old broad.” It happened on Wednesday’s show when Goldberg and her cohosts took their seats to begin the show and the audience member shouted the words and Goldberg was taken aback.
We’re happy to see ya’ll. Cool, well, go on and have a seat, she said before addressing the heckler.
“Did you just call me an old broad? Yeah?” the 67-year-oId actress said to the heckler.
The camera then showed a woman who was wearing a large fur hat.
“She said, ‘You old broad,’ and I was like, hey, it’s Wednesday, and I am an old broad, and happy about it,” the host said before cohost Sunny Hostin said that being an “old broad” was better than “the alternative.”
The aIternative is not attractive to any of us, the stress said. “We all want to be old broads and old dudes, you know? The show’s cameras continued to show the woman again and again for the entire episode.
Goldberg caused controversy in December after making controversial statements again.
She had to apologize again for the comments she made about the Holocaust. As she was promoting her new movie “Till,” about a young black child who was viciously mur**red by a gang of white men in 1955, she was asked by a reporter about the comments she made on the show.
Earlier this year, Goldberg was suspended from “The View” for claiming the Holocaust was not about race. She apoIogized for the comments but in a new interview with the U.K. paper The Sunday Times, it appears her apology may not have been sincere.
“Remember who they were k!lling first. They were not killing racial; they were k*lling physical. They were k*lling people they considered to be mentally defective. And then they made this decision,” the actress said.
Journalist Janice Turner explained to Goldberg, whose real name is Caryn Elaine Johnson, that there were race laws the Nazis created against Jews and said that “Nazis saw Jews as a race.”
“Yes, but that’s the killer, isn’t it? The oppressor is telling you what you are. Why are you believing them? They’re Nazis. Why believe what they’re saying?” she said.
“It doesn’t change the fact that you could not tell a Jew on a street,” she said. “You could find me. You couIdn’t find them.”
“But you would have thought that I’d taken a big oId stinky dump on the table, butt naked,” she said, in reference to her comments that got her suspended from “The View.”
My best friend said, ‘Not for nothing is there no box on the census for the Jewish race. So that leads me to believe that we’re probably not a race, she said. But on Tuesday, a representative for Goldberg sent a press release that showed the host apologizing for the comments.
My father was boasting about financing my college education even though he hadn’t contributed financially, so I corrected his false claims with the truth
During my childhood and teenage years, I felt the weight of my father’s strict expectations. Instead of being supportive, he focused on control. His voice often echoed in my mind, reminding me of his “random checks” of my room and school bags, which felt more like an interrogation than genuine concern.
His high standards didn’t just apply at home; they spilled into my school life too. He insisted that I must earn at least a B in every subject, always pushing me to do better. This constant pressure built up a lot of anxiety in me and drove me to succeed, but mostly out of fear rather than passion.
As I got older, I became determined to break free from his tight grip, especially when it came to my college education. I decided to fund my own schooling, so my father couldn’t use financial control against me. In contrast, my cousin had a much different experience. His parents, my aunt and uncle, were involved in his life but respected his independence. They supported his education without making him feel pressured. This difference in our upbringings made me acutely aware of the heavy burden I carried.
When I graduated from high school, I made the choice to pay for my college myself. I took on part-time jobs and student loans, accepting the debt rather than risking my father’s influence over me. Interestingly, during this time, my father never offered financial help. He seemed unconcerned about my struggles, yet he painted a different picture to others.
He liked to present himself as the supportive dad who was investing in my future. At social gatherings, he would boast about how much he was contributing to my education, enjoying the praise he received for being a caring father. This false story was something he maintained without a hint of shame.
This charade continued until one summer evening at a family barbecue. During a relaxed conversation, my uncle, unaware of the truth, asked my father how much my education was costing him. Without hesitation, my father responded with pride, claiming it was a significant investment for my future.
Hearing this blatant lie ignited a fire in me. I knew I couldn’t let this continue. While I didn’t confront him then, I began planning how to reveal the truth in a way that left no doubt about my actual journey through college. I waited for graduation day, knowing it would be the perfect time to set the record straight. I invited my family, including my father, making sure they would all be there for what I had planned.
On graduation day, I felt a mix of nerves and determination. As I prepared to speak, I understood the weight of this moment. It represented not just my academic achievement but also a personal declaration. When it was my turn, I approached the podium, heart racing. The audience quieted, and I began: “Today, I want to thank the person who truly made this possible… myself. I financed my college education through hard work, determination, and countless hours of part-time jobs”.
The reaction was immediate. Gasps and murmurs filled the room as images of my college experience appeared on the screen behind me, pictures of late nights studying, work schedules, and tuition checks, all from my own earnings.
“Every dollar I earned and every exam I passed was done without any financial aid from my father”, I continued, glancing at my father’s shocked expression. The atmosphere shifted as my words sank in. The images contrasted sharply with my father’s claims, creating a powerful moment of personal vindication and public clarification.
After the ceremony, family reactions varied. Some were surprised, while others admired my independence. My aunt approached me, looking regretful. “We had no idea you did this all on your own”, she said, her tone apologetic. I wasn’t seeking sympathy but rather acknowledgment of my hard work. This recognition was more fulfilling than any comforting words could offer.
Later, my uncle, clapping me on the back, remarked with respect: “You really showed him. You took control and told the truth”. “Yes, I suppose I did”, I replied, feeling a sense of freedom that went beyond just graduating. “But more importantly, I showed myself what I’m capable of.”
That day marked the end of my college journey and the beginning of a new chapter in my life, free from my father’s oppressive expectations. I had proven to myself and others that I could face significant challenges on my own terms.
My experience in college, funded by my hard work, was a testament to resilience and self-reliance. Standing there with my peers and family, I knew that exciting new adventures awaited me, filled with the promise of freedom and the thrill of self-determination. I walked away not just with a diploma but with a deep understanding of my own strength and capability.
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