Fearless Friday.jpeg

She got magic bursting from her seems. 

I’m sure the world gets tired of hearing Black women speak life into our two identities every 5 seconds. Hell, I am a Black woman and I get tired of it too.

Sometimes (and dear God please forgive me), I just want to be Human #6,803,380,291. I especially start feeling this way when I am in a room full of white people. However, I have come to terms with the fact that for as long as I remain Black (in other words, for the rest of my life), I will always feel different.

I will always be different. I know how to shut the hell up when I feel like I need to.

I know how to stand up for myself when I want to. I know how to function in a white room that just may be intimidated by all of this supposedly “sassiness”.

Or is it just all in my mind?

Even though I’ve learned to love myself fully, there are still sometimes when I question my Black woman-ness.

Should I talk like this or that? (i.e. like an “oreo” or like a “black woman who knows what the hell she’s doing in her life with 100% confidence” — not saying that those two aren’t interchangeable, but…)

Should I wear make-up like _______________? or should I contour my whole entire face? Or do I look better with no makeup #AliciaKeysforabout10seconds

Should I box or run today — despite the fact that I JUST got my hair LAID for the GODS yesterday even though I really enjoy working out and I need to but I don’t want to sweat my edges out?

And on the same note, should I swim today (i.e. play in the water since this black girl doesn’t know how to swim) and wash my hair later tonight?

What if I’m not a big fan of Scandal or Being Mary Jane? Am I still a black woman?

What if I’m #TeamGetYoLifeTogether instead of #TeamIssa or #TeamLawrence?

What if I listen to Hillsong more than I do any gospel music?

What if The Office is seriously my favorite show of all time?

As I type and think about these questions and the many more that are in my head right now, I start to think about how frivolous I sound.

Being a Black woman isn’t about how many boxes you can check off that make you “official”. If that was the case, Rachel Dozeal would surely be in line to proudly turn in her disconcerting paperwork.

Being a Black woman is about “being”.


Yes, “being”. It’s the very essence of who I am. It’s the bane of my existence. It’s who I was born to be, who I am and who I will always be.

My very identity is being a Black woman. That means I’m not just Black. I’m not just a woman. I am a Black woman. And those two terms together mean something totally different than separately. Get it straight.

One of my acquaintances once asked me,

What do you think the world owes to black women?

I’ll be honest and say that I had a hard time thinking of an answer to that question. Of course, the first thing I thought of were reparations.

I mean, I don’t even know how much ground 40 acres even encompasses, but it sure sounds nice with a mule.

I’m still down for that despite the fact that it’s been nearly 150 years ago since that promise was made to newly freed African American slaves.

How about this: let us attend the graduate school of our choice for free. Because bills, passion and security.

After that, I tried to think on a deeper level.

More than anything in this world, I want the freedom to be.

I want love from e’rybody and they mama. Like, the world would just have to love me and my black sistas. They would treat us like the queens they know we are.

Actually, I take that back. I’ll take the monetary and land reparations.