Today I have a very special guest filling in for me. Her name is Dara. Before you think I’m getting all Beyoncé–Sasha Fierce on you, I really do mean there’s another Black blogger out there named Dara! She’s a gorgeous brown-skinned wife and mama who writes at Living My Someday. But enough of me talking—I’m going to let her tell you about herself! We decided to introduce ourselves to our respective blog communities, because everyone likes double Ds. Meet Dara Schultz…
Stop to smell the flowers. Take care of your temple. Do what you need to tend to yourself. This is what I tell friends who are going through. Me, too.
I listened to “Happy” today, because I still love that song. And then I remembered that she probably loved that song, too. It reminds me of her: silly, earnest, optimistic, irrepressible. Tears, again, slid down unbidden. I bopped in my chair, crying, because I never got to dance to “Happy” with her. And then I laughed, because I’m probably the first person ever to cry listening to that infernal song. This, too, is grief: pain through a parade of happy memories. The echo of a laugh too swiftly stolen from you. The gilded edge of the things you tell yourself to assuage guilt.
A few years ago, I was frustrated with my job and facing a higher offer from a different company. But I chose to do something crazy…I followed my heart. More than just money, this is a story about how I learned to make decisions from a place of courage rather than fear.
When I was engaged, I wanted to ask: Whose wedding is it anyway?! From money to guests, weddings make you crazy. You should definitely elope. Definitely.
I know a little Black boy, like so many Black boys across America. His name is Keith. He is a boy similar to most at the tender age of 3: rambunctious, energetic, sometimes cranky, and a little overwhelming. He was my daughter’s first friend at daycare. Keith is not my son, but I worry for him. Keith […]
All my life, I’ve been the “good girl.” That’s not to say I’m perfect or I’ve never done anything foul in my life. Being a “good girl” has more to do with the conventions you follow and the perceptions you fulfill. And after playing this role almost my entire life, I’ve come to the conclusion it’s not something I want to model for my daughter. I’ve decided I don’t want to teach her to be a “good girl.”
To my “conscious” brothers and sisters: some of your Hotep principles invoke intraracial oppression and condescension rather than freedom. Don’t be fauxtep.
Every woman should have an article of clothing or accessory she owns that makes her tilt her head a little higher in the air. I always feel regal and beautiful in a wax print skirt or an African printed head wrap. Today I’m sharing my favorite vendors so you can check them out, too!
Are you on Facebook (anymore?) I still am. I joined Facebook in late 2005. It has now been nearly 10 years exactly since I joined the social networking service. Wow. I don’t think when I joined FB that I anticipated being on it a decade later. I don’t think any of us foresaw this. I remember vividly when it expanded to yo mama and yo cousins, too, prompting us graduating college students to delete incriminating photos. Ah, how times have changed and stayed the same all at once.