At the height of her career in 1973, Cher attended the Academy Awards ceremony alongside her then-husband Sonny Bono.
Photographers eagerly snapped away, thinking they’d captured the perfect moment. But little did they know, the real story was unfolding before their eyes..
Cher dazzled and captivated all the cameras at the 1973 Academy Awards, stealing the spotlight with her bold dress. Sporting something that wouldn’t be out of place on their own television show, Cher wore the first of many memorable Cher Oscar outfits.
The night Hollywood erupted
But before we dive into her unforgettable appearance, we need to start with another moment from that night — one that made Hollywood boil over with emotion.
To be honest, the 45th Academy Awards in 1973 is mostly remembered as one of the most controversial moments in Oscar history, due to the courageous act of a young woman named Sacheen Littlefeather.
She wasn’t a famous actress or a household name, but she forever changed the conversation in Hollywood when she walked onto the stage that night.
Clad in a traditional buckskin dress and moccasins, her long dark hair adorned with Native-style beadwork, Littlefeather stepped into the spotlight not to accept an award but to refuse one.
She was there on behalf of Marlon Brando, who had won the Best Actor award for his role in The Godfather – but chose to decline it as a protest against Hollywood’s treatment of Native Americans.
”I was distressed”
The audience in the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion was caught off guard, torn between applause and boos as Littlefeather explained Brando’s decision.
Some even booed her.
Littlefeather was supposed to read a 739-word statement, but the Oscars producer threatened to have her physically removed and arrested if she went over 60 seconds.
Under this pressure, she delivered a shortened version of the speech, and as she left the stage, some audience members mocked her with tomahawk chop gestures.
”I was distressed that people should have booed and whistled and stomped, even though perhaps it was directed at myself,” Brando later told Dick Cavett.
But the fury didn’t stop there.
Reportedly, Hollywood’s biggest stars were visibly divided. John Wayne is said to have been waiting backstage, restrained by six security guards to keep him from confronting Littlefeather. Though this account has been debated, the intense reactions from other presenters were undeniable.
Clint Eastwood’s accused of racism
Later that evening, just before announcing the Best Actress winner, Raquel Welch quipped, ”I hope the winner doesn’t have a cause.”
When Clint Eastwood took the stage to present the Best Picture award, he joked about doing it ”on behalf of all the cowboys shot in John Ford Westerns over the years.” The veteran actor has since faced accusations of racism for that comment.
Meanwhile, Michael Caine, who co-hosted the event, criticized Brando for ”letting some poor little Indian girl take the boos” instead of ”standing up and doing it himself.”
It’s easy to look back on that night as a sign of how far we still had to go.
For many, Littlefeather’s bravery wasn’t fully understood until decades later. On YouTube, comments beneath clips of her speech are filled with praise.
One user wrote, “People said that Will Smith slapping Chris Rock is the most disgusting moment in Oscar history, but they never saw a Native American woman defending her people’s rights getting booed by actors and actresses. That was the most disgusting moment in Oscar history.”
An ethnic fraud?
Yet, the story of Sacheen Littlefeather, born Maria Louise Cruz in 1946, doesn’t end with her iconic moment at the Oscars.
Shortly after her passing in 2022 from breast cancer, a new chapter unfolded that would challenge the narrative she had crafted over the years.
Her sisters stepped forward, asserting that Littlefeather had fabricated her Native American ancestry. Rosalind Cruz, her sister, revealed that Littlefeather believed it would be more “prestigious” to identify as Native American rather than embrace their Hispanic roots. According to the sisters, their father was of Spanish-Mexican descent, not Apache and Yaqui as Littlefeather had claimed.
Rosalind Cruz also dismissed her sister’s claim that she received the name Littlefeather from her dad after dancing before him while holding a single feather aloft.
“That she danced in front of my father and always wore a feather in her hair, in her head? And that’s when my father called her ‘Littlefeather?’ That’s another fantasy,” Cruz told San Fransisco Chronicle.
New research
As the 50th anniversary of her groundbreaking Oscar moment approached, her sisters reiterated their stance, insisting that Littlefeather was a fraud.
However, just as this narrative began to solidify, new research emerged on March 6, 2024, suggesting that Littlefeather may indeed have had Indigenous Mexican roots.
While we may not have the final word on this debate, this new perspective undeniably casts a different light on that historic Oscar moment and the ongoing fight for representation in Hollywood.
The iconic Cher outfit
Alright, folks, let’s move on to Cher!
Younger generations may not fully grasp the incredible phenomenon that Sonny & Cher were during their heyday. They were massive — absolutely massive!
And Cher, of course, has continued to dazzle and entertain countless new audiences over the years.
But in 1973, Cher was just 27 years old when she attended the Academy Awards alongside her then-husband, Sonny Bono. The couple was there to present the award for Best Original Song, because who better to hand out musical accolades than a duo who knows a thing or two about hitting all the right notes.
That night, amidst many stunning celebrities, Cher radiated with an unparalleled brilliance. Dressed in a daring outfit and rocking hoop earrings, Cher instantly became a fashion icon, proving that sometimes all you need is a bold look and a bit of attitude to make history. Her striking ensemble was designed by Bob Mackie, Hollywood’s premier designer at the time.
He had been dressing Cher since 1967, when she made a guest appearance on The Carol Burnett Show. “We hit it off right off the bat,” Mackie recalled to Variety, and the rest, as they say, is history.
Gold chiffon pajama
Cher always turned to Mackie for special occasions, and the 1973 Oscars were no exception. Back then, Cher was a size 6 with a beautifully trim midriff.
“She likes to emphasize that,” Mackie told Daily News the day after the event.
He crafted a stunning gold chiffon pajama set for her, featuring a bare midriff and flowing Oriental sleeves.
Cher’s long hair cascaded loosely, accentuating the intricate gold Byzantine embroidery, her exposed midriff, and the elegant sleeves that grazed the floor.
At that time, Cher and Sonny had reached the pinnacle of the entertainment industry. Their records sold in the millions, and they were one of the most sought-after acts for concerts and nightclub engagements.
Their comedy hour on CBS was immensely popular, it used to air every Wednesday at 8 PM — truly a “royal jewel” in the CBS crown.
But did all that fame and success really shine through when they strutted down the red carpet that spring evening in 1973? It’s tough to say! What we do know today definitely puts a new spin on that unforgettable night.
Cracks in the facade
Just days before the 1973 Oscars, several newspapers published articles highlighting the declining ratings for The Sonny and Cher Comedy Hour.
Competing against popular shows like Sanford and Son on NBC and The Brady Bunch, their program struggled to achieve the heights it once enjoyed in previous seasons.
While these type of bad ratings would typically lead to immediate cancellations for many shows, CBS executives had a special affection for Sonny and Cher’s program.
They were allowed to continue, largely because the couple was seen as easy to work with. But was it really smooth sailing between Cher and Sonny?
The answer is no.
Walked off stage
The couple’s marriage added a layer of natural friction to their show, but by 1973, that tension was becoming increasingly problematic. Sonny, twelve years Cher’s senior, had faced many challenges before reaching stardom. While Cher could effortlessly shine on stage and in front of the camera, Sonny often played the role of the domineering boss behind the scenes.
One notable incident occurred when Cher famously walked off stage during a performance in Las Vegas, exclaiming, “Who needs you?”
Despite the turmoil, they managed to maintain their relationship. According to The Washington Post, Sonny even gifted Cher a new car to keep the peace, and life at their Beverly Hills mansion continued as usual.
However, that moment in Vegas hinted at a deeper issue. Cher had become the undeniable star of the duo, capable of launching a successful solo career if she chose to. In hindsight, it’s haunting to look at the pictures from that fateful Oscars night, knowing what lay beneath their glamorous facade.
In fact, Cher and Sonny had been grappling with marital problems since late 1972, but they put on a brave face for the cameras, maintaining appearances until 1974.
Cher later described her husband as a “watered-down Svengali,” who tightly controlled their careers and lives with an iron fist. While they were dazzling audiences and making headlines, their personal lives were anything but picture-perfect.
Looking at the iconic images of Cher and Sonny at the Oscars in 1973, it’s a stark reminder for us that sometimes, the most dazzling moments are merely a cover for the cracks beneath the surface.
A huge womanizer
After their much-publicized divorce, it was revealed that Sonny Bono had been notoriously unfaithful — but Cher? Well, she was blissfully unaware.
Just look at the picture below of Cher, shimmering in a dazzling outfit with a smile that could light up the Hollywood sign.
It’s hard to imagine that behind the scenes, Sonny was more interested in creating a harem than harmonizing in a heartfelt duet.
Cher once said, “Stardom made Sonny a huge womanizer. One woman, or even five, was not enough for him. I found all this out afterward. I asked him, ‘How did you manage the logistics?’”
”I was trusting and faithful with him. The truth is, I’m not so sure we should’ve ever been husband and wife.”
Today, Cher, 78, continues to enchant audiences with her talent and charisma.She remains a powerful force in the entertainment industry.
As for Sonny, he left this world in 1998 after a tragic skiing acciden
Looking at that iconic snapshot from 1973, it’s easy to be mesmerized by Cher and Sonny, radiating confidence and glamour as they stood on top of the world.
But the truth?
Their relationship was quietly unraveling, and we had no idea. It’s fascinating, in hindsight, to see how their dazzling smiles masked the turmoil beneath.
Cher’s brilliant smile reminds us that even in the brightest moments, life can be complex and unpredictable. It’s a beautiful testament to her strength and the resilience that has defined her journey
My Mother Abandoned 10-Year-Old Me to Raise Her ‘Perfect Son’ — but My Grandma Made Her Pay for It
I was ten when my mother decided I was a burden. She had a new family and I didn’t fit the picture. So she got rid of me and gave me away like I was nothing to raise her “perfect son.” My grandma took me in and loved me. Years later, the woman who abandoned me showed up at my door… begging.
There’s a moment when you realize some wounds never heal. For me, that moment came at 32 as I stood at my grandmother’s grave. The only person who had ever truly loved me was gone, and the woman who gave birth to me and abandoned me stood across the cemetery, not even looking in my direction.
I hadn’t seen my mother in years. Not since she decided my brother was worth raising… but I wasn’t.
A grieving woman in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney
The rain fell in sheets that day, soaking through my black dress as I watched them lower Grandma Brooke’s casket into the ground. My mother, Pamela, stood under an umbrella with her perfect family — her husband Charlie and their son Jason… my replacement and the “golden” child worthy of her love.
She didn’t cry. Not really. She just dabbed at her eyes occasionally for show.
When it was over, she turned and walked away without a word to me, just like she had 22 years ago when I was ten. I remained rooted to the spot, alone with the fresh mound of dirt that covered the only parent I’d ever really had.
“I don’t know how to do this without you, Grandma,” I whispered to the grave.
A heartbroken woman | Source: Midjourney
I was born from a brief affair and I was an inconvenience my mother never wanted. When I was ten, she married my stepfather Charlie and gave birth to their “perfect son” Jason. Suddenly, I became nothing more than a reminder of her past mistake.
I still remember the day she told me I wouldn’t be living with them anymore.
“Rebecca, come here,” she called from the kitchen table where she sat with Grandma Brooke.
I walked in, hope blooming in my chest.
A frustrated woman | Source: Midjourney
“Yes, Mom?” I asked. She rarely spoke directly to me anymore.
Her eyes were cold and distant. “You’re going to live with Grandma now.”
The words didn’t make sense at first. “Like… for the weekend?”
“No,” she said, not meeting my eyes. “Permanently. Grandma’s going to take care of you from now on.”
I looked at Grandma, whose face was tight with anger and grief.
“But why? Did I do something wrong?”
A sad little girl looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” my mother snapped. “I have a real family now. You’re just… in the way.”
Grandma’s hand slammed the table. “Enough, Pamela! She’s a child, for God’s sake. Your child.”
My mother shrugged. “A mistake I’ve paid for long enough. Either you take her, or I’ll find someone who will.”
I stood there, tears streaming down my face, invisible to the woman who gave birth to me.
“Pack your things, sweetheart,” Grandma said gently, wrapping her arms around me. “We’ll make this work, I promise.”
An annoyed older woman | Source: Midjourney
Grandma’s house became my sanctuary. A place where I was wanted and where someone’s eyes lit up when I walked into the room. She hung my artwork on the fridge, helped with my homework, and tucked me in every night.
Still, the wound of my mother’s rejection festered.
“Why doesn’t she want me?” I asked one night as Grandma brushed my hair before bed.
Her hands paused. “Oh, Becca. Some people aren’t capable of the love they should give. It’s not your fault, honey. Never think it’s your fault.”
An upset girl | Source: Midjourney
“But she loves Jason.”
Grandma resumed brushing, each stroke gentle and soothing. “Your mother is broken in ways I couldn’t fix. I tried, God knows I tried. But she’s always run from her mistakes instead of facing them.”
“So I’m a mistake?”
“No, honey. You are a gift. The best thing that ever happened to me. Your mother just can’t see past her own selfishness to recognize what she’s throwing away.”
An older woman with a kind smile | Source: Midjourney
I leaned into her embrace, breathing in the scent of lavender that clung to her clothes.
“Will you ever leave me too, Grandma?” I whispered.
“Never,” she said fiercely. “As long as there’s breath in my body, you will always have a home with me.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
A disheartened girl looking up at someone with hope | Source: Midjourney
When I was 11, Grandma insisted we visit for a “family dinner.” She thought it was important to maintain some connection, however tenuous. Deep down, I hoped my mother realized what she’d thrown away and welcome me back with open arms.
Walking in, I saw her doting over my brother, laughing and proud… like she had never abandoned me. One-year-old Jason sat in a high chair, mashed potatoes smeared across his chubby face. My mother wiped it away with such tenderness it made my chest ache.
She barely glanced at me.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, forcing a smile.
She frowned. “Oh! You’re here.”
A woman frowning | Source: Midjourney
My chest tightened, but I swallowed the hurt and reached into my pocket. I pulled out a small, slightly crumpled handmade card. I had spent hours on it, carefully folding the paper, writing “I Love You, Mom” in my neatest handwriting on the front.
Inside, I had drawn a picture of our family — me, my mother, my stepfather, my baby brother, and my grandmother. I had colored it with the few markers I had, making sure to give everyone a smile. Because that’s how I wanted us to be… a real, happy family.
With hopeful eyes, I extended it toward her. “I made this for you.”
A desperate little girl holding a sheet of paper | Source: Midjourney
She barely glanced at it before passing it to my brother. “Here, honey. Something for you.”
I froze. That gift wasn’t for him. It was from me to my mother.
“I-I got that for you.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, what would I need it for? I have everything I want.”
Everything. Except me.
A shattered girl | Source: Midjourney
Years of neglect hung between us. My grandmother shot me a sympathetic glance, but I forced a smile. I wouldn’t let them see me break.
“Dinner’s ready,” Charlie called from the dining room, oblivious to the moment or choosing to ignore it.
“Come on,” my mother said, lifting Jason from his high chair. “The roast will get cold.”
That was the last time I ever wanted to see my mother. After that night, I stopped trying. And she didn’t seem to care. Not long after, she moved to another city and only called my grandmother occasionally. But she never called me.
Shot of an airplane passing above high-rise buildings | Source: Unsplash
Years passed. I grew up, became a successful woman, and built a life of my own. I went to college on scholarships, got a job in marketing, and bought a small house near Grandma’s cottage. I dated, sometimes seriously, but relationships were hard. Trust didn’t come easily when my own mother couldn’t love me.
Grandma was my rock through everything. She never missed a graduation, a birthday, or a milestone. She hung my college diploma next to her achievements. She made sure I knew I belonged.
But time is relentless. My grandmother, my true parent, grew older too. Her hands became gnarled with arthritis, her steps slower, and her memory was sometimes foggy.
An older woman walking in a park | Source: Pexels
“Remember when you tried to teach me to bake cookies and we set off the smoke alarm?” I asked one afternoon as we walked in her beloved garden.
She laughed, the sound still musical despite her 78 years. “The neighbors thought the house was on fire. That fireman was so handsome, though… I almost didn’t mind the embarrassment.”
“You flirted with him shamelessly,” I teased.
“Life’s too short not to flirt with handsome firemen, Rebecca.” She patted my hand. “Promise me something?”
“Anything.”
“When I’m gone, don’t waste time on bitterness. Your mother made her choice, and it was the wrong one. But don’t let that choice define your life.”
Close-up shot of a young woman with her grandmother | Source: Freepik
I felt a chill despite the summer heat. “You’re not going anywhere.”
She smiled sadly. “We all go somewhere eventually, honey. Just promise me you’ll live fully. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”
“I promise,” I whispered, resting my head on her shoulder like I had countless times before.
Three months later, she was gone. A stroke in her sleep. “Peaceful and a blessing, really,” the doctor said.
But it didn’t feel like a blessing to me.
A woman shaken to her core | Source: Midjourney
I was 32 when I buried her. My mother arrived with her family, but I never really saw any remorse in her eyes. She didn’t even look at me during the service.
The house felt empty without Grandma. I wandered from room to room, touching her things — the crocheted blanket on the couch, the collection of ceramic birds on the mantel, and the worn cookbook in the kitchen with her handwritten notes in the margins.
God, I missed her so much.
Just a few days after the funeral, there was a knock on my door. When I opened it, I froze.
It was my mother.
A desperate senior woman at the doorway | Source: Midjourney
She looked older, gray threading through her dark hair, and lines around her eyes and mouth that hadn’t been there before. But her eyes were the same — distant and calculating.
“Please,” she whispered, gripping her purse with white-knuckled hands. “I just need to talk to you.”
Every instinct in me screamed to shut the door and walk away. But something in her tone, something almost… defeated, made me pause.
I crossed my arms. “Talk.”
An annoyed woman with her arms crossed | Source: Midjourney
She exhaled, looking down before meeting my gaze. “Your brother knows about you.”
My breath hitched. “What do you mean?”
“Before she passed, your grandmother sent him a message. And told him everything.”
I swallowed hard.
“He was too young to remember you, Rebecca. And I… I didn’t let your grandmother talk about you to him. I told her if she did, she’d never see him again.”
My stomach churned. It was worse than I imagined. My mother not only abandoned me… she ERASED me.
A happy little boy walking on the road | Source: Pexels
She must have seen the horror on my face because she rushed to explain. “I thought I was doing the right thing! You had your grandmother, and I had my family —”
“You had a family,” I cut in. “You decided I wasn’t part of it.”
Her lip trembled. “He won’t speak to me, not since he read the message last night. His phone fell in the water and had been switched off for days… and he’s just gotten the message from Grandma after turning it on last night. He’s mad at me for hiding you from him. I need you to talk to him. Tell him I’m not a monster.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “Not a monster? You abandoned your daughter at ten, pretended she didn’t exist, and threatened your own mother just to keep your secret. What would make you a monster, then?”
A guilty woman | Source: Midjourney
Tears welled in her eyes, but they didn’t move me. I had shed enough tears for her years ago.
Still, despite everything, I hesitated. Not for her, but for my brother.
I spent my life believing he had forgotten me. But he never had the chance to know me at all. He was just a child, manipulated by a woman who only saw me as an obstacle.
“I’ll take his number,” I said flatly.
My mother exhaled in relief, but her face fell when she realized what I meant. I wasn’t calling for her. I was calling for him.
A furious yet composed woman | Source: Midjourney
“You can give him my number,” I clarified. “If he wants to talk to me, that’s his choice. And if he doesn’t want to talk to you…” I shrugged. “That’s his choice too.”
“Rebecca, please —”
“Goodbye, Mom,” I said, and slowly closed the door.
I met Jason a week later at a quiet café across town, my heart pounding as I saw him walk in. He was tall, with dark hair like our mother’s, but his eyes were kind.
An upset man in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
He looked nervous but when he spotted me, something in his expression softened.
“I’m so sorry,” were the first words out of his mouth.
I stared at him. “You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But I…” he swallowed hard. “I didn’t know. She never told me. I only found out because of Grandma’s message. I can’t believe she did that to you.”
I studied his face, searching for any sign of dishonesty. But there was none. He was just a kid when it happened. He hadn’t chosen this.
A smiling woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
“You’re nothing like her, Jason.”
His shoulders sagged in relief. “I’ve been so angry since I found out. It’s like… everything I thought I knew about Mom was a lie.”
“How did you find out exactly?”
Jason ran a hand through his hair. “I got this email from Grandma. It had pictures of you, stories about you… things Mom never told me. And a letter explaining everything.”
“She was always clever,” I said, a sad smile tugging at my lips. “Even from beyond the grave, she was looking out for us.”
A man lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney
“She wrote that she promised not to tell me while she was alive because she was afraid Mom would cut me off from her completely.” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine being forced to make that choice. It’s so cruel.”
“That’s who Mom is,” I said. “She makes everything a transaction.”
He nodded, then pulled out his phone. “I have the pictures Grandma sent, if you want to see them?”
We spent the next hour looking at photos of a life intersected but separate. Grandma had documented everything for him, creating a bridge across the chasm our mother had dug between us.
A smiling man looking at his phone | Source: Midjourney
“I always wanted a sibling,” Jason said quietly. “I used to beg for a brother or sister. Mom always said she couldn’t have more children after me. Another lie.”
“You know,” I said, pushing my empty coffee cup aside, “we can’t change the past. But we can decide what happens next.”
He nodded, a tentative smile crossing his face. “I’d like to know my sister, if that’s okay with you.”
For the first time in over two decades, I let myself feel something I never thought I’d have again — a connection to family that wasn’t built on obligation or pity.
“I’d like that,” I said. “I’d like that very much.”
A cheerful woman | Source: Midjourney
Over the next few weeks, we talked more. I told him about my life, about how Grandma raised me, and how I spent years wondering if he ever thought of me.
And he told me about our mother. About how she had always been controlling, suffocating, and never allowed him to make his own choices.
We met at a park on a crisp autumn day, walking along paths covered in fallen leaves.
“Mom’s been calling me nonstop,” he said. “Showing up at my apartment. She even contacted my work.”
“That sounds like her. When she wants something, she doesn’t stop.”
People walking in a park | Source: Pexels
“She always acted like the perfect mom, Rebecca. I thought she was just overprotective, but now I realize… she’s just selfish. Everything has always been about her image, her comfort, and her needs.”
“Has she always been like that with you?”
He kicked at a pile of leaves. “Yeah, I guess so. I just didn’t see it clearly until now. Nothing I did was ever quite good enough unless it made her look good too.”
We both knew, at that moment, that neither of us owed her anything.
Portrait of a smiling man | Source: Midjourney
Weeks passed. I built a relationship with my brother, the one thing Mom had tried to keep from me. And she kept calling, sent messages, and even showed up at my door again.
But this time, when she knocked, I didn’t answer. She had made her choice 22 years ago. And now, I had made mine.
On what would have been Grandma’s birthday, Jason and I met at her grave. We placed her favorite yellow daisies and stood in silence.
“I wish I’d known her better,” Jason said. “Really known her.”
“She would have loved you,” I told him. “Not because you’re perfect, but because you’re you.”
A bouquet of yellow daisies on a gravestone | Source: Midjourney
As we walked back to our cars, something caught my eye across the cemetery. A familiar figure stood watching us.
Our mother.
Jason saw her too and tensed beside me.
“We don’t have to talk to her,” I said.
He shook his head. “No, we don’t.”
We got into our cars and drove away, leaving her standing alone among the gravestones.
A sad woman in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney
In the end, family isn’t always who gives birth to you. Sometimes it’s who sees you and chooses to stay. Grandma chose me. And in her final act of love, she gave me back the brother I never knew.
Some wounds never heal completely. But around the scars, new life can still grow.
People holding hands | Source: Pexels
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