I am a Black woman. I am also a Black fashion designer.
As I kid I cried and pleaded to get certain things to fit in and my family refused. They wanted my brother and I to be "proper": we wore London Fog coats in the winter and catalogue garments all through the school year that no other kid was wearing because there was no way in hell we were going to run around looking like the hood-rat kids in our neighborhood.
I have an at work bestie, and we've been good from the jump, but then we got a new hire who we thought would also be good, but... that's not really the case. She's a little... shall I say, off?
I've written before about my relationship. It is a beautiful one, but, as I mentioned in that article, there was work that led up to what we have now... Some of that was some good ol' fashioned random sex, no strings attached.
I remember hearing about the Menendez brothers on the news and how I dismissed it because, in my head, they were white, rich and had killed their parents. It sounds like a Lifetime movie (and of course, it ended up being one...), right? I've watched documentaries and made for TV-movies, and every depiction showed jurors and lawyers smirking and saying how heartless these kids were because they were rich and lived this privileged life. The more I watch things regarding this whole case, even decades later, it's like...wow....
In my first go round of college, back in the late 90s, I deemed myself a feminist. I'd been raped and assaulted in very close proximity, and then I got this epiphany and decided to treat guys "like they treated me..."