I love my friends


I love my friends.

I have surrounded myself with women who inspire me to be better on a daily basis; hold me accountable when it’s warranted; uplift me when I need it; and just generally support me in ways I would not be able to adequately enumerate.

We are all unique in our own ways, but we all agree that in life we want to keep striving to grow and evolve and be a better version of ourselves with each update.

I was just on the phone with one of my sister friends for 3 hours, mostly talking about credit, finance, and savings strategies.

These are the kinds of conversations I love having. The energy is high.

That’s not to say we don’t sometimes engage in gossip and being messy, but the high energy conversations definitely outweigh the low energy ones, and for that, I am extremely grateful.


This Jamie Foxx/AAVE discourse is interesting to say the least.

There are a great many white people who use AAVE as if it’s a type of slang for them. They co-opt our words and phrases and use them on social media without understanding where they come from or how they originated.

As many people have pointed out, AAVE is not “slang.” It’s a language unto itself that we speak in the comfort of our community.

Jamie was speaking in that context, and his post was misunderstood by those who don’t have that cultural history or understanding. And I get why they would misunderstand it with those two things missing for them.

However, when it’s explained to you that you misunderstood something, to continue to double down and act like he was trying to do harm when he was simply saying something everyone with a praying Black grandmother with a church fan has said millions of times before is weird.

And this is why I get annoyed when I see women like that criscrissycris broad on TikTok performing in a Blaccent as she speaks in AAVE in all her videos. Same with TikTokMomma7 or whatever. Y’all want our rhythm, but not our fucking blues, and the shit is tiring.

My Blackness is not a costume I can take on and off depending on the situation. I am always fucking Black. The world sees me as Black. I can’t start speaking the white man’s English and have people see me differently.

So when situations like this come up where someone misunderstands a Black colloquialism and takes it to the extreme, it’s frustrating as a Black person to watch. I want to scream.

You can do all the fucking TikTok dance challenges you want. You can rap along to Bun B and Drake and whoever the fuck else in your videos to try and seem down. You can have all the Black men in your comments telling you that you are “invited to the picnic.”

But the minute that coopted Blackness no longer serves you, you will switch back to regular whiteness like nothing happened. Look at Miley Cyrus.

Look at the rebrand happening with the Kardashians. They want to go back to being white now that coopted Blackness is no longer serving them in the way that it used to.

To be clear: There is no American culture without Black people. Black culture is American culture. No, I will not debate this with you or explain it. Black people know what I mean.

Another saying my Black granny repeated often is “We can’t have shit to ourselves,” and it’s true. But y’all don’t want to have THAT discussion.

It’s so tiring being Black in America and having to deal with the cognitive dissonance that is people wanting to steal everything from our culture at the same time they want to disenfranchise us from every other aspect of life.

Because even when we try to point the bullshit out, y’all play in our faces and gaslight us and telling us we’re “being victims” or “making everything about race” when the fact of the matter is the invention of whiteness as a social construct was not our doing.

The invention of race as a social construct and classification system was not our doing.

And now that the institution of whiteness is being openly called out more and more, y’all are afraid like roaches when the lights come on. You want to stop it, so you have shit like what’s happening in Florida.

And this is why I will never shut up about it. Black people should not have to continue to be oppressed in this country in order for everyone else to feel comfortable. Fuck you, and fuck that.

And by “everyone else,” I mean all the non-Black POC who help to uphold whiteness and white supremacy and anti-Blackness.

Oh. One more thought: this (the Jamie Foxx situation) also plays heavily into the way a lot of white people think it’s their job to police the words and actions of Black people at all times.

Because it has been repeatedly explained by Black people over the last two days what he meant when he said that, yet white people are talking over us (as fucking usual) and refusing to listen. They don’t want to understand. They just want to be right.

Anyway, argue amongst your fucking selves. I’m finna go smoke a joint and this shit is muted already. Kiss my fat, flat Black ass.


I went to go get waxed this morning.

When I parked, I gathered up little pieces of trash to throw away the same way I do every time I get out of my car.

On the sidewalk I saw a bench and a green metal trash can. I threw my trash in it, and turned to walk into the wax place.

There was an unhoused gentleman sitting on the bench next to the trash can, and when I walked away, he started yelling.

“What the fuck are you doing, lady? This isn’t a fucking trash can!”

I turned to look back at him and realized what I thought was a trash can was actually a container he was using to hold all of his stuff.

I immediately felt like shit.

I walked back over to him and began apologizing profusely.

“I am so sorry,” I said.

“I saw what I thought was a trash can and threw that stuff in there without even looking. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

His demeanor immediately softened, and I found myself wishing I had cash on me to give to him, but I legit never carry cash.

It didn’t matter. He smiled at me and said, “It’s OK. I understand.”

I apologized again and started walking away.

Another older gentleman witnessed the whole thing, and he said to me, “Did you throw your trash in his basket? ‘

“Yeah,” I said, still embarrassed.

“It’s not your fault. The way it’s sitting there next to the bench, it looks like a trash can.”

“I still feel really bad,” I said.

All I could think was, imagine being unhoused and someone comes and tosses their trash in your stuff.

I’m super glad it was just a straw wrapper, the paper from my banana bread from Starbucks, and a napkin.

I still had espresso in my cup, or it could have been worse.


My dog is so spoiled, and it’s all my fault.

She’s gotten used to me giving her a treat every time I come back in the house from a miscellaneous errand — even if it’s just a quick Starbucks run.

She’s gotten so used to it that now when I come back in the house, once I’ve taken off my outside shoes and put my slippers on, she runs to the spot where I normally make her wait for her treats and snacks, and she assumes her begging/say please position and waits for the treat to arrive.

Today, I was out of treats because I need to go shopping, so I gave her a new bully stick instead, and that seemed to do the trick.

I love this little dog so much. I can’t imagine my life without her cuteness in it.


In my mind, I know I am a good writer.

Then I read something Christian, or Michael Harriot, or Kirsten West Savali, wrote, and I feel like I am in a writing class with giants as my contemporaries, and I need to spend more time with books and a dictionary and a thesaurus, and I need to fill up one of those Blue Books from college every single day for practice, and even then, I may not be as good as I know I can be.

Writing is both a labor of love and an exercise in self doubt for me.

I’m a fat Black woman with a big mouth, a loud laugh, and the confidence to go along with those things. People try daily, but they are hard pressed to make me feel insecure about myself, my looks, my level of attractiveness, or the like.

But my writing?

Like I said, I know I’m good, but am I *that* good.

My writing is very conversational. I speak plainly so people hear me.

I don’t twist words and phrases into beautiful and intricate knots like Kris does. I don’t weave linguistic tapestries of understanding the way Nakachi does.

I just write it the way I see it in my brain.

I have a loyal audience, and I get a lot of praise, but all the external validation in the world isn’t enough. EYE need to feel like I wrote something good, and I don’t always feel that.

I know I’m not the only writer to experience this, and this is not a plea for praise or a fishing expedition for compliments.

I just read something Kris wrote, and I started thinking about how writers are conjurers. The magic is in the delivery.

So then I started thinking about the kinds of spells I’ve cast and the kinds of spells I want to cast in the future.

And then I started wondering if I really think my magic is all that, and now we are here.


I know I am a good writer. I know a lot of good writers. I’m grateful to be able to look to my contemporaries for inspiration and motivation.

I just want my magic to wow ME, and I don’t think I’m there yet.


I saw Top Gun: Maverick this weekend, and I really want to talk about it, but I feel like I need to watch it again to fully digest it and get my thoughts together.

Coincidentally, I just joined AMC’s A-List Stubs program, so I get three free movies a week. This worked out.

the buffalo shooting


Today I called my mom to ask her a question, and she told me that she was really sad today. I asked her why, and she said the news about the Buffalo shooting had really upset her.

“All those women were older Black women just going for groceries in a store they fought to have in their neighborhood,” she said, her voice cracking.

I tried to soothe her, but what can you say, really?I know it hit home for her because she’s in her 70s. I know the thought occurred to her that it could easily be her in a store one day.

The people in that store were targeted because they were Black. That is horrifying to think about, but it is definitely our American reality.

I’m scared for all of us. You never know where one of these people may show up and decide to pull something like this.

I listened to my mother sob today, the fear in her voice, and there was really nothing I could say to make her feel better.

I told her not to spend her entire day feeling sad, but how do you prevent that when we live in this country

A country where they won’t legislate guns, but they will legislate the private decisions women make with their bodies.I just wanted to give her a hug and tell her it was going to be all right. But we all know that’s a lie. It’s going to get worse.Love your people and hold on to them tight.

My dog is too funny


I had a Petco bag with Lady’s old leash and harness in it (I bought her new ones) as well as some new bully sticks for later. I left it on the side of my ottoman when we came in.

Tell me why this little heffa sniffed out the bully sticks, went in the bag and got one, took it to her bed, peeled off the label herself (!!!!!) and is currently enjoying it as I type this?

She is very pleased with herself, and I’m just like “She’s too smart for her own good.”

I’m quoted in a book?


Today, a friend informed me that I am quoted in a book they are currently reading called What We Don’t Talk About When We Talk About Fat, by Aubrey Gordon. She cited my article I wrote Quantasia Sharpton, the woman who sued Usher for giving her herpes. When her lawsuit was originally reported, people laughed it off and said there was no way Usher would sleep with a fat woman like that. I disagreed.

Go me!