Speak.

I'm headed for greatest.
I feel it in my soul.
And I love it.

I love knowing that
one day a young woman will read my memoir
and cry.
Not tears of sadness
but tears of relief
because finally she knows that
she's not alone in her struggle.
There is someone out there
that also hurts as much as she does...
Someone else who fought her own demons and won.
My heart is warmed by the notion that
my writing may serve as inspiration, motivation...
or that one day it may serve as a source of controversy.

Add me to the long legacy of great writers
that have laid down a path of literary gems before me.
Allow me to contribute to a tradition
that heard the song of Maya's caged bird
and the weary blues of Langston.

Allow me to express my voice...
Allow me to speak.

My Nappy Roots

Sooo yeah... I did it.
I did the thing that Black women aren't supposed to do...
The thing that both men and women find somewhat unattractive...

I cut my hair.

Sure, it doesn't seem like a big thing but to a woman who's been permed and pressed all of her life... its HUGE.

And I love it.
I never expected to.
I just did.

I love being apart from the crowd.
Love knowing that my hair is on its way to being healthy again.
Love knowing that I can truly say that I'm a natural beauty.

I'm just surprised by all the shady looks and whispers especially since I go to an HBCU.
I was quite taken back by the stares and the confused looks.

But hey, I guess thats just how it is.

First Day of Class Blues... :-(

Ugh, its the first day of class.
This sucks so bad...

After a month of nothing but lounging around in PJs and snuggling with my sweetheart, I'm back in Hampton. Lord, help me!

But its also the beginning of the end... the last semester of my college career and I couldn't be happier. I'm ready to get OUT! Ready for graduation!

Can't wait... Just can't wait.

And My Award for Best New Artist is...

DUKE!



I love this guy and I have no problem saying that my opinion of him is totally biased because he's one of my close friends. It really doesn't matter that I already think highly of him, his talent speaks for itself.

Voice? Heavenly...
Style? Psst, you must not know...

He is a mix of Kanye and Justin...
The next creative sensation in music.

So proud to call him a friend.
Even prouder to call him a fellow artist.

Conversations about her...

How often do you hear someone talk your mother in the past tense?
Share their memories with you in hopes to ease the pain inside of you...
Try to appease you with pleasent memories to block out the negative ones.

I can be nonchalant about alot of things but I can't be nonchalant about this.
It made me smile to see how memories of my mother have such a powerful impact on others.
It makes me happy to know that her memory lives on.

But still, it makes me feel even more distant from my family.
Knowing that only this one bond connects us and that we are only joined in our sorrow.

My family doesn't understand me and honestly, I don't think that they want to.

But in their own way, they do understand my sorrow.

Can someone buy me...

this great freakin journal...



and this coffee table book...



and this novel...

Do you realize...

...that we are a part of the new Black Renaissance.

We are a part of the new generation.
The fulfillment of a dream
that was whispered on the lips of slaves.

Our people are masters of every industry
and everyday we are branching out even further
and leaving our marks on new frontiers...
and planting our roots in deeper soil.

The New Nikki...
The New Amiri...
The New Sonia...
The New Zora...
The New Langston...

We are a piece of a broken legacy
and though some dreams have been shattered
we are slowly but surely re-forging our bond
and strengthing our base
and just when you don't expect it..
a change is gonna come.

I mean a Black man is President...
Do you hear me?
I said my President is the same color as me.
Now tell me I'm not bad...